She considered leaving it there, but after a moment’s reflection, she decidedshe just couldn’t.
“And frankly, I’d love a little help. I’m a civilian profiler. I haveno real authority here. You’re the detective. You’re supposed to be the hardass who throws witnesses and suspects off their game with aggressivequestioning so I can watch their reactions. At least, that’s how it’s workedfor me in the past. But here I am, trying to both push their buttons andobserve how they respond to being pushed, while you try to give them a softlanding. You have to decide what your priorities are here, Detective. Are you acop or are you a publicist?”
He didn’t have a response to that. Instead he put his hands on the conferencetable and lowered his eyes. Jessie watched as he engaged in silent conversationwith himself, muttering under his breath and shaking his head. Finally helooked up.
“I screwed up,” he admitted. “How do I fix it?”
“I’m not sure you can,” she told him, softening slightly. “But we don’thave much choice other than to press ahead. We’ve got more suspects than hoursleft to investigate. And if we don’t uncover the killer before he or she takesthat ferry back to the mainland, who knows where they might end up next? Ifthey feel the heat, these kinds of people have the resources to go right to theairport and catch a flight to a country without an extradition treaty. So wehave to decide who to re-interview next.”
He nodded, mentally going through the most likely candidates.
“We’ve talked to Theo Aldridge,” he said. “The Landers are each other’salibi, supposedly going at it in their room. Steve Crewe and Rich Ferro backeach other up, at least part of the time. So I say we talk to Melissa Ferro. Wenever got an answer for what she was doing before finding Gabby. If she washooking up with a hotel employee and we let her know that’s not our primaryconcern, maybe she’ll come clean. If she’s still evasive, then we know we mighthave something.”
Jessie smiled for what felt like the first time in hours.
“I like that plan, Detective,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
*
They found Melissa Ferro at the rooftop bar.
There was a smattering of guests around but none near the spot she’dpicked out in a corner facing the ocean. As they approached her, Jessie took amoment to appreciate the view she wasn’t able to see upon her late-nightarrival. The bay was dotted with the white hulls of dozens of sailboats, allbobbing forcefully in the choppy water. White-capped waves tore toward theisland before getting rebuffed by the rock seawall, sending ocean spray highinto the air. The rhythmic, comforting motion made Jessie’s eyes heavy.
Ferro was bundled up against the wind, covered in complimentary hotelblankets. She wore sunglasses and an oversized hat that looked about to fly offdespite being tied tightly under her chin. She was holding a glass mug withboth hands.
Jessie imagined herself settling in like that and knew that if she did,she’d be asleep in ten seconds. The very thought gave her a small,guilt-induced surge of adrenaline. Gabby Crewe was lying on a slab somewhere.She’d never have a comforting nap again. The least the profiler investigatingher death could do was stay awake long enough to get her justice.
“That doesn’t look like coffee,” she noted as she sat down uninvited.Peters pulled up a chair beside her.
“It’s a hot toddy,” the woman responded. “And it’s not my first thismorning. I’m going for numb today.”
“Well, then I’m glad we caught you before it took full effect,” Peterssaid, taking the initiative. “We didn’t get to finish talking last night beforeyour friend Steve burst in.”
“I don’t really have much to add,” Ferro replied, sounding pretty numbalready.
“You might be surprised at what doesn’t seem important to you but isvaluable to us,” he told her, leaning in as he pulled out his notepad. “Forexample, you told us that prior to returning to your room last night you were ‘flittingabout.’ Can you expand on that?”
With the sunglasses on, Jessie couldn’t ascertain Ferro’s fullexpression but her lips did purse tightly together before she responded, rarelya sign that one was comfortable with the question being asked.
“I just meant that I was all over place, talking to old friends frompast visits, joking around with the staff. At a certain point, I wasn’t feelingso great, so I went to the room.”
“I thought you said you went to the room to freshen up,” Peterspressed.
Melissa Ferro smiled condescendingly.
“I was being discreet, Detective. I didn’t want to say that I thought Iwas going to vomit.”
Peters nodded understandingly.
“Speaking of being discreet, Mrs. Ferro,” he said confidingly, “I’veworked here on the island for a few years. I’m intimately familiar with thespecial relationship this hotel has with its guests. So if you happened to goto your room less out of illness and more for a little extracurricularactivity, you can tell us. Our focus today isn’t on being puritanical. We’retrying find out who killed your friend. If you can give us the name of someonewho can confirm your whereabouts with more specificity than you have so far, itwould serve you well.”
Jessie sat in silence, marveling at Peters’s ability to ask hisquestion without accusation or alienation. Where was this guy all last night?
Ferro seemed to be weighing how to answer. It was obvious that she haddone something last night that she wanted to hide. The question now was whetherit was simply naughty or something more substantial.
“I’m not sure what’s considered a crime,” she finally replied. “I’mwondering if I need to protect myself.”
Peters smiled sympathetically.
“Look, Melissa,” he said, adopting the persona of a close confidant. “Iknow how these things work. A guest spends some private time with an employee.At the end of the guest’s stay, they often give a sizable to tip to thatemployee. There’s a haziness there that protects the guest. If I was trying tomake a case involving solicitation, you might be at some legal risk, though itwould be hard to prove. But I’m not trying to make that case. Ms. Hunt and
