Swimsuit - James Patterson [29]
“No comment. That’s all I have for you. Thank you.”
Jackson turned away and the reporters went nuts, and then Tracy Baker was back on the screen, saying “Doug Cahill, linebacker for the Chicago Bears, has been seen on Maui, and informed sources say he was Kim McDaniels’s lover.” A picture came on the screen of Doug in his uniform, helmet under his arm, huge grin, cropped blond hair, mid-western good looks.
“I could see him pestering her,” Barb said, chewing on her lower lip, snatching the remote out of Levon’s hand, dialing the volume down. “But hurt her? I do not believe that.”
And then the phone rang. Levon grabbed it off the hook.
“Mr. McDaniels, this is Lieutenant Jackson.”
“Are you arresting Doug Cahill? If you are, it’s a mistake.”
“A witness came forward an hour ago, a local who said he’d seen Cahill harassing Kim after the photo shoot.”
“Didn’t Doug tell you he hadn’t seen Kim?” Levon asked. “Right. So maybe he lied to us and so we’re talking to him now. He’s still denying any involvement.”
“There’s someone else you should know about,” Levon said, and he told Jackson about Hawkins’s recent phone call concerning a tip about an international businessman named Nils Bjorn.
“We know who Bjorn is,” Jackson said. “There’s no link between Bjorn and Kim. No witnesses. Nothing on the surveillance tapes.”
“You talked with him?”
“Bjorn had checked out before anyone knew Kim was missing. McDaniels, I know you don’t buy it, but Cahill is our guy. We just need time enough to break him.”
Chapter 36
HENRI, in his Charlie Rollins gear, was having lunch at the Sand Bar, the hotel’s exquisite beachside restaurant. Yellow market umbrellas glowed overhead, and teenagers ran up the steps from the beach, their tanned bodies glistening with water. Henri didn’t know who was more beautiful, the boys or the girls.
Henri’s waitress brought him liquid sugar for his iced tea and a basket of cheesy breadsticks and said his salad would be coming shortly. He nodded pleasantly, said he was enjoying the view and had no place he’d rather be than here.
A waiter pulled out a chair at the next table, and a pretty, young woman sat down. She wore her black hair in a short, boyish style, was dressed in a white bikini top and yellow shorts.
Henri knew who she was behind her Maui Jim shades.
When she put down her menu, he said, “Julia. Julia Winkler.”
She looked up, said, “Sorry. Do I know you?”
“I know you,” he said, held up his camera to say, I’m in the business. “Are you on a job?”
“I was,” she said. “The shoot wrapped yesterday. I’m going back to L.A. tomorrow.”
“Oh. The Sporting Life job?”
She nodded, her face getting sad. “I’ve been waiting around, hoping… I was rooming with Kim McDaniels.”
“She’ll be back,” Henri said kindly.
“You think? Why?”
“I have a feeling she’s taking a holiday. It happens.”
“If you’re so psychic, where is she?”
“She’s out of my vibrational reach, but I can read you loud and clear.”
“Sure. So what am I thinking?”
“That you’re feeling sad and a little lonely and you wish you were having lunch with someone who would make you smile.”
Julia laughed, and Henri signaled to the waiter, asked him to set Ms. Winkler up at his table, and the beautiful girl sat down next to him so that they were both looking out at the view.
“Charlie,” he said, putting out his hand. “Rollins.”
“Hi, Charlie Rollins. What am I having for lunch?”
“Grilled chicken salad and a Diet Coke. And here’s what else. You’re thinking you’d like to stay over another day because a neighbor is taking care of your cat and it’s so nice here, so what’s the rush to go home?”
Julia laughed again. “Bruno. He’s a Rottweiler.”
“I knew that,” Henri said, sitting back as the waitress brought his salad and asked Julia for her order, grilled chicken and a mai tai.
“Even if I were to stay over another night, I never date photographers,” she said, eyeing the camera resting on the table facing her.
“Have I asked you out?”
“You will.”
Their grins turned into laughter, and then Rollins said, “All right, I’ll ask you out. And I’m taking