Blood Money

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Whoa,” said Theo. “She is hot, hot, hot.”

Jack was waiting with him outside the Patti amp; Alan Herbert Wellness Center on the University of Miami campus. A creek and rocky ravine circled the center like a castle moat, and the narrow footbridge over it was the only access to the main entrance-which made the bench at the end of the bridge a prime viewing spot for the endless stream of co-eds on the way to or from a workout. The clingy black spandex left little to the imagination.

“Down, boy,” said Jack. “She’s probably twenty years old.”

“And your point is. .?”

Jack didn’t even try to explain. For more years than he cared to admit, beautiful twenty-year-old women had been mere girls to him.

“I mean, dude, it’s not like I said I want to buy her a bottle of vodka or go vote with her.”

“Theo, I get it. And by the way, you don’t have to be twenty-one to vote. It’s eighteen.”

“Since when?”

“Since before you were born.”

“So she could vote to have sex with me.”

Jack massaged that aching spot between his eyes. “You know, it’s a good thing only half the things you say are serious, or we just couldn’t be friends.”

“It’s not that half the things I say are serious. It’s everything I say is half serious. There’s a difference.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Well. . half.”

Jack kept an eye on the main door. It had taken several phone calls from Celeste Laramore’s father, but Celeste’s roommate had finally agreed to talk to Jack. The plan was to meet outside the wellness center.

“That’s her,” said Jack.

“Whoa. She is totally-”

“Quit,” Jack told him.

Jenna Smith seemed to recognize Jack as she crossed the bridge. She was dressed like all the other young women on parade, though it was impossible not to notice that she spent a few more hours a week in the gym than most. Her hair was in a ponytail. De rigueur, a cell phone was in her hand.

“Hi, I’m Jenna.”

She extended her free hand, and Jack shook it. “Nice to meet you, Jenna. This is-”

“Theo Knight,” he said, “head of voter registration.”

“What?”

“Ignore him,” said Jack. “Thanks for meeting with us.”

She nodded once, more acquiescence than enthusiasm. “Mr. Laramore said it was important.”

“It is,” said Jack. He led her to a picnic table beneath a stand of palm trees where they could talk. She laid her pink workout bag on the bench beside her and placed her cell phone on the table in front of her. Jack and Theo sat opposite her, the afternoon sun warm on their backs.

“How is Celeste doing?” asked Jenna.

Jack wasn’t sure how to answer. “We’re still hopeful.”

“That’s the same thing Mr. Laramore told me.” Her phone chime sounded like a bicycle bell. She glanced at a new text from someone and quickly thumb-typed a response. “He also said you wanted to talk about the night Celeste got hurt.”

“Right,” said Jack. “I watched a recording of your interview on TV. You told Faith Corso that you and Celeste had just come from a Sydney Bennett look-alike contest. Of course, now we all know there was no such contest.”

“And you want to know why I lied.”

“That’s about the size of it,” said Jack.

She glanced at Theo. “Is he a cop?”

“Him? No. He’s my investigator. You can talk freely.”

Jenna drew a breath. “I lied because. . well, because that was the story Celeste gave me.”

“Say that again,” said Jack.

“We went out that night, and she looked so much like Sydney Bennett it was freaky. She said we were going to a look-alike contest on South Beach. I say, ‘Okay, cool.’ Then she started driving and I say, ‘Hey, aren’t you going the wrong way?’”

“What did Celeste say?”

“She says, ‘Jenna, can you keep a secret?’ I say ‘Of course.’ And then she tells me that there’s no contest. That we’re going to the women’s detention center.”

“Did she say why?”

She shifted nervously. “She said she was getting paid a thousand bucks just to be in the crowd, act like Sydney, and get on television.”

“Didn’t she realize how dangerous that could be?”

“Well, we knew people were a little crazy about this trial, but most of them were, you know, women who like a good soap opera. We didn’t think anyone would be crazy enough to hurt her. And this was a thousand dollars, for like an hour’s work. Celeste really needed money. Her dad lost his job, so she was getting no help from home.”

“I’m very aware of that,” said Jack, thinking of the health insurance problem. “But back up a second. I’m still not sure why you lied to Faith Corso. Why did you tell her you had just come from a look-alike contest?”

“I was scared. I wasn’t sure if what Celeste did was illegal. She lied to me, so I figured she was covering up something. It wasn’t up to me to blow any whistles on her. We were BFFs. I went with her story. I mean, like I said, she asked if I could keep a secret.”

“Do you know who paid her the thousand dollars?”

“No idea. She never told me.”

“Do you know if she got the money? Or was she supposed to get paid afterward?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Jenna’s phone chimed again, and she checked it. “My friend’s getting tired of waiting. Is there anything else?”

“Actually, yes,” said Jack. “Celeste’s dad e-mailed me some photographs of Celeste-about a half dozen or so from high school to the present.” He pulled them up on his iPhone, showing them to her.

“So?”

“I’m struck by the transformation,” said Jack. “She cut her hair. Changed the style. Darkened the color. The makeup got more noticeable. She seemed to favor tighter clothing. It seems like, over time, she was looking more and more like Sydney Bennett.”

She scrolled through the pictures. “I can see your point. But what of it?”

“That’s what I’m asking you,” said Jack. “Did you ever have a conversation about that? Was it something she was consciously trying to do?”

“I don’t know about that. I mean, she was definitely interested in the case. More than most people I know, anyway.”

“When you say ‘the case,’ do you mean the trial? Or was she interested before the trial?”

“Before.”

“Do you know why?”

“Not sure. She had a criminal-justice class she was taking. I figured it was that. She even went and talked to Sydney’s lawyer, the guy before you.”

Jack did a double take. “Neil Goderich?”

“I don’t know his name. The guy who died.”

“That’s Neil,” said Jack. “Celeste met with him? Do you know why?”

“Not really. Like I said, she had that class she was taking. Or maybe she wanted a job. Working for a lawyer is lot more interesting than flipping burgers.”

“When did they talk?”

“Six months ago, maybe.”

Jenna’s phone chimed again. Another text from her workout buddy. “I really have to go,” she said, rising.

Jack and Theo rose. “You’ve been helpful, thanks,” said Jack.

“No problem,” said Jenna.

Jack and Theo stayed at the table as she crossed the bridge to the main entrance and disappeared inside the wellness center.

“I take it you didn’t know she met with Neil,” said Theo.

“You got that right,” said Jack.

“What do you make of that?”

He glanced at Theo, then back at the entrance doors. “I need to dig for some missing notes.”