The Girl on the Yacht Read Online Free Page A

together later today,” he suggested to Marin.
    “That sounds good.” She turned to Beth. “It’s so good to see you.”
    When Marin rose from the table, Dan asked her, “What’s the book about?”
    “It’s the story of power and corruption.” She set her napkin on the table. “I’ve always been fascinated by what the rich get away with. It’s what pulled me into criminology.” She glanced over at Laura. “You know, we should team up and write a book together. You can do the psych theories, and I can do the crime theories.”
    “Sounds like a best seller,” Dan said.

Chapter 5
     
     
Newport Beach Condominium
     
    Michael pulled off Coast Highway at MacArthur Boulevard and headed north. A short distance in, he turned right on San Joaquin Drive and shot up the hill. The Suburban navigated its way through the maze of older streets on the ridge overlooking the nearby expanse of calm ocean.
    The bland set of beige buildings occupied the entire block. He slowly drove by and continued along, cataloging every detail in his memory. Overhead street lights located on the corners––none mid-block. That’s good. The only visible traffic camera is at the stoplight intersection, three-hundred yards to the east––excellent.
    Michael made a U-turn at the next cross street and did another pass. Two blocks back he pulled the huge Chevy Suburban in against the curb. It should be easy to avoid the camera from here. He swung the door open, reached down, and grabbed the L.A. Dodgers cap. I’ll come up on the building from the west and duck into the main entrance.
    While he strolled casually along the sidewalk, Michael pulled the dark-blue hat down—his slow, natural pace suggesting a familiarity with the property. He slipped casually through the arched entry into the 1960s-style apartment building that had recently been renovated into tiny ocean-view condos. Michael ran the back of his finger along the names on the mailboxes, searching for Number 22. “Got ya.”
    The following few minutes, he walked through the courtyards along the concrete paths to understand the layout and perimeter of the massive complex. When he had it, he made his way out back and came to a halt when he saw the empty parking space marked 22.
    A silver Mercedes pulled in next to the open spot. A woman in her sixties reached back over the seat to retrieve her day’s shopping spoils. With a colorful Nordstrom’s bag in hand, she turned in the seat.
    Michael approached and said softly through the closed window, “Excuse me.”
    Intimidated by his presence and size, the woman flinched.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He gave his best puppy dog expression. “I’m a little embarrassed.”
    Her tension seemed to subside. She listened without opening the door.
    Michael continued, “You see, a couple days ago, I accidentally dented the car that was in this parking space.” He pointed to the open spot. “It was just a small scratch––I should never have left—I feel so guilty about it. I want to get in touch with the owner. When do you think I should come back?”
    His sincerity and demeanor settled the woman. She smiled at him and pushed open the door.
    He extended his hand to help her from the vehicle.
    The woman said, “She’s spending the weekend on her boat over at the Blue Water Marina.” The grey-haired woman climbed out of the vehicle. “If you want to leave your number, I’ll give it to her when she comes home on Monday.”
    “Would you? That would be great.” He took out a pen and searched his pockets for a piece of paper.
    She held up the glitzy silver and black bag.
    “Just write your name and number on this.”
    He nodded and wrote the name, Tom Drake, and just as bogus, a phone number. “I really appreciate it.” Michael turned and walked slowly back through the building’s alcove toward the street.
    Damn. No time to plan. I’ll be going in blind. I need to pick up a few things before I head down to