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“I’m not making coffee. It’s too late for caffeine. Nobody should drink coffee this late unless they’re in a police station or a hospital waiting room.”
“You are grumpy. I’m sure he’ll settle for water if he’s thirsty.”
“Wanna bet it’s about Zephyr?”
“Probably. We don’t need to tell Wally we already know who it is.”
“Agreed. Help me up.”
He got to his feet and reached out a hand, tugging her to her feet. “We should nudge the dogs awake.”
Brogan snapped her fingers. The tired dogs sat up fast, yawning and stretching. “Come on, you sleepyheads. Potty one more time before bed. Go on. Go do your business.”
She watched as the dogs wandered over to one of their favorite flower bed bushes and tinkled.
“Good job. Now inside. Bedtime. Upstairs. Go.”
The dogs trotted into the kitchen, stopping at their water dishes for one last drink before heading to the second floor.
“You make that look easy,” Lucien noted, turning the lock on the French doors.
“It might work if we didn’t have one last guest showing up,” Brogan reasoned. “If they need to go outside again, I’ll send them down.”
“You’re headed to bed? You’re not staying to talk to Wally?”
“You talk to him, man to man. He’s probably more comfortable doing that anyway. Besides, we already know he plans to come clean about knowing Zephyr. And we have that info already.”
When the doorbell rang, he leaned in and kissed her. “You look tired. I’ll be up shortly.” He watched her move toward the stairs before zigzagging his way into the foyer. He flipped on the porch light, checked the door cam, and opened the door. “Hey, Wally, come on in. How’s it going?”
“Okay. I guess. Sorry to bother you this late.”
“No problem,” Lucien said, noting Wally looked worn out. “Want something to drink?”
“Nah. I’m fine. I’ve been stewing about this all day. After talking it over with Lilly, I have to get this off my chest. The sooner, the better. Earlier today, when you and Brogan stopped by, I lied about knowing Zephyr.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because it sounded like you thought he had something to do with that girl’s murder. I’ve known Zephyr my entire life. He taught me to surf. He’s a longtime friend who was the only guy there for me after my dad died. He’s like my mentor or an older brother. Take your pick. I think of him as family. Lee Willis is not a killer.”
“Who?”
“Lee Willis. That’s his real name. Nobody calls him that, though. Nobody. I’ve known him as Zeph from as far back as I can remember.”
“You mean Zephyr.”
“Yeah.”
“Why the name Zephyr?”
“Because Zeph has this habit of standing on the shoreline studying the wind currents and the airflow. He’d stand there until the conditions were just so perfect. He’d patiently wait for the wind to change direction if he had to. You knowZephyrus was the Greek god of the west wind. Surfers connect to things like that. And Zephyr was the smoothest, most natural surfer I ever knew. The man floated on the water like a gentle breeze right off the west wind. Still does.”
“I thought Richie Plunkett was Zephyr.”
“Richie? No way. Who told you that? Richie’s nickname was Boomer. People called him that because he played quarterback from peewee football to high school. Richie couldn’t throw for crap but thought he was one of the greatest quarterbacks the coach had ever seen. It was all in his head. He had an ego the size of Devils Peak. No matter the situation, Richie would always opt to go long. Hail Mary all the way. It didn’t matter if it was first and ten or third and a few inches. Everybody knew it, including the opposing team. That’s why he had a losing season for three out of four years. The story goes that coach benched Boomer several times over those years for not listening. But Boomer was Boomer. He never was the best surfer from that timeframe. As I recall, the nickname stuck mostly from football, not surfing. That was before my time, though.” Wally shifted his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought you wanted to know about Zephyr?”
“I do,” Lucien said, leading him into the den. “Take a seat and tell me everything you know about him.”
Wally dropped into a comfy chair and began to talk. “Great surfer. Terrific person. He lost his mom when he was five or six. I think that’s why Zeph stepped up after my dad died. He’d make an excuse to drop by the garage just to talk. While we’d work on an engine or buff out a paint job, he’d ask me how things were going. He was the only one who seemed to care.”
