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Wally smiled at the memory. “His wife Angie was a great cook. She made the best homemade tamales I’ve ever tasted. She always made sure Zeph invited me to dinner at least twice a week, usually Wednesday nights and Sunday afternoons. Then about ten years back, Zeph lost Angie to ovarian cancer. That’s when he began hanging around the garage again. He’s never remarried and doesn’t even date. But then, I didn’t expect him to. Those two were devoted to each other. Sometimes he’ll go out for a beer if I push him out the door. Otherwise, he sits and watches DIY shows all day. I’ve been sort of worried about him lately.”
“How did he earn a living?”
“Starting ninth grade, he was a lifeguard for four years during high school. After graduating, he transitioned to the Coast Guard, spent twenty-five years doing that. During his off days, he worked on his father’s shrimp boat. When his dad died a couple of years back, he left him some money and the house he lives in now. You’d call it secluded. It fits Zeph to a tee because he likes to be left alone. I hardly recognize Zeph these days. He used to tinker with cars and engines and liked to talk shop. He was more social when Angie was alive. Now he lives like a hermit. And it’s gotten worse the older he gets. These days, he mostly fixes up his house. Instead of tinkering with cars, he’s one of those do-it-yourselfers. He can fix anything. I’m not sure Angie would approve of him keeping to himself like he does. But he’s near the water. I guess that’s something.”
“I don’t understand the secrecy. Or your reluctance to admit to knowing him. So what if Gidget hung around with Zephyr during the week she was here? How many people came here and hung around the beach?”
Wally shook his head. “That’s just it. Surfers are territorial. They don’t strike up conversations with strangers. They’re cliquish and standoffish, especially with outsiders. They avoid tourists. They don’t mingle. I doubt Zeph would hang around with visitors, let alone a young teenage runaway on her own. As a kid, I never saw him approach anyone he didn’t know. He kept mainly to himself. Still does.”
“We just want to ask him a couple of questions. We also plan to talk to Richie Plunkett and Tazzie Crossland or anyone else who lived here back then and might have run across Gidget at the beach. It’s not that we’re picking on Zephyr. The whole timeframe fits their teen years. You can’t conduct a murder investigation without talking to all the players who hung out during that time. That’s it.”
“Yeah? But recently, every time I heard people talking about this unsolved murder, they’d bring up Carl and Mark Knudsen and Kent Springer. Locals thought those guys had a hand in it but never could prove it. They killed a lot of girls, buried them near the lighthouse.”
“It’s not them.”
“Okay. Then maybe a drifter or some other tourist came through town that August weekend. It doesn’t have to be a local who’s responsible.”
“You’re right. The killer could’ve moved on to who knows where. But we won’t be able to focus on anyone else until we eliminate the obvious—witnesses who might’ve seen something or interacted with Gidget before she died. I appreciate your desire to protect your friend. But we’re not looking to point the finger at anyone unless we have proof.”
“Fine. Zeph lives on the outskirts north of town, on the other side of the lighthouse. 2215 Neptune Circle. It’s the only house on the block. He surfs that stretch of water and doesn’t come into town very often.”
Lucien’s brow wrinkled as he tried to picture the area and couldn’t. He called up the street name on his phone. “Neptune is one short street if you could call it that.”
“Exactly. It’s right off Route 1, down a dirt road. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks. I’ll get over there tomorrow after I talk to Richie.”
“Is it okay if I give Zeph a heads-up?”
“I can’t stop you from mentioning it to him. If he pays attention to the rumor mill, I’m sure he’s already heard we’re looking into Gidget’s death.”
Wally got to his feet and held out his hand to shake Lucien’s. “Thanks. I feel better about things already.”
“No problem. I’ll walk you out.”
He watched from the porch as Wally got back into the muscle car he drove, a sporty SS Chevelle, and zoomed off into the night. Even though he waved Wally off, Lucien felt uneasy about the visit. He couldn’t understand why no one else had mentioned Lee Willis, aka Zephyr. Murphy surely knew every soul in town—so would Brent—including those with a handle like Zephyr. Somebody should have moved the name Lee Willis to the top of the list. Why hadn’t they?
“An uncommon nickname,” Lucien muttered to himself as he locked up. “If you factor in that no one used his real name, then Zephyr should’ve stood out to long-time residents like Murphy and Brent.”
It didn’t make sense. But then, several things bothered him about Wally’s revelation. It’s why he reached for his laptop before plopping down at the kitchen table to research the name online. After an hour, he decided he’d gained enough information to start.
He marched up the stairs but softened his footsteps on the landing before opening the bedroom door in case Brogan was asleep. He was surprised to find her sitting in bed on her laptop. “What are you doing?”
“I’m emailing Jordan to ask if she has any pecan pies already made.”
“You’re joking? It’s almost midnight.”
“I’m not kidding. Tomorrow I’d like to take a pie to Tazzie to get her talking. Imagine how much information she holds about that timeframe. She might be the key to opening that door and giving us a look into not just Vera’s life but Plunkett’s. Think about it. Was that Wally I heard gunning his engine?”
“Yeah. According to Wally, Zephyr isn’t Richie Plunkett,” Lucien said, disappearing into his closet to get ready for bed.
Brogan frowned. “Then who is?”
He appeared outside the closet wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. He tossed back the covers and crawled between the sheets. “A man named Lee Willis. But no one calls him that. The guy’s lived in Pelican Pointe all his life and kind of a loner.”
“I don’t understand. Almost everyone we spoke to said they’d never heard of Zephyr.”
“Bingo. If he’s known around town as Zephyr and not Lee Willis, why didn’t anyone pick up on that? Why didn’t Brent recognize the name? Or Murphy? I don’t expect the newest residents to know stuff like that, but how come Scott didn’t know who Zephyr was?”
