The Girl on the Yacht Read Online Free PDF

gathering suddenly took an interest.
    “She’s writing a book,” Laura said. She rested her hand on Dan’s arm.
    Rob, the sixty-year-old land developer glanced back at Marin. “What’s it about?”
    “Crystal Sea Bank.”
    “That’s the one our government gave all that money to, and then it went under anyway,” Rob said.
    “It was a mess.” Dan slowly shook his head. “It almost took down major players in the banking sector.” He was fuming. “My problems are directly related to those bastards. They stole billions. The country’s in a real mess––hell, the whole world.”
    “Those guys never go to prison.” Rob’s demeanor had changed.
    Laura, the psychiatrist, nodded and pushed back her medium length blonde hair.
    “Prosecutors are always apprehensive about going after the rich,” Beth said.
    “It’s difficult to convict individuals––with their lawyers and their plausible deniability,” Marin said. “Usually, it’s a token fine against the company––it’s the easy way out.”
    “My Jackie’d go after them,” Rob said, obviously proud of his wife.
    Marin wasn’t sure what he meant.
    “Jackie’s the District Attorney,” Laura explained.
    There’s a person I’d like to interview for my research, Marin thought.
    “Wasn’t there a vice-president in the Crystal Sea case that confessed to fraud?” Dan asked.
    “I remember––didn’t he go to Club Fed?” Beth asked.
    Marin nodded. “I interviewed him last week up in Lompoc Prison.”
    “What did you expect to get from him?” Dan asked.
    “I just wanted to understand his motivations.”
    “His motivation––he wanted to get rich the old-fashioned way––steal it. He ruined an awful lot of people who owned the bank’s stock.” Rob sat up straighter. “If you see him again, I have a question you can ask.” He stared at the darkening blue sky. “How did he get arrested when there are a hundred more criminals like him walking on the streets with huge wads of cash in their pockets?”

Chapter 7
     
     
Blue Water Marina, Newport Beach
     
    After a couple of stops, with maybe an hour left of daylight, Michael drove down the cul-de-sac leading to the entrance of the Blue Water Marina. A six-by-five-foot guard shack crowded the curb with its yellow metal arm extended across the entry.
    He pulled the dark Suburban over to the side of the road and parked. A silver Lexus passed by on its journey into the marina parking lot. The gate went up when the driver put a card in front of an electronic reader. No guard appeared from behind the smoked glass of the small structure. Not unusual—the gate operator probably knows all the boat owners. A moment later, a golden Escalade approached the gate. It went up, with still no movement in the darkened box.
    Michael grabbed his backpack and ball cap from the seat and strolled toward the entrance. As he closed in on the tiny building, with its window air conditioner sticking out the far side, he got his answer––it was vacant. He peered inside to discover that it had been abandoned for some time. Excellent. Budget cuts mean less security. He jogged through the entrance and continued down the driveway leading to the boats and the clubhouse some quarter-mile in the distance. One thought kept crossing his mind–– how am I going to find her? Maybe through their security system, if they have one.
    When he reached the long series of boat slips that shot out into the bay, he examined the rooflines and the tall light posts. He specifically checked the places where he would have located the security system’s cameras for optimal coverage of the facility.
    What he saw surprised him. Of the twenty-four arms extending out into the water at right angles from the embankment walkway, there were only three cameras–– three cameras . Michael sat down on a nearby bench, stretched his legs out as if enjoying his day at the marina, and watched the nearby camera make its sweep of the area. He was