Boneyard Beach

by Bill Noel

  “Good question, Theo,” I said. “Was that what you were talking about when I came to get you off the boat?”

  “Youngsters like the captain, think that because someone’s old that he can’t figure things out. Can’t wonder about things that seem off. Yeah, I had asked him how he knew where the body was when you showed up.”

  Charles leaned toward Theo. “What’d he say?”

  Theo frowned. “I was getting there. The captain stumbled through his words and mumbled something about hearing it around town. Sounded like a crock. That’s when I asked for Chris’s help off the boat.”

  “Is that all he said?” I asked.

  “Yes, I know that’s not anything that means that he killed the kid, but it sounded wrong, just plain wrong. And I’ll tell you one other thing, that fellow sure was antsy after I asked him how he knew. That’s why I figured you were the best person.” He glanced at Charles. “Best people to tell. I know you’re good at catching killers.”

  “You sure that’s all he said?” Charles asked.

  “Huh?”

  Charles repeated the question.

  “Did you forget the part about me not being stupid? Yes, that’s all. Now you fellows get busy and figure out how you can prove he did it.” He yawned, hesitated, and said, “I’m going to call my buddy Chester and thank him again for pulling the trip together, and then take a nap.”

  We were almost out the door when he added, “Don’t tell anyone in the group, but I also know the real reason they call me ET.” He then grinned and saluted us.

  On the way down the steps, Charles asked, “What do you think?”

  “Robbie killed Drew Casey.”

  “Whoa, you’re that sure because Theo said Robbie knew where the body was?”

  “Mel didn’t kill the kid so someone else did?”

  “Profound.”

  “There’s more.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Motive,” I said. “Remember when we first met Mel’s buddies, the captains?”

  Charles nodded.

  “One of their big complaints was that there wasn’t enough business to go around, and I think one of them even said that there were too many captains doing the same thing. Robbie has a new, expensive boat, and a bunch of kayaks and he told his sister that he didn’t have any money to lend his friend Timothy for his wedding. He’s probably in financial straits and eliminating competition is one way to get out of the hole.”

  “What about the gay tie in? That’s what the police are pinning their case against Mel on.”

  “True, but I don’t buy it. There’s no way Mel would have made a pass at that kid. Because they frequented the same bar doesn’t prove anything. I haven’t heard that the police have even put them there at the same time. I think both being gay was an unfortunate coincidence. And there are way too many people who want to think the worst about someone because of sexual orientation. Mel’s an easy target.”

  “What about the witness who saw him?”

  “The witness admitted to being drunk and didn’t come forward for several days. For the sake of argument, let’s say the witness did see someone near where the murder took place. The witness admitted that it was dark and he couldn’t get a good look. He said it was Mel because Mel was the only old bald guy on the boat.” I looked out the window and turned back to Charles. “What do Robbie and Mel have in common?”

  Charles closed his eyes and nodded left and right. “The same height, same build, and both … bald. But Robbie’s younger.”

  “To a college student in the dark and through alcohol-infused eyes, he would still be an old bald guy.”

  “So he saw Robbie and thought it was Mel.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How would Robbie have known they were going to be at Boneyard Beach? Why kill Drew?”

  I grinned, “Remember what Mel told us the captains talked about during their monthly gatherings?”

  Charles put his forefinger to his cheek. “Bitched and moaned about cheap vacationers, stupid things that happen on their trips, and fixing prices.”

  “Yes, I said, “Plus, what trips they had scheduled.”

  Charles nodded. “So he could have known about the Boneyard Beach excursion and been there when they arrived. Wouldn’t Mel have noticed Robbie’s boat?”

  “No doubt, and that’s why I think Robbie walked from the end of Ashley Avenue to Boneyard Beach.”

  “.5 miles,” Charles added.

  I nodded. “I think he killed the college student to frame Mel. Drew Casey’s only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “And Robbie put the bloody rag in Mel’s garage?”

  “Yes.”

  Charles shook his head. “So what are we going to do about it?”

  “I’m going to drop you at your apartment, and call Detective Cox and lay out my thoughts and hope he doesn’t laugh his head off. All I have is speculation, and Cox thinks he already has the killer. I hope he is as good a person as Cindy says he is. I hope he listens.”

  Instead of getting Detective Cox, I got a metallic sounding voice mail message asking me to leave a message. I told the cold machine who I was and requested that Cox call me as soon as possible. I was exhausted but needed to run to the grocery, and hopefully could slip in a nap while waiting for the call.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I was carrying two bags of what I call groceries, or what nutritionists deride as junk food, up my front steps, and wondering if I had the energy to get them put away before falling in bed for a nap. It was an hour since I had called and I wondered why the detective hadn’t called back. I stepped through the door and my focus abruptly changed.

  “About time,” said the strident voice of Harriet Grindstone. She stepped out of the kitchen to meet me.

  I’m not the detective some have accused me of being, but it didn’t take one to know this wasn’t a social call. A black, semiautomatic Beretta pointed at my head gave it away. I also realized that my bag of Oreo cookies may raise her cholesterol, but would be no match for the handgun.

  I looked at the groceries, and tilted my head toward the kitchen table. She waved the gun in that direction and I set the bags on the table.

  “What do you want Harriet?”

  Her cackle reminded me of the Wicked Witch of the West. She motioned for me to sit. I obliged.

  She lowered her thin frame in the chair opposite me at the table, and kept the gun pointed at my head. “Let me tell you a story.”

  I nodded as if I had a choice.

  “When I was seven, we lived on a ranch. I went to school like all the other little boys and girls and learned the same kind of things that I bet you learned. English, math, reading, and even some history helped me get to where I am today. But the real learning came from my Pop.” She hesitated and looked toward the window, but the Beretta’s aim never wavered. “Montana ranch life was tough, but Pop loved every second of it. One day I was playing out behind the barn when a gray wolf peeked its head around the corner. I’d never seen one that close and thought it was as cute as could be and figured it would be a mighty-fine pet. I inched a little closer and it wasn’t as skittish as I thought it’d be. I was wondering how to catch it, when all of a sudden, the cute thing’s head went and exploded. Boom! I was stunned. I looked around and there stood Pop, his big-ole Winchester in his hand and a wicked frown on his face. I was so mad at him that I ran to the house crying.”

  I stared at Harriet and waited. She stood and walked to the sink and looked out the window. Her limp had disappeared and I realized that she had faked the injury so she could be here when I got home.

  She returned to the chair. “Now the lesson. Pop let me get in a good cry, and then made me sit in front of him. He said that that lovely creature he shot was put on this earth for one purpose, and that was to kill and eat—to kill and eat our livestock, my chickens, and even little girls if enough wolves were in the pack. He said they may be beautiful, but that I shouldn�
�t be deceived. We had to overlook their appeal and kill them every chance we got. They were no good, he said. Know what else he taught me?”

  I shook my head.

  “Pop didn’t have the benefit of a good education, had to cheat to finish high school he said, with a little embarrassment in his voice, but he told me there was one lesson he learned early on. Said that if you set your mind to doing or getting something, you need to use all the wherewithal in your power to do it.”

  The phone rang.

  Great, now the detective calls.

  Harriet gave it a dirty look. “Let it ring.”

  We both stared at it until it stopped and she continued, “Pop said it wouldn’t always be easy but if I wanted it, I shouldn’t let anything stand in my way.”

  “Like Abe?”

  She grinned but her eyes were cold. “I’ve had several relationships in my life, some of them were good.” She grinned again. “Most of them sucked. Then Theo came along. He’s a sweet man, you know.”

  And a wealthy one, I thought.

  “Sure he’s got a few problems, but who doesn’t. Speed walking’s not his thing, his memory’s not quite all there, and when it comes to the bedroom … never mind. The point is he likes me, and I think I’m falling for him.”

  And his money. “Abe stood in your way?”

  “Let me put it as delicately as I can.” She shook her head. “That sneaky, conniving, conning, son of a bitch, was a damned gray wolf. He was after Theo’s money and would’ve taken him for every penny if I’d have let him. The million that Abe had already talked Theo out of was only the beginning. He had more ‘great deals’ he was talking to poor Theo about.” She glared at me. “You see, I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “So you did what your dad did to the wolf?”

  “You bet your ass I did. Another thing Pop taught me was how to shoot a tin can off a fencepost at fifty yards. Sorry you had to be there. If you hadn’t fallen out of the way, I would have waited for another time to exterminate the damned wolf. Sooner or later, I would have got him. You know, we do what we have to do to protect our self-interests. I. . .”

  The phone’s shrill ring interrupted a second time.

  I thought she was going to shoot the phone, but instead slid it out of my reach and scowled at it until it stopped. I took the interruption to look around for something I could use as a weapon. All that came close was the Mr. Coffee machine; no competition for a semiautomatic.

  “I get why you killed Abe, but why are you here?”

  She sighed. “The police are after your buddy, Larry. I wasn’t on their radar and never would have been, and then a detective knocks on my door and starts asking questions and fishing for connections to Abe. He finished his questions and I asked why he was talking to me. He said it was routine.” She frowned. “I hate it when people think because I’m getting older that I’m stupid.”

  I thought how similar that was to Theo’s comment about Robbie.

  She continued. “I knew that was BS and asked him who gave him my name. He gave me a polite smile and said he couldn’t say. He didn’t have to; I knew it was you and your damned nosiness. Everybody tells me how you butt into murders and keep asking questions until you get the goods on someone. I looked you up on-line and saw they were right. You’re a good friend of Larry.” She shook her head. “Sorry, but you need to go.” She leaned back but still held the gun on me. “We’re going to sit here until dark and I’m going to escort you to my car and then we’re going to head off-island so I can give you a proper adios where you won’t be found for a while.” She grinned. “If ever. Then I’m going to be back in my house moaning and groaning about my sprained ankle. I couldn’t have been out-and-about killing anyone; couldn’t even get off the couch.”

  Dark was an hour away so I had some time to come up with a plan. I didn’t have to wait that long. Pounding on the front door startled both of us. Would Detective Cox have come to the house after I didn’t answer? No, that wouldn’t make sense.

  Harriet started to push away from the table, was momentarily distracted. This was my chance. Before she could stand, I rammed the table into her midsection. She tripped over her chair but regained her balance before hitting the floor. The Beretta was still in her hand.

  Three things happened almost instantaneously. I shoved the overturned table out of the way and lunged for the gun. I had suspected that Harriet was stronger than she looked. I was right. She scooted back and kicked my shin. I grabbed the pistol’s barrel and tried to twist it out of her hand.

  The barrel blast was six inches from my head. The sound was deafening and the high pressure muzzle flash blinded me. I barely noticed the sting on my temple.

  Then, Charles’s size nine shoe kicked in the front door.

  I ignored the stream of warm liquid running down my cheek and twisted the weapon away from her. Harriet screamed as her trigger finger yanked backwards. I wrenched the weapon from her grasp and hurled it across the room. I jerked her left arm behind her back. She screamed a second time and fell on her stomach. Blood from my head dripped on the back of her blouse as I grabbed her other arm and twisted it behind her.

  Charles moved closer. I yelled for him to get duct tape from the drawer by the sink.

  Harriet kicked, let out a bloodcurdling scream, and rolled from side to side. It took both of us to hold her still enough to tape her hands together and then taped her feet together for insurance. Once she was disabled, I sat on the floor and touched my head. Charles grabbed a towel and I pressed it to the wound while he called 911, Cindy’s cell phone, and left a message for Detective Adair.

  Between the time Charles called the cavalry and when the house filling with police, I must have passed out. The next thing I remembered was lying on the stretcher with an IV in my arm and an EMT smiling and saying “Welcome back.”

  I knew I was going to be alright when Officer Allen Spencer leaned over the stretcher. “Didn’t I say that you needed a better lock?” He was referring to an incident last year when the police had broken into the house to catch someone suspected of murdering members of a film crew. I smiled when I realized that Larry would now be around to install it instead of being behind bars.

  I argued that I didn’t have to go to the hospital but the EMTs politely, but firmly, disagreed and I finally gave in. I gave Officer Spencer a quick rundown of what had happened as the medics wheeled me out the door. He assured me that Harriet would be leaving with him, and Charles said he would follow the ambulance in my car.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  An hour later, I was in an exam room in the ER at Charleston’s Roper Hospital. I had spent so much time in the emergency room the last few years either as a patient or visiting friends that I asked the nurse if I could get the employee discount at the cafe. She faked a smile and said something about a shot in the head makes people say weird things. I didn’t know about that, but knew that I had a terrible, pulsating headache and the side of my face felt like it had been held over Larry’s grille.

  I had been X-rayed and the first doctor to check on me had a nurse put salve on the facial burn that had been caused by high pressure gas and unburned gunpowder from Harriet’s gun. The bullet had only grazed my skull and the wound was minor, no stitches necessary. Before rushing to more serious emergencies, the doc said he didn’t think there was any serious damage, but he wanted to keep me overnight to be safe. I was lucky, he said, and I agreed. Did I ever!

  Charles waited with me until they moved me to a room and had the need to say weird things without benefit of being shot in the head. I didn’t realize how many stupid jokes could be made about my hard head and how the best way to grab a gun was the grip instead of the barrel. My head hurt too much to appreciate his stand-up comedy routine, so I changed the subject.

  “Why were you at the house?”

  “You said you were going home and taking a nap, so where else would you be? I called and you ignored the call. I called again and you ignored me a second time
, so I thought I’d head over and pound the door until you got your lazybones out of bed.”

  I didn’t think it was necessary to tell him that I didn’t answer because I had a deadly weapon pointed at me. Besides, I owed my life to his impatience, something else that I wasn’t about to acknowledge.

  It kept running through my lucky head what Harriet had said about us having to do whatever necessary to protect our self-interests and despite my aching head, began to focus on Mel. Once I eliminated him as a killer, all signs pointed to Robbie. And Robbie knew that Theo was getting suspicious. Was Theo in danger?

  I asked Charles to get my cell out of my slacks.

  “If you’re calling for a pizza, get pineapple on it,” he said.

  If my head hadn’t hurt, I would have uttered a smart remark, but instead I closed my eyes and held my hand out for the phone. He handed it to me, huffed, and plopped down in the only chair in the room. I saw where I’d missed a call from Chester and that he’d left a voicemail. It could wait, and I called Theo, only to get a recording. I left a message for him to call me as soon as he could.

  After I disconnected, Charles said, “Theo doesn’t deliver pizzas. What’s up?”

  I shared my fear that Theo wasn’t good at hiding his surprise that Robbie knew where the body had been, and that the captain might go after him. My head hurt but everything else appeared to be working properly so I scooted my legs off the side of the bed and sat. After a minute, the room stopped spinning, and I asked Charles to get my clothes. He shook his head and asked if the bullet in my head made me forget what the doctor had said about me spending the night in Hotel Roper.

  “The bullet isn’t in my head. I’m leaving.”

  Charles response was to hand me the bundle of clothes. I had lied about feeling fine; my head pounded and the side of my face still felt like I’d laid it on an electric stove’s red-hot burner. I dressed before anyone in a white coat returned and tried to tie me down.