Dark Harbor

by David K. Wilson

  Sam laughed, and the man shook his hand, introducing himself as Dan Mondrick. Sam gave his name and a quick flash of his badge, telling the harbormaster he was helping Detective Turner with the Jane Caplan murder. At the mention of her name, Mondrick’s round face became somber.

  “That just breaks my heart about her,” he said. “She was a good lady.”

  “I was hoping you could let me take a look at Norm Mayhew’s boat,” Sam said.

  Mondrick sighed. “I keep telling you boys that you’re barking up the wrong tree with Norm,” he said. “He’s not a killer.”

  The harbormaster pointed at a boat docked on the other side of the harbor.

  “His boat’s on the West Dock,” Mondrick said. “Hop in. I’ll take you over.”

  Sam followed the harbormaster to a beat-up golf cart.

  “I always wanted one of these,” he said to Mondrick. “Mind if I drive?”

  The harbormaster looked at Sam as he sat down behind the steering wheel, not sure if the cop was being serious or not.

  Sam shrugged and walked around to the passenger side. He looked around like an excited kid.

  “This is where they filmed Jaws, right?” he asked.

  Mondrick let out an audible groan as he maneuvered the golf cart around the harbor to the other dock. While the harbor had been featured in the iconic film, the harbormaster had grown tired of answering questions about the movie - especially since he was just a kid at the time.

  “I hope you all finish up soon,” Mondrick said as he drove. “I’ve been lenient with Norm and Vanessa, given the circumstances, but I need that slip. Striped bass season starts next month, and we’re cramped for space as it is. I told Vanessa I’d need to move the boat to an outer mooring if I don’t get payment by the end of the month.”

  “And she hasn’t paid it yet?” Sam asked.

  Dan shook his head. “I think we’re both hoping Norm will take care of it when he comes back,” he said.

  “So you think he’s coming back?” Sam asked.

  The harbormaster pulled to a stop in front of a blue and white boat backed into a slip between two other similar trawlers and cordoned off with yellow police tape.

  “He always does,” Mondrick finally answered the question.

  20

  Sam climbed out of the golf cart and stared at the 35-foot Deltaga trawler sandwiched between two other trawlers. While in good shape, it was weathered enough for Sam to assume it was an older boat. A large winch and spool at the stern of the boat held thick yellow cable that connected up to a large boom angling out from the center of the boat. Next to the boom, a tall mast jutted straight up, holding several antennas and a radome.

  “Mind if I go on board?” Sam asked.

  Mondrick shrugged. “If you’re working with Paul, then I guess you can go aboard,” he said, making a point of correcting Sam’s language.

  Sam didn’t seem to notice. Or at least he didn’t care. He was just glad the harbormaster hadn’t checked with Detective Turner. It was easier if he thought they were working together.

  Knowing he was being watched, Sam attempted to hop on to the boat. But there was more space between the dock and the boat’s deck than he had counted on and, after a few fumbled attempts, Mondrick shook his head and pulled himself out of the golf cart to help him.

  Finally on deck, Sam walked past the mechanicals at the boat’s stern and toward the cabin. He opened the cabin door and stepped down into the tiny galley crammed with a small oven and built-in dinette. The boat creaked as it swayed gently and Sam placed a hand on the bulkhead to steady himself as he slowly scooted through a narrow entry into a tiny stateroom with two bunk beds. Sheets were tightly tucked into each thin mattress and sleeping bags were rolled and secured along the back wall. Sam had always thought it would be cool to live on a boat, but there was no way he could last long in this cramped, claustrophobic space. He looked around, noting that every inch of the cabin served a functional purpose. It surprised him at how incredibly neat and orderly everything was. From what he had heard about Norm, he was expecting a sloppy disaster. But he now figured that every part of Norm’s life was messy except his boat. He took good care of his rig. This was his sanctuary. And, while he knew jack shit about boating, Sam knew it was important to always know where everything was.

  “You doing okay in there?” Mondrick called out from the dock.

  “When was the last time Norm was out here?” Sam yelled back.

  “Can’t say for sure,” Mondrick answered. “I haven’t seen him for over a week.”

  Sam stepped past the berths to a forward compartment with a large windshield that looked out over the bow of the boat. A chart of New England’s coastal waters was taped down on the table with several red X marks and circles on it.

  “Buried treasure,” Sam joked to himself, although he really speculated that they were good fishing spots.

  Again, everything was in perfect order. Nothing suspicious. No disarray. It certainly didn’t look like the boat of a person planning an ocean getaway.

  Sam opened the drawers of the adjacent desk. One of them held paper supplies, computer cords and other small items. His junk drawer, Sam thought to himself.

  He slid open another drawer and found a bottle of whiskey and a framed photo of Vanessa. He tried to open a third drawer, but it was locked. He was trying to jimmy the lock when he heard another man approach the dock.

  “Hey, he can’t be in there,” the man said.

  Sam crept slowly and silently to the stern of the cabin so he could get a look out the galley window. It was one of the uniformed Chilmark police officers Sam had seen at the police station. Sam grew still, hoping the officer wouldn’t notice him, but the cop knelt down and looked through the window directly at Sam.

  “Sir, this is a crime scene,” the officer said with a practiced, authoritative tone. “I’m going to have to ask you to step off the boat.”

  “He said he was working with you guys,” Mondrick said.

  Sam sighed and stepped back out on the deck.

  “Just giving it a fresh set of eyes,” he said to both men.

  “You lied to me,” Mondrick yelled.

  “I didn’t technically lie,” Sam replied. “I am working with them. Just not necessarily with their blessing.”

  Before he could defend himself further, the officer’s radio interrupted them. Sam recognized Turner’s voice on the other end. Realizing that he had an eavesdropper, the officer stepped away and spoke quietly into his radio. He turned back and looked at Sam nervously. From the look on his face, Sam could tell it was something big.

  “What is it, kid?” Sam asked.

  The officer ignored him and directed his attention to Mondrick.

  “I have to go,” he said urgently, turning to Sam. “Off the boat. Now.”

  Sam watched helplessly as the officer started running toward his parked patrol car. He turned to face a very red-faced Mondrick.

  “Don’t suppose you can give me a ride back,” he said sheepishly.

  Mondrick answered by turning the golf cart around and driving away.

  “If you don’t want me on the boat, then don’t leave me stranded here,” Sam yelled as Mondrick drove out of sight.

  He slung one foot clumsily over the gunwale of the boat, barely reaching the dock with it. He pushed himself forward and toppled to the dock. He scrambled to his feet, trying to quickly shake off his ungracefulness, and started walking fast around the harbor and back to his truck…and the police scanner.

  Had they found Norm? Made some other discovery?

  Something was clearly going on, and Sam needed to know.

  21

  The winding single-lane road was already lined with police cars when Sam pulled up. He had been able to put together the general location from what he heard on the police scanner Jude had loaned him. And luckily, Chappaquiddick only had a few main roads, so it helped him narrow down the search. He just drove slowly and waited for a police car
to pass him, then followed it.

  It had taken him longer than expected to get there. First, he had to drive across the main island from Menemsha to Edgartown. Then he had to figure out how to maneuver all those pesky one-way streets in Edgartown before waiting for the small ferry to cross the harbor between Edgartown and Chappaquiddick.

  Even though Sam was growing impatient by the time he got on the small ferry, he couldn’t help but be seduced by it. First off, he recognized it immediately from the movie Jaws. That made two Jaws locations in one day. Secondly, he was entranced by the incredible views.

  The Chappy Ferry was an old, flat barge that could only carry a handful of cars at a time. It only took a few minutes for it to travel the 527 feet between landings, but during that time, everything seemed to stand still. The occasional squawk of seagulls punctuated the steady chug of the ferry’s motor as it churned past the moored sailboats and fishing boats. Sam looked to his left and saw the Edgartown lighthouse guarding the entrance to the harbor in a scene right off a postcard. For a moment, Sam almost forgot he was making a mad dash to a crime scene.

  Even though it was literally just a stone’s throw across the harbor, Chappaquiddick was vastly different from the bustling town of Edgartown. Except for an occasional house buried deep off the road, there was little sign of life. As he continued to drive inland, the rolling hills and tall pine trees instantly engulfed him and he felt right at home.

  The police car he was following pulled over next to all the other police cars and Sam followed suit. He stepped out of the truck and walked down a sandy road to where all the officers seemed to have gathered. Knowing he was about to walk into the lion’s den, Sam took a deep breath to prepare himself. He knew his presence would not be welcome, but he needed to see for himself what they had found.

  22

  Knowing he only had a few moments before Turner saw him, Sam beelined it toward the first uniformed cop he could find. He did the quick flash of his badge and started talking fast to keep the cop confused and more willing to cooperate.

  “Detective Lawson, QPD, helping out with the case,” he said matter-of-factly. “I got here as fast as I could. Is that the suspect’s car over there? I’m assuming there’s no body. Have you started searching the parameter?”

  The bombardment of questions seemed to do the trick, and the officer nodded.

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “That’s the suspect’s vehicle. And no body has been found.”

  Sam started walking closer to the maroon Ford Focus, motioning the officer to walk with him. This would keep the officer active and occupied so he wouldn’t have time to question Sam’s presence. Plus, Sam used the officer as cover from the cluster of cops studying the car.

  “Tell me what you’ve found so far,” Sam said.

  As he walked, he spotted Turner talking to the uniformed officers. Sam lowered his head, hoping to stay hidden.

  “Not much,” the officer said. “A hiker spotted the vehicle and called it in. It looks abandoned. Doors were locked, but no keys.”

  “And no body?” Sam asked.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Turner yelled as he stormed toward Sam.

  “Thanks for your help,” Sam said to the officer, patting him on the shoulder and turning to face the music as Turner approached.

  “Hey, Paul. Small world, huh?” Sam said nonchalantly.

  “This is a crime scene and you are way out of your jurisdiction,” Turner snapped. “How did you even know about this?”

  “I was just driving around, exploring the island,” Sam said innocently. “Well, truth be told, I was looking for that bridge. You know, the Kennedy one? Anyway, I wound up getting lost on all these back roads. But then I saw all the police cars and figured someone could offer directions. Is that Norm’s car?”

  He walked toward it, but Turner stood in front of him to stop him.

  “You think I’m that stupid?” he said.

  “To know if that’s Norm’s car?” Sam asked, faking confusion.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Detective Lawson,” Turner said as politely as possible.

  Sam waved him off.

  “Please. Call me Sam,” he said. “I’m just a concerned citizen. That is his car, isn’t it?”

  “Do you want me to arrest you?” Turner asked. “Is that what you want? Because I can do it.”

  Sam held up his hands in front of him.

  “As much as I like a cop that takes requests, I don’t want to put you out,” Sam said.

  “Then leave,” Turner said through gritted teeth.

  Seeing his attempt at charm wasn’t working, Sam let out a sigh and tried a more sincere approach.

  “Look, I just want to help out,” he said. “I’m not good at vacations. I’m bored. Give me something to do. Anything.”

  “Well, maybe you should go back to Texas,” Turner countered.

  Sam shook his head. “You know how it is. It’s expensive to change flights, especially on a cop’s salary.”

  “Then go work on Vanessa’s lavender farm or something,” Turner said. “Just stay away from this investigation.”

  Sam held his hands out, palms up.

  “Do these look like farmer's hands?” he asked. “Come on. I’m a cop. It’s what I do. And you’ve gotta be shorthanded. Let me help.”

  Sam could tell Turner was thinking about it. He decided to seize the moment.

  “You think Norm abandoned his car and is hiding somewhere in the woods?” he asked.

  Turner hesitated, then finally gave in.

  “He must have figured we’d already been looking for his car since he went missing a week ago. We would have known if he took it on the Steamship Authority ferry back to the mainland,” he said. “Chances are he dropped his car here and hiked back to the Chappy ferry. Then he either hopped the big ferry back to the mainland or hitched a boat ride with one of his fishing buddies.”

  “Let me ask around for you,” Sam said. “Talk to the fishermen. Anyone with a boat.”

  Turner laughed. “If one of them knowingly harbored a fugitive, they’re certainly not going to tell a stranger,” he said. “Especially one wearing cowboy boots.”

  “What about video footage?” Sam asked. “Security footage at the harbor. The big ferries. I could look through the footage for you. Free up you and your men.”

  Turner shook his head and patted Sam on the shoulder.

  “We’ve got it under control, Sam,” he said. “I appreciate the offer, but you can help the most by letting us do our job, okay?”

  Sam nodded. He was slightly disappointed that Turner hadn’t accepted his offer, but was actually relieved he wouldn’t have to scour through hours of video footage. Besides, he now had the information he needed. Norm’s car had been abandoned. There was no sign of his body and there didn’t appear to be any foul play. That meant that Norm was on the run and Turner was focused on finding him, which would make it easier for Sam to focus on other possible suspects. And he knew the perfect place to start.

  23

  “There has to be a reason you said it,” Carla prodded.

  Ever since Vanessa had professed her doubts of Norm’s innocence, she had evaded the subject.

  “I’m just tired,” Vanessa said. “I say all kinds of stupid things I don’t mean.”

  “But there had to have been a reason,” Carla said.

  The two sisters lay on the grass, staring up at the afternoon sky. The bottle of wine had long since been emptied and the two women had abandoned the deck for the backyard, where they were indulging in one of their favorite childhood pastimes: staring up at the clouds and talking about life.

  As kids growing up outside of New Orleans, they spent most of their summer days outside - regardless of how hot and humid it would get. The only respite was the large weeping willow tree that grew in an empty field not far from their house. Carla and Vanessa would often lie under the tree and look through the long flowing branches at the blue sky beyond
it.

  Today, there was no willow offering its shade, but it also wasn’t hot enough to need it. Instead, they basked in the warmth of the springtime sun shining down on them. Vanessa had been feeling extra chatty, probably a nervous reaction to all the events of the day. Carla was more than content to just listen. She missed her sister, and her workdays were typically spent looking over dead bodies. Hearing a living human’s voice was a welcome novelty to her day.

  “Remember the wedding?” Vanessa asked, changing the subject. “That was your first time up here, right?”

  “I was so pissed we all had to haul ourselves up to Martha’s Vineyard,” Carla said, resigning herself to the fact her sister wasn’t going to address the fact that she had said she doubted Norm’s innocence. “I thought you were so uppity.”

  “Yeah, that’s what most people think when they think of the Vineyard,” Vanessa said. “And it can be that, for sure.”

  “Hell, parts of East Texas can be like that,” Carla said. “Although, probably not as preppy.”

  The two women laughed.

  “I was so in love,” Vanessa reminisced. “I mean, I still am. But it was so young and new.”

  “And we were so young and naïve,” Carla added.

  “Norm’s a dreamer,” Vanessa went on. “It’s what I loved about him from day one. But he’s hit so many dead ends. I honestly don’t know how he keeps going on.”

  “Well, he’s got you supporting him,” Carla said. “That can’t hurt.”

  “He hates that,” Vanessa said. “His manly pride. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to practically force him to not give up.”

  “That’s mighty big of you,” Carla said, immediately realizing it unintentionally sounded sarcastic.

  “It’s his dream,” Vanessa clipped. “And that’s all that matters.”

  Carla sat up.

  “But look at you now,” she said. “The two of you fight all the time. He disappears on you days at a time, leaving you a wreck. You even wonder if he could have killed someone.”