by Janet Dawson
“We can shoot back.” Donna glanced at the Winchester. “I don’t know how accurate you can be at this speed. It would be better if we could slow them down.”
“I have an idea,” I said.
I went down the ladder to the galley, returning a moment later with the box I’d seen on the shelf above the sink. Danger. Explosive, read the lettering. Do not hold in hand. Light and throw away.
“Sea-lion bombs?” Bobby glanced at the box, then back at the sailboat, intent on shortening the distance between the Nicky II’s bow and the Windrunner’s stern. “They’re not kidding about the light-and-throw-away part, cuz. Those suckers have a short fuse. They’ll blow off your hand if you’re not careful.”
“But they’ve got a big bang,” Donna said with a grin. “A couple of these lobbed into the cabin would certainly get their attention. How do we deliver the package?”
I opened the box and pulled out a couple of sea-lion bombs, fat short firecrackers with minimal fuses. “We’ll just have to throw them. Got a lighter?”
“I saw one down in the galley.” Donna quickly descended the ladder and returned a moment later with a butane lighter discarded by one of Bobby’s crew.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” The skipper of the Nicky II moved his eyes heavenward, then back down to his prey. “I’ll try to get as close as I can. Just don’t blow a hole in our hull, or we’ll be swimming to shore.”
If I had any sense, I thought, I’d be scared. Throwing sea-lion bombs at the Windrunner seemed simple, straight-forward—and foolhardy. What if the wind blew the little firecrackers right back at us? Besides, the people aboard the sailboat had a gun. Donna and I made good targets out here on the Nicky II’s bow, holding a box of powerful explosives.
“How much delay do you suppose we have?” Donna asked as she examined one of the squat bombs.
“I guess we’re about to find out.”
I looked to starboard. Bobby was overtaking the Windrunner on the sailboat’s port side. One of the figures in the sailboat’s cabin steered to starboard, trying to get away from us. The other figure held the gun.
The bow of the Nicky II edged past the Windrunner’s stern now, gaining, then losing, then gaining again, all the while angling closer to the ketch. How close were we? Twenty feet? Close enough to get shot. I ran my fingers over the little firecracker. It had been years since I’d played softball. Could I throw this thing far enough to land it on a moving target?
Bobby edged closer to the sailboat. Now was my chance. I held out the sea-lion bomb and Donna flicked the lighter. The fuse sparked and caught. I threw it. The bomb hit the water and disappeared. I aimed the next one higher. It glanced off the furled sail at the rear of the sailboat and exploded in the air with a violent concussion and a flash of light.
Damn, these things had a kick.
I held out another bomb. Donna lit the fuse and I lobbed it toward the sailboat just as the Nicky II pulled ahead. The bomb landed on the Windrunner’s bow and exploded a few seconds later, taking some of the sailboat’s rigging with it. The Windrunner slowed. The next bomb I threw landed just behind the cabin. I saw the two figures scramble for the bow as the firecracker exploded with a deafening crack. Now the sailboat slowed to a disoriented crawl.
“Now what?” Donna asked.
“Get inside. They’ve still got a gun.”
We ducked back into the wheelhouse as Bobby brought the Nicky II across the bow of the disabled sailboat. “The Bellissima’s about ten minutes away, and so’s that lampara. Do we sit here and wait for them?”
I gazed down at the sailboat, recalling what Bobby said about the smaller craft’s maneuverability. It was moving again, slowly, heading straight toward us. What the hell were they doing? I saw two figures on the sailboat’s deck. Why would Lacy and Frank aim their disabled boat at the Nicky II? What could they gain by ramming this larger vessel? Unless...
“They’re trying to board us,” I shouted.
I heard the thump as the sailboat banged against the purse seiner’s hull, somewhere on the starboard side. Bobby swore and grabbed the rifle.
“Donna, get on that radio. Jeri, down through the galley.” He dodged out the port hatch and headed down to the lower deck. I went down the ladder to the galley door that led out to the deck.
As I peered through the glass I saw movement near the fish pump. Frank Alviso climbed aboard the boat he used to help crew. He knew the layout. Behind him was Lacy Beckman, carrying a rifle.
Bobby was somewhere above and to port, looking down on the deck. I knew that because the Winchester spoke as he fired at the boarders. Frank and Lacy ducked behind the fish pump. It didn’t offer much cover but Lacy fired in Bobby’s direction. I opened the door and moved onto the deck, hidden by the winch housing and the elevated hatch that led to the holding tank. I looked around for something to use as a weapon. Here was a winch handle. I could do some damage with that. And on the deck at my feet I saw a brail, a large, long-handled net used to remove fish from the hold. I stuck the winch handle in the pocket of my jeans and reached for the net, pulling it toward me, holding the handle near the circle that held the net.
Lacy fired at Bobby. Then she and Frank left the shelter of the fish pump, each running in a different direction around the holding tank. I dodged around the winch housing with the brailing net in my hands, using the net end to knock Frank off his feet. He struggled to rise, hands fighting with the webbing of the net. I hit him with the winch handle and he stopped moving.
When I straightened I saw Lacy Beckman pointing the rifle at me.
“You might as well give it up,” I said, with more bravado than I felt. I didn’t doubt she’d use the gun. After all, she’d killed Ariel. I moved to my left, along the starboard side of the deck, toward the fish pump, and she moved, too. “There’s no way you’re taking over this boat. The Coast Guard’s just a few minutes away.”
She slashed words at me. “You think you’ve got it all figured out.”
“I do.” That wasn’t entirely true but she didn’t have to know that. I moved to my left again and nodded toward the Nicky II’s hold.
“We got the raft before it sank. The paint cans are in the hold and all three of us saw you and Frank trying to dump them. I know how the disposal scheme worked and I can tie you to the guy in Sunnyvale. I know you and Frank were mutilating the pelicans to draw attention away from it.”
I moved past the fish pump now, and Lacy followed me. If Bobby was still up where I thought he was, Lacy was no longer hidden by the winch housing. He’d have a clear shot.
I continued with my half of the conversation. “I’ve even figured out how you killed Ariel Logan.”
I heard a sound somewhere above as the impact of my words hit Bobby. Lacy heard it, too. She turned swiftly and raised the rifle, eyes searching for Bobby. I threw myself at her. The shot she fired went wild. Then she and the rifle went sprawling as I kicked her legs out from under her.
Forty-three
“IT’S A THEORY.”
Sergeant Magruder scowled at me. I’d lost track of time. I was very tired and it seemed the sergeant and I kept going over the same ground. Of course he was irritated with me and my fellow crew members. I don’t know who was angrier with us, Magruder or the Coast Guard.
The cutter had arrived about the same time as the Bellissima. The captain took everybody and everything into custody and told us we’d sort out the overlapping crimes and jurisdictions when we got back to Monterey. Everyone from the feds, the state, and the local authorities wanted a crack at this one but the Monterey County Sheriff’s Department was first in line. In fact, Magruder was waiting for us on Wharf Two when the Nicky II returned to the harbor. The homicide investigator’s mood was way past testy. He refused to be mollified by the fact that I’d left a message for him.
“Maybe it is a theory. But I’ve given you enough to make it work.” I took another sip of barely palatable coffee. Why was I drinking this stuff? It didn’t even have enough c
affeine to keep me from yawning. Not that I wanted to stay awake, if only this man would let me go find a bed.
“There’s a damned good paper trail,” I said, trying to sound more placating and less argumentative. “Started by Ariel Logan herself.” I pointed at the now creased report from the environmental testing lab.
“Lacy Beckman transported boats from one marina to another, on the water and by highway. She started this little service last June. She’d take the empty paint cans from the boatyard up to Sunnyvale and leave them with her contact.”
“This is the guy you and the other PI dug up?” Magruder interrupted. “The Sunnyvale cops picked him up. He denies everything.”
“Of course he does. But he’s dirty. If Gerrity and I could find the evidence, so can the Sunnyvale investigators. When he had stuff to get rid of, he filled the paint cans and hauled them to Lacy’s house in Santa Cruz. She took them to Beckman Boat Works on whatever boat she was hauling by trailer and stored the stuff in that storeroom off the machine shop. Whenever she’d transport a boat by sea out of Monterey, Frank Alviso went with her and they’d dump the stuff.”
Magruder gazed at me, not looking convinced. “You got anything to back this up?”
“Look, Karl Beckman put together a list of dates Lacy sailed boats to other harbors. I’m sure you’ll find both Lacy’s and Frank’s bank accounts showed healthy increases coinciding with those dates. Besides, you’ve got three witnesses. Me, Bobby Ravella, and Donna Doyle. And eight paint cans full of solvents recovered by the Nicky II.”
Magruder narrowed his eyes and used the end of his pencil to tap a tattoo on the desk. “Okay, I’ll buy the dumping scam. But how do you tie Lacy Beckman to Ariel Logan’s murder? No witness to the actual event.”
“Here’s where we get into theory,” I conceded. “The boat hauler saw Ariel talking to someone in a Beckman pickup truck. My guess is Lacy was on Alvarado Street when Bobby and Ariel came out of the Rose and Crown. Perhaps Lacy heard enough of the argument to know what they were fighting about. She must have realized that Ariel got suspicious back in August, when she and Bobby were out on the Nicky II and encountered Lacy and Frank on the Marvella B. Ariel had been interested in the boatyard operations all along but that’s when she began asking questions about the paint cans. She thought Karl was involved.”
So had I. I was more than willing to believe the worst about the boatyard owner, for my own reasons. That was part of the unfinished business I had to take care of before I could go back to Oakland.
“So you think Lacy Beckman approached Ariel later that Friday afternoon,” Magruder said.
I nodded. “She convinced Ariel to meet her that evening at the Rocky Point Restaurant. That would take some persuading, since Ariel was already sure the boatyard was involved in something illegal. My guess is Lacy lured Ariel by pointing the finger at Karl. Frank had keys to Bobby’s T-bird and he must have mentioned this to Lacy. She took the keys and the T-bird. That’s the only way to explain how that car got down to Rocky Point while Bobby was at the AA meeting. Easy enough to cast suspicion on Bobby, since everyone had him pegged as a suspect anyway.”
I shrugged. “Frank Alviso will probably sing like Caruso. He signed onto this for the money, and to get even with Bobby for firing him. Just mention an accessory-to-murder charge and he’ll talk.”
“As long as you’re doing my job for me,” Magruder said, sarcasm edging his voice, “tell me how Lacy killed Ariel.”
“Pure guesswork,” I admitted. “Lacy drove into the parking lot in Bobby’s T-bird. Ariel recognized the car. I don’t know how Lacy explained why she was driving it. Maybe she implicated Bobby in the dumping scheme. That would have put Ariel off her guard.” I reached for the coffee, then thought better of it.
“I think they walked out onto the headlands, out of sight of the restaurant. Then Lacy hit Ariel over the head, with a wrench or something small but heavy. Then she pushed Ariel’s body over the nearest cliff and tossed the murder weapon, hoping the sea would take care of the evidence. Just as it had with the toxics. When Ariel was reported missing, Lacy made some anonymous phone calls, pointing the finger at Bobby, just for insurance.”
“All for money,” Magruder commented.
“Lacy doesn’t like to be without money. Illegal dumping is very profitable, despite the risks.”
“And this stuff at the restaurant, the mouse and the stink bomb, that was Lacy getting back at Karl Beckman for taking up with your mother?’
I nodded. “Everything points to Lacy. The only reason seems to be Karl’s rejection. Mother was a target because of Karl’s affection for her. As I told you, Charlie Harper thinks there’s something suspicious about that car accident that killed Janine and Gunter Beckman. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lacy had something to do with that car going off the road at Hurricane Point.”
“We’ll never know.” Magruder shook his head. “The wreck’s still down there on the rocks. What didn’t burn has been pulverized by the waves and the sand. I’ll look into it, but after this time...”
He didn’t finish. I knew what he was thinking, because it was in my mind as well. Pinning a murder charge on Lacy Beckman for the deaths of Janine and Gunter was close to impossible, unless Lacy slipped up and said something to implicate herself. Right now she wasn’t talking.
“Greed and revenge,” I said quietly. “A couple of the best motives I know, Sergeant. They appear with great regularity in the cases I’ve worked.”
Magruder narrowed his eyes. “I’ve worked homicide investigations for a long time. I know about motives. Do you butt into Oakland police matters with this much enthusiasm?”
I thought of my ex-husband, an Oakland homicide cop. His probable response to Magruder’s question brought a smile to my lips. “Sometimes. They’re about as thrilled with my participation as you are.”
“Going back to Oakland soon?”
“You mean I can leave?”
“You’ll have to ask the DA,” he said. “But I’m finished with you. For now.”
I got to my feet. “I’ve been off my home turf too long. This was supposed to be a week’s vacation. I didn’t expect all this to happen.”
“And when it did,” Magruder said, “you just jumped right in. Warn me the next time you come to Monterey.”
It was nearly midnight I drove back to Carmel, shooed Stinkpot off the guest-room bed, threw off my clothes, and took his place. I woke about eight-thirty the next morning, lured by the aroma of good coffee. After a quick shower and change of clothes, I made my way to the kitchen. Through the French doors I saw Errol and Minna working in the garden. I poured myself a cup of coffee and put two slices of bread into the toaster.
The doorbell rang at the front of the house. Coffee in hand, I walked through the living room and opened the door. Standing there were Sylvie and Peter Logan, with Glennis Braemer bringing up the rear. We stared at each other for a moment then Ariel’s mother said in her soft French-accented voice, “Tell us. We want to hear it from you.”
“Okay.” I ushered them into the house and called Errol and Minna. Then I buttered the toast and took a seat at the kitchen table while Errol offered everyone coffee. I told them everything that had happened from the time I left the Logans’ house Monday until my conversation with Magruder late last night.
Peter Logan couldn’t stay still. He paced around the confines of the Sevilles’ kitchen, his haggard face a shifting study of emotions, Sylvie sat motionless as I talked. When I finished she looked at the coffee cup in front of her and then at me.
“Thank you,” she said. “It helps to know that the person who killed our daughter has been caught.” She stood and took her husband’s arm, leading the way to the front door. Mrs. Braemer followed, then paused in the doorway. A tiny smile played briefly on her lips.
“I have become a reluctant admirer of your persistence, Ms. Howard.”
“Some people view it as one of my negative character traits. They don’t always like the r
esults.”
“Perhaps not. But at least you get results.”
When they’d gone, I rinsed the coffee cup and plate and put them in the dishwasher. “Good work,” Errol told me.
“If they charge Lacy. Oh, they’ll get her for dumping toxics and a host of lesser crimes. But I want to see her charged with murder. There are holes in what Sergeant Magruder calls my theory. The evidence is circumstantial, even if Frank Alviso implicates her.” I shook my head. “Lacy Beckman should pay for killing Ariel Logan. For the pain and grief in the Logans’ eyes. And in Bobby’s.”
Errol nodded, understanding my anger. “It’s been good seeing you. Heading back to Oakland?”
“As soon as I can say my good-byes.” I walked to my mentor and wrapped him in a hug. Then I leaned over to kiss Minna, who was seated at the table with Stinkpot draped over her lap. “Thanks for everything.”
“I hope you’re going to see your mother before you leave town,” she said.
“I’m not gone yet.”
I heard the sea lions before I reached Wharf Two. Their incessant barks grew louder as I neared the harbor. By the time I reached wharf’s end the cacophony was so noisy it made normal conversation almost impossible. The huge beasts congregated and clamored amid the pilings, as the boats of the Monterey fleet maneuvered close to the wharf, waiting to unload holds full of squid, mackerel, anchovies, and sardines. Brown pelicans lined the railing, eager for a share of the ocean’s bounty, even mingling with the fishermen and cannery employees who crowded the wood-plank surface of the wharf. Seagulls wheeled and screeched overhead, keeping their distance, as did the otters and harbor seals, but all of them still looking for an opportunity.
As I watched on this crisp clear October morning, a purse seiner sidled up to the pumphouse, where a hose like a giant vacuum cleaner was lowered into the boat’s hold. Several tons of fish were then pumped upward, electronically measured and weighed, and loaded into the cannery trucks backed up to the chute outside.
