by Bob Morris
Karen Breakell looked at her watch again.
“Look, I really need to get to the store,” she said.
“We’ll walk with you,” I said.
20
Sid’s Grocery was just up the street. We headed for it. I walked alongside Karen Breakell. Boggy trailed behind us.
“You said you almost called off the trip?”
Karen nodded.
“Yeah, this was right after Coach Tony had to drop out. Will and Pete aren’t experienced sailors. And neither Jen nor I had enough open-water experience to feel comfortable about making the crossing. We needed a seasoned captain to go with us. And it’s hard to find someone on such short notice. So we were left high and dry, right before we were scheduled to leave. Jen was really torn up about that. The sailboat trip was kinda like this tribute to her mom, something the two of them had planned on doing together and she wanted to see it through. Jen’s a good sailor, but…”
“A Beneteau 54 is a lot of boat.”
“Exactly. She didn’t want to risk it just on her skills alone,” Karen said. “We were all bummed about having to pull the plug on the trip. We wanted to travel in April and May, before hurricane season started. So if we were going to do it, then it meant we had to leave right away.”
“So what changed Jen’s mind about canceling the trip?”
“Justin Hatchitt came along.”
“The captain?”
“Uh-huh. It was just total coincidence that we found him. Or he found us. What ever, it was a lucky break,” Karen said. “All because we decided to go have a few beers at the Blind Tiger. It’s this bar in downtown Charleston.”
“So, let me get this straight. You meet a guy in a bar and you hire him to be your captain?”
Karen laughed.
“I know, it sounds pretty sketch. But if you met Justin you’d understand. He just looks like a captain. Rugged, outdoorsy. He’s got this air of confidence, like he can handle anything that comes along.”
“And he had experience sailing in the islands?”
“Yeah, lots of it. He said he’d spent the winter on a big sailboat down in St. Bart’s and had just finished transporting it to Hilton Head for the summer season. Not that Jen checked any of it out,” Karen said. “She didn’t need a lot of convincing.”
“What do you mean?”
Karen smiled.
“I mean, you could practically see the sparks flying between her and Justin.”
“So she hired him to be the captain?”
“That’s the best part,” Karen said. “Justin said he’d do it for free. He said he’d been working nonstop for almost a year, had some money saved, and he said this would be his vacation. He loved the boat once he laid eyes on it. I mean, it’s brand-new, what’s not to love? And, I don’t know, we all just seemed to hit it off with him. It felt right. A good fit.”
We reached the entrance of Sid’s Grocery. The hours were posted in the window. Still another forty-five minutes until it closed.
“So what went wrong, Karen?”
“Excuse me?”
“What made you get off the boat on Miner Cay?”
She shook her head. It took her a moment to answer.
“Like I said, Torrey and I just did not hit it off. At first, she seemed like a good fit, too. But it didn’t take too long for that to wear off.”
“You said she was the last one to join the trip?”
“Yeah, she and Pete, they’d hooked up. He hadn’t known Torrey very long, just a couple of weeks. Met her at the Blind Tiger the same night we met Justin. Then things got all fast and furious between them. Pete was, like, head over heels for her. He asked if she could come along.”
“And everyone agreed?”
“Well, with Coach Tony and Liz dropping out, we had room on the boat. Torrey seemed nice enough. She said she had sailing experience. She seemed OK. She was very enthusiastic. She’s got this big personality, very vivacious and talkative. Plus, she had the money.”
“The money?”
“Yeah. Pete and Will and me, we didn’t want Jen to get stuck with all the expense, you know? After all, here she was letting us join her on this great boat of hers and we wanted to pay our way. We decided we would each throw in two thousand dollars at the beginning of the trip and use that to pay our share of the food, gas, docking expenses, what ever. Torrey threw in her two thousand and that was that.”
“So when did you decide that the boat wasn’t big enough for the both of you?”
“Didn’t take long. We hit bad weather right out of Charleston and had to tuck in around Savannah, behind Tybee Island, until it settled. Three days of rain and heavy wind and all of us cooped up. You know how it is on a boat. Everyone needs to pitch in. I did the cooking because, you know, that’s just my thing. All the others saw what needed doing and they did it. Except Torrey. She was mostly good at bossing other people around. It started wearing thin real quick.”
“What about Jen or Justin Hatchitt? Shouldn’t they have set her straight?”
“You would think,” Karen said. “But by then Jen and Justin were pretty much oblivious to anything but each other.”
“I thought Jen and Will…”
“Yeah, Will thought he and Jen had something going on, too. Like I said, it wasn’t anything official. Still, it made it awkward with Jen and Justin carrying on with each other right in front of Will like that. With the weather, there wasn’t anything we could do but hang out down below on the boat. Jen and Justin would go off to her cabin. Pete and Torrey would go off, too. Will and I would just kinda sit there twiddling our thumbs. It was weird. I felt sorry for Will. I could tell he was hurt. But he just shrugged it off.”
“So what caused things to blow up between you and Torrey?”
“It was right after we left Savannah,” Karen said. “About thirty miles offshore we hit some more weather, a squall line, and things happened real fast. We had to scramble—reef the mainsail, fasten things down, close the hatches. Everyone was busy doing something. Except Torrey, as usual.
“The roller furler on the jib snagged or something and the jib was flapping around on the foredeck. I yelled at Torrey to get off her dead ass and come help me with it. But she just sat there. Jen was down below and heard me hollering. So she hurried up to give me a hand, but she slipped as she was coming out of the cockpit and she must have hit a turnbuckle or something because it ripped her blouse and there was blood all over the place. And there was this big gash on the back of her shoulder.
“Lucky for us, Will was on board. I mean, he’s not a doctor yet or anything, but he knows how to do things. He got the wound cleaned up. Not as bad as it looked but it needed some stitches, like eight or ten of them. We had to make a decision: Turn back to Savannah and take Jen to the emergency room. Or keep going and take care of it ourselves. Will and Pete and me, we were all for turning back. I mean, it was a nasty cut. But Justin and Torrey, they said we’d be in more danger if we sailed back through the storm and it was better to press on to the Bahamas. It was Jen’s call and she said keep going. So Will got out the first-aid kit and he had Jen drink a lot of vodka and he stitched it up. It was ugly looking but at least he took care of it.”
“And you blamed it all on Torrey?”
“Yeah, I did. But it was really just a whole lot of stuff that had been building up. And it exploded when we hit Miner Cay a couple of days later. Like I said, we all started drinking too early in the day and by the time we went ashore we were at each other’s throats.”
“You and Jen, too?”
Karen looked away, her face pained.
“Yeah, I said some things. Jen said some things. Mostly I was giving her a hard time for hooking up with Justin and rubbing it in Will’s face. Will didn’t deserve that. Then Torrey jumped into it and told me to mind my own business and that really set me off. Next I knew, we were all going at it.”
“And the next morning, you got off the boat in Miner Cay and told them good-bye.”
“Yeah, Jen didn’t want me to go. She begged me not to. But I had my back up and the whole thing on the boat was just getting a little too weird for me. Not what I signed up for,” Karen said. “I felt bad for Will because, with me gone, he was really going to be the fifth wheel. I tried to talk him into coming with me, but he didn’t like the idea of hanging out on Miner Cay for who knows how long waiting for the mailboat to arrive. He wanted to go straight to Marsh Harbour and figure it out from there.”
“So that’s where they were heading? Marsh Harbour?”
“That was the first stop, yeah. And then the plan was to just work our way down the islands until we got to Jen’s dad’s place. After that, we were going to play it by ear, see what happened.”
“So you think they might still be up here in the Abacos?”
“Could be. They wanted to hit as many islands up this way as possible—Man O’ War Cay, Elbow Cay, make the circuit. Then hit Harbour Island and Eleuthera on the way south. I keep an eye out, thinking I’ll spot them, but…”
A woman was coming out of Sid’s Grocery. Karen grabbed the door and held it open, ready to step inside.
I gave her my card.
“Well, if you cross paths with them, give me a shout.”
“Will do,” Karen said. “And if you find Jen first, will you tell her something for me?”
“Sure,” I said. “What is it?”
“Tell her I love her. Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I’m still her friend.”
They were talking on the deck, but this time Jen couldn’t make out much of it until she heard him say, “OK, I’m going now. I could be a while. Can you take care of everything?”
“I think so. Just hurry.”
“If I don’t come back…”
“Don’t say that.”
“If I’m not back by morning, then don’t come looking for me. Just do what you have to do. Look out for yourself. The farther you can get away from here, the better.”
Jen gave it a few minutes, until she was certain he was gone. Then she called out for help, heard footsteps approach, the hatch door slide open.
“What is it?”
“I need to use the head.”
Jen was pulled roughly to her feet.
She said, “Untie my hands. I’m having my period. There’s a cloth bag with…”
“Yeah, I see it. Hold on.”
When she was inside, by the toilet, Jen said, “Close the door.”
“Forget it.”
“But, please, I…”
“I said forget it. I’m not closing that door. Just do what you have to do. And make it fast, you hear?”
21
When we got back to Marsh Harbour and the Mariner’s Inn, there was still an hour until it was time to meet Abel Delgado in the bar.
Charlie Callahan had checked in while we were gone. He and Boggy went off in search of dinner.
I ordered room service and made some phone calls…
I called Mickey Ryser’s house on Lady Cut Cay. Octavia answered.
“Mr. Ryser still hasn’t dragged himself out of bed, not since we got here,” she told me. “Won’t hardly eat nothing. I have to force food down him. And that detective man, he called here earlier.”
“Mickey spoke with him?”
“You could call it that. But it was more hollering than talking. At least on Mr. Ryser’s end. I think that detective man, he was wanting more money.”
“Well, you tell Mr. Ryser I’ve got some good news,” I said.
The simple fact that I had verified Jen Ryser’s arrival in the Bahamas was not the stuff on which to hang hopes. But I put a high gloss on it. And I left out the parts about Jen getting hurt during the crossing and the squabble on Miner Cay. Octavia absorbed it with excitement. I felt sure she would pass it along to Mickey in such a way that it gave him a boost. He sure needed one.
I called Barbara. She had just finished putting down Shula for the night.
“She misses you,” Barbara said.
“How can you tell?”
“The way she was looking around at the dinner table. And when I was kissing her good night, she was definitely wondering why you weren’t there beside me.”
“I’m wondering that, too.”
“Not making much progress?”
“Inch by tiny inch. We’ve gotten luckier than I thought we would get in just one day. At least we know where Jen was even if we don’t know where she is or where she’s going.”
“Which is a lot more than you knew when you set out.”
“Yeah, I guess. One part of me keeps thinking there’s nothing to worry about, this is just a bunch of kids out for a good time and they’ll turn up when they turn up and be wondering why folks were so worried about them.”
“What’s the other part of you think?”
“The other part is still gnawing on it,” I said. “But let’s talk about something else.”
“OK, let’s talk about the present.”
“You mean, as opposed to the future or the past?”
“No, I mean the present you are bringing back for Shula. When Daddy goes off on a trip he’s supposed to bring back a present for his little girl.”
“It’s not like Daddy’s had time to do much shopping.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, Zack. Just a pretty shell or something.”
“Like a conch shell maybe?”
“Perfect. You can hold it up to Shula’s ear and show her how to listen to the sea. I used to love doing that when I was a child. Yes, yes, pick her out a pretty conch shell why don’t you? I know she’ll love it.”
I called Helen Miller in Charleston.
“Clete Boyer here,” I said.
“Why hello, Mr. Boyer. How you?”
That voice again. I wondered if the rest of her was as sultry as she sounded. Then I made myself stop wondering. Shame on you, Chasteen.
“Just calling to see if you’d made any progress on those things I asked you to check out.”
“Uh-huh, I see,” she said. “Listen, before I tell you what I found out, how about you tell me something.”
“Gladly.”
“Why are you feeding me a line of horse crap about your name being Clete Boyer?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. So I didn’t give her one.
“I’m waiting, Mr. Chasteen.”
“How’d you find out my name?”
“Christalmighty, I’m a detective. You gave me your phone number. Finding out the name a phone number belongs to, that’s not heavy lifting.”
“Hmmm,” I said.
“Once I found out your name, Mr. Zachary Taylor Chasteen, it made it easier to find out some other things, too. Like how you served almost two years in Baypoint Federal Prison for counterfeiting, smuggling, and a couple of other pesky little felonies.”
“I was set up. The conviction was reversed. Got a pardon from the governor, along with a commendation for valorous service to the State of Florida.”
“Yeah, I found that out, too. And I made some calls and what I learned was that, all in all, you’re a fairly decent, upstanding guy.”
“Glad to know that about myself,” I said. “Some days I have my doubts.”
She laughed.
“Plus, my daddy, he’s a big football fan, too. He remembered you playing ball for the Dolphins. He said you were pretty good until you blew out a knee. Third-team All Pro, three years in a row.”
“Not the sorta thing that lands you in the Football Hall of Fame.”
“Still, not too shabby. That how come you named your daughter Shula?”
“You really uncovered a lot about me, didn’t you?”
“I’m good at what I do,” she said. “I think it’s kind of sweet, you naming your daughter after your old football coach. Good thing you never played for Howard Schnellenberger, huh?”
“A Girl Named Schnellenberger. Could be a Johnny Cash song.”
“More like Weird Al Yankovic,”
she said. “Still, Zack…may I call you Zack?”
“Certainly, Helen.”
“Still, Zack, none of that explains why you lied to me, now does it?”
So I hemmed and I hawed and I came clean. I told her about my connection with Mickey Ryser and how I had been enlisted to find his daughter and how that led me to listening to the messages in Abel Delgado’s office and calling her.
“OK, I’ll buy it,” she said when I was done. “Now let me tell you what I found out.”
She’d found out everything I’d asked her to find out about Jen Ryser and a lot more on top of that. Graduated with a degree in art history from the College of Charleston. Solid B-student. Captain of the women’s sailing team. Delta Delta Delta sorority. No criminal history beyond two speeding tickets. Prior to setting out for the Bahamas, she’d been working at a day-care center.
“But it wasn’t like she really needed to work,” Helen Miller said. “Not with her trust fund.”
“I figured her mom must have left her something.”
“Yeah, twenty thousand dollars a month of something.”
“Explains how she bought that boat.”
“She paid cash for it, part of a lump sum from her inheritance. And it still left a nice little cushion in her account.”
“Excuse me, Ms. Miller, but bank accounts and trust funds—isn’t that private information?”
“Why, yes, Mr. Chasteen. It’s very private. Then again, I’m a private investigator.”
“Should I ask how…”
“No,” she said. “You shouldn’t.”
I told her I needed her to check the background of the other crew members. I started telling her the names, but she stopped me.
“Way ahead of you,” she said. “Paid a visit to the marina where Jen kept her boat. Chatted up the dockmaster. He told me I should contact a guy named Tony Telan.”
“Coach of the college sailing team. He was supposed to go on the trip. He and his girlfriend.”
“Right. Only his house caught on fire,” Helen said. “Anyway, I sat down with him. Nice guy. He gave me the names of three of Jen’s friends who were on the boat—Karen Breakell, Will Moody, and Pete Crumrine. I checked them out. Good kids. No blips on their records.”
