by Al Boudreau
“Thank you for sharing that with us,” I said. “You’re in a tough spot. Unfortunately, it puts us in a tough spot, too. Mrs. Taylor, I might regret telling you this, but chances are I’d regret it more if I didn’t. Thing is, when we conduct investigations, we’re thorough. We try to dig deep.”
“That’s good. Exactly what I’m paying you to do.”
“Glad you feel that way, but … well, sometimes problems crop up. We’ve been known to discover facts and secrets that take us in unexpected directions. My fear is, our work could reveal uncomfortable truths---”
“Forgive me for interrupting, Mr. Peterson, but I have an inkling what you’re about to say. I’ve been with Don a little over fifty-seven years, and I can tell you this. He’s not a very open person. I know him well enough to guarantee there are certain comings and goings he’s kept all to himself. That said, I’m left with no choice but to draw the line. Our son is dead. Come hell or high water, I’m going to find out why. If that means hearing some uncomfortable truths, as you put it, so be it.”
“Thank you for making this conversation a little easier, Mrs. Taylor,” Sarah said. “But I need to ask. Should we be moving forward with the understanding you’ll be keeping our investigation to yourself?”
“After talking to you both … yes, that’s my wish.”
“Fair enough. We’re willing to honor your request,” I said. “But, being that your husband works for Moray, and your son for Homeland, our job just became more difficult. It’s going to take extra time if you want us to keep them out of the loop.”
“Of course,” she said. “I understand. Fortunately, I have my own money. I get the sense I can trust you both. Do what you have to do, and bill me for whatever extra time it takes.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. Much appreciated. After watching the video, I can speak for Sarah and say we feel there’s more to what happened than just an accident, or an incident. We believe your case is worth pursuing, but there’s also a small chance we’ll find nothing at all. I need you to be aware of that possibility.”
“I feel it in my bones, Mr. Peterson. You’ll find something---and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to discover the truth.”
Chapter 4
“I’m nervous about this one,” Sarah said as soon as I ended our call with Carol Taylor.
“How come?” I asked.
Sarah stood up and went over to turn up the thermostat. “You’re not? This case just got a lot harder, now that we have to sneak around behind her family’s back.”
“I wouldn’t call it sneaking around. We investigate most client’s family members. Part of our process. It’s what we’re good at.”
My response did nothing to make Sarah’s frown go away.
“What about the video?” she asked. “I mean, how do we gather evidence when the surveillance involves keeping an eye on a bunch of huge ships rumbling up and down the Piscataqua River? In the middle of winter, no less.” Sarah blew warm breath into her cupped hands before rubbing them together. “Seriously. It’s cold enough in this darned house. Never mind having to bob around out on open water during the month of January. Don’t you know how frickin’ freezing it is out there this time of year?”
“Haven’t spent too much time worrying about it. Maybe we could rent a house on the river, across from where the ships dock.”
“That kind of opportunity is a longshot, at best,” Sarah said.
“OK, we’ll rent an enclosed boat, then. One with a built-in heater.”
Sarah furrowed her brow. “Too obvious. They’d notice some random craft motoring around out near that pier? It’s not pleasure boat season. If someone’s on the water during the winter months, I’ve got to believe they’re out there for a specific purpose.”
I shrugged. “Just thinking out loud.” I could tell, by the look in Sarah’s eyes, she wasn’t done.
“Let’s not forget about Carol’s other son---who works for Homeland Security, patrolling the Piscataqua,” she added. “You know, as well as anyone, that those guys don’t screw around. I hate to say it, Carter, but your recent adventure down in Boston puts us at a disadvantage on this one. Tangle with those guys again and we’ve got real problems.”
“Yep. I get it,” I said with a smile. “You don’t like any of my ideas. Maybe you could come with some alternatives, instead of doing your best to give me a complex.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Here’s one. Maybe we should rethink taking this case at all. I’m sure Carol would understand.”
I got the feeling Sarah was actually considering the option, and knew just how to deal with it. “What? You’re ready to throw in the towel because of a few simple hiccups? Guess I’d better start getting used to the idea that you’re going soft on me.”
I kept a straight face as long as I could while Sarah gave me one of her looks.
“It’s not like that, and you know it,” she said, slapping my butt as she wrapped her arms around me. “If you’re willing to warm me up enough for my brain to start functioning again, I might be able to come up with a workable solution.”
“How about I heat up the rest of last night’s dinner?” I asked as I gave her a squeeze. “Some nice hot chicken noodle soup will set you right.”
“Deal,” Sarah said as she released me. “I’m going to go put on my warm jammies while you play Chef Carter.”
I didn’t want to admit it to Sarah---she worried enough already---but she was partially right. This case presented a unique set of challenges.
I pulled our dinner out of the refrigerator and placed it on the stove while running down a mental list of our resources. I stood and stirred the soup for a few minutes---the same amount of time it took to realize we had exactly zero connections with anyone who worked on the water. Hiring a known entity wasn’t going to be an option.
“I just had a thought,” Sarah said as she reappeared. “What if we were to tag along with a local lobsterman? Maybe have him buzz us around the river. He could be working while we’re keeping an eye on Moray’s operation.”
I turned down the flame under our pot of soup then pivoted to face her. “Good thought, but lobster boats aren’t enclosed. We’d be fully exposed to the winter winds out there.” I pondered the thought for a few seconds. “You know, the overall concept might be a great place to start.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Well, not many folks know specifics about the ships that come through our area better than local lobstermen do. They’re on the Piscataqua a boatload of days out of the year.” It took the roll of Sarah’s eyes for me to become aware my bad pun. “Seriously, though, maybe we could find some old-timer to talk to. Feel them out ahead of time to ensure they wouldn’t share what we’re up to with the wrong people.
Sarah rested her backside against the kitchen counter and nodded. “Yeah? OK. So, find a decent candidate, pick their brain, and see what we come up with. Maybe they’d recognize what kind of boat the video was shot from, too.”
“Right. Think Carol might know of someone?”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit risky? I mean, chances are if she knows them, then her husband and son do, too.”
“That’s true,” I said, thinking about it for a beat. “How about this? Let’s go play some pool over at that bar on Hedgehog Island tomorrow night. Place is full of local fishermen most of the time. Frenchie Taylor’s death happened on the river, so it makes sense to look for clues where the watermen hang out, right?”
“The Ferry Landing? That’s a great idea,” Sarah said. “Could be fun, too. I haven’t been to a dive like that joint in years. You’re pretty good at pool. Maybe we can make a few bucks off those guys while we’re at it.”
“Better yet, maybe finagle a couple free lobster dinners.”
Sarah started laughing. “That’s perfect.”
“Question is, how do we figure out who knows who? Or figure out which one of them can keep his or her mouth shut about what we’re up to?”
&nbs
p; “I’m decent at reading people,” she said. “Let me work my charms. Bet I can find the perfect candidate.”
I nodded as I grabbed a couple bowls from the cupboard. “I wouldn’t bet against you.”
Sarah handed me a ladle. “Do you have any theories about what might have been going on, now that we’ve watched that awful video a few times?”
We took a seat at the table, soup steaming before us. “After seeing the way that guy was acting on the ship, I’ve got to believe they were up to something they weren’t supposed to be. Something illegal.”
“Drugs, maybe?”
“Could have been. Guess our first challenge will be to figure out if they were engaged in a one shot deal, or if this type of activity is a regular gig for them.”
Sarah ate some soup then said, “Not just that. If it’s happened more than once, we need to know if it involves just the Sandakan Sun, or other ships, too.”
“Right. Good call.”
“Thanks. You know, I feel absolutely terrible about the Taylors’ loss, but after talking the case through, I’m looking forward to figuring out what the heck is going on.”
“That’s good, because this job’s going to take some real detective work if we hope to find answers. And, if we’re going to hit The Ferry Landing tomorrow night, we have just under twenty-four hours to come up with a game plan that’ll get us underway.”
Chapter 5
The crowd inside The Ferry Landing was lighter than their early evening ruckus suggested as I opened the door and we stepped in out of the cold. A fair number of patron’s heads turned to see who’d decided to take part in their happy hour, most eyes landing on Sarah---who, as it turned out, ended up being the only female in the joint, aside from the bartender.
“Oh, great,” she said as she tugged on my arm and pulled me in close. “I think I’ve changed my mind about playing pool. There’s a barstool open down on the end, next to the old guy. Guess I’ll go chat him up, seeing he’s the least harmful looking character out of the bunch.”
“Go get ‘em,” I said with a smile. “I’m going to toss a couple quarters down on the edge of the pool table and see if I can catch a game. I’ll keep an eye on you, just in case.”
Sarah nodded. “Good.”
There were half a dozen guys standing around the pool table, all but one still focused on Sarah. Their attention gradually shifted from her to me as I approached. “Any room for a new player?” I asked.
No one said a word for a few seconds, then one of the older guys spoke up. “Guess that depends. You any good?”
I shrugged. “Average, I suppose.”
“How much money you got?” another asked while pointing his pool cue at me. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty-one.
“I don’t know. How much do I need?”
He rested the tip of his cue next to a stack of bills laying on the side rail. “Twenty a game, bub. Think you can handle them stakes, or what?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Little rich for my blood.”
“Here’s the deal,” he said. “I call my shots. You don’t have to. You drop one of your balls, it stays in the hole. You in?”
I smiled. “Sounds fair. No offense, but what makes you so sure it’s you who I’ll be playing against? Your game isn’t even over, yet.”
The older one, who originally spoke, said, “Oh, don’t worry, guy. You’ll be playing him, all right.”
I looked around. They were all smiling. I raised my eyebrows, reached in my pocket, and pulled out my wallet. “I think I just got hustled.” I placed a twenty, along with my stack of quarters, on the side rail then stepped back so they could finish their game.
“What do you do?” one of the others asked as he stepped in close to me, breath reeking of cigarettes and beer. “Cuz you sure ain’t no fisherman.” His comment brought a round of laughter from his friends.
“Not much these days,” I said. “Used to run a landscaping business down south, but I wore out my back. Now, I just take on a few handyman projects, here and there.”
He looked me up and down. “Huh. Kind of surprised you’d be up for losing your money this way, then,” he said.
“Got to spend it somewhere, right?”
“Suppose,” he said, then finished his beer.
I turned my attention toward the pool table just in time to watch the kid sink the eight ball. “Next,” he shouted, staring straight at me while the others shook their heads.
I took a step forward to put my quarters in the coin slot when I felt someone grab my arm.
“Ready to go?” Sarah asked, the old timer she’d singled out at the bar now standing by her side.
“You playing or not, there, Loverboy?” asked the kid with the pool cue.
I looked at him then back at Sarah, who made eye motions toward the door. “Uh, I guess not.”
“What? You pussin’ out, bub?” he asked, amid hoots and hollers from the others.
I stepped forward, pocketed my quarters, and grabbed the twenty. All eyes on me, I walked over to the head of the table and grabbed the kid’s wrist. “Here you go,” I said and slapped the cash on the palm of his hand. “You win.”
He stared at me for a few seconds, jaw hanging open. “Woo-hoo. Easiest money I ever got,” he cried as I turned and motioned for Sarah to head toward the door.
“Ready to go, Everett?” Sarah asked, hooking her arm around his.
“Ayuh. I could be ready,” the old timer replied.
“Oh! Ev’s got a hot date, everybody,” one of the guys at the pool table announced at the top of his lungs, his outburst causing quite a commotion.
Sarah responded by giving her new friend a peck on the cheek.
Every single person in the bar responded by clapping and cheering, straight through our exit.
Sarah came to a stop once we’d reached the sidewalk. “Carter, say hello to Everett Shapleigh.”
Chapter 6
Everett Shapleigh pulled his pickup truck up behind my car, the glare from his high beams turning my rearview mirror into a blinding floodlight. I adjusted the glare as Sarah opened the passenger-side door and got in. “OK. What’s happening?” I asked. “How’d you---”
“He’s coming over to our place.”
I put the car in drive and pulled away from the curve, our latest acquaintance bringing up the rear. “What? How’d you swing that?”
“Easy. I offered him a massage.” Sarah chuckled. “He couldn’t say yes fast enough.”
I let go a laugh. “Lucky him. I don’t even get those, anymore.”
Sarah ignored my half-baked complaint. “He’s a retired lobsterman, but he’s still got a boat. Widower, no kids. Said he has constant back pain from all those years of hauling traps, so I figured I’d offer him a free massage. Thought it would be an ideal way for us to get some useful information. And, hopefully, some surveillance time out on the Piscataqua.”
“Is his boat enclosed?”
“We didn’t get into that, but I do know he takes it out there, year-round. Said he rarely misses a day.”
I shook my head. “Can’t believe how fast you got that done. Nice work.”
“Yeah, well, we hardly ever catch a break,” Sarah remarked. “It’s about time, don’t you think?”
“Without a doubt. Believe me, I’m not complaining.”
“I could tell the poor guy was lonely as soon as I struck up a conversation with him.”
“Where are you going to set up your massage table?”
“In your office.”
“Uh … yeah, OK. Might have to move my desk.”
“We’ll have time,” Sarah said. “Trust me, our little friend will be taking a shower before I start working on him.”
* * *
“So, Everett, Sarah tells me you live on the Maine side of the Piscataqua River,” I said as Sarah took our guest’s coat.
“Lived in Kittery since I been born,” he said. “Only lived in two separate houses my whole life. Inherite
d my folks’ place when they passed. Moved back in there long about ’79.”
“Do you miss working out on the water?” I asked.
“Well … lobster fishing’s a labor of love, that’s all. Whether you like it or not, it’s … if you like it, it’s good. If you don’t, it’s no place to be. I miss working the river, but I still get myself out there. Most every day, in fact.”
“Yep, that’s what I hear. Sarah mentioned that you still have a boat.”
“Ayuh. Traded my lobster rig to a local fisherman for one of them fancy cabin cruisers. Not so bone chillin’ as the open wheel, ‘specially this time a year. She ain’t too big---thirty footer---but she gets me ‘round real good.”
Sarah smiled and put her hand on Everett’s shoulder. “If you two will excuse me, I’m going to go get the room ready.”
I nodded then looked back at Everett. “Can’t say I blame you for wanting to spend time out there on the Piscataqua. We’re lucky to live in such a beautiful area.”
“We do live in a good one, that’s for sure. Being able to motor around out there in the salt air, why, that just keeps me going. Some days you get drove in by winds and seas and stuff like that. Then you just have to go home. Other days, you kind of get to appreciating the beauty of the water. Almost like a picture, if you hit it just right.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Sarah tells me you’ve been having some back problems.”
“Ayuh. Long time in the making, I suppose. Used to be, when I was a much younger man, we’d haul them traps by hand. You get tuckered out after a while, ‘cause you made your arms go and go to haul ‘em. One thing and the other led to, uh, different ways to haul. Not soon enough to save my back, but that’s just the way it goes, I guess.”
