by K C Gillis
“I’ll be careful.”
Jordan walked to the end of the dock where the offending black boat was secured. With lights aimed at the ends of the docks, Jordan could examine the boat clearly. It definitely looked old and not well maintained. Everything about it looked neglected and worn. The black hull, faded to almost gray, displayed scratches and dents, probably from years of heavy use. Unlike the boat she had been on earlier, this one wasn’t of the bowrider design. Instead, its bow was short and covered with a deck. The interior had some kind of carpet on the floor, heavily worn with many holes.
Surprisingly, the black boat had suffered little damage from the impact, just a couple of dents and maybe a new scratch or two. It had made a pretty good battering ram. As Jordan examined the hull, something seemed to be missing. Not being a boat person, she couldn’t put her finger on it immediately. But in looking at the other boats nearby, she figured it out. The lettering on the front of the hull that all the other boats had was missing. Or at least partly missing. The boats here had a string of letters and numbers, plus what appeared to be a registration sticker indicating the year. The damaged boat had the letters MA, five characters, and a yellow sticker with 20 in bold letters. The black boat had no such sticker. It may not have been registered. Also, the two letters that appeared to specify the state were absent. In fact, they looked to have been scraped off. Similarly, the string of characters was mostly missing, with just the trace of what looked like a 3 and a T remaining.
Jordan walked back to Derek, who was examining the damage to the exterior of the hull of the Cobalt. “What are the numbers and letters on the hull for?”
“They’re the boat’s registration number. They’re different for each state. Just like a license plate, only they’re put on the boat directly. Why?”
“Well, your unmanned black boat here looks like it’s trying to hide its registration. Plus, it doesn’t have a sticker for this year.”
“Let me see.”
Derek went to the black boat and looked for himself. “That’s definitely unusual. I don’t recall ever seeing a boat in service not having its full registration on its hull. I’ve seen a lot that didn’t have their sticker, but never one with most of the registration missing.” He knelt down, running his hand along the hull where the full registration should be. “It used to be here. Someone removed the letters. There are some pretty good scrapes where the letter and numbers were scratched off. Almost looks like someone did it on purpose.”
Jordan heard the sound of boots on the dock. She looked in the sound’s direction and saw a man in a gray uniform and a wide-brimmed hat coming their way. He had on a large belt, which Jordan could see held a gun, a flashlight, and handcuffs. The man walked with a purpose, his tall frame moving swiftly along the dock. In the distance behind him, Jordan could see Mike coming their way as well.
The chief.
Before he reached them, he began to speak. “What happened here, Derek?” His voice was strong and his words clear. His tone conveyed authority.
“Hey, Dad,” he said to the chief, standing up and facing him as the chief approached. “This black boat here came out of nowhere and rammed into a boat in its slip.” Derek pointed to the damaged boat.
The chief turned his head to see the boat Derek pointed out. “How much damage?”
“One good hole and some other hull damage. We’re hauling it out now.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“Nope. And not even someone to get hurt.”
“What does that mean?”
“The black boat had no one in it. It was empty.”
“So how did it get in here? It couldn’t have been drifting to cause damage like that.”
“No. It was under power. About half throttle.”
“And no sign of a driver?”
“Not a trace. Plus, there were no lights turned on. It was running in complete darkness.”
Mike arrived, standing a few feet behind the chief, not interrupting.
The chief walked over to the black boat and appeared to be checking it out. “Is this what you were looking at when I got here?” The chief indicated the registration, or lack thereof.
“Yeah. That’s the other strange thing. Most of the registration is missing, and there’s no sticker for this year.”
Even though the chief must have seen Jordan when he came down to the dock, he only now seemed to notice her. A glance also confirmed he knew Mike had arrived, a momentary cloud of disdain passing over his face that he didn’t bother to hide.
He looked to Mike. “Mike, is this one of your boats?” he said, pointing at the black boat.
“No. I’ve never seen it before.”
The look the chief gave Mike was one of pure intolerance. Jordan would have bet that the chief would disagree with anything Mike said. “Really? And you know every boat in your marina?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I keep records of every boat moored and stored here and make it a point to know what each one looks like. My staff also enforces registration as much as possible. A boat with partial registration and no valid sticker would get our attention. So, yes, I can confirm this is not a boat from my marina.” Mike put a touch of emphasis on the word “my,” no doubt to remind the chief that this facility was his.
“Fine. I’m going to need that boat. Get it hauled out and have it brought to the county holding yard.” He talked to Derek as though Mike wasn’t even there.
Mike stepped up, not appreciating being emasculated. “We’ll make sure you get the black boat. What about the driver? There had to be someone on the boat who may be in the lake.”
“I know how to do my damn job, Mike. I called the Copper Lake Authority on my way over here, and they’ll get a boat on the lake to look for whoever may have been on that boat. One of my guys will join them. They probably won’t see anything in the dark, but if the driver is on the surface of the lake, he might get spotted.” The chief looked at Mike and then Derek. “Anything else?”
Both men said no.
The chief turned and locked eyes with Jordan. “And who might you be?” he asked with a complete absence of friendliness.
“Jordan. I was sitting with Derek at the bar when the boat crash happened.”
The chief stepped closer to Jordan, testing her personal space boundaries. His posture was aggressive, almost bullying. “Any last name?”
“Yeah. It’s Reed. My name is Jordan Reed.”
“Well, Ms. Reed, this is a police investigation, so why don’t you toddle back up to the bar?” The chief didn’t wait for a reply before turning to Derek.
Jordan didn’t need to be told twice. No need to get on the chief’s bad side. She left the happy trio on the dock.
9
As the crowd that had gathered following the accident began to disperse, Jordan focused her attention on the chief. She tracked him as he left the docks and returned to the marina grounds. Instead of immediately leaving, he took out his mobile phone and made a call.
The chief was probably one hundred yards from Jordan, close to the side of the docks farthest from where the collision had occurred. He paced in small circles while talking on the phone. Movement somewhere off to her left caught Jordan’s attention. Also on the far side of the grounds, close to the chief, a man appeared and headed in his direction. The lighting wasn’t good enough to allow Jordan to see much detail, but the man was wearing a dark hoodie, dark shorts, and some sort of baseball-style hat. He seemed to be shorter than the chief and was definitely much thinner. Not that the chief was overweight, but he was muscular, with only a bit of extra weight around the middle. By comparison, the new arrival was skinny.
He sauntered close, looking around as if he were trying to remain undetected. The chief didn’t notice him right away, but when he did, he stopped pacing and seemed to look straight at the man. Jordan wished she could see better. She could have sworn the chief shook his head side to side. Whatever he did, or maybe said, the approaching man stopped. He put out hi
s hands to his side in a placating gesture, seeming to request permission to come closer. This time Jordan definitely saw the chief shake his head. The man looked about, unsure what to do. After a moment, he turned and went back the way he’d come. He disappeared from view beside one of the marina’s buildings.
This was too much for Jordan to take. She didn’t know what was going on, but something felt off. First a bizarre accident the chief gave token attention. Now, he waved off some mystery man in the dark. She knew she was here to figure out what had happened to the fish, but she couldn’t ignore what she was seeing. She told Kasey she’d be back in a few minutes and headed off to where the dark-clothed man disappeared from view, being careful to avoid being seen by the chief.
Based on the direction the man was headed, Jordan expected him to come out in the marina parking lot. With luck, she could get there in time to see where he was going. She hurried along as though she was going toward the main marina building but then veered to the right to try to cut off the mystery man. Reaching the opposite side of the same building less than a minute after he’d disappeared from her view, Jordan slowly walked to the end of the wall and peered around the corner to her right. There was a light on the corner of the building above her, leaving her a bit exposed. As she looked, she saw the mystery man standing against a fence that must have marked a boundary of the marina property on the south edge.
The man looked around almost nervously. Either he was waiting for someone, or he was worried about being seen. He was mostly out of the coverage of the marina lights and could have been easily missed by anyone passing by. As Jordan wondered if she was wasting her time, the gate to the parking lot opened and a car entered. It seemed late for someone to be arriving.
The car parked in one of the first spots. The driver exited and looked around before heading toward the mystery man.
Aided by floodlights, Jordan could see that the new arrival was tall. Really tall. Much taller than the mystery man and for sure taller than the chief. He was also slim. But he had long hair and a beard. His age was impossible to assess, but his hair and beard were light colored, not gray or white.
This could be interesting.
The new arrival approached the mystery man, and they joined hands in a handshake Jordan thought was called a dap. They exchanged a few words, both men nodding in response to the other. The mystery man reached into his hoodie and pulled out something small. Jordan couldn’t tell what it was, but it easily fit in a hand. The new arrival reached into a pocket and also pulled out something. It looked like a wallet or billfold. He pulled out a few bills of an unknown denomination and handed them over. The mystery man handed the new arrival the small package.
It had to be a drug deal. One more handshake, and the men separated, the new arrival returning to his car and the mystery man heading back in the direction of the marina grounds, possibly the bar. Jordan concluded the mystery man was dealing drugs on marina property. And in this instance, not more than a couple hundred feet from the police chief.
What kind of fucking place is this?
Jordan didn’t know what to make of this last event but figured it could somehow be useful in the future. She sure as hell wouldn’t ask the chief about it. Not with how he’d treated her. But she wondered why the mystery man had even tried approaching the chief while he was carrying drugs. Could the chief be involved? Or was the mystery man really just stupid? Jordan thought it was probably the latter. Criminals had a tendency to be stupid, and this guy struck her as not being particularly bright.
Jordan headed back to the bar, which showed signs of slowing down. About half of the seats were empty, guests finally calling it a night. Jordan recalled Kasey saying that her shift went until one a.m., the latest that the bar stayed open.
Jordan looked around at the remaining guests, trying to find the mystery man in the black hoodie. Surprisingly, Jordan saw him on the opposite side of the bar from where she was sitting. He had two drinks in front of him, a Budweiser and something in a glass tumbler. Now that she could see him better, she realized he wasn’t as thin as she’d thought. His frame was slight, but too much food or drink added unnecessary weight to his midsection.
Looking at his face, Jordan could see that he was older than her, at least in his thirties, maybe older. He may have been good looking when he was younger, but those days had passed him by. He looked worn, like his life had been just a bit too hard. But he was smiling. Nothing like making a few bucks to put one in a good mood.
Kasey came over when she noticed Jordan had returned. “You’re back. Do you want another drink?”
Jordan did, in fact, want another drink, but she had to drive back to her hotel soon and had already had quite a few. “Thanks, but I should pass. I need to drive soon.”
“No problem. Are you heading out now?”
“I think so.” Jordan looked at the mystery man. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“There’s a guy at the bar wearing a black hoodie. Has a couple of drinks. What’s his story?”
Kasey didn’t even turn to look around the bar. “You must be talking about Punch Malone. He’s the local troublemaker. At least he used to be.”
“Troublemaker? In what way?”
“I only know what I hear, but working at this place, I hear a lot. Apparently, he was a pothead and dope dealer in high school, and he was also a bully. He had some run-ins with the chief, and he went to juvenile prison for a bit. Then he disappeared for a few years. I heard he was in New York City but don’t know for sure. He eventually came back and picked up where he left off, except that people weren’t afraid of him anymore. Something had changed. But he’s still kind of the town loser.”
“So how does he get in at the marina? I thought you had to be a member or a guest?”
“That’s true. But his uncle has been a member here since before I was born. He lists Punch as part of his family, giving him access. Punch’s dad left the family when he was a kid, and the uncle always had a soft spot for him. He knows Punch is a lost cause but doesn’t have the heart to cut him off.”
“So he’s a member, with the typical member access?”
“Yes. Why the questions? Did you meet him?”
“No. But I just saw him meeting with some guy. They looked to be doing a deal of some kind. It looked like drugs, but I couldn’t see very well.”
Kasey sighed. “Really? If my dad hears that Punch is dealing drugs here, he’ll be kicked out. How sure are you?”
“Not one hundred percent. But they exchanged something. That I’m sure about.”
“OK. Please don’t tell anyone about this for now. Let me think about what to do. Definitely don’t tell the chief.”
“No worries there.” Since Punch did the deal not far from the chief, Jordan had a feeling telling him wouldn’t accomplish much.
The chief had parked on the near side of the parking lot, close to the walkway by the main marina grounds. As he reached the Explorer, he noticed a car parked about fifty feet away. It wasn’t specifically the car he noticed but the fact that there was a man leaning back against the car’s driver’s side door. The man displayed a relaxed body position, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. That made him the only person the chief saw that day, besides himself, wearing long pants. The man was wearing an untucked golf shirt that was a dark color. Maybe blue.
The man wasn’t directly under a light, but the portion of his face that caught the light looked familiar. Then the man raised his right hand and waved. The chief knew exactly who the man was. Nicky Carlucci.
The chief walked over to him.
“What the hell, Nicky? We just spoke on the phone. You could have told me you were here.”
“C’mon, Chief, is that any way to treat a friend?”
“Since when are we friends?”
“How about since my boss decided you could have a nonmonetary way to make good on your debt? Given that his typical approach for debtors isn’t so nice
, I think that makes us friends. At least it should.”
The chief looked around, uncomfortable someone could witness the encounter. “Yeah, fine. That was very generous.”
“I’m here to make sure we’re all on the same page.”
“You know we are. I’ve been doing my part. If I’m not mistaken, some of the locals have already sold their property.”
“Some, yeah, but not many. And certainly not the most important ones. There are some large pieces of farmland whose owners don’t seem to want to hear about offers for their land. The boss finds that frustrating. Then there’s the marina. Without the marina, your deal is off.”
“I fucking know that. I told you, things are underway. After a couple more accidents, it should be easy to convince Mike to sell.”
“For your sake, I hope that’s true.”
“Are you planning to stay here awhile?”
“I am. Just in case things take a turn for the worse.”
“I’m the fucking police chief here. Give me a little credit.”
“Credit is earned. Tell me, how are you pulling off these little accidents? You can’t be doing them yourself. That would be too risky.”
“I have a guy. He’s not the smartest guy in town, but I have leverage on him. Similar to what you guys have on me. Think of it as poetic justice.”
“I need a name.”
“No, you don’t.”
“If he’s working for you, he’s working for me. I need to check him out, know what we’re dealing with.”
“Fine. Punch Malone. His name is Punch Malone. Happy?”
“No. But I don’t need to be happy. I just need to be confident your helper won’t get us into hot water.”
“He won’t. Not if he knows what’s good for him.”
“I’ll be around the next couple of days. But we don’t know each other. If you need me, send me a text first. Got it?”
“Fine. Are we good here?”
“We are. See you around.”
