by Alex Tully
The Detective quickly stood up after her, “I’m just trying to get as much perspective as possible.” He handed a card to Grams, “If you think of anything regarding Mr. Crawford, please give me a call.”
Grams stuck the card in her purse and grabbed Parker by the arm, “We know the way out.”
CHAPTER 31
ETHAN
Ethan, Zoe, and Meredith had moved from the beach, on to the Sea-quester. They’d spent pretty much the entire afternoon watching the police activity onshore. Behind the yellow tape, there were still a couple of uniformed police officers and some guys in suits forming a human barricade. A woman in white was crouched down taking photos of whatever was behind it—undoubtedly the bloated corpse of Crawford.
With repeated warnings to leave the scene, most of the Sunny Shore residents had cleared out. Some of the more defiant ones, like Frankie, had to be ushered directly to their trailers.
“It’s my constitutional right to stand here!” he yelled.
Uh, not quite Frankie. The cops probably had to explain the charges of ‘obstructing official police business’ before they got him to move.
Ethan had pulled out the binoculars, which they took turns using as they discussed their theories. First, they all acknowledged the possibility that the whole thing could’ve been a freak accident. Crawford was super wasted when Ethan saw him, so it wasn’t totally inconceivable that he drowned. Maybe he fell off a dock and hit his head. Or maybe he went for a night swim and had a heart attack—or a stroke. An accident was totally plausible.
Then the murder theories…just because Crawford wasn’t shot or stabbed didn’t mean he wasn’t murdered. Maybe he was strangled and then dumped in the water...or, maybe he was poisoned and dumped in the water…or, maybe he was hit over the head and dumped in the water…
Which brought Ethan to the scariest thought of all…there was a slight possibility that when Ethan punched Crawford in the face, he did some real damage. Marty could’ve come-to and felt just fine, but unbeknownst to him, had one of those delayed concussions. Ethan had already googled about it, and although it wasn’t very likely, it wasn’t impossible either.
What if Marty went for a stroll on the docks, and what if he blacked out from the delayed concussion, and what if he fell into the water…?
Ethan stopped himself. He hadn’t done that for a long time—thought about a what-if scenario. He’d been through a lot of shit in the last twenty-four hours, and the catastrophic thoughts had been kept in check. He had been doing okay.
“Beep…beep…beep!” Loud ringing noises pierced the summer air, and he welcomed the distraction. An ambulance was slowly backing down the gravel drive. It stopped at the edge of the rocky beach.
“Holy shit!” Meredith squealed.
“They’re bringing out the body,” Zoe finished.
Ethan grabbed the binoculars for a better look. Two men jumped out of the ambulance, walked to the back, and opened the doors. Ethan scanned over to the east, beyond the yellow tape, and saw four policemen carrying a stretcher tarped in white cloth.
“Give me those!” Meredith ripped the binoculars out of his hands.
Ethan looked at Zoe, “Remind me why you’re friends with her?”
“Um, I’m not really sure,” Zoe shrugged, “cause she drives?”
Ethan laughed, but Meredith was completely oblivious, “I wish they’d get out of the way—they’re blocking the body!”
The police moved quickly over the rocky beach, giving no chance for extended viewing. They loaded Marty Crawford’s body into the back of the ambulance with ease and slammed the doors shut. The paramedics hopped back into the front of the ambulance, and in a matter of seconds, it was gone.
“Damn,” Meredith pouted, “That was disappointing!”
“Really Meredith,” Zoe laughed, “what did you think you’d see?”
“I don’t know, an arm or something. Maybe a dangling leg.”
“If his body was in the lake all night,” Ethan said, “it’d be pretty disgusting,”
“Exactly,” Meredith said, “it’d be a whole lot of disgusting, on top of disgusting.”
“Okay,” Zoe grabbed the binoculars from Meredith, “You realize we’re being totally disrespectful.”
“Well,” Ethan offered, “You can always ask Parker what the body looked like. I’m sure he’d love to share all of the gory details.”
“I would ask him if he’d text me back!” Meredith looked down at her phone, “Why isn’t the twerp responding to anything?”
“Why don’t you just go back to the station, and see what’s going on?” Ethan would do anything to get rid of her.
“No, I told you my dad’s being a jerk. He doesn’t want me there right now—and he was actually pretty serious about it. I can’t risk him taking my car away again.”
Well, at least he tried. Ethan scrolled through his phone’s search results for delayed concussion drowning when his phone screen turned black. A call from DAD appeared.
“Hello?”
“Ethan, it’s dad. I want you to come back to the villa right now.”
Ethan’s stomach instantly knotted up, “Okay is something wrong?”
Dad’s voice sounded different—not the usual fake, upbeat, voice. No, this voice was all business, “I need to talk to you about something. Just come back, okay?”
Definitely something wrong. “Okay, I’ll be there in a couple minutes,” he clicked off the call, “shit.”
Zoe and Meredith were staring at him, wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation.
“I have to go home. Something’s up, my dad doesn’t sound right.”
“Do you think he found out about you punching Crawford?” Zoe asked.
“Maybe.”
“Gayle Crawford…” Meredith sighed, “That boney bitch...she didn’t have to rat you out.”
Ethan had already thought about it, “If the police noticed Crawford’s tooth was missing when they looked at the body, they might’ve asked her about it. He was the last person that’d be walking around with a big hole in his smile.”
Zoe actually looked worried, “Text us when you can.”
“I will,” he turned to leave, “if you guys want to leave before I get back, could you lock it up?”
“Oh no,” Meredith propped her bare feet onto the table, “I think we’ll stay here for a while.”
As Ethan made his way back home, he thought about how he was going to explain the fight with Crawford. If Marty hadn’t died, he’d probably have filed a police report the next day and charged Ethan with assault. And because he did die, the whole situation could end up even worse. What if Marty did have a delayed concussion, and what if—.
Nope. Ethan shook his head, he wasn’t going to think the worst.
When he got to Crystal Waters the whole place was inundated with police. They were everywhere—in the marina, on the beach, around the pool. Residents were mixed in among them, concerned looks on their faces.
Concerned about poor Gayle Crawford? Probably not. Concerned about their safety? Maybe. Concerned about their property values? Definitely.
Ethan’s shoulders tightened as he reached home. He paused to take a deep breath and then opened the front door. His dad was waiting in the kitchen, arms braced on the island top, head hanging down. Emma sat in a chair in the great room, and Mom was nowhere to be found. Maybe she was back at home getting cozy with Dr. Malone.
“Sit down Ethan,” Dad waved him over to the couch across from Emma.
The look on his sister’s face was a new one—worry mixed in with something else—doubt, suspicion? She also looked like she was using every ounce of restraint to keep her lips firmly pressed together. Obviously, dad had told her to keep her mouth shut.
Dad finally looked up, “I take it you’ve heard about Mr. Crawford?”
“Yeah,” Ethan nodded, “I went to the Sea-quester this morning and I saw the police on the beach. I talked to some people and found out about what happen
ed—I mean, I found out about Mr. Crawford—I don’t really know what happened.” His voice was shaking and as Dad watched him, his anxiety grew.
Dad was assessing him—evaluating, gauging, judging, whatever the term—he was doing it.
“Ethan,” his dad walked over and stood directly over him, “there were some police here—they just left. And they want you—well, you and me—to go down to the station for questioning.”
His growing anxiety shot up a notch. Dad was in all-out lawyer mode and all Ethan could do was nod.
“But, before we go, I need you to tell me everything.”
“Okay dad,” his voice came out in a scratchy whisper.
Ethan told them everything—how he found Mr. and Mrs. Crawford fighting, how he heard them talking about Zoe, how he confronted them…
“And then he started talking shit about you and mom! And I just lost it, Dad! I…” Ethan looked away from his dad and straight over to Emma, who was wincing like she didn’t want to hear another word.
“I punched Marty—Mr. Crawford—I knocked him out.”
Ethan stared at the floor, and waited for it—Jesus Ethan, are you crazy?! What were you thinking?!
But he got nothing. He looked up to see Dad’s emotionless face.
“And then what?” Dad wasn’t being Dad at all. He was being Mr. Jeff Pierce, Attorney-at-Law, and Ethan was his client.
“Well, Marty was just lying there and honestly, Mrs. Crawford didn’t even care Dad—in fact, she said ‘well done,’ swear to God.”
“Ethan,” his dad’s face didn’t flinch, “keep going.”
“Then, I took off Dad, I ran.”
Dad stared at him and waited for more.
“What? That’s it!” Ethan couldn’t take the Mr. Jeff Pierce for another second, “Dad, he was so drunk, he could’ve passed out on his own. I didn’t even hit him that hard.” Only Gayle Crawford would know that was a lie.
“Where did you go after that?”
“To Zoe’s.”
“How long did you stay there?”
What the hell? Why did he want to know his every movement? “Not long, we got in a fight. What does it matter?”
“I’m just trying to cover everything.”
“I know Dad, you’re just trying to get all the facts—you’re treating me like I’m your fricking client!”
“But Ethan,” Emma spoke for the first time, “What about the text message?”
Text message? What text message? He looked at his dad, who just stared back, waiting for an answer.
“What are you talking about?” Ethan suddenly felt like he was in an alternate universe. He was obviously missing something.
“Ethan,” Dad sat next to him on the couch, “When the police were here earlier they didn’t say anything about you getting in a fight with Mr. Crawford, although now I’m sure they’ll want to ask you about that, too.”
Too? What else was there?
“But…” Dad sighed, “What the police did say was that they’d already looked at Mr. Crawford’s cell phone records from last night.”
Cell phone records? “Okay…”
“And the last text message that came into his phone—which was just after midnight—was traced back to a number on our cellular account.”
What?! Ethan’s head was spinning, “That makes no sense.”
Dad went on, “So I told them I would look into it, and then we would come down to the station as soon as you returned.”
“But Dad! I swear I didn’t send any messages to Crawford!”
“It wasn’t from your number Ethan. It was from the spare phone. And, Emma said you’re the only one who’s used it?”
And then it hit Ethan all at once. It was the phone he gave to Parker!
CHAPTER 32
ZOE
“Alright, I’m tired of waiting around, even if it is on a yacht,” Meredith stood up, “Let’s go to your trailer so we don’t miss when Parker gets home.”
Zoe turned her chair around and looked out across the blue water, away from the beach littered with police, and away from the trailer park, “I don’t want to go back. Debbie doesn’t work until six tonight.”
Meredith looked at her phone, “Well that’s not for over an hour. You can stay here but I’m gonna go look for the little shit and find out what’s going on.”
Just then Zoe got a Facetime from Ethan:
“Hey.”
“Hey, I have to be quick,” Ethan’s face looked panicked, “I’m going to the police station with my dad in a couple of minutes. You need to find Parker and ask him where his phone is.”
Meredith was hovering over her shoulder in seconds, joining in the Facetime, “His phone?” she blurted out before Zoe could say a word.
“Yes, the one I gave him,” Ethan was almost whispering, “I guess the last text message that Crawford got last night came from that phone!”
“What?!” Zoe and Meredith yelled in unison.
“I know, it made no sense at first,” Ethan said quickly, “But you know how Parker hasn’t been answering any of our texts since early yesterday? What if he lost the phone?”
“Holy shit…” Zoe’s said, her mind racing, “And someone found it, and used it to text Crawford?”
“I don’t know, but that’s what it looks like.”
“Do they know what the message said?” Meredith asked.
“I have no idea. They just told my dad the message was definitely traced back to that number.”
Suddenly, a muffled yell of “Ethan!” could be heard behind him, “Shit! I gotta go!”
“Okay, Meredith and I are heading over to the trailer park now, to wait for Parker.”
“Text me as soon as you find him,” Ethan signed off, and the screen went black.
Meredith’s eyes were wide, “What the hell? Can you believe this shit?” She grabbed Zoe by the arm and pulled her out of her chair, “C’mon let’s go!”
They practically ran down the boat pier to the shore. Before they went up the gravel drive, they stopped and looked past the yellow crime tape barrier. In the area where Crawford’s body had been, a couple of guys in scrubs were on their knees sifting through the sand, probably looking for any tiny pieces of trace evidence.
The whole thing was surreal, like an episode of CSI. But this wasn’t a show—it was real life and it was happening right at the Sunny Shores Trailer Park.
When they got to the top of the hill, Zoe saw a small group of people had congregated outside Frankie’s trailer. He sat on top of his picnic table, a cigarette in one hand, a can of Bush Light in the other. “I didn’t even have to kill that son-of-a-bitch,” his voice carried over the others, “looks like somebody beat me to it.”
Mrs. Rooney, the cat lady, was there. She was holding one of her “babies” as she liked to call them, against her big chest, “Well now maybe Gayle Crawford will let us stay,” she said with desperation in her voice.
Mrs. Rooney had a lot to lose when they had to move out of the trailer park. The Harts, living up to their namesake, were too kind-hearted to really do anything about her cats. They had overlooked the accumulation of her furry babies in and around her trailer for years, giving only mild warnings, which they never enforced. There was no way Mrs. Rooney was going to find another trailer park that would take them all in.
“I’ve heard Mrs. Crawford is no better than him, maybe even worse,” someone said.
“She’s not going to change anything,” someone else added, “Why would she?”
That was the first thing Zoe had thought about after she heard the news of Crawford’s death. What if—just maybe, there was a chance they could keep the trailer park?
Zoe and Meredith walked right past the group—they had to find Parker. But of course, they didn’t make it very far before Frankie called out, “Hey Zoe! You work over there right?” he pointed his thumb over in the direction of Crystal Waters.
Not anymore. But she wasn’t about to get into it with them, “Yeah
.”
“Well, what’s the old lady like—Crawford’s wife? Is she as bad as him?”
The truth was Zoe really didn’t know much about Gayle Crawford. She seemed like she might not be as bad, but that really wasn’t saying much. Mrs. Crawford definitely had terrible taste in men—that she knew for sure. “You know what? I’ve only met her once, so I really couldn’t say.”
Frankie took a drag on his cigarette, “So do you think it was an accident or, do you think…you know?”
Zoe just shrugged. She was leaning toward an accident before, but after learning about the text message from Parker’s phone, it seemed like there might be something more to it.
Frankie had obviously been dipping deep into his beer stash, because he was in one of his more lively moods, “Well I think someone murdered the son-of-a-bitch! That’s what I think!”
“Frankie!” Mrs. Rooney interjected, “If you keep hollering on about how much of a son-of-a-bitch he is, people will think you did it!”
“Suspect number three right there,” Meredith said, poking Zoe’s shoulder.
When they got to Parker’s trailer Meredith knocked on the door, and almost immediately, Shirley opened it. She didn’t look happy, “He fell asleep as soon as he sat on the couch, and I’m not going to bother him. You’ll have to come back later.”
“But we really have to talk to him,” Meredith pleaded, a little too loudly.
“Sshhh!” Shirley brushed by them both, leading them away from the trailer. “I told you he’s sleeping! Now, Parker’s been through a lot today. As soon as he wakes up, I will tell him that you came by.”
Zoe needed to tread carefully—very carefully, “We understand Shirley, we do…but…see the thing is, do you know if he has his phone? Because we’ve been texting him since yesterday, and he hasn’t been responding.”
Shirley sighed, “I know, he feels terrible about that. I’m sure he was afraid to say anything to you,” she paused, “but he lost it.”
Meredith jumped in immediately, “Do you know like—when he lost it?”
