Death By Blue Water (A Hayden Kent Mystery Book 1) (12 page)

Twenty-One

By the time Mallory left, Hayden knew sleep would elude her. She sat at the kitchen table and wrote her own summation of the events of the weekend, hoping the physical action would jar more information loose. Nothing new came and she wanted a fresh viewpoint. Tiger Cat jumped up on her lap and rubbed his face against the hand that held the pen.

“Okay, chum, I get the message.” She stood and walked to the cabinet where she kept his treats. “Treats for you, a brandy for me.” Filling a small bowl, she put it on the floor for her cat. Then she moved to the antique cart that served as her bar, took a snifter, and poured a healthy shot of brandy. The smell of the liquor brought her boss to mind. Every time they’d gone to dinner together, he had ended with a brandy. So far, the attraction had eluded her.

“That’s who I need to talk to. I want Grant’s perspective on all of this.” The grandfather clock in Hayden’s house chimed nine at the same time the doorbell sounded.

Hayden pulled the curtain aside in the living room and saw Grant standing on the front porch. She swung the door open, forgetting that she set the alarm on instant when Mallory left. The alarm wailed.

She froze in place. Grant grabbed her arm and guided her back into the room. Wordlessly, she handed him her brandy glass. “What’s the code?” He shouted over the din. When Hayden continued to stand mute, he gave her arm a little shake. The sound of the ringing telephone joined the noise. The ringing of the phone seemed to break her trance. Her eyes cleared and she stepped around Grant to the keypad on the hall wall, punched in some numbers, and silenced the alarm. Grant grabbed the phone and handed it to her, clearly listening while she gave the code word.

“Sorry, Grant. I didn’t mean to act like a dork. I was just thinking about you. For a minute, I thought I conjured you up.”

They walked to the couch and Hayden took back the brandy snifter and tipped it in his direction. “I only had a sip. How do you drink this? It’s as bad as scotch.”

He took the glass from her hand and rolled it between his palms. “Easy, it’s like mother’s milk to me.” He smiled and took a sip. “Too much soda, mind if I add more brandy? He walked to the liquor cabinet, grabbed the bottle, and poured about an ounce into the glass. Hayden went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of red wine.

“Malbec, my current favorite red.” She took a deep sip and sat in the recliner across from him. “Is something wrong, Grant?”

“I got the transcript of the questioning. I thought you would like to see it.”

“Is it accurate?”

He studied her face before he answered. “It hasn’t been embellished and nothing has been omitted that I saw.” He lay the papers down on the coffee table in front of him. “I’d like it if you reviewed it too. Just to be sure you said what you wanted to say.”

“It looks bad, doesn’t it?”

Grant took a sip of his brandy. Hayden thought he was stalling to buy time while he figured out how to phrase his response. “No, Hayden.” Grant looked down at the snifter in his hand. “But I am confused.”

Hayden got up and went to the kitchen. She came back into the living room with a full glass of wine and the bottle.

“You plan to drink that tonight?” he asked.

“You’re right. This won’t solve anything. Do you want some tea?”

He shook his head and waited while she went back to the kitchen. She wasn’t sure if she was looking for tea or courage. Whichever, she needed something to face the contents of the report.

This time she returned with a steaming cup in her hand and set it on the gate leg table next to the recliner. “Okay, what’s so confusing?”

He pulled more papers from his jacket and handed them to her. “Have you gotten the police reports yet?”

A blush rose from her neck to her hairline. “Mallory yelled at me for the same thing. I went to Monroe County today, then the day went to hell in a hand basket.” She gave Grant a quick rundown of the day’s events that prevented her from seeing either the Coast Guard or the marine patrol.

Grant threw back his head and laughed. “Thank God, I thought for sure you were losing all your professionalism. I’m glad it’s coming back.”

She rewarded him with a chuckle. Tipping her head at the papers she held she said, “What’s this?”

“Monroe County’s report. I called in a favor from a friend.”

Hayden reached in the side pocket of the recliner and pulled out her copy. She opened the two documents to the front page. “They’re different, Grant. Very, very different.”

He got up and came to sit on the arm of the recliner to read over her shoulder. “How different? The one they gave me has almost no information compared to this. This has even more detail, and...”

She lifted her face to her boss, his face blurred by her unshed tears. “It talks about the marina and mentions witnesses.” She flipped through the pages. “Does it identify them?”

“No. I looked for that. I was hoping you could tell me who was around the marina when you woke up.” He gently removed the papers from her hand. “You should have told them. But it’s too late for that now.”

A stab of guilt pierced her. No matter what, she’d made her own bed, and it was lumpy. “I didn’t see a soul. Not even the Harbor Master.” A tinge of fear crept into her voice. “That’s what scares me so much. I can’t think of a single person who can support my story. That’s why I wanted to wait before I told them.”

“What else is different?”

“Your report has detail. Mine is more like an outline.” Her gaze drilled into him. “Do you think this is the real report?”

Grant shook his head. “I think the real report has even more detail. Someone had to know who the witnesses were. There have to be names in someone’s report.”

“Why not in this one? You got it from a friend.”

Grant got up and began to pace the room. Like any good lawyer, he had contacts across all strata of the legal environment. Friends with Monroe County Sheriffs weren’t surprising. He came back to the recliner and settled again on the arm. “I think my friend knew I’d be calling. He prepared a more detailed report for me, but it’s still redacted.”

“So I’m back to square one. I’ll say it again, this doesn’t look good.”

Grant cleared his throat. “You know I’m behind you one hundred percent. I’ll help you any way I can. Right now, the best way to help you is to advise you to get a lawyer who specializes in criminal work. I told you that before. Call Mallory’s boss.”

She felt her face tighten and Grant added, “If you’re uncomfortable with Mallory working on your case, I’ll get someone I know in Key West.”

“I can’t think of anyone I would trust more than Mallory. I guess I’m not ready to admit I need a lawyer.” Hayden studied his face. “What are you keeping from me, Grant? I know you too well. I can see it in your eyes.”

Grant cleared his throat. It sounded more like a rumble of thunder in the quiet room. He stood and walked back to the liquor cabinet and gazed at his reflection in the polished top. “It’s officially a murder investigation, Hayden. Oh, no one has called it that yet, outside the various agencies, but that’s what it is.”

The air left Hayden’s lungs with a whoosh. “Devil’s advocate time.” He turned to face her. “Why do you think you are going to be arrested? You’ve mentioned it a number of times. Why do you think you committed this crime?”

“I don’t. I didn’t. I mean, why do you think I did?” The play of emotions across Hayden’s face was telling. She really didn’t know what happened.

Grant crossed the room to her and took both her hands in his. “Then stop anticipating your arrest. You are the one making yourself look guilty. If you were a client, I would tell you to stop picking at the wound. Gather the reports, although I’m sure they will all be whitewashed. Review the information like a professional. You’ll see that they all say the same thing. The police have no suspects.”

“What about the wife?”

“She does have a problem. But then, the wife is always the first suspect. Did you make some of your famous lists?”

Hayden blushed again. “While I was still in the office. I couldn’t come up with anything. You’re right though. I have to stop acting like I’m guilty. It’s so hard.”

“Why? Make me understand, then maybe I can see a way to prove your innocence.”

“It’s the blackout. It’s not the first one, but it is the first time I left the house.” She took a sip of her tea. “Grant, do you think it’s likely I would do something in a blackout that I wouldn’t do normally? Do you think I have multiple personalities? You do, don’t you?”

“No, I think you are one of the most stable people I have ever met.”

“Then what? Are you going to tell me what you’re hiding?”

“I talked to my friend. I convinced him to tell me who the witnesses were.” He searched Hayden’s face.

She made a rolling gesture with her hands.

His next words broke her heart. “Kevin Anderson and Samantha Penmartin.”

Twenty-Two

Hayden drove her Tahoe north on U.S. 1 through the puddles and flooded streets left behind by the previous night’s storm. The sky still looked threatening, dark clouds roiled to the east.
South Florida summer weather as usual.
Her mood matched the sky.

The Coast Guard Station on Plantation Key scrambled the cutter to the Humboldt. Hayden intended to go there yesterday when her car was broken into. This morning she’d called Station Marathon to see if they had a copy of the incident report. They told her no. Furthermore, they suggested if one existed, the Station that dispatched the cutter would have it. She wondered if Kevin’s information would be in the Coast Guard report or if they would only give her a sanitized version. Grant told her it was a murder investigation. He didn’t tell her she was a suspect. Yet.

Passing through Islamorada, she decided breakfast was in order. If she was going to face the enemy in his den, she wanted a full stomach. At Gretchen’s Bakery, she pulled around behind the structure and backed into a space. Given the size of her truck, she preferred to park head out in limited space lots. Cutting the engine, she hopped down from the driver’s seat and caught the hem of her shorts on the seat adjustment lever. The Tahoe had full power seats. The seat, in response to pressure from her shorts, moved forward. Pulling her pants loose, she re-entered the vehicle and repositioned the seat. Hayden felt a tingling in her hand as she completed the adjustment. A tantalizing tingle of memory stirred but she couldn’t bring it to the forefront.

Seating herself at a booth in the cheerful restaurant, she ordered a double caffeine coffee and a hot cinnamon bun. Gretchen, who ran the restaurant with her husband, Bob, the baker of the delightfully sinful treats, came over and sat down across from her.

“Hey Hayd, you’ve been in the papers lately. How are you doing?” Gretchen asked kindly.

“Pretty good, for someone living in infamy. What have you read? Hey Bob, no need for chef table service. Have a seat if you can. They make great coffee here to compliment the fantastic food.”

The rotund chef shook his head and held out his hand. “Here for moral support only. I want you to know that whatever they say, we’re with you. Richard...well, he was into some stuff, we think. Stuff that would have caused him problems and could have caused him to get dead.” Hayden caught a silent communication pass between husband and wife. Gretchen shook her head slightly.

“Seems everyone knew him but me. I thought he lived in North Florida. That’s what Kevin told me.”

Gretchen snorted. “Kevin the master diver. I trained him. Took him three times to pass his open water. I wouldn’t have passed him ever. He ended up going to one of those scuba diving factories in Key Largo. You know the type—
Learn to Dive, see the Christ Statue
. You look surprised. Did he try to feed you that ‘I’ve been diving since I could walk’ stuff? Did you ever dive with him?”

“Yes, he was uncomfortable on the deep stuff and he had ear problems. I wondered at his buoyancy control sometimes, but overall, I bought it. What are  you saying?”

“I’m saying he learned to dive three years ago. Richard made him. I don’t know why it was so important to Richard. I had the feeling they were involved with something, treasure hunting maybe. Whatever it was, Richard was quiet about it. He, by the way, was a great diver and had been diving since he could walk.”

Hayden chewed her bun and digested the information at the same time. Reaching for her coffee, she took a sip, cleared her throat and said, “What did Bob mean about what Richard was involved in?”

“Like I said, treasure hunting, we think. Only in the Keys. That can have a lot of meaning. Bob loaned him some money a few years ago. Never saw it back, although Richard claimed he paid it back in cash and installments. That was BS. Anyway, he bought a great boat a couple of years ago. Overpowered, we thought, but why have a boat like that if you’re not taking it distances? Thirty-two footer, dual Varados. You can go to the Bahamas in a heartbeat but he rarely took it out for more than a couple of hours and most of those were at night.”

“I was going to buy that boat. I was supposed to look at it.”

Gretchen rolled her eyes. “The paper said you found him? On the Humboldt. I get the Coast Guard folks in here. The rumor is you could have killed him. Monroe County guys agree. Lately though, it seems like there’s someone else they’re looking at. Funny, the only ones who don’t suspect you are the marine patrol.” She continued speaking bluntly, oblivious as to how her words might affect Hayden. “We don’t believe you killed anyone, much less someone like Richard. Be careful. If someone is setting you up, be very careful. By the way, breakfast is on the house.”

The news that two agencies considered her a murder suspect came as no surprise. She’d brought it on herself. Now she had to figure out what to do about it. Hayden savored the cinnamon bun. Biggest and best she’d ever had. Tucking the bun she’d bought to-go into the center console, she started her engine and joined the traffic heading north on U.S. 1. Time was when summer roads in the Keys were empty. Natives only. These days traffic mid-week in July was nearly as bad as December. Most of the tags were out of state. These folks crowded the road out when hurricanes blew in. Hayden followed the unmarked road around the gas station and over to the Coast Guard station. The Jetson house faced the Coast Guard office and Hayden took a minute to look at the round structure. She remembered her father driving the family up to watch it being built. Nearly everyone in the middle Keys had stories about the construction of the building. It provided entertainment for a summer. An Eastern Air Lines pilot owned it in those days. The building looked old and forgotten now although it was still occupied. Hayden loved it but it reminded her that Kevin had expressed a desire to buy and restore it.

She took a deep breath and jumped down from her truck. The oolite covered parking area felt painful to her sandal-clad feet. Law enforcement parking lots were trying to kill her runner’s feet. At least the marine patrol was in a strip center. Hayden stopped and looked at the one story blue grey building in front of her. She could just make out a desk area with a uniformed woman seated behind it. Mounting the lone step and pushing open the heavy glass doors, she walked up to the woman.

“Hi, I’m Hayden Kent. I was involved in an incident last week and I’d like to get a copy of the report if I might.”

“Insurance report?” the woman asked.

“No, I found a body on a wreck during a dive. I’d like to get a copy of the Coast Guard report. Paul Muller was the officer who responded. We dove the site together to locate the body.” It seemed to Hayden that the woman gave her a funny look, the Gimlet-eyed look as her mother had called it.

“May I have some identification?” She took Hayden’s proffered license. “Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”

Flipping through the pages of an old Boating Magazine, Hayden wondered how long this was going to take. She wanted to get to the marine patrol office. That was back in Marathon. She wanted to do it before the officers left for lunch. Although someone would be in the office, they might not release information. Hayden wanted this over with as soon as possible.

“Ms. Kent, I’m glad I was here. You should have called first. Please come with me.” Paul Muller, in his uniform, stood before her, his hand outstretched.

“Oh, I didn’t want to bother you, Lieutenant. I just want a copy of your report.”

“The full report isn’t available yet. The case is still open and the autopsy results are pending.”

“Then it’s a Coast Guard case?”

“Let’s go into my office to discuss this. It’s more comfortable. And my reading material is more current.” He smiled.

Hayden’s stomach plummeted to her shoes. He’d dodged her question. Was this going to turn into an interview? Did he want to talk to her about being at the marina?

Paul stood aside for her to step into his office and guided her to a chair. The room’s buff color paint complimented his butter brown hair. On land, his eyes seemed even bluer than they looked on the water. The shelves held official looking books interspersed with antique looking nautical items. One photo, front and center, showed him in front of a large sport boat with twin engines. He looked tanned and relaxed, his dive gear around his feet.

“Nice boat.”

He followed the direction of her glance to the photo. “Thanks.” The corners of his mouth twitched up. “It belonged to a friend. Now, how may I help you?”

“I would like a copy of your report from the other day. That’s all.” Hayden decided to attempt to fish for information. “I guess you know I’ve been questioned by Monroe County?” Seeing his raised eyebrow, she continued. “I thought it would be a good idea to get all the reports, see if I could figure out why they questioned me.”

Paul rose from behind his desk and walked to the file cabinet. Unlocking it, he withdrew a file that he flipped open to the first page. Thumbing through the balance of the papers, he said, “Nothing in here indicates your involvement in anything. Just that you found the body of one Richard Anderson. You can have a copy of this if you like. What you can’t have is a copy of my investigation report. It’s not finished and those remain confidential until they are, unless they’re used for litigation.”

“Even under the Freedom of Information Act?” She felt impaled by his blue eyes in response to her statement.

“You can request it under the FIA of course. You won’t get it for a couple of years until it’s released. I’ll make you a copy of this.”

He handed her the file copies in a large envelope. As she pulled them out to thumb through, he said, “You’re quite a diver. I enjoyed our dive despite the circumstances. You know how to handle yourself. Perhaps, when this is over, we can dive together.”

Taken aback at the unexpected invitation, Hayden blurted out the first thought that came to her. “Where is the big cutter you had on the Humboldt? I don’t see it here.”

“That’s a loaner. It’s home ported at Station Key West. Station Islamorada has use of it from time to time. This is Cuban smuggling season so we use the hundred and ten-foot boat on night patrols in case we have to bring refugees aboard. Can’t do that on our little thirty-three footers.”

Hayden nodded and folded the envelope into her handbag.

Paul came around, rested his butt on the front of the desk, and crossed his long legs at the ankle. The action seemed to cut the small room to the size of a closet. “I meant it about diving together. It’s not often I find a diver who can match my skills. I like it when I can dive and not babysit.” He took her elbow in his hand and helped her up. “Give it some thought.” He pushed himself off from the desk, and keeping hold of her elbow, escorted her to the lobby.

Pondering the surprising ending to their interview, Hayden fingered her remote.
Gretchen must have misunderstood. He sure didn’t treat me like a suspect.
When she opened her door, she glanced down at the seat’s power control lever. She felt like someone punched her. That was it. She remembered when she got into the truck to drive home from Falkner Marina, the seat was pushed back. She’d readjusted it forward so her feet reached the pedals.