Deadly Catch (7 page)

Speaking of the boat, Ben Merritt was a man of his word. Fish and Wildlife officially impounded it and gave it more than a thorough going over. The good folks at Gillman’s Marina were none too pleased with the stripped-down version that was returned to them a few days later. Somebody’s insurance, probably mine, would eventually cover the cost of refurbishing, but it was one less rental from their fleet until the work was completed. At least my gear had been returned in full.

As for the matter of my slashed tire, Chief Merritt practically laughed in my face. There were no witnesses, so how the hell did I intend to prove the tire was slashed? “Hope you bought road hazard coverage, Mac,” was how he chalked up it up.

With the heartfelt concern the chief showed for my ruined tire, I wasn’t about to have him look into the “Jaws” phone call I’d received while fishing The Stumps. Instead, I decided to call the number again; after several rings a woman answered.

“Hello, I’m trying to reach Decker’s Auto and Tires,” I said, remembering the name of the business in Parkersville where I’d earlier bought a tire pressure gauge and a can of car wax.

“Sorry, hon, you got the wrong number. This is Jim and Jan’s Laundromat in St. George.”

I apologized and hung up. A couple of hours later I drove to Jim and Jan’s. It was located next to the hardware store where I’d bought a tube of silicone caulk to seal a leaking vent on my trailer the week before. I walked in and glanced around. Coin-operated washers and dryers lined the chalky yellow concrete block walls. A few women sat on benches reading magazines or talking on cell phones while waiting for their clothes to finish washing or drying. An older couple stood at one of several long tables, folding clothes and stacking them in a laundry basket. There was no sign of an attendant, and the only telephone I saw was a pay phone tucked away in a corner of the building near the restrooms.

Back inside my truck, I had a decent view of the pay phone through the laundry’s dusty plate glass window. I flipped open my cell phone and checked the number again, then dialed it. It rang a couple of times before a portly woman put down a magazine and ambled toward the phone. I waited until she picked up and offered a listless “Hello,” then clicked off. Mystery solved, at least as to where the call had come from.

For a while after the marijuana incident I wasn’t the most popular person around Gillman’s Marina. I’d brought the business some unwelcome publicity, thanks in large part to an overeager stringer writing for the local newspaper to help pay his way through Parkersville Community College. His embellished article stopped just short of portraying the marina as a front for drug trafficking, and me as a major dealer. I wondered if the kid who wrote it was studying pre-law. The Gillmans were furious, and I heard some loose talk of a libel suit. Sweet Sara wasn’t her usual chipper self when I was around either, and even Kate seemed to be turning a cold shoulder my way.

To his credit, Ben Merritt seemed to have bought my version of things or at least given me the benefit of the doubt. I hadn’t been charged with any crime, but I
was
informed in no uncertain terms not to leave the area until things were cleared up to his satisfaction. In the course of a few days I’d gone from vacationing fisherman to criminal suspect, with warnings from both the county and city cops not to leave Dodge.

When the fishing bug bit again, Gary Gillman was hesitant to rent another boat to me. But after a week, when he saw I wasn’t fleeing the area and was willing to pay two weeks’ cash up front, he agreed. I even got my old slip back, since it was no longer a notorious crime scene.

Meanwhile, a sample of the Panama Red had been sent to the Florida Department of Law Enforcement crime lab in Tallahassee to be tested for genetic compatibility with the bale that had washed ashore on Five-Mile Island. I had no doubt it would match. With everything that had happened, I was convinced somebody was running drugs into the St. George Bay area. The body I’d found was probably involved in some way.

And someone was trying real hard to point a finger at me.

A week and a half had passed since I’d found the body, and things seemed to be inching back to normal. I was no longer considered a leper around Gillman’s. Sara was back to being her cheery self, and even Kate showed signs of thawing. At least she was smiling and speaking to me again. So when I returned from fishing late Monday afternoon, the somber mood I found inside the marina store caught me off guard.

It was nearing closing time. A young couple with a toddler in tow strolled down the souvenir aisle. Sara, who worked most afternoons since school had let out, wasn’t around, and it didn’t take long to notice something was troubling Kate. There was no smile or greeting when I walked in, and as I approached the counter I could see she’d been crying. I knew the symptoms all too well. Without a doubt, bad news was in the air.

I waited until she’d finished a transaction with the last customer in line. “What’s up?” I said, searching her reddened eyes.

Kate sniffed. “I can’t talk now, Mac. I close in ten minutes. Can you wait?”

“Sure, I’ll meet you outside. You okay?”

She nodded and sniffled again. “See you in a few minutes.”

I sat in my truck and watched the young family exit the store. A few minutes later the lights dimmed. Kate pushed open the door, holding something under an arm as she fumbled with her keys. I climbed out and walked over. She handed me a six-pack of Bud to free up her hands, then locked the door, giving a final tug to make certain it was secured.

She turned and flung her arms around my shoulders, buried her face against my chest and burst out crying. “Oh, Mac, it’s Maddie!” she choked out between sobs.

I wrapped my free arm around Kate’s back, half ashamed of the stirrings I felt as she sought comfort. Who the hell was Maddie? I was certain Kate had never mentioned anyone by that name before. “What happened to Maddie?”

Kate took some deep breaths to regain her composure. “The body you found. They identified her this morning. It’s Maddie Harper.”

When Kate had calmed down enough, we crossed the highway and strolled along the beach, sipping beer and listening to the calming surf while she filled me in about Maddie Harper and the day’s events.

Just before noon, Gary Gillman had received a call from an acquaintance at the sheriff’s department. Using dental records, the body I’d found had been positively identified as that of twenty-year-old Madison Lynn Harper. Official cause of death had not been released.

“Maddie” Harper had worked at Gillman’s Marina every summer from middle school until she left for college at Florida State last August. At age six Maddie had been involved in a horrific traffic accident that claimed the lives of her parents, Nelson and Mynta, and older brother, Nelson Junior. It had taken a year to fully recover from her injuries. Forced to begin school late, Maddie and Sara Gillman had become close friends—almost like sisters, by Kate’s account—despite two-plus years’ difference in age.

“With both her parents gone, Maddie’s aunt and uncle took her in,” Kate said, as we retreated a few feet up the beach to escape the foam of an incoming wave.

I stopped in my tracks. Harper, the real estate business. “Was Maddie kin to George Harper, the mayor?”

Kate took a sip from her beer and nodded. “From what I understand, Maddie’s father named his brother as executor in his will. It was a no-brainer, really. The Harper brothers married twin sisters. George and Marilyn were to look after the real estate business and raise the children until they turned twenty-one. Of course, only Maddie survived the wreck.”

Kate was tearing up again. I hated to bring up a sore subject, especially when Kate was hurting, but it was eating at me. “That day . . . Dave Reilly mentioned something about Bo Pickron being kin to the mayor?”

Kate wiped her eyes and sniffled. “They’re brothers-in-law. Maddie’s mom and aunt are Bo’s older sisters.”

So, the poor dead girl I’d found was Bo Pickron’s niece. I tried to let that news sink in as Kate and I walked on in silence. As much as he rubbed me raw, at that moment I allowed myself a twinge of sympathy for the sheriff. There he was, investigating a floater, observing as the Fish and Wildlife team recovered and placed the bloated remains in a body bag, all the while having no idea he was watching them bag up his own flesh and blood.

We stopped at the city pier and watched the sun paint the horizon red and gold as the gulf swallowed the bright-orange ball. I placed our empty bottles in the carton and opened fresh beers for both of us.

“There’s something I just don’t get,” I said, dropping the caps into my pocket and taking a swig. “Where had Maddie been? Why hadn’t she been reported missing? She obviously hadn’t been in contact with friends or family for a while.”

Kate leaned against a piling, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “It’s complicated. About a month ago Maddie and her boyfriend eloped. The Harpers never liked Brett, even though he and Maddie had been dating since Maddie was a freshman.”

“Then why did they allow her to see the guy?”

Kate sighed and gazed past me for a moment. “Young love, Mac,” she said, looking into my eyes again. “You have a daughter, you should know. After a while the Harpers realized that Maddie and Brett were determined to see each other even if it was behind their backs. So, they tolerated the relationship.”

I didn’t offer a reply but I saw Kate’s point. In my opinion, none of the young men Megan had dated ever seemed quite good enough for her.

“The Harpers never cared much for Brett’s family either, for that matter,” Kate said, “which is odd if you ask me. George and Marilyn Harper have never shied away from money, and the Barfields have made a fortune in commercial fishing.”

“The Barfields?” I recognized the name. They operated a fleet of fishing and shrimping boats near the causeway at the east end of St. George.

Kate nodded and took another sip. “Anyway, Maddie got pregnant.” She must’ve read the surprise in my eyes. “Sara told me. I already mentioned they were like sisters.

“Maddie and Brett knew the Harpers would be furious and would never approve of their getting married, even with a baby coming, so they decided to elope. They left notes for both families and drove to Georgia to get married. They planned to spend a couple of weeks backpacking the Appalachian Trail. Being the real outdoors type, they thought the time away in a secluded place would give the Harpers a chance to cool down and maybe accept things.”

Kate paused to sip her beer. “Sara swore me to secrecy. Maddie promised Sara she would call when she could. When Sara and the Barfields hadn’t heard from Maddie or Brett after a while, they chalked it up to poor cell reception along the trail, or the fact they were having too much fun as honeymooning newlyweds.”

“But what about the Harpers?” I said as we turned back. “Did they try to set the law on their trail, find out where they were or anything?”

“I don’t know, Mac, but what
could
they do, legally? Maddie and Brett were both of legal age. I did learn the Harpers gave Maddie’s dental records to the sheriff’s office a few days after you discovered the body. It was just a long shot, but they hadn’t heard from her in so long.”