CHAPTER SEVEN
Spencer
The bell over the North Jetty Barbershop door gave a tired jingle when I stepped inside.
The place smelled like aftershave and a particular damp, musty smell all the places had in this seaside town.
The shop was nothing fancy, with three hair-cutting chairs in the middle of the room, gray walls, and a rack of old magazines no one read against the wall.
A TV in the corner played a muted news channel with closed captions running.
Ray was sitting in the middle chair with a cape draped around him while the barber, Mike, worked clippers up the back of his neck.
“Afternoon, Spencer,” Mike said, not looking away from his task. “Give me a few minutes.” Mike was in his late fifties, with thinning gray hair and a pair of reading glasses perched low on his nose.
“No rush.”
“Hey,” Ray said when he saw me in the mirror. “Didn’t know reporters needed haircuts.”
I smiled. “Oh, we don’t. Our hair is always naturally perfect. This is a recon mission.” My tone was sardonic. “I’m thinking of doing a piece on small-town grooming habits.”
Mike snorted. “You’re gonna run out of material real quick.”
Laughing, I dropped into the chair by the window and picked up a magazine out of habit more than interest. It was a fishing magazine, three months out of date, with half the pages dog-eared.
“How’s things?” Ray asked.
I looked up from the magazine. “Great. How about you?”
“Can’t complain.”
Mike finished up and snapped the clippers off. “You’re good,” he said to Ray, taking the cape off him. “See you next month?”
“Yeah.” Ray stood, brushing hair from his pants. He handed Mike some cash and then wandered over and settled into the chair beside me instead of heading out.
That wasn’t unusual behavior for Coral Cove. It had taken me a minute to get used to the way people were around here. Very sociable. People often lingered in the barbershop after their hair was cut. The North Jetty Barbershop was half barbershop and half unofficial community center.
“Be ready for you in a minute, Spencer.” Mike busied himself cleaning combs and his clippers, then he began sweeping up the hair on the floor.
Ray glanced over. “You hear anything more about Eddie?”
“Not much has been released,” I said, tossing the magazine onto the little table to the side of me. “As far as I know, it’s still up in the air, officially.”
He grunted, not quite satisfied with that answer. “What’s taking so long?” he grumbled. “I’d have thought the police would have figured out what happened by now.”
I myself had wondered the same thing. “I’m not sure why it’s taking so long. Something must be keeping the chief from labeling Eddie’s death.”
“I was down at the Rusty Anchor the other night.” Ray ran his fingers through his fresh haircut. “Gil was there, and he looked stressed.”
“Can you blame him?” Mike asked, shaking his head. “He lost his livelihood and his best friend in one go.”
“He might get the livelihood part back soon,” I volunteered.
Ray’s expression shifted, just a little. “Yeah?”
“I ran into Tess the other day, and she said Gil made Rosa an offer on Eddie’s boat. A generous offer, is how she put it.”
Ray guffawed. “He did? With what money?”
I frowned. “That’s what she told me.”
“I’m ready for you now, Spencer,” Mike said, holding a clean cape in his hand.
I stood and went to sit in his barber chair.
He draped the black cape around me, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “Just a trim?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, it’s long in the back. It’s starting to curl. I hate it when it does that. I look like a toddler.”
Mike chuckled. “You have good hair. Be grateful. Half the guys who come in around your age are already losing theirs.”
I shuddered. “Perish the thought.”
Ray stood up and wandered over. His expression was odd as he leaned against the cupboard where the mirror was. “So you’re saying Gil actually made Rosa a good offer on Eddie’s boat?”
Surprised he was still fixated on that, I nodded. “Yes.”
Ray rubbed his jaw, frowning. “Huh.”
Something in the way he said that made me take notice. “What?”
He shook his head slowly. “Nothing. Just… it doesn’t add up.”
“Why not?”
Mike glanced between us but kept working.
Ray drew his brows tight. “Gil’s never had a pot to piss in. How do you go from that to buying a commercial fishing boat overnight?”
Mike shrugged. “Maybe he’s doing better than people think.”
Ray let out a short laugh. “On crab? Not right now he’s not.”
I met Ray’s gaze. “To be honest, I thought the same thing. But Tess said he’s using his savings to buy the boat. If Rosa will sell it.”
“Savings?” Ray looked even less convinced. “How the hell would he have that much in savings?”
“All I know is what Tess said.” I grimaced.
Ray looked at me for a second, like he was deciding how much to say. “It’s hard to believe Gil would have any savings. The crabbing hasn’t been that amazing lately, not with the quotas and regulations they put on the guys.”
“So, you think he’s lying about where he’s getting the money?” My pulse picked up speed.
Ray waved me off. “I’m not saying that exactly, but most boats are barely making enough to keep going. Ain’t no one I know who has anything left at the end of the month to put into savings.”
“Maybe he invested his money in stocks or something,” Mike said, blowing hair off his scissors. “I saw on TV how this guy invested in stocks and made a killing. He started out just investing a hundred dollars. Now he lives in a mansion and has two yachts.”
Ray gave him a droll look. “Does that guy live in Coral Cove? ‘Cause nobody here is making bank off the stock market.”
“Somebody might be,” Mike muttered.
Ray sighed. “Okay, but they’re not making bank off the fishing right now. That I can tell you with certainty.”
“So then, how do you suppose Gil came by all that money?” I asked.
“I have no idea,” he said. Then, after a beat, he added, “I don’t know anyone making that kind of money unless they’re doing something they shouldn’t be.”
Oh, really?
My excitement ramped up, but I did my best not to show it.
I usually got the best gossip when I didn’t act too interested.
“Oh, come on. There’s no way Gil’s doing anything like that,” I said casually.
“Wouldn’t Fish and Wildlife catch that pretty quick?
Between inspections and everything else, it feels like you’d get caught fast.”
Ray shrugged. “People get away with it.”
“I don’t know, it seems impossible.” I watched him out of the corner of my eye. Ray had been harbor master for a long time, and he didn’t like his wisdom being challenged. Hopefully, if I annoyed him enough, he’d give me lots of reasons why he was right and I was wrong.
He puffed out his chest. “Pfft, you’d be surprised. Guys bend rules sometimes. Run a few extra pots. Set up pots a little closer to where they shouldn’t. Small stuff that usually flies under the radar.”
“But would the small stuff add up to the kind of money Gil seems to have?”
Ray frowned, suddenly looking uneasy. “Now, understand, I’m not accusing Gil of anything.”
“No, of course not,” I said reassuringly. “But let’s say, hypothetically, how would someone who isn’t Gil do it?”
Ray hesitated but then admitted, “If you do it often enough, the small stuff adds up real quick.”
For the first time since Eddie had died, I felt like maybe I was actually on to something. An angle I could dig my teeth into. “But Fish and Wildlife does patrols. They do inspections. They board boats sometimes. How would anyone get away with that?”
Ray shrugged. “Fish and Wildlife can’t be everywhere.”
“I see,” I murmured.
Mike nodded. “The authorities check what you bring in. They don’t see everything you pull out of the water.”
“Exactly,” Ray said. “People sell off the books. They try selling their catch at different ports. They put effort into finding buyers who, shall we say, aren’t picky about how you got your crab.”
“Do you think Eddie would have gone along with something like that?” I asked softly. “If Gil was doing something shady?”
Ray’s face hardened. “Absolutely not. Eddie was an honest man. He’d never have done anything illegal.”
I felt a little sick as I considered what that might mean. If Gil had been doing something shady and Eddie had found out about it, would Gil have killed Eddie? Was that actually possible? Gil had seemed so devastated by Eddie’s death.
“Ray is right,” Mike said, undoing the cape at the nape of my neck. “I forgot to charge Eddie once, and he could have just walked out without paying. But he didn’t. Eddie was an honorable guy. No way he’d do anything unlawful.”
I stood and pulled out my wallet, following Mike to the counter where the cash register was. “I sure hope Gil didn’t do anything like that.”
“Me too.” Mike met my gaze as he ran my card. “I’d rather believe he was just good at saving his money.”
“It’s not like I want to think bad of Gil.” Ray sounded defensive. “I was just shocked to hear he suddenly had a bunch of money. It’s news to me.”
Mike laughed. “Maybe a rich relative kicked the bucket and left him a fortune.”
Ray straightened and headed for the exit. “I think I’ll go with that. I just can’t accept that Gil is dirty.”
***
After work, I ended up at the Rusty Anchor at happy hour, but not by accident.
I’ll admit, a part of me hoped I might run into Declan, even though I already knew he was too busy to meet up.
But there was a small chance he might get off work and come here for a drink.
I figured it wouldn’t hurt to “accidentally” run into him, should the stars align.
But my main reason for going to the Rusty Anchor was to talk to Gil Moran.