Chapter Four The Follow-Up
Chapter Four
The Follow-Up
Monday
Detective Rob Burton found an envelope on his desk. It was from Mayor Broullon. He read it twice.
Dear Rob,
This is long overdue. You are hereby appointed to Chief of Police of Smuggler’s Cove. I trust you will accept the promotion.
Congratulations!
Caroline Broullon
He had been hoping he’d get the position, but one should never take anything for granted. He picked up the phone and called to thank her.
“Rob, my apologies for not doing this sooner. I was all caught up with the festival, my store, and a myriad of other things. We should do something big for you.”
“Not necessary. I appreciate it, but we just finished with the festival, and I have a ton of paperwork on my desk.”
“Speaking of that. I’m looking to fill your detective position and hire another officer. This town is growing, and I want to get in front of it.”
Rob let out a whoosh of air. “That is great news.”
“Any leads on the break-ins?”
“No. That’s what I am working on right now.”
“Good. We’ll talk during the week. Congrats, again.”
Rob didn’t take any time for self-satisfaction. He knew he deserved the position. His level of professionalism was that of a chief. He took a second to congratulate himself; then he phoned his wife Nancy to share the news.
After the whoops and yippees, he finished the call, settled into his chair, and looked through the police report on his desk.
It was the burglary and theft at Kirby’s Marina.
This wasn’t the work of some kids looking to cause a little bit of trouble.
Someone took the time to plan the break-in.
It happened at low tide, so someone could have easily taken a small clam boat out, run it under the marina, and climbed up the side ladder.
They also had to have the right tools to pry the hinges off quickly.
A crowbar or a pry bar would have done the job without a lot of effort.
He skimmed through the pages. No fingerprints were found near the hinges.
It wouldn’t take a genius to realize they should wear gloves, he concluded.
Plus, there weren’t any prints on the broken frame they recovered.
Something wasn’t sitting right with him. First a body, now a break-in. That map certainly didn’t seem authentic. Two local historians noted that the map itself wasn’t worth anything; the drawing was not to scale, and the bends in the river weren’t accurate.
Burton opened the file from several months before.
Dennis Farrell—Deceased—Ruled Accidental.
He reread the report. “Huh. No fingerprints on the ropes that weren’t submerged.
” Not even Farrell’s. Was he already dead before his body made it to the marina?
he wondered. Generally, when a body is found in the water, it is difficult to ascertain the time of death; only an approximation can be rendered.
He looked further. Who found the body? Charlie spotted it when he and Hannah were closing up the food truck several yards away.
The body wasn’t in full view, but Charlie thought he saw a shoe sticking out from the dock.
After a closer look, he realized there was a leg attached.
He ran over to see if he could be of assistance, but when the blue, bloated face bobbed up, he knew it was too late and immediately phoned the police.
During their search, the officers found an empty kayak floating nearby.
The following morning, Dennis’s car was discovered downriver near a small boat launch.
They assumed he went kayaking, the boat overturned, and Dennis got swept under the marina by the outgoing current.
It appeared his legs became tangled in the ropes and he accidentally drowned.
Maybe it wasn’t an accident, Burton speculated, and not for the first time. The more he thought about both incidents, the more he was convinced they were connected somehow. He decided to start with the two remaining brothers. Maybe they saw something the night of the theft.
Mikey’s stomach began to turn when he saw the police car pull into their small lot. “Arlo, you better have some kind of story. Here comes Burton.”
“No worries, bro.” Arlo had acquired a new sense of confidence from his latest heist. He thought he had all his bases covered.
Burton entered the dive shop. “Morning, gentlemen.” He was being polite. He knew calling them gentlemen was a stretch.
“Morning, sir. What can we do for you?” Mikey asked, trying to hide his apprehension.
“I was wondering if either of you saw anything last night?”
“Like what?” Arlo asked calmly.
“A boat was taken from the reclamation center, for one thing. Kirby’s was broken into, and later an item that was taken from the boat house was found near the boat, which reappeared near the center. You men see anyone pass by, say after six?”
Arlo was quick to jump in. “I was at Moby’s. Ask anyone.”
Burton turned to Mikey. “And you?”
“I was at the festival,” Mikey responded.
Burton was sure that neither of them was totally lying, but Burton felt something was off. Their stories could be verified, but there were a few blanks he needed to fill in. “Can you tell me exactly when you were at Moby’s?”
Arlo recounted his whereabouts, including going out for a smoke and buying rounds of drinks. He simply failed to mention sneaking away, stealing a boat, breaking into the marina, taking the map, and returning the boat.
Burton sensed a cockiness from Arlo that usually wasn’t present when authorities addressed him.
“Okay. Thanks, fellas. If you think of anything or hear of anything, you know where to find me.”
“Roger that,” Arlo said with confidence. But he had no intention of sharing anything with Burton. He would end up in the slammer. He already had a modest record of breaking and entering. Each time, he was drunk and blamed blackouts.
Mikey had little to say, which also struck Burton. He typically added unnecessary commentary during a conversation. Burton surmised it was a nervous reaction when it came to authority. But today, Mikey was unusually tight-mouthed.
As Burton began to drive away from the building he glanced in his rearview mirror and noticed Arlo peeking from the window. Again, Burton’s suspicions were aroused.
Charlie and Crusty were waiting for Burton at the marina. Both men congratulated him. Charlie shook his hand and patted him on the back. Crusty grinned and said, “Yep. It was just a matter of time!” Boy, news sure did travel fast in this town.
The crime scene tape had been removed earlier, but they wanted the go-ahead from the chief to replace the hinges on the door.
Burton had someone in forensics check for prints the day before, but he was going to keep a lid on that aspect of the investigation.
Sometimes the less people know, the better.
“Find anything else worth mentioning?” he asked as he walked toward the two men. Lincoln emerged from the building.
“Not sure if this is helpful, but there was a really small piece of fabric that got caught on a nail.” Lincoln motioned for Burton to step inside. “Charlie, can you come, as well?” He showed Burton the nail sticking out of the wall with a half-penny’s worth of fabric.
Charlie’s eyes lit up. “It’s real close to where the map was hanging. I was gonna put one of them new baseball caps on it. Ya know, in honor of Kirby. I was also thinking of hangin’ a few around so as to get people to notice ’em.”
Lincoln nodded. “Good merchandising idea.”
Burton pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his back pocket and then took out his phone.
He shot a photo of the minuscule fibers, then gently pulled the nail out of the wall and placed it in a plastic evidence bag.
He held the bag up to the light. The fabric was khaki, similar to almost every fishing vest in the county.
“Not unusual.” He shrugged and looked at Charlie. “It’s close but doesn’t match yours.”
“Well, hopefully it’ll help,” Charlie said, shaking his head. He was still disturbed by the incident.
“You never know,” Burton offered, but he knew it was a long shot. Anyone at the opening could have rubbed against the wall.
The men chatted a bit longer, with Burton informing them about the “borrowed” boat and the broken frame.
Crusty stuck his head in the doorway. “I’m tellin’ ya. It’s the Farrells.”
Burton snorted, tucked the bag with the small shred of fabric in his front shirt pocket, and snapped his fingers. What color was that vest hanging by the door at Farrell’s?
“Something up, Chief?” Crusty responded to Burton’s sudden recollection.
Rob’s rule of keeping it under your hat remained. He knew he could trust the men, but people can slip without realizing it, and Crusty already had his suspects lined up. Burton couldn’t dismiss it, either. The Farrells were involved. Somehow. He could feel it.
Madison felt a little guilty leaving Lincoln behind to deal with the boat house and the investigation into the break-in.
But Lincoln was always the strong one who could deal with almost any circumstance put forth.
The more Madison considered it, the more she realized how competent her brother was.
She really hadn’t given it much thought.
She simply took it for granted. They were always “partners” when it came to making decisions, each leaning on their particular strengths and style.
She was confident she could leave it in his capable hands while she dealt with her own to-do list.