Collateral Damage (16 page)

“What can you tell me about that night on the boat?”

“Matt, you know I'm always happy to talk to you, but why are you so interested?”

“Do you remember that a young man was killed on the beach the same day?”

“Duh. I'm not senile.”

“Sorry. The dead man was the son of a friend of mine from my army days. He asked me to look into his son's death. The police are at a dead end.”

“I thought that pretty Detective Duncan was in charge of that investigation.”

“She is, and she's helping me. We're thinking there might be something that was missed on the first go-around.”

“Are you interested in the murder or the detective?”

“Both, I guess, but I'm pretty sure I've got a better chance of solving the murder than wooing the detective.”

Dora laughed. “Okay. But what does the murder on the beach have to do with the
Dulcimer
killings?”

“At first, I didn't think there was a connection. But now I'm not so sure. I'm just grasping at straws at this point.”

“There's not much I can tell you. It was a pretty normal evening. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just people having fun.”

“Did you see any Asian people on the boat that night?”

“Not that I recall. Why?”

“I don't know. I'm beginning to think that some Asians were involved in the killing on the beach. I'm just working back, trying to find a connection.”

“Absolutely nothing stood out about the evening until the lights went out and we hit the sandbar.”

I thought for a minute, trying to think of anything else to ask her. Then an image jogged my brain. A camera.
I'm an idiot
, I thought. “Dora, did you have your camera?”

She smiled. “I thought you'd never ask.”

“Did you get any pictures?”

“A lot.”

“What happened to them?”

She reached into her purse and came out with a compact disc. “They're all here. Yours for the price of a small salad.”

Jock, J.D., and I were seated around my desk. I was scrolling slowly through all the pictures on Dora's CD, looking for something that might be of use to us. There were close to a hundred photos of smiling people staring into the camera, engaged in their meals, looking out the large windows of the dining deck.

“There,” said J.D. “Isn't that Katherine Brewster?”

I looked more closely. The photo showed a pretty blonde woman seated at a table by herself. Over her shoulder I saw the back of a man wearing a flowered tropical shirt and across the table from him was Betty Garrison. “That's Katherine,” I said. “That's the Garrisons sitting behind her.”

“Let's see if we have any more of that area of the deck,” said J.D.

I scrolled through more pictures. I didn't see Katherine or the Garrisons. But I did see an Asian man, sitting at a table with another man and a woman. “There're our Asians,” I said. “Let me see if I can home in on their faces.”

I manipulated the photo program, bringing the face of the first man into sharper focus. “I'm pretty sure that's the one who tried to knife me,” I said. “Let me get a look at the woman.” I played with the mouse, bringing the woman's face into view, blowing it up some, playing with the resolution. “That's her,” I said. “She's the one who was with the guy on the boardwalk.”

“What about the other guy?” asked Jock. “Do you recognize him?”

I looked closer, manipulating the program some more. “No. I've never seen this one.”

“Can you make some prints of their faces?” asked J.D.

“Sure.” I fiddled with the program some more, cropping it so that I finally had reasonably good pictures of each of the Asians. I printed three copies of each one.

“Who do you think the third guy is?” asked J.D.

“I don't know. But there had to have been two men involved. One of them broke the neck of Captain Prather, and I don't think the woman would have been able to do that. She could have stabbed Katherine or Garrison, but I don't think she could have gotten both of them.”

“You're probably right,” said J.D. “From the time the boat veered off course until the lights went out was just a few seconds. I think the murders would have had to have taken place during the first few minutes when the confusion was at its maximum. The one on the bridge wouldn't have had time to get to the dinner deck.”

“Let's see what else we can find,” Jock said.

I scrolled some more. Nothing. I was at the end of the photographs.

“Do it again,” said Jock. “We might have missed something. Let's look for anything out of the ordinary, not just Asian killers.”

I started the process again, slowly scrolling through the pictures, stopping at each one, three pairs of eyes scrutinizing each photo, looking for something, anything that would give us a hint of what had happened and who was involved. We found nothing.

“I think,” said J.D., “that we need to take a break and then go through them again. There has to be something in all those pictures that we're not seeing. What time is it?”

I looked at my watch. “Three o'clock.”

“I need to get some paperwork finished at my office,” she said. “Why don't we meet back here at five and take another look.”

Logan stopped by at four. Jock and I were still looking at photos on the computer, trying to catch a glimpse of something out of the ordinary; anything that would move us a step closer to understanding any connection between the murders on
Dulcimer
and the death of Jim Desmond.

“Is that porn?” asked Logan as he came through the door.

I laughed and explained what we were doing. “I found the Asians who tried to kill me the other day. They were on the boat that night.”

“You want a drink?” Jock asked.

“No, thanks. I've got to get home and pack. We're leaving in the morning.”

Logan and Marie were driving to Tampa to start a weeklong Caribbean cruise.

“Be careful, Logan. Too much sun and sex might do you in,” I said. “

I'm willing to take that chance. Do you think the Asians are the same people who killed Desmond?”

“No way to tell. Besides, we're not even sure Asians were involved in Jim's death. We've got the connection to Laos and there was an Asian guy at the Hilton the night of the wedding, but that might not mean anything.”

“But these guys tried to kill you,” said Logan. “If they weren't tied to Jim's murder, why would they be after you?”

“I can't see any other connection,” I said. “We hadn't even begun to look into the
Dulcimer
murders at the time they tried to take me out.”

“Maybe,” said Jock, “they killed Jim that morning and decided to reward themselves with a dinner cruise.”

I stared at him, a smile playing at the corner of my lips.

“Nah,” he said. “I don't believe it either. They've got to be connected somehow to both Jim and
Dulcimer
.”

“Let me see the pictures,” Logan said. “Maybe a fresh pair of eyes will see something you're missing.”

“Have at it,” I said.

I went back to the first photo and started the slow scrolling. I stopped at the one that showed Katherine sitting behind the Garrisons and told Logan who they were. I stopped again at the picture showing the Asians. I scrolled some more.

“Wait,” said Logan. “Go back one.”

I backed up one picture and held it on the screen.

“Isn't that the Garrisons and Katherine?” asked Logan.

I peered at the photo. It showed the back of a woman sitting across from a man with blond hair, wearing a tropical shirt. Behind the man sat a woman with long blonde hair, her back to us. A young man sat across from her facing the camera.

“You're right,” I said. “This one was taken from behind Betty Garrison. We completely missed it.”

“Can you enlarge it so that we can get a better view of the guy across from Katherine?”

I used the mouse to crop the face of the man and then enlarged it. I sat back in my chair, surprised beyond words at the image I saw. I'd seen the young man before. In a photograph on the top of a console television set in the Brewster's home. “I don't believe it,” I said. “That's Doug Peterson. Katherine's boyfriend.”

By the time J.D. arrived back at my house, Logan had left. He told us he'd be back in a week or so. I showed J.D. the photo Logan had spotted and explained who the young man was.

“How did we miss that?” she asked.

“We weren't looking for anything specific,” I said. “And we'd never seen Peter Garrison's face, so we didn't recognize him. I think Logan came in with fresh eyes and picked up on something we'd passed over at least twice.”

“We also weren't expecting Katherine to be sitting with her boyfriend,” said Jock.

“I thought he was having dinner with Katherine's parents the night of the murders,” said J.D.

“That's what the Brewsters told me,” I said. “They obviously lied.”

“Why would they do that?”

“That's what I want to ask them. I didn't want to call them until you got back.”

“I'd like to know how long he'd been here,” said J.D. “If he was staying with Katherine, the lady who runs the inn would have mentioned it. I think.”

I shook my head. “Mrs. Deen told me that Katherine was by herself. She'd have no reason to lie.”

“I can get my people to check into Peterson's travel records,” Jock said.

“How long will that take?”

Jock looked at his watch. “At this time of day the only people there
would be the night crew. This isn't important enough for them to run with. It'd probably be sometime tomorrow before we could find out anything.”

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. “I've got a better idea.”

“Deb,” I said when she answered the phone. “I need a favor.”

“So what else is new?”

“Don't get testy. Are you at home?”

“No. I'm working.”

“Got your laptop there?”

“Of course.”

“How'd you like to do a little sleuthing?”

“Now?”

“Good a time as any.”

“I'm at work. You know, tending bar, that sort of thing.”

“This won't take a minute.”

“Okay. Tell me what you want. I'll see what I can do.”

I told her and closed the phone.

“Do you still have the Brewsters' number?” asked J.D.

“Sure.”

“Give them a call. I can't wait to hear their reason for lying to you.”

I opened my phone and dialed the number from the address book. A computer generated voice answered. “The number you have dialed has been disconnected at the customer's request.”

“Disconnected number,” I said, surprised.

“When did you last use that number?” asked J.D.

“Day before yesterday.”

“You think they didn't pay their bill?”

“No. I saw them yesterday and today the phone is off. Too much of a coincidence. Besides, the recording said it was disconnected at the Brew-sters's request.”

“Do you have a number for Peterson?” asked J.D.

“No, and I don't think we ought to be calling him. This is too strange.”

“What then?” asked J.D.

“I'm going back to Charlotte and get in his face.”

My phone rang. Debbie.

“Matt, Doug Peterson left Charlotte on a nonstop flight to Tampa that arrived at five thirty p.m. on the day of the murders. He rented a car and returned it early the next morning. He caught a seven a.m. flight back to Charlotte. The car had a hundred ten miles on it.”

“Full of gas?”

“Yes.”

“Did you think to check his credit cards?”

“I did. No charges for gas. He might have paid cash.”

“Okay. I just need one more little favor.”

“Geez. This better be good.”

“I need to know when the service on this phone number was terminated.” I gave her the number.

“I'll get back to you.”

“Soon.”

“Right.” She hung up.

I told Jock and J.D. what Debbie had told me.

“The mileage on that car is just about exactly the mileage from Tampa to Cortez and back,” Jock said.

“So he flies in, makes a mad dash for Cortez, boards the boat, kills Katherine, and heads back to Charlotte,” said J.D. “It doesn't make sense.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“If his plan had been to kill her with the knife while on the boat, he'd have had to plan to do it publicly,” she said. “He couldn't have anticipated that the lights would go out and the boat would go aground.”

“Unless he had help,” I said.

“The Asians,” said Jock.

“Then he would have been part of the plan,” I said.

“But why?” asked J.D. “And if he just wanted to kill her, why go to all the trouble to get her to Florida?”

“Maybe,” said Jock, “he was upset by her coming here alone. He could have decided to kill her on the spur of the moment. When did he make the plane reservations?”

“I didn't think to ask Deb,” I said. “When she calls back I'll see if she has that information.”

“He would have had to bring the knife with him,” J.D. said. “He didn't have time to stop and get one between the time he arrived in Tampa and when he got to Cortez. How did he get it through security?”

Jock nodded. “If he was part of a plan, he would have gotten it from his Asian buddies.”

“Why kill Peter Garrison?” I asked.

“Maybe Peter tried to stop Doug from killing Katherine and became collateral damage,” said J.D.

My phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. Deb.

“Matt, the phone service was terminated at the customer's request at ten this morning.”