“Drowning, you said.”
“What?”
“You said the man drowned. I’m just wondering why you said that.”
“What?” Edward put his hands together. He didn’t like the question. “Because it’s an island. Because I found him in front of – like – a lot of water with seaweed all over him. Why?”
“That’s true.” The inspector nodded. “And yesterday. Were you home yesterday – just asking, my friend – were you home? Did anyone visit you?”
“Yes – no.”
“Yes and no?” The almost-laugh returned to his face. His eyebrows parted like a drawbridge over his dark brown eyes.
“I was home alone, really most of the day, but I had a visitor. Mary Read—”
“Mary Read? Really?” The drawbridge closed. “Huh. I see.”
“Yeah. Why?”
“And she talked to you?”
“Yes, she stopped by and we talk – why, you know her?”
“I do know her. Always out on her boat catching lobster. Keeps to herself most of the time. Did you go anywhere?”
“With Mary? No, not yesterday. She came into the bay to drop some traps. I stayed around the property – why? You don’t think I did something wrong?” Edward caught himself rubbing his hands together. He stopped, sat up and returned the policeman’s stare as best he could.
Inspector Woodes was in no rush to answer. Woodes rubbed over the slight indentation on his forehead where his cap had been, gazing up behind Edward as if recalling some past memory.
“No. I don’t think you did anything, Mr. Tache.” Inspector Woodes voice changed, becoming steadier and more serious. “I know you have no criminal record – the property company requires that. The reason I have to ask these questions is, well, the man you found on your property did not drown. It appears he was suffocated. Murdered—”
“Murdered?” Edward’s voice cracked. He stood up.
“Edward, please calm down. There’s nothing to worry about. Really.”
“But, you think—”
“Look, I do not think you had anything to do with it. Now, please.” He motioned for Edward to retake the seat.
Edward slowly sat down, his hands gripping the armrests.
“Are you sure he was murdered?”
“I’m afraid it looks that way. You must not have seen it under the seaweed, but there was… fishing line around the victim’s neck—”
“What?”
“Yes. 40-pound line. The type of line used for heavy stuff – deep sea fishing. This would explain why the body didn’t sink.”
“Jesus Christ.” Edward glanced around at the floor for a time. Woodes didn’t say anything, letting Edward absorb the reality at his own pace. Edward looked back up after a minute.
“He didn’t drown?” The question was more for himself.
“Didn’t go under the water. The circumstances are a little unique in this case. A body usually sinks and after, er, decaying processes, putrefaction it’s called, it floats back up to the surface. In most drownings the body can stay under the surface for two days. But, looks like the body was riding the current the entire time.”
“That’s awful. So, he was floating around out there for two days?”
“No, our coroner says probably one day. Looking at the amount of decay, it looks like the victim was killed within twenty-four hours. With that line around his neck…” Inspector Woodes held an opened hand up to his throat and leaned forward slightly. “Constricting the air passage, trapping air inside the lungs. The body was kept buoyant the time—”
The back door opened. Woodes looked over at a teenage boy wearing flip-flops and tank top walking in with a white plastic bag. Woodes’ secretary called him over, and paid him with cash she took from her desk drawer.
Inspector Woodes took the lunch and asked Edward to follow him into his office. They sat across a desk from each other. The food was in two Styrofoam lunch boxes. Gourmet hamburger and potato wedges. Edward was hungry, but images of bacterial actions and floating bodies washed out the flavors of his meal. Inspector Woodes ate his with one hand while pulling out folders and forms from a short cabinet, and filling them in with a pen.
“Do you know who might have done it?” Edward asked.
“Oh, it’s too early to say who might have done this. Before I came here, I was with the coroner. He’s just starting the examination.”
“What about drug smugglers?”
“Why do you say that?” Woodes paused in his eating and writing.
“I don’t know – it’s on the news. Could it have been smugglers?”
“It really is too early.” Woodes gave a supportive smirk. “We didn’t find a wallet and need to identify the victim, find where he came from. Details will emerge. Did he fly in? Stay at a hotel and with whom? Did he have a boat or come in on a cruise liner?”
“But you said he was killed with fishing line.”
Woodes winked.
“Yes. You are using your head – but I’ve got to stop you. I can’t comment on who might have done what. Ongoing investigation and all. I’m sure you understand. My wife is always asking about things she sees on the news.” He nodded toward a family photo on a short cabinet. It was a studio shot of him, his wife and three little girls standing in front of a draped curtain. “Robberies, kids in gangs, drug busts. Even if I’m the one investigating it, I tell her I don’t know. If I say I can’t talk about it, she gets mad at me.” Woodes made a painful grin. “We can only make public what doesn’t influence the investigation.”
Edward had stopped eating. He held a potato wedge midair between the lunch box and his mouth. Woodes kept working, filling out the top of the form, picking up his hamburger every so often to take a bite, chew and swallow.
“Will you check all the boats?”
Woodes clicked his tongue inside his mouth and placed the form on the table in front of Edward, asking him to sign one particular box.
“My friend, we get hundreds of transient vessels every month. Couples on sailboats, group charters, family yachts, cargo transports. Most don’t register. They just stay a few days before sailing on to other islands. Then there are the cruise ships. When they land – that’s when the phone starts ringing. Pub fights, disorderly conduct, public intoxication, possession of contraband. Indecent exposure.”
“You must have to make a lot of arrests—”
“Hah! Try not to. We try to throw them back onto the ship if it’s not too serious. There’s an unwritten rule around here. Do not mess with the tourists.”
Edward looked down at his food, suddenly losing his appetite. A murder had been committed somewhere out on that beautiful ocean, and somewhere not too far from his beautiful island. It felt like an intrusion into his own property, a vandalism of his home. Before, when he thought it was a drowning, he felt pity for the man. Now that he knew this blemish on his paradise was manmade, it changed everything. Along with his alarm, there was anger. He knew every bush and tree on that side of the island, had fished for his food in the bay, put his footprints on just about every inch of the beach. Woodes must have been watching him mulling.
“My friend, don’t worry. Take my card. You call me if you need anything.”
Edward nodded and sighed.
“Hey, my power’s been out. Could you ask the power company to fix it?”
“You have no electricity?”
“Yeah, for almost three weeks.”
Inspector Woodes eyes widened becoming large and round. Edward became slightly embarrassed at having stated the fact.
“You haven’t had power for three weeks?” Woodes let his mouth hang open. “How do you live?”
“Like a caveman.”
Woodes shook his head and laughed. “Well, my friend, I am going to get you some answers right now. Don’t you worry.”
Inspector Woodes put down his pen and grabbed his desk phone, pressing one button on the bottom. He spoke to his secretary, explaining what he wanted while nodding assurances to Edward. When he finished his eyes briefly widened again.