He noted that the anchor wasn’t from a large boat like the Aurora. He guessed its weight at twelve pounds. The stainless steel that had initially caught Abbott’s eye was for show. It wasn’t an anchor galvanized against corrosion and stored in a boat compartment. It most likely sat on rubber rollers on the prow, shining clean and on display, attached to a windlass that would drop and raise it at the push of a button from the boat’s helm. The anchor hadn’t come from a working boat. It was from a pleasure boat, maybe a sailboat. The kinds of vessels that filled the harbor every weekend.
He had seen enough. He needed to move to the surface to get the gas fumes out of his lungs and to call out the dive team as well as the homicide unit and coroner’s investigators. This would not be his case and he was glad for that.
He turned and saw Abbott standing on the bottom several feet away from the body. His eyes were wide and scared behind his dive mask. Stilwell unsnapped his weight belt and turned back to the body. He wrapped the belt around the anchor, hoping to keep the body from wandering with the current should its mooring break loose from the ledge. He had not checked the tide chart that morning and wasn’t sure when the current would change direction. He wanted to make sure the body did not surface in the harbor on the first day of Memorial Day weekend.
Stilwell’s lungs were now burning from fuel-contaminated air. He pointed to the surface and Abbott nodded and started up. Stilwell followed, and they broke surface on either side of Abbott’s skiff. Stilwell threw an arm over the side and yanked his mask off. He gulped in clean air and looked across the boat at Abbott, who held on to the other side.
“You’ve got a leak in your compressor,” he said.
“I know,” Abbott said. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“No, it’s bad. I’m going to get a seven-point-oh headache out of it.”
“Sorry, man. I guess I’m just used to it.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“So, what happens now? You going to just leave it where it is?”
“For now. I’ll call out the recovery team as soon as I get to my phone. You’ll get your weight belt back once they recover the body.”
“I’m not worried about it.”
Abbott hoisted himself over the side and into the skiff, causing it to rock violently. Stilwell was almost clipped on the chin when the rail rose. He waited until the boat calmed and then pulled himself up and over the side as well.
“Look who we got waitin’ on us,” Abbott said.
Stilwell turned to look back at the skiff dock and saw Tash Dano standing next to Lionel McKey. With them was Doug Allen, the four-term mayor of Avalon.
“News travels fast,” Abbott said.
Stilwell nodded.
“Here we go,” he whispered to himself.
4
The Mayor had his hands on his hips as he stood at the skiff dock and waited for them. Tash and Lionel stood slightly apart from Allen. Abbott ran the bow up on the landing, and Stilwell stepped off, a green-and-white towel draped over his shoulders.
“You need me anymore?” Abbott asked.
Stilwell turned to him. “The detectives from the mainland will probably want a statement,” he said. “We can call you. Are you going home or back under?”
“Home,” Abbott said. “No work after seeing that.”
Stilwell nodded. He understood. He turned back, and Tash came forward and away from the reporter.
“Do we hold the Aurora?” she asked quietly. “They want to go.”
“They can go,” Stilwell said. “What’s down there’s been in the water longer than they’ve been here. Remind them to stay at idle speed till they’re out of the harbor. I don’t want to churn up the bottom.”
“Will do,” Tash said.
McKey came over to him next. “Is there a body?” he asked.
Before Stilwell could answer, the mayor spoke.
“Wait a minute,” Allen said. “Wait just a minute. We’re not saying anything for publication yet. Sergeant Stilwell, I need to speak with you privately before any public statement is made.”
“Okay,” Stilwell said. “For now.”
“You need to go back up to the pier,” Allen said to McKey.
“This is a public dock, Mayor,” McKey said. “I have just as much right to be here as you do.”
“Whatever,” Allen said. “Sergeant, can you step over here?”
The two men walked to the opposite side of the floating dock, where they would not be overheard.
“Did you confirm a body is down there?” Allen whispered urgently.
“I did,” Stilwell whispered back.
“So what happens now? I don’t want that thing bobbing up on the surface in front of the Express. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to call out the homicide unit and dive team. It’s not going to come to the surface until we bring it up.”
“Homicide... are you saying this is a murder?”
“The body’s in some kind of a drawstring bag and weighted with an anchor and chain. That says homicide to me.”
Allen took a step closer to Stilwell and raised his whisper to an urgent tone: “Look, you need to understand something here. The ferries are full, and every ball in the harbor is reserved. This is our second-biggest weekend of the year, after July Fourth, and I don’t want this harbor turned into a crime scene circus.”
“I get it, Mr. Mayor. But we’re going to conduct the investigation that is warranted. We’ll do our best to shield the body recovery from the public. There are ways to do that. But if you’re suggesting we leave it down there till this place clears out Monday, you are—”
“Of course I’m not suggesting that. What I’m saying is that murder is bad for business. Be discreet. And don’t tell that reporter anything until he’s past deadline. He can put it in next week’s edition for all I care. Not tomorrow’s.”
“I’ll do what I can. Now I have to go make those calls.”
Stilwell stepped away and headed toward the gangway to the pier.
“And Sergeant?”
He turned.
“Yes?” he asked impatiently.
“I received a complaint about you this morning,” Allen said. “From one of our business owners. Oscar Terranova.”
“Really? That was fast.”
“You searched his business?”
“I had a warrant signed by Judge Harrell. It was all perfectly legal.”
“He said you were heavy-handed.”
“I don’t know what that means. I had a search warrant for the place. I searched it. Baby Head showed up afterward and he wasn’t happy. But that was it.”
“Okay, understood. Can I ask what it was about?”
“No, you can’t, Mayor. It’s an open investigation. I can’t talk about it.”
“I was born and raised on this island, Sergeant. I’ve been mayor for sixteen years. You’ll probably come and go like all the deputies assigned here before you. But I’ll be here. I love this place and I want to protect it. I don’t like surprises, especially when they may negatively affect the reputation of this beautiful island.”
He gestured toward the water in the direction of where the body was anchored.
“I understand that,” Stilwell said.
“Good,” Allen said. “We’re on the same page, then.”
Stilwell nodded and turned rather than arguing with the mayor’s conclusion. He saw that McKey remained on the dock, but Tash was up on the pier and heading back to the harbormaster’s office.
“I can’t talk to you yet,” Stilwell said as he attempted to pass the reporter.