A False Dawn

EIGHTEEN

The noise from the big diesels in the charter fleet sounded like a semi-truck passing in front of Jupiter’s bow as the boats headed toward Ponce Inlet Pass.

“What you mean? Nick asked.

“Stay right where you are, Nick. Don’t move.”

“I got nowhere to go.” He shrugged.

“Hold Max.”

I found one of my three marine flashlights. It had fresh batteries and was capable of shining a beam a mile across the water. I turned it on, stepped back up to the salon and began slowly panning the light across the floor.

“What you looking for?” Nick asked.

“I’d looked for something taken. Now I’m searching for something left behind.”

“Looks like you are hunting for a lost contact lens.”

“Come down in the master and shine the light across the mattress while I squat down for a close view. Set Max in the cockpit.”

He nodded, put a perplexed Max out the door, and followed me to the master. I handed Nick the flashlight. “Pan it slowly above the bed.

“What are you looking for?”

“Hold it right there.”

“What you see?”

I stood and stepped into the galley for a moment, picking a pair of tweezers and a Ziploc. I knelt down and inched closer to the pillow on the right side of the bed. “Hold steady, Nick.” I reached for the hair follicle, lifted it up with the tweezers, stood and looked at it in the light. It was long and coal black. Roots intact.

Nick grinned. “You had some company. Good, man.”

“I haven’t had a woman on this boat, and when I bought Jupiter, she was cleaned. This is new. And I know where this hair came from. It’s as dark as her eyes.”

“What woman?”

“She’s dead.”

“How’d a dead woman’s hair get in your bed?”

“Planted. Whoever planted it will return. With a search warrant.”

I lowered the hair into the Ziploc and sealed it.

We both felt Jupiter move. Nick started to say something, but I silenced him by holding a finger to my lips. He nodded at the same time Max barked. I reached for my Glock on the nightstand and left the master cabin for the salon, pistol ready. Dave Collins saw me the second I saw him. Instinctively, he held his hands up. “Sean!”

Nick followed me, and Max followed Dave from the cockpit to the salon.

“Why the gun?” Dave asked.

“Sean just lifted a girl’s long black hair outta his bed,” Nick said.

Dave smiled. “A brunette or a naturally blond woman?”

“It came from a dead woman,” I snapped.

Dave said nothing, his expression one of disbelief.

Nick said. “I congratulated him ‘till he told me somebody put the hair in his bed.”

“Put it there?” Dave asked.

I pulled the folded Ziploc out of my shirt pocket. “Here it is, and I believe it came from the head of the victim I found.”

“Why would someone place evidence in your bed?”

“Because someone wants me to take the fall for her murder. Might be the person who killed her, or might be someone covering up for the person who did it. If it’s someone covering for the killer, then what’s the reason?”

“Sounds confusing,” Nick said. “I’m getting’ a beer. You want one, Dave?”

“No thanks.”

Nick made his way into the galley and said, “Sean, somebody wants you to get the death penalty. You got an Indian leaving an arrow at your house. This cop thinks you killed the girl. Man, I thought I got into a lotta shit.”

Dave said, “I did some translating on what the victim said to you.”

“What’d you find?”

“It’s an obscure, almost dead language called Nahuatl. Originally spoken by the Aztecs. What she told you was…‘Atlacatl imix cuanmiztli.’ And the translation is, ‘He has the eyes of the jaguar.’”

Nick whistled softly. “Who has eyes of the jaguar?”

“Do me a favor, Nick,” I said. “Keep a lookout for anybody suspicious.”

“To me, everybody’s suspicious.”

“If anyone comes too near Jupiter, or climbs on her, get their names and what they’re doing. Then call me.” I stood to leave.

“Where you heading?” Dave asked.

“Would you mind watching Max for a couple of hours?”

“The little lady is always welcome on Gibraltar.”

“I’m going to buy a tiny camera. It’ll be one that will be able to transmit, online, a live video feed to a laptop I’d like to place on Gibraltar, Dave.”

“I get the picture,” Dave said, grinning.

“What’s that?” asked Nick.

“The picture will be of the guy who placed the hair on my bed. He’ll come back to find it, and he may have a search warrant, but he won’t suspect that the evidence will be gone. He won’t know his every move will be recorded on a hard drive. And, gentlemen, that will be entertaining to a grand jury.”