A False Dawn

THIRTY-FOUR

It took me less than an hour to teach Dave and Nick how to edit a short scene out of video, compress it and email the video. After the lesson, Dave stayed on Gibraltar, making sure the wireless signal remained intact, while Nick and I returned to Jupiter’s fly bridge to await Slater.

From the bridge, I could see Slater before he saw me. He pulled into the parking lot in an unmarked Ford, followed by a county sheriff’s car. Slater and two deputies. The return of the posse, but this time he had my walking papers. Maybe I’d record his.

Nick leaned closer to me from his chair, the afternoon light off the water dancing in his dark eyes. “You want me to stay?”

“Yeah, just follow my lead. It may sound a little crazy but play along. Okay?”

“No problem, man, but it’d by my pleasure to toss onion head in the ocean. Let the sharks eat him as a cop salad.” Nick laughed so hard I was sure Slater could hear it.

Slater got about halfway down the dock before he spotted us. He stopped and talked with the deputies. All three looked our way.

Watching them come closer, I was glad I hadn’t slept in the master bed. I’d left it exactly how Slater did, with one exception. I removed the long, dark hair that he’d so carefully placed near the pillow. And now, I would let him do this thing and capture whatever reaction he had through the camera I knew he would not find.

At the stern, he issued orders to the deputies. “O’Brien,” Slater barked, like he was a drill sergeant and I was at his command.

“Good afternoon, Detective Slater.”

“Come down, O’Brien. I have a search warrant. Who’s with you?”

“This is my neighbor, Nick Cronus.”

“Tell him to vacant the premises.”

“Why don’t you tell him? I haven’t had my quota of rude pills this morning to match you.” I climbed down to the cockpit with Nick right behind me.

Slater pointed to Nick and said, “You need to go back wherever it is you come from. Mr. O’Brien, stand on the dock with Deputy Myers, please. Deputy Morgan and I are coming aboard to search your boat.” He handed me the search warrant.

“Search it for what? What’s your probable cause? Maybe you don’t need one.”

Slater crossed his arms, glanced at one deputy then looked at Nick and me. He said, “Get off the boat or my men will remove you.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Nick protested. “You think I look like a terrorist?”

“You can get off the boat or I call INS,” Slater said.

“And you can kiss my IN AS—”

“That’s ludicrous, Detective,” I said, jumping in before Nick lost his temper enough to get him arrested. “You talk about immigration and yet you party with people who exploit people because INS doesn’t interfere.”

“You made quite an impression the other night, O’Brien. Pissed off a lot of people. The wrong people. Mr. Brennen didn’t find any humor in your wrecking his party and breaking one of his employee’s wrists. This, by the way, is one reason I’m here. Roger Burns has filed assault and battery charges against you. Deputy Morgan will be taking you in and booking you on that one. Before we all go down to the sheriff’s office, we’d like to see what’s on your boat.”

“By all means, Detective. Nick and I’ll just step aside and let the long arm of the law reach wherever it pleases.” We got off Jupiter as Slater and his deputy boarded.

The deputy on the dock stood with his feet spread, arms folded across his chest.

Nick lowered his voice. “Sean, that dude definitely got a boner on to screw you, man. What the hell did you do to piss off the onion?”

“I found a body, a body somehow connected to his wealthy friends, or at least their farming operation. His millionaire pals are no doubt funding his bid to become sheriff. If he gets it, I’ll probably be in jail on some violation of the Patriot Act. Max will be tossed in the dog pound.”

“Man, that’s where they kill dogs.”

I lowered my voice. “Dave ought to be watching the show live about now. After they take me, go to Dave’s boat and play back the recorded images on the hard drive. When you edit the video, show a few seconds of the master cabin right before Slater enters, keep the video going as he searches, and then cut it right after he leaves.”

“No problem.”

“Here’s the e-mail address.”

“When you want me to send it?”

“I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

“You be careful, man. That dick is crazy, and he’s wearing a badge.”

My cell rang. “Sean,” Dave said. “You got him! He went ballistic searching your cabin. Caught on video! Body language really tells the story.”

I watched Salter exit Jupiter and I said to Dave, “Work with Nick on the editing.”

“Will do. Talk about reality television.”

I closed the cell as Slater approached, the sunlight reflecting off his head, sweat dripping from his face. “Pretty clean boat you keep. O’Brien. Guess you vacuum and scrub it down, that sort of thing, a lot.”

“I like a clean boat.”

“Then you won’t like our county jail. Nasty place. Not nearly as clean as your boat.” He turned to the deputy. “Book him. Bring Mr. O’Brien in for assault charges.”

The deputy pulled the handcuffs off his belt and walked my way. “Hands behind your back,” he said. Then he read my rights to me.

“Nick, don’t forget to lock Jupiter.”

The large deputy reached for my upper arm to lead me down the dock.

Slater and the second deputy followed. With my hands cuffed behind my back, I was marched by my marina neighbors. People paused from polishing or washing boats, turning my way to see the parade.

We had to walk right by the tiki bar leading to the parking lot. A dozen locals stopped talking, put their beers down, and watched. One man, Big John, who lived on a twenty-year-old trawler called Heaven’s Gate, held up his beer in a toast. He yelled, “Sean, you’d better be out before St. Pattie’s day! Ya hear me?”

Kim looked at me in disbelief, her mouth forming an O, and her right hand touching a spot beneath her throat. As I was led to the patrol car, I heard a blackbird’s cackling mixed with drunks laughing and Buffett on a CD singing, Changes in Latitudes.