Now and Then

56.

The cop in erie was named Tommy Remick.

“Alderson had a charter boat,” he told me after Zackis handed me the phone. “Fishing. Sightseeing. That kind of thing. One morning it shows up empty, half aground near the marina where he kept it. No sign of him or anyone else. No evidence of foul play.”

“When was this?”

“September thirteenth, 1994,” Remick said.

“Alderson got any next of kin?”

“Ex-wife. Remarried. Lives in Stockton, California. Moved there around 1990 after she left Alderson. She hasn’t seen him since.”

“Nobody else?” I said.

“Nope. No kids. Parents dead. No siblings we can fi nd.”

“How old would he be,” I said.

“Born January 1957.”

“So,” I said. “He’d be forty-eight now.”

“You say so,” Remick answered. “I don’t do math.”

“If he’s alive,” I said.

“He isn’t,” Remick said. “Offi cially. It’s been ten years.”

“Twelve,” I said.

“I told you about my math,” Remick said.

“How big a boat?” I said.

“Another thing I don’t know nothing about,” Remick said.

“Alderson lived on it. Was all he had. I think it slept four.”

“So it was pretty big.”

“You’re thinking it might have been too big for whoever ditched it on the shore?” Remick said.

“Something like that,” I said.

“If anyone ditched it,” Remick said. “Boat could have just been abandoned and drifted in there.”

“Prevailing currents?”

“Wouldn’t prevent it from drifting in there.”

“When’s the last time anyone saw Alderson?”

“On the tenth,” Remick said. “He was mopping the deck on his boat. Told the marina manager he had a charter that afternoon.”

“Anyone see the charterees?” I said.

“The people who hired him? No. Nobody saw him leave,”

Remick said. “When the boat showed up empty we did a bigsearch-and-rescue thing. Boats. Planes. Coast guard went all over the lake. We never found anything.”

“How far from shore was it aground?” I said.

“Not far. Maybe twenty feet,” Remick said. “Anyone wanted to ditch it would have had no problem swimming to shore.”

“Motor off?”

“Yep,” Remick said. “Plenty of fuel left. Only thing odd was, there was no anchor.”

“Did he normally carry one?”

“They all do,” Remick said. “He was a charter guy. People would sometimes want to anchor and fish, or picnic, or look at sunsets. He should have had an anchor.”

“Any theories on that?” I said.

“If it’ll hold a boat,” Remick said, “it’ll hold a body.”

“Maybe two,” I said.