The Deep Blue Alibi

Forty-three

"The Coast Guard rescued a couple fishermen off Raccoon Key, but nothing else that day," Bobby said.

"The fishermen report any rogue waves?" Steve asked.

"They reported drinking a case of Bud and one guy hooking the other's ear with a shank barb." The kid gave him a told-you-so smirk. "Then they ran the boat onto a sandbar."

"It was worth a shot."

They were aboard Herbert's sagging houseboat, Bobby working at his laptop computer, a printed map of the Eastern Gulf spread in front of him. As soon as Steve stepped onto the creaky deck, Herbert took off, claiming he had to run errands. Steve wondered if his father was avoiding him, but in truth, the cupboards were bare of Bacardi.

"I checked the satellite photos, Uncle Steve. No tidal waves, no tsunamis, no flying saucers."

"Don't you start with me, too. Victoria already gave me grief."

"So maybe Mr. Griffin just fell down the ladder."

"Dammit, don't give up so easily."

"You mad at me about something, Uncle Steve?"

"Sorry. I missed lunch. I'm just hungry."

"You're horny. You miss Victoria."

"Mind your own business." Steve leaned over Bobby's shoulder. "What's that on the screen?"

"A shot from the NOAA Eastern Gulf satellite. The day of the boat crash." Steve peered at the monitor: green islands in a turquoise sea. Bobby pointed to a white speck on the screen. "There's the Force Majeure."

"No shit?"

"Cool, huh? I followed it all the way to Key West, except for when it got cloudy around Big Torch Key."

"The picture on the monitor now. Where is that?"

"Just west of Black Turtle Key. The island there…" He pointed at a tiny green speck.". . it's got no name. That's where Mr. Griffin stopped to pick up the lobsters."

"And the money. Don't forget about the money." Steve studied the image. There was another boat visible on the screen. Thinner and nearly as long as the Force Majeure. "How far away is that boat?"

"Little more than a mile. You can tell from the grid lines."

"Can you back up the pictures? Follow the Force Majeure all the way from Paradise Key?"

"I know what you're thinking, Uncle Steve. Did that other boat trail them out there and somebody come aboard and shoot Mr. Stubbs. But that boat got there first, then just sort of stayed in the same spot for a while."

Steve strained his eyes, staring at the long thin boat, a blade in the water. It wasn't a typical fishing boat. More like a speedboat. A Fountain Lightning, or a Magnum, or a Cigarette. Capable of astounding speeds. What was it doing anchored or idling in the middle of nowhere? Of course, the answer could be innocent. The occupants could have been having a picnic or a nap or an orgy.

"Where'd the boat come from? Did you track it back?"

Bobby shook his head. "I told you, it got there before the Force Majeure, so I didn't think it meant anything."

"Do it now."

Bobby made a face, hit some keys, and the screen flicked with dozens of images. Time was being reversed, the long skinny boat heading back to wherever it departed shore. The photos finally stopped at an overhead view of scores of boats lined up at several parallel docks.

"Where are we?" Steve asked.

Bobby checked the coordinates against his map. "A marina on Lower Matecumbe Key."

"What time is it?"

In the corner of the screen was the digital readout: "15:51 GMT."

"Ten-fifty-one a.m, our time," Bobby said.

"The Force Majeure left Paradise Key fourteen minutes earlier," Steve said. Remembering the time code on the security cameras. "Start it up again, Bobby. Let's see how close the mystery boat comes to Paradise Key."

The images clicked by again, the boat nearing the tip of Griffin's island.

"Does it stop anywhere?" Steve asked.

"I don't know. I just speed-clicked through these before. I mean, it didn't seem important. There's no way it followed the Force Majeure."

"Don't get defensive. You're doing a great job, kiddo. Now, please slow it down."

Bobby hit more keys. On the screen, the boat remained in the same place inside one of the grids. Then it started moving again. "There, Uncle Steve. It's stopped, but only for like thirty seconds."

"And that's Paradise Key." Even from high altitude, he could spot the lagoon with the huge house on the small island. "Maybe two miles away, right?"

"I know what you're thinking, Uncle Steve."

"Oh, you do?"

"Yeah. You think Junior Griffin swam out to meet the boat. It picked him up and took him to the no-name island. He waited for the Force Majeure, sneaked aboard, and shot Mr. Stubbs with the speargun."

"The thought crossed my mind." He gestured toward the screen. "Keep going."

Bobby clicked to fast-forward mode. After a blur of images, the photos slowed to a crawl. Now both boats were on the screen. "This is where the speedboat passes the Force Majeure."

"How fast they going?"

"Really fast. Like maybe fifty knots."

"In a big hurry to go nowhere."

The mystery boat slowed as it approached Black Turtle Key. Precisely where Griffin's lobster traps were submerged just offshore a no-name island. Bobby had been partly right. The boat hadn't followed the Force Majeure. It didn't have to; it got there first.

"Look at that." Steve thumped the monitor with a finger. "The bastards stopped. Just like they did off Paradise Key." He watched the seconds tick away on the digital clock on the screen.

Twenty-three seconds.

Long enough to let somebody slip into the water. Somebody like Junior Griffin, who could wait for the Force Majeure to arrive. The mystery boat moved away from the no-name island, then stopped about one mile away. The Force Majeure came into the picture and neared the island.

And suddenly, Steve knew. "Oh, shit!"

"What?"

"Junior didn't swim out there to meet the fast boat. He's not the one they picked up. He's not the one they dropped off."

"But you said-"

"I wish the son-of-a-bitch was the guy, but he's not."

"How do you know?"

"Because Junior didn't know the Force Majeure was stopping there. Griffin swears he never told Junior. And there's no reason to lie about it. Four people got off the Force Majeure before it left Paradise Key. They all knew the boat was going to Key West. But only one knew it was stopping to pick up lobsters and money."

"Who?"

"The guy who baited the traps and put the money in the pots. The guy who's in love with a woman who sautes snapper with bananas. The guy who could get off Paradise Key without being seen, riding his underwater chariot."

"Clive Fowles? Are you sure, Uncle Steve? Maybe Junior and Fowles did it together. Remember when you got thrown out of the hospital?" Bobby held up his right hand and spread two fingers, just as Stubbs had done in the ICU. "Two men attacked Stubbs. Isn't that what he meant?"

"Higher."

"What?"

"Stubbs was trying to raise his hand higher, but he

couldn't." Bobby raised his hand over his head. "Like this?" The boy didn't look exactly like Winston Churchill,

but close enough.

" 'V for Victory,' " Steve said. "The British submariner's favorite expression. Stubbs was trying to tell me Fowles killed him."

"Wow," Bobby said. "What now?"

"I've got to see a man about a chariot."