A Delicate Matter. Don Easton

I was hiding — but I’m gonna trick them and smash their motor,” Dwayne said, sounding pleased with himself.

      “No, stay hiding,” Jack ordered.

      “I got a rock.”

      “No! Don’t do anything except stay hidden.”

      The sound of rock smashing on metal told Jack he wasn’t heard. “Stop!” Jack screamed into the phone. “Can you hear me? Stop!”

      The noise stopped and Dwayne said, “Uh-oh, they’re coming. Uh-oh.”

      “Run!” Jack yelled. “Get away from there!”

      Then he heard Dwayne shout, “I’m a deputy! You-you’re in big trouble!”

      “Think you can fuck with my boat and get away with it?” a distant man yelled.

      “Stay away from me! I’m warning you!” Dwayne shrieked.

      “Why you little fucker!” The man sounded surprised, as well as angry.

      The sound of a gunshot caused Jack’s arm to twitch.

      “He shot me, Officer Taggart!” Dwayne cried. “In my tummy. I’m gonna die, aren’t I? Oh no, oh no …”

      “Dwayne! Fall down! Pretend you’re dead!”

      “It really hurts,” Dwayne sobbed. “I — Stay away!” he cried. “You go away!”

      A second gunshot echoed over the phone, followed by what sounded like the phone bouncing off a rock and into water. Jack stood with his mouth agape, holding his breath as he strained to listen. All he heard was his own conscience screaming at him. Telling him he’d screwed up and that Dwayne had been murdered as a result.

      Chapter Seven

      It was an hour and forty-five minutes later when Jack and Laura arrived in a high-speed Zodiac boat in the company of officers from the Integrated Border Enforcement Team.

      Powerful spotlights cut through the darkness and illuminated the shoreline. As the boat approached the shore, Jack leaped off into the knee-deep water of the rising tide and ran toward the pathway. His calls to Dwayne went unanswered.

      It was midnight by the time Corporal Connie Crane of the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team arrived on another I-BET boat, along with officers from the Forensic Science and Identification Service.

      Jack took Connie aside and tersely told her the background of the situation, starting with his and Laura’s first meeting with Larry and Dwayne and ending with the details of the call he’d received from Dwayne earlier.

      “I take it you’ve checked the area?” Connie asked, glancing around.

      “I-BET searched the shoreline and out in the ocean while we were waiting for you. They didn’t find anything. Laura and I went to where Larry and Dwayne have a tent, but there was also nobody there. We stayed off the path so as not to contaminate the scene. Same goes for where the tent is pitched. I did look inside, but was careful not to step on any footprints — not that I saw any. The ground is matted with pine needles. There’s one thing I noticed later,” Jack said, looking forlornly back at the entrance to the path.

      “What’s that?”

      “Larry had a blue nylon rope tied to some cement blocks that he used for mooring his boat. The rope and the blocks are gone.”

      “I’ll call the dive team out in the morning,” Connie said. “For now, I want a written statement. Word for word of the phone call you got tonight, if you can remember.”

      Remember? I’ll never forget it. “Already done,” Jack replied. “It’s on the boat I arrived in.” He pointed to the I-BET Zodiac.

      “Do you think you’d be able to recognize the voice of whoever yelled at Dwayne for screwing with his boat?”

      “The guy wasn’t close enough to the phone. Maybe even running. With the sound of the waves … well, I’d never recognize the voice.”

      “You sure?” Connie asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

      Jack knew she was thinking about previous cases they’d worked where some people he investigated turned up dead. “If I could identify the voice, I’d be after you to let me listen to whatever suspects you might come up with — but I can’t.”

      “How’d you and Laura know to come here the first time and look for a grow-op?”

      “From another informant.” Jack swallowed some bile. Christ, I wonder if my voice sounds as acidic as my throat feels.

      “Is there any way this other informant could’ve had something to do with —”

      “No. He wanted the drugs to be delivered by Larry to save his own ass. He’s definitely not involved.”

      “Could the Gypsy Devils have come to do a rip-off … maybe not realizing Larry had a brother?”

      “Possible, but I don’t think so,” Jack replied. “The GDs would definitely rip someone off — but not Satans Wrath. They wouldn’t risk pissing those guys off.”

      “Maybe Larry will have some potential suspects,” Connie suggested.

      “Maybe. I’ll talk to him. Find out who else knew about this place.”

      “I want to be with you when you talk to him,” Connie stated flatly.

      “I expected you would.” Jack nodded. “I’ll send Laura back to the office to compile a dossier for you of all the Gypsy Devils and their known associates. While she’s doing that, you and I can notify Larry.”

      “I appreciate that.” As they returned to the boats, Connie gave Jack a sideways glance. “Do you have any suspicions at all as to who did it? Even an inkling?”

      “If I did, I wouldn’t have been here waiting for you,” he replied coldly.

      It was 6:00 a.m. when Jack and Connie identified themselves at the nurses’ station and explained they were there to do a next-of-kin notification. The nurse led them to where Larry was sleeping. Three other patients were sleeping in the room and the nurse pulled a curtain around Larry’s bed for privacy before leaving.

      Jack stared at Larry, then took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before gently shaking him awake.

      Larry mumbled as he awoke, then his eyes widened. “What’re you doing here? Who’s she?”

      “Corporal Crane,” Jack replied. “She and I are working together at the moment.”

      “Whaddaya doin’ here?”

      “I’ve some bad news,” Jack said. “I think Dwayne was murdered last night by someone ripping off your stash.”

      “What? No! What do you mean, you think?” Larry demanded.

      Jack quietly relayed the phone call he’d received, along with the news that Dwayne could not be found and that the nylon anchor rope and cement blocks were missing.

      “Maybe they took him to scare him,” Larry suggested, apparently unable to accept the reality of the situation.

      “I told you that Dwayne said he was shot in the stomach,” Jack reminded him. “Then there was that other shot and he never spoke again.”

      Larry squeezed his eyes tight, but that didn’t stop the tears from running down his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have left ’im out dere alone,” he said.

      Jack laid a hand on his shoulder and gave a sympathetic squeeze. A moment later Larry’s face clouded with anger and he jerked back. “You took the shotgun away,” he said accusingly. “The poor boy had nothin’ to defend himself with!”

      “I’m sorry, but —”

      “You’re