Harold and Junior surrounded me, after looking at each other with a blend of fear and exhaustion.
Junior said, “So you think grandma was killed on this boat?”
“I don’t know. It’s a theory, but a shaky one at best.”
A wave of nausea swept over me. The rest of the trip I hung over the water, puking my guts out.
Chapter 11
The next day, I solicited a copy of the coroner’s report from Leber via Eddie via Harold. I entered Leber’s cell into my phone and dropped the card on my bedside table for safe-keeping before heading to the Bacon’s.
“How do you know Eddie?” I asked Harold from a chair on the archery range. Using his old bow, Harold was taking shots from the one-hundred-yard block.
“Eddie and I went to Antilles together. We had classes all through middle school and high school after he transferred over from Charlotte Amalie.”
“Not too many kids from Charlotte Amalie High School get to Antilles. I mean public school kids usually can’t afford a place like that, right?”
“Man, his mama went and won the V.I. Lottery. And wouldn’t you know it, that woman was smart with those winnings. She didn’t act like those usual lottery winners and splurge on cars and televisions and a big house with fat payments. She stuck to the program and fixed up the same ratty house she lived in that her parents owned and then focused on her kid. Oh yeah, and she bought a rental property. Eddie went on and studied criminology and became a detective, too. Good dude that Eddie. Doesn’t talk much though, except when he gets in an emotional mood and knows you real well.”
His phone dinged. “All right, the report’s in my inbox.”
“Can he get the report on Kendal, too?”
“Kendal?”
“Yeah, the guy who was arrowed in my office.”
“You know, man, I’m not about using up favors on dudes I don’t even consort with. Why do I care about Kendal again?”
“Cause your mother told Junior to go speak to Kendal. I think his murder’s connected.”
He gave me a sideways stare, shot another arrow then typed something into his phone. He kept mowing down targets while I waited patiently and considered the difference between darts and archery. On one target was a photo of the governor’s grinning face at some pep rally or other. Harold put one right between the man’s smiling eyes.
After a time, I sighed. “So, can we print out the report?”
“Yeah, yeah. Lemme finish this set. Hold your horses.”
He took ten more shots, then we returned to the house. Shortly, he retraced his steps clutching a printed copy of Francine’s autopsy report.
I held the pages aloft. “That’s fast, even in more advanced jurisdictions.”
“It’s no accident. Eddie and the coroner have history. He got us pushed up. He says Kendal got sent to Puerto Rico, so no way to expedite there.” He shrugged.
No surprises in the coroner’s report. She drowned. Salt water into the lungs and all that technical jargon about asphyxiation and doses. “Homicide” was checked under “Manner of Death.”
“What’s it say about the cut on her forearm? I noticed it when we ID’ed the body.”
I leafed through the report. “Nothing much, some kind of superficial wound.”
“Superficial? It was pretty deep.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t mean the wound was minor. It means it wasn’t why she died. Who uses your boat? Anyone besides you and your siblings?”
He snickered. “Hillary? Man, Hillary wouldn’t go out in that tub. A cruise ship or a yacht’s her game. Occasionally, Herbie’ll take a run with me. He’s not much for taking it out on his own, but he’s capable.”
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“You use the boat?”
“’Course. I go to some remote surf spots. You sound like the cops. They were here for hours, questioning all of us and digging through our shit. Then we had to go down to the station for more questioning and fingerprinting. You believe that shit?”
“Harold, your mother is dead and an associate of hers is dead. The family are always strong suspects. They are gonna be all over you and this house for weeks.”
“Come on. Hillary and my brother are jerkoffs, but offing mama? No way.”
I gave him a blank stare, then said, “Family. They love you the most, and they hate you the most.”
He stared at me a moment before lining up another target. “I suppose. Whatevers.” He shifted back to answering my questions about the boat. “Eddie and I do some fishing. Couple months ago, we caught us a nice king fish and some pompano. Good eating.”
“Sounds like you use it a lot. When was the last time before today?”
His eyes squinted down to slits. “I’m guessing little over a month ago. I’ve just been out Karat Bay and Hull surfing lately. Waves been nice, so no need to go excursing about.”
“It says in here she was killed on or about October first. Could be off by as much as thirty hours in either direction, but based on the feeding around her nostrils and ears, it looks like it happened in the late afternoon. Where were you on that day?”
He tapped his pocket. “As you can see, I’m not big on preserving brain cells. Probably right here smoking weed or cigarettes and shooting arrows, or just smoking weed. What day’d you say?”
“October first.”
“Naw man, what day, like day of the week?”
“Thursday,” I said.
“Thursday, that’s tough. Not a day I typically have a set routine for, but usually around late afternoon I’d be relaxing out here smoking. Don’t think I even left the house again that day after surfing till about eleven.”
“Were Hillary and Herbie here?”
“Prob-ly, but Hill stays indoors a lot, and I’m outside on my balcony or out here.” He raised his arms to the sky. “I mean, what’s the sense of living here and staying inside, right? Anyways, the place is so big, how am I supposed to know if
