“Morning, Leland!” Roy said. “Let me introduce you two. This is my old friend Henry Carrell. He operates Blue Seas Yacht Charter.”
“Morning, Henry,” I said, heading over for the obligatory handshake. I told Roy, “Everyone knows Henry. We went to high school together, although we were a couple years apart.”
“Oh yeah!” Henry was doing a kind of double-pistol thing with his hands, a Hey, buddy gesture, although he didn’t actually look like he remembered me.
“Oh,” I said, “best of luck in your council race. Not that you need it.”
They laughed, though I wasn’t sure what the joke was.
“I tell you what, Leland,” Roy said. “You want people to take you seriously around here? You got to either get rich or get yourself elected to something. Henry here did both.”
Henry smiled and said, “No, but—you interested in politics? Give me a call if you are. I got to get going right now, but I’m happy to talk.”
“Well, Leland sure ain’t interested in business,” Roy said. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a damn good lawyer or he wouldn’t be under my roof, but he’s got all the business skills of a French poodle. A client shows up, he just sets there in his basket, like, shivering.”
Another round of laughter. Then Henry asked, “You’re the ex-prosecutor, right? Handling criminal defense now for Roy?” I didn’t know whether he meant to salvage my dignity or if he just wanted my vote. “I hope I don’t need you,” he went on, “but I might. I employ some sailors, obviously, and sometimes they do stupid shit ashore.”
Roy laughed.
“And not just sailors,” Henry said. “Roy got one of my Warton brothers off on a careless driving charge a year or two ago. I take it that’s your bailiwick now? Or one of them?”
“Glad to help with anything,” I said.
“Oh,” said Roy. “Speaking of Wartons, you wouldn’t have heard yet, but they found Karl’s boat run aground on St. Helena Island, no one on board. I hope he just got drunk and forgot to tie it up, because otherwise, I got to wonder about that body they found.”
“My God,” Henry said. He looked horrified.
Roy seemed to catch the look on Henry’s face, and he changed tack. “I’m sure Karl’s fine,” he said. “I watch too many cop shows, that’s all. He still work for you?”
“Not since he fell off the wagon again. I still got his brothers doing their thing. Those boys are like idiot savants with woodworking and anything mechanical.” His phone rang. “Oh,” he said, looking at the screen. “Sorry, I got to take this. Great seeing y’all.” He did his hand-pistol thing again, to both of us, and answered his phone on his way out the door.
I’d barely settled into my office when Roy appeared in the doorway. He was still in a sociable mood. Anyone else would’ve taken the hint from the Redweld folder I was setting on my desk next to the open laptop, but he didn’t do hints. I knew from the way he slouched against the doorframe that he was here to shoot the breeze.
“You know what I heard about Karl’s body?” he said. “Or I guess we’re still saying ‘the’ body? His head was so bashed in, some kid thought it was a half-deflated ball washing to shore. Like a volleyball, you know? Even swam out to get it, but had to stop on account of the smell.”
I cleared my throat.
“They said it ain’t clear yet what happened,” he continued. “So that’s the Basking Rock mystery: Did some killer rip his face off, or did the fish have it for dinner? I don’t know how his brothers are going to identify him. They’re supposed to go in and do that this morning. And I’m not sure Karl had enough teeth left for them to use dental records. You know how the Wartons are. More arrests than teeth.”
“You know, Roy, I actually—”
“Aw, don’t tell me you’re busy. You ain’t gonna get busy for real until you start spending time getting to know folks. Good folks, I mean.” Something in the look he gave me made me think he meant people unlike Mazie.
“I do mean to get to that fundraiser,” I said.
“Well, good. But I still ain’t seen you at church. People got to see you as part of the community if you want them to think of you when they need a lawyer.”
“Yeah, that’s a fair point.” He was masterful at the social side of business, but I wasn’t getting much of a chance to learn from him. I did most of the legal work while he was out glad-handing people. It being his firm, he pocketed 75 percent of what he billed clients for my time.
“Speaking of socializing,” he said, “you seen that Grant woman lately?”
“Oh, now and again. Her son’s friends with mine, so, you know.”
“I saw your car outside the diner yesterday,” he said. “You talk to her? She hear about the body yet?”
“She wasn’t working, I don’t think.” My shrimp place was one of her two jobs. “I was just picking up dinner.”
“Classy joint,” he said, in a tone that meant the opposite.
“Yeah. Anyway, is there something you need? I actually do have a couple things I’d like to get off my desk.”
He looked irritated that I wasn’t joining in his lurid speculation, but he wasn’t one to hold a grudge. He moved right on. “You have time to do a bit of research for me? Insurance question. Henry’s got some liability concerns about sailing to the Caribbean. He’s had some clients ask him what he’s covered for. You know, if a business gives a cruise
