Burr found the two deckhands standing next to a pile of backpacks, tents and coolers. It turned out they were boyfriend and girlfriend and were here for summer jobs. They said they went to the University of Alabama, and they both remembered Tommy.
They’ll never come back for the trial.
Burr walked over to the ticket office. He showed the picture of Tommy to the woman behind the counter, a very short woman with a very long braid wound around the back of her head. He asked if she remembered selling Tommy a ferry ticket.
She looked at the picture. She said her name was Connie Gardener and, yes, she did remember selling him a ticket.
“How do you know?”
She looked up at Burr. “I see ’em all day, but I just don’t forget. I just don’t forget a face. The detective showed me a picture, too. Just like you. I seen you before, too. You bought a ticket. About a month ago. On the fifteenth, right?”
Burr nodded at her. “How do you know when it was?”
“Who are you anyway?”
“I represent Thomas Lockwood.”
“I’d say you got your work cut out for you.”
“How can you possibly remember the day?”
“I remember you asking me why I was smiling. It was my birthday. That’s why.” She smiled at him.
“Would you mind if I asked you where you live?”
She pointed toward Leland. “Right up there behind the Bluebird.”
“Thank you. I do have my work cut out for me.”
* * *
Burr put the Jeep in park and turned off the engine. It was three o’clock exactly. Punctuality wasn’t his strong suit, but when it came to court and Zeke-the-Boy, he did his best to be on time. He had had enough of both Tommy and Helen Lockwood at least until Monday. It was Friday afternoon and the weekend was for the two Zekes.
At 3:15 he was still waiting. “Zeke, this isn’t like Grace.” She wouldn’t let him in the house he still made payments on, not that he blamed her, but she always came right out with Zeke. Except for today. He thought he’d call her on his car phone, but after what happened with Eve, he thought better of it.
At 3:30, a black Benz pulled up beside him in the driveway.
“Nuts,” he said.
Out popped Maury Litzenburger, the nastiest, sleaziest but not the smartest divorce lawyer in all of Detroit. Burr rolled down his window but didn’t say anything.
Litzenburger was stocky and all of five-six. He had a broad nose and big black glasses that were too big for him. What really set him apart, though, were his shirts. Every time Burr saw him, Maury had on a white pinpoint oxford that was so white it hurt Burr’s eyes.
Litzenburger stuck his hand through the open window.
“Just a minute, Maury.” Burr reached into the glovebox for his sunglasses. He shook Litzenburger’s hand.
“Very funny.”
“Where’s Zeke?”
“Zeke is inside with Grace.”
“Go get him.”
“Your visitation has been suspended pending the outcome of the criminal case.”
Burr threw the door open and knocked Litzenburger down.
Litzenburger sat in the driveway. “I am going to add assault to the complaint.”
“Go get Zeke.”
Litzenburger straightened his tie, stood up and brushed off the seat of his pants. “I will do nothing of the sort.”
“Maury, we all know you’re a slimeball. Go get Zeke before I throw you through the garage door.” Burr got out of the Jeep. Litzenburger took refuge on the far side of his Benz. He shook his head no.
“Maury, we both know your criminal complaint is a sham. Being late on alimony isn’t a crime.”
“The line between child support and alimony can be a blurry one.”
When Burr started around the Benz, Litzenburger retreated to the other side. “Maybe I have been a little overzealous.”
Burr stopped.
“But look here, Burr, you’re six months behind on your alimony and Grace has bills to pay.”
Burr stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m making all the child support payments and I’m still making the payments on this house.”
“But not your alimony.”
“I made that deal when I was still at Fisher and Allen.”
“You never should have left.”
“I don’t have that kind of money right now and Grace knows it.”
“She wants the deal you made.”
“We need a new deal.”
Maury moved a bit closer, now eye-to-eye with Burr. “You need to get a real job.”
Burr thought that if he moved quickly, he could grab Litzenburger around the neck and strangle him. He started toward the divorce lawyer, who ran back to the other side of his car.
“Here’s what I can do,” Maury said. “Five months alimony and I drop the criminal complaint. We’ll see about the custody when you’re all caught up.”
Burr was in a bad way and Litzenburger knew it. Even though the criminal complaint was a sham, Burr had to get it dismissed if he wanted to stay in the good graces of all the judges he was up in front of, most especially Mary Fisher. But he couldn’t just give up. Not with Maury.
“Can’t do it, Maury.”
Litzenburger didn’t miss a beat. “Three months and the criminal complaint. The rest later. Maybe.”
“Done.”
They shook hands. Maury turned to go. “If you think I’m leaving here without that check, you’re crazy.” He disappeared into the house and came right out with Zeke-the-Boy and a boy’s-size canvas suitcase. Burr handed Maury a check.
* * *
In spite of the debacle with Maury Litzenburger, Burr and the two Zekes had a grand weekend in East Lansing. Cheese pizza, hide and seek – the two Zekes’ favorite game – more cheese pizza, fetch, and more cheese pizza. By Sunday night, all three of them were exhausted. Burr was sure he would never be able to look another cheese pizza in the eye.
* * *
First thing Monday morning, Eve ambushed Burr with a stack of bills. He thought about leaving, but she was guarding the door, so he stayed in his chair behind the relative safety of his desk. Jacob came in and stood next to Eve.
Jacob and Eve left their posts and sat down in front of him. Burr shuffled through the bills three times. “These are okay to pay.” Burr handed her all of the bills except one. “As soon as we have some money.”
“What about that one?”
“Which one?”
Eve reached over and picked up the lone bill. “Your mortgage payment.”
“That one can wait.”
“They’re all waiting,” Eve said.
“That one can wait longer.”
“You’re already two months behind. The bank is going to take this building away from you.”
“If only they would.”
“Alimony?”
“I had to write Maury a check.”
“I knew it,” Eve said.
“Didn’t you get a check from Tommy? ” Jacob said.
“Not yet.”
“I knew it. I knew something would go wrong.” Jacob twirled a curl.
“You can’t keep living like this,” Eve said.
“Like what?”
“Hand-to-mouth, which also means hand-to-mouth for me. And for Jacob.”
Burr turned to the window, his back to Eve and Jacob. It was raining cats and dogs, but he thought it was a much nicer day outside than in his office. “I’ve always made sure you were paid on time.”
“Mostly on time.”
“I’ll worry about the mortgage when the bank sends us a certified letter.”
There was a pause. Burr was sure Eve was tugging at her earring. He turned back around.
I knew it.
<
br /> Zeke, napping on the couch, woke up and was about to jump down.
“No, Zeke,” Burr said.
The last thing I need right now is you licking Jacob.
“If you would just pay attention to business and stop all this fooling around,” Jacob said.
“What fooling around?”
“Your boat for one thing. You can’t conduct a murder investigation from a boat.”
Burr ran both hands through his hair.
“Would you please stop that,” Jacob said, still twirling.
“He’s thinking,” Eve said, tugging at her earring. “All right. Let’s all stop our tics. I’ll count to three and we’ll all stop.”
“The boat,” Burr said, still doing his tic.
“One, two, three.” Eve stopped tugging. Jacob stopped creasing. Burr snapped his pencil in two.
“It’s the boat. Helen’s boat. Achilles. Don’t you see?” Burr said.
“See what?” Jacob said.
“We haven’t looked for Helen’s boat. It’s probably the last place she was alive. There’s got to be something in the boat that will help us find the killer.”
“My dear Burr, she was missing for over a year. A dog found what was left of her in a shallow grave. Whatever happened on that boat, if anything did happen, happened so long ago it won’t be of any use,” Jacob said.
“Where is that boat?” Burr said, hands through his hair one more time.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Burr and Zeke, followed by Jacob in his Peugeot, drove out of the rain at Clare. By the time they reached Traverse City, the sun was out.
Back at Tommy’s kitchen table, Burr and Tommy each had a cup of coffee in front of them. Jacob nursed a tea.
“The boat,” Burr said.
“Here we go again,” Jacob said under his breath.
“What?” Tommy said.
Jacob twirled a curl on the side of his head. Burr kicked Jacob under the table. Jacob stopped twirling.
“Tommy, where is Achilles?” Burr said.
“I have no idea.”
“Did the sheriff seize her?”
“No. Not that I know of.” Tommy looked out the window, then back at Burr. “Why?”
“Where is Achilles?”
“I haven’t seen that damn boat since Helen disappeared.”
“What happened?”
“We’ve been through this,” Tommy said. He got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. He held the pot up and looked at Burr.
“None for me.”
I might not get a check today, but it doesn’t look like I’m going to get fired.
Tommy sat back down at the table. He sipped his coffee. “The sheriff towed the boat into Leland and put her in a slip. They had me go down there and look at it.”
“What was it like. Was there anything missing?”
“Missing? Helen was missing. That’s what was missing.”
“I’m sorry, Tommy.” Burr sipped his coffee. It was watery to begin with. Now it was cold and watery. “What was it like on the boat?”
“I told you. Everything was there. As far as I know.”
“What did the sheriff do?”
“They searched the boat. They didn’t find anything that I know of. They told me I could have the boat back. That was over a year ago.”
Burr nodded. He reached for his coffee but thought better of it. “Did Brooks or the sheriff look at the boat again? After Helen’s body was found?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Where is she now?”
“Achilles?” Tommy looked out the window again, then back at Burr. “At the boatyard. Next to the marina in Northport.”
* * *
Somehow Burr managed to leave Morningside with a check. Half an hour later he found Achilles tucked up against a corner in the shed at Craker’s. She was sitting on a wooden cradle, her deck about eight feet above him. Craker’s, the only boatyard in Northport, had three steel sheds. Burr thought shed wasn’t really the right word for these buildings. They were each about half the size of a football field with concrete floors, twenty-foot ceilings and steel walls with windows two-thirds of the way up. There were naked lightbulbs that lit the buildings like it was half an hour before dawn. The sheds were hot and stuffy and smelled like gasoline, sawdust and mildew. The boats were packed right up against each other, no more than a foot apart.
Burr had found Achilles in the second shed. Now he had to find a ladder to board her. Jacob clung to his side.
“Burr, you have to get me out of here.”
“We just found Achilles.”
“I can’t stay in here with my claustrophobia. And there are bats in here.”
“Those are sparrows,” Burr said, lying. He found a ladder tucked behind a sailboat, carried it back to Achilles and set it against her transom. “Jacob, climb up. You can see all the way across the shed. You won’t be claustrophobic.”
“I’m afraid of heights.”
Burr climbed the ladder.
“Don’t leave me down here by myself.”
Burr ignored him. Neither the lightbulbs nor the windows did much to light up Achilles, but the light seemed to slow down the bats. There was more light up here than down on the concrete, but it was still dim as sunrise, Burr thought. Fortunately, he did bring a flashlight. Burr played the beam over the cockpit, not that there was much to see. Achilles hadn’t been covered, so bat droppings were splattered on the teak.
“What a shame.”
A table and four chairs in the cockpit. Two lockers. He opened the first and found life jackets and a flare gun. The second one had a small grill. The lazarette was empty. He walked down the companionway into the main salon and galley. It had a musty smell. He opened the drawers. Dishes and silverware. In the aft stateroom, he found a drawer with women’s clothes. Helen’s. And one with men’s.
They must be Tommy’s.
There was nothing of interest in the forward stateroom.
Burr heard a thud from the cockpit.
That must be Jacob.
Burr walked back to the companionway. There lay Jacob in a heap, motionless.
Burr stepped over him and made his way to the bridge and steering station. Port and starboard throttles were next to the steering wheel. The instruments just below the wheel.
“Aren’t you going to help me up?” Jacob said.
“I thought you were unconscious.”
Jacob sat up. “It is better up here, but I’ll never get down. And those are bats.”
Burr ignored his partner, who wasn’t nearly as fragile as he acted. To Burr’s left, the nav station, a small built-in table with a hinged top and drawers. He lifted the top. Charts, binoculars, flashlight, flare gun, pencil, and paper.
So far, this is a colossal waste of time.
He opened the top drawer and found a transistor radio, a deck of cards, a backgammon board. The second drawer had more charting tools, more pencils, paper, a checkbook and a notebook the size of a thin paperback.
Burr took out the checkbook. It was from Empire State Bank. It was in her name only, not joint with Tommy. Burr flipped to the check register. The last check she wrote was to Rexall Drugs, on the day before she disappeared.
Probably for booze.
The one before that was written on the same day to Dame’s Market, the grocery store in Northport.
Burr put the checkbook in the drawer and took out the notebook.
This is her ship’s log.
There were dates with weather next to them, wind speed and direction, temperature and conditions. Clear, cloudy, rain. The entries were spaced apart. “Yes, her logbook,” Burr said out loud. He skipped to the last entry, June 9th, the day she disappeared. Wind SE at 10. Seventy degrees and clear. The last entry. “Did she make i
t to South Manitou? Or did she just not update the log when she got there?” Burr ran his finger along the entries. “Jacob, please come up here. I may have found something.”
“I can’t possibly.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll be seasick.”
Burr put the logbook back in the drawer and made his way back to the cockpit. Jacob was still sitting where he had landed. “Jacob, please.”
“I’ll be seasick.”
“We’re on dry land.”
“This is a boat. If I go inside, I’ll surely be ill. I never should have climbed that blasted ladder.” Jacob put his head in his hands.
“Let me help you, “ Burr said. He hoisted Jacob to his feet and pulled him up to the bridge. He opened the drawer and took out the checkbook and the logbook. “Take a look.”
“Stop. Stop where you are and put your hands up,” said a voice from behind him.
Burr turned around.
“Hands up.”
A sheriff’s deputy, standing on the ladder, pointed his service revolver at Burr.
Burr smiled. “Deputy Holcomb. How nice to see you.”
“Hands up, I said.”
Jacob raised his hands. Burr put his hands in his pockets. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re under arrest.”
“For what?”
“Interfering with a crime scene. Hands up, I said.”
“This is Tommy Lockwood’s boat. He gave us permission.”
“Helen Lockwood was murdered on this boat.”
“Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t. But we have permission to be here.”
Deputy Holcomb climbed on board, his gun still pointed at Burr. “Don Craker called and said somebody was up here nosing around. I called the prosecutor’s office and they told me to get right up here.” He waved his gun at Burr. “Come with me.”
Burr went out to the cockpit. “Deputy Holcomb, if this is a crime scene, why isn’t it marked? There’s no tape around the boat. There’s no signs and the boat wasn’t locked.”
“You’re under arrest.”
“You go tell Petey Brooks that if he wants to make this a crime scene, mark it like one. And then tell him that I want access to it.”
The teenage deputy smacked his lips, then put down his gun.
Burr walked by him and started down the ladder. When Burr was off the ladder, Jacob looked down at him. “What about me?”
Bear Bones Page 13