Wild Ocean

by Tripp Ellis

  Madison shot him a look.

  I wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible. “Maybe we should pay this Dan Baker a visit?”

  “Don’t you have enough trouble as it is without poking around this?” JD asked.

  “This kind of thing is bad for business,” I said.

  “Sheriff Daniels is useless,” Madison said. “In six years he hasn’t made any headway on the case, and the people who killed Mom and Dad are still out there. This will get filed away just like every other major crime on this island. Oh sure, he’ll stomp around, ask questions, and pretend like he’s working. But that will last a week. Then Jeremy will be forgotten.”

  “I’ll look into this. I can’t make any promises, but if they’re on this island, I’ll find your friend’s killer.”

  For the first time since I’d been on the island, Madison gave me a look of appreciation.

  She was silent for a long moment. “Since we’re on the subject of murder, what do you know about Mom and Dad?”

  Her eyes were already starting to brim.

  “I know what you know.”

  “Surely, with all your contacts and resources you know something?”

  “I looked into it. I followed every lead. I had friends in the bureau look into it. I got nothing. The way I see it, one of two things happened. They were shot and killed for their boat. Or they stumbled across drug smugglers. Or both.”

  Madison looked tortured.

  “The boat was never found,” I said.

  “You think it’s pointless to keep looking,” she said, accusingly.

  “No. But there comes a time where you have to accept facts. We might not ever find out what happened to them, or who did it.”

  “Promise me you won’t stop trying,” she pleaded.

  12

  JD and I caught Dan Baker the next morning at the Pirate’s Cove Marina before he set out on his charter. I figured it would be good to have Jack with me since Dan knew him. He was prepping the boat and filling dive tanks. He invited us both aboard without hesitation. We hopped the transom and stepped into the cockpit. He had a nice Valkyrie 63 footer.

  “What can I do for you boys?” Dan asked.

  Dan was mid 50s, wavy brownish gray hair, mustache, and a full beer belly. He hobbled from a bad hip—but it didn’t seem to slow him down.

  “We’d like to talk to you about Jeremy Phelps,” I said, getting straight to the point.

  Dan looked at his watch. “Well, if he doesn’t get here in the next five minutes, he’s going to be looking for another job.”

  “You haven’t heard?” I asked.

  “Heard what?”

  “You mean Sheriff Daniels hasn’t spoken with you?” JD asked.

  “No. What’s this about?”

  I told him that Jeremy had been killed, but I left out pertinent details.

  Dan hung his head. “That’s a damn shame. Jeremy was a good kid. A little bit of a slacker, but his heart was in the right place. Never on time though.”

  “How long had he been working for you?” I asked.

  “I guess going on three years now. Mostly part-time. He wasn’t reliable enough to bring on full-time.” He paused for a moment, then surveyed me a little closer. “Are you some type of private investigator?”

  “He was a friend of my sister’s,” I said.

  “I don’t need a lawyer or anything, do I?” He was half joking.

  “Just asking a few questions. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to do Jeremy harm? Did he have a beef with anyone?”

  Dan thought about it for a moment. “Not that I’m aware of. But, to be honest, I really only saw him when he showed up to work on the boat. I couldn’t tell you much about his personal life. I think he still dates Catherine. Dated,” he corrected himself. “Can’t think of her last name. She’s a waitress at Craig’s Crab and Claw.”

  “Do you know if they were having any issues?” I asked.

  “I don’t get involved in the personal drama of my employees. And I don’t let them bring it on the boat.”

  There were a couple of fillet knives in the bait prep area. Nice ones. Titanium nitride coated blades. I didn’t have a chance to really examine Jeremy’s body, but they looked like they could be consistent with the wounds on Jeremy’s torso and neck. But so could a million other fillet knives in the area.

  “Where were you yesterday?” I asked.

  “Now I’m really starting to feel like I need a lawyer.”

  “Nobody’s accusing you of anything, Dan,” JD said, realizing he needed to diffuse the situation. “It’s just a standard question to cross you off the list.”

  Dan frowned. He didn’t like answering the question, but he decided it was probably in his best interest. “I was out on the water most of the day, running a fishing charter. You need to corroborate that, talk to my first mate.” Dan called up to the bridge. “Luke, where was I yesterday?”

  A guy in his mid-20s leaned over the rail. He had brown hair, tan skin, and abs that belonged on an underwear model. “Uh, you were on the boat, Captain.”

  “What time did we get back to the marina?”

  “I don’t know, maybe, 6:30? Then it took at least an hour for cleanup.”

  “Satisfied?” Dan said, glaring at me.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “After that, I took some ibuprofen, popped a muscle relaxer, and had a few beers. I got a hip that needs to be replaced and I’m just waiting on the insurance to approve it. Do I look like I’m in any condition to assault a young man of Jeremy’s size?”

  “Nobody said you did,” I said.

  “Well, you sure are poking around like you’ve already made up your mind.”

  “I apologize if it came across that way. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this,” I said.

  “If there’s anybody I’ve got a reason to kill, it’s my ex-wife,” Dan said. “And she’s still breathing. Unfortunately. She took just about everything I own, and all I got is left this boat. And I’m upside down on that.”

  “I feel your pain, brother,” JD said.

  “Maybe you ought to leave the investigating to the Sheriff?” Dan said.

  “I don’t see him out here,” JD said.

  “Better look again,” Dan said, pointing to the parking lot.

  Sheriff Daniels’s cruiser just pulled up.

  I thanked Dan for his time and we left. We crossed paths with the sheriff halfway down the dock. His narrow eyes glared at us. “What are you boys doing out here?”

  “I’m looking for another slip for the boat,” JD said. “Thought I’d ask Dan how he likes things out here.”

  The sheriff knew better. “Let me give you boys a little piece of advice. Mind your own business. You wouldn’t want to be obstructing a criminal investigation, would you? I got this thing handled.”

  I had to bite my tongue. He sure hadn’t handled my parents’ investigation worth a damn.

  We continued on our way, albeit a little more briskly. There was no doubt Dan would probably bitch about us to the sheriff.

  “Do you think you could work your charm with Brenda Sparks?” I asked. “Maybe get a copy of the ME’s report?”

  A wry smile tugged on Jack’s lips. “You know I can get just about anything I need out of anybody. But Sheriff Daniels is not going to be happy if he finds out.”

  “Then make sure he doesn’t find out?”

  13

  JD was right. He had a sweet gig. I thought he had been exaggerating, but the scenery was more than I could have imagined.

  We had a charter client that afternoon, and I finally felt well enough to assist. I figured it was time I started earning my keep. I hadn’t paid Jack anything for rent, and I had been sponging off Madison. She had been generous enough to extend me a tab at Diver Down until I could get access to my cash.

  A good operative keeps multiple caches of weapons, supplies, and cash in case of emergency. I had one in the area, but I hadn’t bee
n able to get to it. I was planning to make a visit to my stash, now that I was capable.

  Four insanely hot girls boarded the boat wearing string bikinis that barely covered anything. Tight fabric struggled to contain perky assets. Their tanned, oiled skin glistened in the tropical sunlight. The smell of coconut wafted from their perfect bodies, flat stomachs, and toned legs. Each one had model good looks.

  “Told you,” Jack said, nudging an elbow into my ribs.

  There was a blonde, a brunette, a redhead, and a sandy blonde with a pixie cut. They all wore sunglasses and had wide-brimmed hats. They had already started on the fruity drinks—strawberry daiquiris were the flavor of the moment.

  They wanted to party, soak up the sun, and bar hop across the islands.

  I unhooked the lines, and we cast off. We weren’t even out of the bay before bikini tops came off.

  This was going to be an exercise in mental focus. I tried not to let my eyes wander, but a topless woman has a certain magnetic quality about her.

  The day started out pretty smooth, but that changed after the first stop. After a short cruise, we pulled to the dock at Riptide. It was a popular tourist spot where you could get buckets of ice cold beer and fresh seafood. Crab, lobster, and crawfish, when in season. Music pumped, and the smell of spilled beer filled the air.

  The girls disembarked and mingled about the bar. We were just the hired help, so we stayed onboard and waited until it was time to shuttle them to the next destination. Neither of us drink while operating the boat. That would be bad business and asking for trouble. We saved our cocktails for after we were back in the marina.

  By the time the girls returned they had indulged in a few too many daiquiris and tequila shots. Hot girls don’t leave clubs alone, and they had four guys in tow. Typical muscle heads wearing board shorts and gold chains, all with the same haircut.

  Jack and I exchanged a glance and rolled our eyes. Few things are more annoying than being the sober person around a bunch of drunk idiots—it doesn’t matter how hot they are.

  They were loud, bratty, and their music was terrible. Maybe I was just getting old. While we were still docked at Riptide, one of the guys dropped his shorts and pissed over the back of the transom. I told him to use the head next time. That didn’t go over well.

  “Excuse me,” the brunette snapped. “We paid good money for this boat. If he wants to drop his pants, he can drop his pants.” She had a lascivious glint in her eyes.

  I didn’t want to start shit on JD’s boat. I decided to disengage and walk away. But then she had to push things.

  “Hey, you. Get me a beer!” No please. No thank you. Her voice was thick with condescension.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard her,” the douche-canoe said. “Get her a beer.”

  I forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not a servant.”

  “Like I said. I’m paying good money for premium service. If I want you to get me a beer, you’ll get me a beer.”

  “Get it yourself,” I said.

  The douche-canoe puffed up his chest like he was going to do something.

  JD saw the incident and rushed to me before things got out of hand. “Hey now, what’s the trouble here?”

  “Your deckhand refuses to serve me,” the brunette snapped.

  “One beer coming right up,” JD said with a smile. “Can I get anybody else anything?”

  Jack didn’t have a liquor license. Drinks were free on the boat. He more than made up for it with the price of the charter.

  JD took my arm and pulled me into the deck house. “If you haven’t figured it out, this is a service industry. We do what the client wants. Besides, that girl has 2 million followers.”

  “What do I give a shit how many followers she has?”

  “Pull your head out of your ass. That girl is a major source of revenue. I’ll have a dozen more of her supermodel friends down here next week once they see her pictures all over the Internet.”

  I exhaled. “Fine. I’ll play nice. The service industry was never my bag.”

  I grabbed a beer from the fridge and delivered it to the bratty brunette. She snapped a picture of me as I handed the bottle to her.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Posting to my followers how horrible the service is on this boat.”

  I’m usually calm, cool, and collected under pressure. But I couldn’t have my picture floating around the Internet. I snatched the brat’ live the brats phone and tossed it into the ocean. It plunked into the water and sunk to the bottom of the channel.

  That drew quite the reaction.

  “What the actual fuck?” she exclaimed. “That was my phone!”

  It was like I had taken away the most important thing the world.

  That’s when the douche-canoe made a big mistake. His palms smacked against my chest as he shoved me across the cockpit. It caught me off balance, and I stumbled back.

  I managed to regain my footing. The wound in my chest had mostly healed, but there was a twinge of discomfort from the contact. My instincts took over, and I was ready to neutralize the threat, but fortunately JD stepped in. “Hey now, this isn’t a contact sport.”

  “He threw my phone in the water!” the brat complained. “This is the worst party boat I’ve ever been on. That phone cost $1000.”

  “I’m terribly sorry,” JD apologized, flashing a disarming smile. “My deckhand is new, and a little socially awkward.”

  I glared at him, but kept my mouth shut.

  “Today’s charter is on me,” JD said. “And I’ll reimburse you for the phone. How does that sound?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “Well, I guess it’s okay.” She pointed to me. “But I want him off the boat.”

  14

  “Tyson, you’re fired!” Jack said.

  The bratty brunette smiled.

  JD made a big show of it. ”Now get up to the bridge deck and stay there.”

  I gave him a mock salute, “Aye-aye, Captain.”

  JD turned back to the brat. “I’m really sorry about his behavior. He’s never working this boat again. But I need to keep him on board for the duration of the charter, just in case we need an extra hand. But I promise, he’ll stay out of your way.”

  That seemed to appease her for the time being.

  We idled away from Riptide, and JD brought the Slick’n Salty on plane once we got into open water.

  The tourism board billed the Keys as a boater’s paradise. But they could quickly become a boater’s nightmare. There were over 6000 reefs and 800 keys in the area. Depths changed rapidly. One minute the draft would be seven feet, the next three. Say hello to new propellers. The key to staying out of trouble was to study the charts, use your GPS, follow the markers, and stay out of areas you didn’t know well. Venture into the wrong area and rake across a bed of protected seagrass, and you might end up owing a hefty fine for destroying a sanctuary.

  We headed south toward Action Stations. It had good food and a great view of the sunset. The winds picked up, and it was starting to get a little choppy.

  JD had instructed everyone to stay in either the cockpit or the deck house while we were underway. It used to be illegal to ride on the bow while moving at anything above an idle, but Florida HB 703 changed that. Now it wasn’t considered Careless Operation if passengers rode on the bow. An aluminum bow rail enclosed the area, but it still wasn’t a good idea.

  The bratty brunette decided she wanted to play Titanic and feel the wind blowing through her hair from the bow. But the minute she climbed onto the gunwale, her foot slipped and she splashed into the water. She was lucky she didn’t crack her head on the gunwale, or get chopped up in the propellers.

  I watch the event happen in slow motion. I tapped JD on the shoulder and told him to slow the boat down and spin around.

  The brat splashed and flailed in the water.

  She couldn’t swim.

  I dove from the bridge into the water and swam toward h
er. The other ass-clowns just stood around gawking. By the time I reached the girl, she had slipped underwater. I pulled her to the surface and hauled her back to the boat.

  JD helped her over the transom. She had gotten a lungful of water and was hacking most of it out.

  “I told you all to wear life preservers,” JD said. “But nobody ever listens.” JD shook his head. “I’d appreciate it if everybody would try to stay in the boat for the rest of the day.”

  The girl was pretty shaken up, and her girlfriends tried to console her. After a few minutes, it was business as usual, and the party restarted. But I noticed the little brat didn’t go anywhere near the side of the boat.

  When we docked at Action Stations, she couldn’t get off the boat fast enough. I never saw her again after that. The redhead came back to tell us that they were going to stay at the bar and catch a cab back to their hotel on Coconut Key.

  They gathered their belongings, and we were cut loose for the rest of the evening. That was fine by me and Jack. Once they had gotten all their gear, we cast off and headed back to Diver Down.

  “How do you put up with this nonsense?” I asked.

  “Oh, it’s not that bad. Most of my clients are pretty cool. now and then you get some rude ones.” Jack grinned, “But like I said, the scenery’s not bad.”

  15

  That evening, JD and I decided to pay a visit to Craig’s Crab and Claw. The restaurant was built in the shape of a large wooden boat. Fishing nets and classic signage hung from the walls. As the name suggested, they specialized in shellfish. The crab cakes were outstanding.

  Jeremy’s girlfriend, Catherine, was working, and we asked to be seated in her section. She greeted us with a friendly smile and didn’t seem too broken up about recent events. “What can I get you to drink?”

  She was mid-20s, had light brown, wavy hair, blue eyes and pale skin. She was the type who burned after 10 minutes in the sun, despite living in a tropical paradise she tried to avoid daylight as much as possible. And when she did go out, she slathered on the sunscreen. She was cute-ish. A little frumpy. And she wore her makeup extremely thick trying to cover the acne that was still left over from her teenage years. The braces she wore made her look younger than she was.