Dark Harbor

by David K. Wilson

  Out of instinct, Sam stood and headed toward the door to make sure everything was alright. But the bar was packed, and as the crowd moved their way toward the bandstand, it became harder to maneuver through them. Sam slowly pushed his way through, staying focused on the fighting couple. At one point, it looked like Jane was storming off alone, but with so many people blocking his view, it was hard to tell. Finally, he reached the door. He stepped outside, free from the masses and looked around. He was too late. Both Jane and the man were gone.

  10

  “Hey you.”

  He heard the muffled voice. But something wasn’t right.

  It sounded far away but also right beside him. He turned his head and the movement stirred him into consciousness. He opened his eyes and found himself face down on the floor. Well, face down on a completely deflated air mattress, to be more exact.

  Then he felt a body slide over his back and kiss him on the cheek.

  “Good morning,” Carla whispered in his ear.

  Sam smiled. He shifted on the floor to turn around, his body stiff and sore from the lack of mattress. But his movement also stirred up memories of the night before. Carla had been waiting for him when he arrived home shortly after midnight. He slid under the sheets beside her and they locked in a passionate embrace that soon crumbled into giggles. Trying to keep quiet so as not to wake Vanessa in the next room, they had felt like two kids in their parents’ basement.

  Carla brought Sam back to the present with a kiss on the forehead.

  “I think we killed the mattress,” she said with a sly smile.

  Sam grinned.

  “No regrets,” he said, then groaned as he tried to sit up. “Well, maybe a few.”

  Carla sat up with Sam, the sheet slipping off of her. He leaned into her and kissed her neck, running a hand down her body.

  “Want to try it without the mattress?” he asked.

  Carla laughed and pushed him away with a kiss.

  “I don’t want to put you in traction,” she teased.

  She stood, and Sam marveled at her body. How did he get so lucky to wind up with a woman like this? She was not only gorgeous, but funny, smart and patient. Patient being the key. She somehow tolerated more than most. And Sam knew he was a better man because of her. He also knew he was not going to let her slip through his hands again.

  Carla reached out a hand to help Sam stand.

  “Come on, Romeo,” she said. “Let’s get some coffee.”

  Sam took her hand and rose to his feet with a loud groan of pain. He rolled his shoulders and twisted his torso, trying to work out the kinks. Getting that mattress was definitely a priority today.

  Thinking of the mattress reminded him of seeing Jane having a fight the night before. He had told Carla about it and she reminded him that couples fight. Not everything has to be a criminal act.

  She turned off the box fan near the far wall and a silence filled the air. Sam didn’t realize the fan had been that loud. But that had been the point. Carla had turned it on to drown out the sounds of their lovemaking.

  Carla threw on the shirt Sam had worn the night before and left to make coffee while Sam pulled some jeans and a black T-shirt from his duffel and got dressed. When Jane had texted him, she had asked if he could come by before 10:00 as she needed to run errands after that. He glanced at his watch and saw it was already 9:00.

  Sam walked down the hallway toward the kitchen, where he could smell the fresh aroma of coffee being made. Framed photos covered the walls, most of them of Vanessa and Norm. Sam studied the images. They seemed to be a happy couple. Most of the photos were of the two of them laughing together, holding hands or in each other’s arms. There were a couple of Vanessa and Jude in front of their lavender farm. And a few photos of Norm on his boat. In every picture, Norm was dressed in a T-shirt and wearing either shorts or jeans. What Sam assumed was a large shark’s tooth hung from a black cord around his neck. He was barrel-chested and fit, as you would expect of a fisherman. Sam noticed one other common theme in the photos. He was either holding a bottle of beer or there was one sitting beside him.

  Carla walked up behind him.

  “Seems to be quite the party guy,” Sam said.

  “He does enjoy life,” Carla said.

  “Live hard. Party harder,” Sam said. “I like him already.”

  Carla took Sam’s hand and led him into the kitchen.

  “I don’t want to wake her up,” she said, pointing toward Vanessa’s bedroom door.

  Sam smiled and pulled Carla close to him.

  “She’s probably exhausted,” he joked. “I bet we kept her up all night.”

  “She’s been taking sleeping pills, idiot,” Carla replied. “This whole thing with Norm has really been hard on her.”

  They took their coffee out on the deck. The morning sky was already a brilliant blue and the ocean sparkled in the distance. Sam enjoyed the view as he told Carla about his plans to search for Norm. Maybe ask around the docks where Norm kept his boat. Visit the local police to find out what they knew.

  “But first, I promised this woman I would come pick up the mattress by 10:00,” Sam said. “You wanna come?”

  “I insist,” Carla replied. “I need to meet the lady who was trying to get my man in bed.”

  Sam was shocked she knew about that. Carla saw the surprise on his face.

  “I know all,” Carla teased. “Never forget it.”

  Sam laughed. He watched as Carla walked back down the hall to get dressed, then he stepped out on the deck, shivering in the cool morning air and taking in the gorgeous view. It was looking to be another beautiful day and Sam couldn’t help but smile.

  11

  Sam knocked on the white door of the gray Cape Cod home.

  “Hopefully, she hasn’t lost it again,” Sam joked. “And I have to warn you. She may not be too happy to meet you. I think she’s got the hots for me.”

  Carla laughed. “Why does every man think if a woman is even halfway nice they must have the hots for them?”

  “Don’t forget,” Sam replied. “I’m a detective. I’m trained to pick up on personal cues.”

  He knocked on the door again.

  “Maybe she’s out back,” Sam said. “Do you mind?”

  Carla picked up on Sam’s concern and followed him around to the side of the house. As they walked past the sweet scent of a thick iris bush, they craned their necks to look over it into a window. Lights were clearly on inside but, from their angle, it was hard to make out more than that. Sam continued toward the backyard, but something in the window caught Carla’s eye. She pushed forward into the bush to get a closer look.

  “Sam,” Carla muttered, beckoning him back.

  Sam walked back to her and maneuvered around the large plant so he could look in the window better. It appeared to be a small dining room with very few furnishings. Four chairs surrounded a round farm table and there was also something on the floor behind it. He cupped his hands on the window to block off the reflection of the clear blue sky.

  Sam scooted along the window to get a look from a different angle.

  “Holy shit,” he muttered.

  It was a body lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

  12

  Jane’s front yard was overrun by vehicles, including an ambulance and a barrage of police cars from Chilmark, as well as the towns of West Tisbury, Oak Bluffs and Edgartown.

  After spotting the body, Sam ran to the front of the house and found the front door unlocked. They both rushed inside and were shocked to find Jane’s bloodied body. Carla had called 911 immediately, and Sam started looking for signs of a killer.

  By the time the cops had shown up, they were both waiting outside so as not to disturb the crime scene. An hour later, they were still there, leaning against the trunk of one of the squad cars when Sam spotted a man emerging from the house. The man was clean-cut with boyish good looks that made him look much younger than he probably was. He had short, light brown
hair, blue eyes and a wrestler’s body - muscular and compact. He wasn’t in uniform but was clearly a cop - probably the acting detective. And from the swagger in his walk, Sam guessed a very cocky one at that.

  Sam beelined it toward the detective, leaving Carla and the uniformed officer mid-statement. He extended his hand as he approached.

  “Hey, I’m guessing you’re the man in charge,” Sam said. “I’m Detective Sam Lawson. I called this in.”

  The detective threw a perplexed look at Sam.

  “You’re a detective where?” he asked.

  “Oh, not here,” Sam said with a chuckle. “Back in Texas. I’m here visiting.”

  The detective looked back at Carla where Sam was pointing.

  “And you were here, why?” he asked.

  “I was going to borrow a mattress,” Sam said. “I came by yesterday. With Jude Mayhew? But the victim here couldn’t find the key to the storage shed.”

  “So you came back this morning,” the detective said.

  “She texted me last night,” Sam said, reaching into his pocket to get his phone.

  “You see anything out of the ordinary this morning?” the detective asked.

  “Other than a dead, bloody body? No.”

  Turner looked at Sam, clearly not amused at his attempt at humor.

  “I didn’t get your name,” Sam said, switching topics.

  “Detective Turner,” he answered. “And as a fellow detective, you have to appreciate all I have going on here, so if you’ll excuse me.”

  Turner tried to walk past Sam, but Sam wasn’t ready to end the conversation.

  “I told one of the uniforms that there didn’t appear to be any signs of forced entry,” Sam said. “And no real sign of a struggle. At least, up until the point of attack. My girlfriend is a medical examiner and she…”

  “An M.E., seriously? Are you two a traveling murder squad?” Turner asked, his patience clearly running thin.

  “Hey, I’m just trying to help,” Sam said, slightly stunned at the detective’s attitude.

  “I appreciate it. But we’ve got it under control,” Turner said.

  “I saw her last night in town,” Sam offered. “She was having an argument with someone.”

  “You saw Jane in town last night?” Turner asked. “You seemed to see a lot of Miss Caplan.”

  “Listen, pal. A lady was murdered and I’m trying to help. You don’t need to cop an attitude,” he stopped and cracked a sly smile. “Cop an attitude. I didn’t even mean to do that.”

  Turner did not share in the amusement.

  “A woman is dead, sir,” Turner reminded him. “Maybe that’s something you take lightly in Texas, but we take it very seriously. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  Sam nodded.

  “Sorry,” he said. “You’re right. But if there’s anything I can do to help…”

  “Do you know how many vacationing cops we get here that are just trying to help? And it’s not even Memorial Day yet,” Turner said. “The way you can help the most is by letting us do our job.”

  He walked past Sam, purposefully brushing his shoulder.

  “Oh, and I’m going to need you and your medical examiner girlfriend to come to the station,” he yelled back over his shoulder. “I’ll need a fresh set of fingerprints to check against the ones we found in the house.”

  Sam waved back at him in acknowledgement, his fingers bent ever so slightly to subtly flip the detective off.

  13

  Sam sat at a small table in what was doubling as an interrogation room at the Chilmark Police Station. It was actually a conference room separated by a glass wall from the rest of the station. Sam impatiently drummed his fingers on the table as he looked out at the cluster of cops that were maneuvering around the row of desks in the small space. Carla, who was sitting impatiently at one of the desks, looked over at him and Sam waved with exaggerated enthusiasm.

  When Sam and Carla arrived at the station, Sam had noticed a nameplate on the desk where Carla was now sitting: Sgt. Det. Paul Turner.

  Well, at least he has a first name, Sam thought.

  Growing restless, Sam stood in hope of finding his new detective friend in the crowd of cops. At that moment, Turner appeared around the corner and walked in the conference room, shutting the door behind him.

  “So, Detective Sam Lawson,” he said. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself down in Texas.”

  “You know how it is,” Sam said with mock humility. “Seems like I’m always at the right place at the right time.”

  “Like you were this morning, huh?” Turner asked.

  Before Sam could even protest, Turner started laughing.

  “I’m just busting your chops,” he said with a smile.

  He sat down on the other side of the table from Sam.

  “So you’ve got a legit team back in Texas, right?” Turner asked. “I mean, we’re a skeleton crew. Not much need for more than that normally.”

  “Consider yourself lucky,” Sam said. “Less people means less red tape.”

  While it seemed the detective was warming up, Sam kept his guard up. It wouldn’t make sense for such an abrupt change in attitude.

  Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Sam thought to himself.

  “So, as I said earlier,” Sam said, changing the subject. “Last night I saw the victim in an argument with someone. I couldn’t make out who it was, but I know the restaurant they were at so it would be easy…”

  “It was her boyfriend,” Turner interrupted. “We already checked it out.”

  “So, I’m guessing you’re bringing him in for questioning, right?”

  Turner laughed, shaking his head.

  “I said I have a skeleton crew,” Turner said. “But I assure you, I know what I’m doing.”

  “I was just asking,” Sam said. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

  “I know these people. You don’t,” Turner said. “Trust me. It was just a little lover’s quarrel.”

  “You and I both know the boyfriend is always the first suspect,” Sam said. “Except for the husband. It’s the husband and then the boyfriend. Unless there’s both. Then I guess it’s a toss-up.”

  Turner listened impatiently, waiting for him to finish.

  “Boyfriend’s name is John Rowe. I’ve known him my whole life, detective,” Turner said. “He’s a good friend. Not that I owe you any explanation, but I can assure you he is not a murderer. Especially one as brutal as this one. Stabbed fifteen times.”

  “Guess that’s what they mean by overkill,” Sam said with a smirk.

  Turner shook his head in disapproval.

  “Oh, come on,” Sam protested. “That was funny! It’s gallows humor. It’s what we cops do.”

  “I knew the victim, detective,” Turner said. “I don’t find any of this funny.”

  Sam felt ashamed. He had forgotten this was a small, tight-knit community. And he was being a loudmouth Texas asshole.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was out of line. Nervous habit.”

  Turner nodded and sat down across from Sam. He seemed to be deciding how much he could share with this visiting cop.

  “Any luck with fingerprints?” Sam asked, once again changing the subject.

  Turner welcomed the detour.

  “The place had been wiped clean,” Turner said. “We didn’t even find any of Jane’s prints near the crime scene. Just you, your examiner friend and one other that we’re trying to match.”

  “Why would someone go to all the trouble to wipe the place down and then leave a set of prints?” Sam asked.

  Turner shrugged. “Got nervous? Got sloppy? Who knows?”

  “That’s got to seem a little fishy to you,” Sam said.

  Before Turner could answer, a uniformed officer entered the room and handed a file to Turner. Turner tried to keep a poker face, but Sam noted a hint of surprise.

  “Put this on my desk, please,” Turner said to the officer.

  Turner pulled out
his phone and turned his back to Sam, speaking in muffled tones. Sam looked out through the glass wall and got Carla’s attention, motioning at the file that had just been set down on the desk in front of her. Carla, getting the hint, discreetly opened the file and began to read. Turner hung up the phone, but just before he turned around, Sam saw Carla gasp in shock.

  14

  “And you’re sure you read it right?” Sam asked as he paced back and forth in Vanessa’s living room.

  “I know how to read a report,” Carla replied. “I write them, remember?”

  Sam held up his hands in surrender.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Carla grabbed Sam’s hand as he paced by her, stopping him. He looked at her and smiled.

  “Maybe they were old prints,” Vanessa offered.

  Carla turned to her sister, who was sitting next to her on the couch.

  “Let’s hope,” Carla said. “But right now, all we know is that Norm’s fingerprints were found at the scene of the crime. And they were the only prints besides the two of us. Luckily, from what I could read, they got them from LED light, which means they probably weren’t visible to the naked eye.”

  “Right,” Sam chimed in. “Because that means… What does it mean?”

  “It means it wasn’t a bloody fingerprint or something truly incriminating,” Carla explained.

  “Would Norm have had a reason to visit Jane?” Sam asked.

  Vanessa shook her head.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “He may have done some yard work for her or something? He did all kinds of odd jobs for people during the off-season.”

  “Any reason why he would have been there recently?” Sam asked, treading carefully. “Like, last night?”

  Vanessa looked at Sam in shock. “What are you saying?”

  “They’ll probably send the prints out for analysis to get a better idea of how old they were,” Carla interrupted, changing the subject.