Picking Up the Pieces

by Maryann Jordan

  “Be right back…I need to deal with this,” he mumbled as he sat up and tossed the condom in the trash can before immediately encircling his arms around her.

  They lay entangled, bodies slowly cooling from their shared passion. Brushing back a damp tendril from her forehead, Lance stared at her heated beauty. She completed him, as though all the broken pieces fit back together—not in the same way he had been before, but as a new man.

  29

  Pulling into the parking lot of the elementary school, Lance parked in the front. “Got big plans today?”

  Jade nodded, her eyes bright. “We’re finishing our projects for Thanksgiving. They’re creating sea glass picture frames for their class pictures. I thought about making that project for the Christmas holidays, but the art teacher has them doing other things then.”

  He observed her animated face and was unable to hold back a grin from reaching his lips.

  “What?” she asked, her voice huffing playfully.

  Leaning over, he gave her a quick kiss, wanting to take it deeper but mindful of their location. “You’re just cute, babe,” he murmured against her lips.

  Shaking her head as she grinned back, he walked around to her side and assisted her down.

  “Jade,” he called as she began to walk away. As she turned and looked back, he reminded, “Don’t go anywhere until I come pick you up.”

  Nodding, the light dimming in her eyes, she replied, “I promise.” With a little wave, she made her way into the building, unaware of the occupant of another car in the parking lot, staring at her.

  “So far, what we’ve got is a whole lot of facts, but none of them connecting the dots,” Grant grumbled to the group gathered around the BPD workroom.

  Mitch walked in and quickly took a seat. “Got the preliminary report from Colt on the finding from George’s boat. Not everything is in, but there was definitely blood on the deck. There was an attempt to clean it with bleach, but whoever was cleaning was not nearly thorough enough. Multiple samples were taken and they matched George.”

  “So, he was killed on his boat,” Lance said, sighing heavily. “Fingerprints?”

  “Colt said the boat was wiped down, but they did manage to lift some partial prints from the underside of the wheel.”

  “Whoa, that might have been a big error the killer made,” Grant surmised, to the nods of the others.

  Lance knew the puzzle pieces would eventually fall into place, but investigations took time to separate what was not needed from what would show them the way. “I listened to the speakers at the funeral and did some digging this morning into Thomas Fedor.”

  Seeing the raised eyebrows of some of the others, he continued, “This guy had everyone suspicious when he first came to buy out the Sunset View Restaurant, but has now integrated into the community and has the backing of Corwin and Silas.”

  At the mention of the mayor and town manager, eyes rolled, but he added, “He came from New York and his background is somewhat murky—”

  “Murky?” Ginny asked, her sharp eyes on him.

  Nodding, he said, “His full name is Thomas Fedorov, and it appears he has an uncle involved with some of the less savory, underground movers and shakers from the New York crime families. They’re not at the top…hell, probably not even in the middle, but he definitely has some family members running with the mob crowd.”

  Shaking his head, Mitch asked, “How the hell did none of this show up when he was at the auction or when he started buying up property along the shore?”

  “Don’t know, but then, I suppose there wasn’t much to check on at the time. He had the financial backing to make an offer on the auction and the sellers were just glad to get someone willing to pay millions.”

  “Anything else on him?” Mitch inquired.

  “Yeah…his casino in New Jersey is having financial problems,” he announced, drawing disbelieving looks from the others. “I know. You’d think that a casino would be doing fine, but for reasons I haven’t been able to discern, he poured a lot of borrowed money into restructuring the casino and the bank is wanting their loan payments.”

  “You think this is tied into smuggling and possibly George?” Grant asked.

  “I haven’t got any evidence that Thomas was doing anything wrong, but it makes him a person of interest. He certainly has the family connections to put a hit on someone.”

  Mitch rubbed his chin for a moment, his thoughtful gaze on the whiteboard with the list of possible scenarios. “George had to have been involved in something to have those large sums of cash deposited into his account. He never took trips anywhere away from the area…only had an old laptop in his house, which produced nothing more than an email account. But he went out in his boat every day and, according to the other fishermen, his catches were small, at best. Thomas continued to do business with him, but we have to wonder why, when it might be easier for him to just deal with the other fishermen who could manage his large seafood supply need.”

  “So, was George getting something from a ship in the bay for Thomas? Something that would help Thomas pay off his staggering debt and give George some money to retire on?”

  Lance shook his head, saying, “It’s a way to connect the dots, but we need more than supposition—”

  Callan interrupted as he walked briskly into the room. “Sorry, everyone., but I just received the list of the ships that were anchored in the bay the days before George’s body was discovered.” Passing copies of the list to everyone, he continued, “We’re in luck because there weren’t as many as usual. We’ve got Dutch, Greek, United States, Belize, and Liberia.” He looked at the group as he said, “My bet’s on the Belize or Liberia.”

  “Why?” he asked, his head tilted in question.

  “Flag of convenience,” Callan stated before offering his explanation. “Our oceans are filled with ships that are not from the country whose flag they’re flying. Take Liberia—the country is impoverished from years of war, famine, no tourism, no crops, and yet, because of their liberal use of flags, ships from other countries who would like to hide their origins will pay Liberia a fee to use their country’s flag. It’s a money-maker for Liberia…well, for the ones who pocket the money. Dare say the poor never see the benefit.”

  “What is the benefit?” Burt asked, leaning forward, his forearms resting on the table.

  “Ships can reduce operating costs or avoid the regulations of the owner's country. They might be able to pay lower wages to the workers on board, get involved in criminal activities, illegal fishing, or polluting the waters. They operate under the regulations of the country they are flagged with. So, a shipowner finds a nation with an open registry to take advantages of reduced regulation, lower fees, and maybe friendlier ports.”

  Ginny, her head shaking, asked, “Is this legal?”

  “Yeah. It’s been going on for decades, but coming under a lot of criticism. Special enforcement is now taking a closer look when they make a call into various ports. That’s been part of our job and why I was so interested in the ships Jade was taking pictures of.”

  “You can’t stop them?”

  “Only if they have been detained three times in a twelve-month period. We’re doing what we can, but it’s still like plugging the dam with our finger.”

  Bringing the conversation back to their case, he asked, “What has you looking at the ships from Belize or Liberia, besides the flag of convenience?”

  “The cargo ship flying under the Dutch flag was carrying machinery and electrical equipment. The ship has a clean slate and no prior problems on record. The ship from Greece contained plastics. Also with a clean record. And neither ship has been to China, Russia, or anywhere in Asia for over a year.”

  “And the ships with the Belize and Liberia flags?” he prodded.

  Callan grinned as he leaned forward. “The ship from Belize was recently in the waters off Russia. Their holding tanks are carrying fish. If George was after the Totoaba fish, they’d be my guess
for ease in smuggling. The one from Liberia was also in Russian ports recently. Not fish, but still, I’m damn curious what George was getting that afforded him that much money. Drugs or weapons are a big possibility.”

  As Callan took a seat and the group began pouring over the new information about the ships, his thoughts roamed back to Jade. “Something’s still not adding up,” he said, his frustration palpable. “Why would the killer go after Jade? She took pictures that tell us nothing…Callan’s given us more information about these ships than her pictures ever could. She even said she got the identifying information from the websites available.”

  “All George ever gave her was fish,” Ginny protested.

  “But, the killer must think there was something else she discovered.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he battled the desire to see her against the desire to stay and keep working. As the others worked, he stepped out of the workroom, pulling out his phone, seeing a text from her.

  Faculty mtg after school. I can get a ride if you need me to.

  He quickly typed, No. Wait for me and I’ll be there.

  Waiting for a moment, he grinned as she replied, I’ll always wait for you. <3

  If the others observed his expression as he walked back into the room, no one said anything, but his heart was so full, he did not try to hide his smile.

  “Tomorrow is the last day before our Thanksgiving break, everyone, so make sure to place your finished picture frames on the bookshelves so they will dry overnight. Tomorrow, we’ll place your pictures in them and they’ll be ready for you to take home.”

  Jade smiled as the students rushed around, excitement in the air as their voices reached a fevered pitch. Quieting them, she checked their work before lining them up at the door once their belongings were gathered. As they walked down the hall toward the door leading to the buses, she gave them a thumbs-up for their behavior. Waving as they headed to the bus monitors, she ran into Bill as she turned to go back into the school.

  “Did you hear?” he asked excitedly, swiping his hand through his hair, his eyes twinkling.

  “Hear what?”

  “No faculty meeting!”

  Her eyes widened as excitement raced through her. “Really? I thought the principal had the agenda all set?”

  “Seems the superintendent called all the principals to a meeting at the School Board Office instead. And I’m sure she won’t hold one tomorrow since it’s the day we get out for Thanksgiving, so… no faculty meeting this week.”

  “I know we have things we need to go over, but I’m so glad,” she gushed. “It was a little tough being back today and I’m tired.”

  His gaze dropped to her bandaged wrist and he asked, “How are you doing? I couldn’t believe you were in a car accident.”

  “I’m lucky. My foot was banged up, but it’s getting better. My wrist isn’t badly broken…just a hairline. The kids were great, but after a couple of days with a substitute last week, they were a little rambunctious.”

  “I…uh…heard through the grapevine that you were run off the road…like, uh…on purpose?” he asked, his eyes searching her face, landing on the small cuts still visible.

  Her gaze flashed fire as she nodded. “Yes, some bastard in a stolen, big, black truck hit me and then purposefully ran me into a bunch of trees before speeding away.”

  His forehead wrinkled as he pursed his lips. “That’s horrible, Jade. Do the police know who did it?”

  “No, not yet. But if they ever find out who did, I’d like to get hold of them first before they haul him off to jail!”

  He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wow, you sound ruthless, but then I guess you have a right to be.”

  As they reached her classroom, she said, “I’ve got to let Lance know he can pick me up earlier, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll wait with you,” he said. “I would offer you a ride, but I came on my bike this morning.”

  “I’m definitely too old to ride on your handlebars,” she joked. “I’ll send Lance a text and then meet you out front.”

  Ten minutes later, they sat on one of the benches in front of the elementary school. After several minutes of chatting, Bill looked down as his phone vibrated an incoming message. Sighing heavily, he looked at it before sliding it back into his pocket.

  “You okay?” she asked, observing the deflated expression on his normally smiling face.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice lacking conviction. After another moment, he asked, “Do you ever wonder about teaching? Like, is it enough?”

  “Enough?”

  “My mom was a teacher and my dad was a principal. My uncle was a coach at a high school. I’ve got two sisters and one is a school nurse and the other teaches special education. Hell, teaching was all I ever knew.” Sighing again, he added, “But it sure as hell doesn’t pay all the bills…or at least not very well. In the spring, I’ll get to coach afterschool at the high school, so that’ll bring in a little more money.”

  Nodding, she said, “We’ll never get rich in this career, but Bill, we get to touch the lives of so many children. Make a difference. Help them reach their potential. And hopefully, for some of them, help them rise out of poverty through education.”

  Chuckling, he said, “You sound like a commercial for teaching.”

  Nodding her head as she laughed, she agreed. After the mirth slowed, she asked, “What made you think of all of that?”

  “Got a notice from the bank. I’m overdrawn again by about twenty dollars…but hey, payday is tomorrow. Normally, I don’t cut it this close, but my second job had a little…uh…hiccup this month, so I was overly generous with my credit card payments.”

  “I didn’t know you had a second job.”

  Shrugging, he looked into the distance before bringing his gaze back to her. “I do some work for Thomas Fedor…well, for the Sunset View Restaurant. Just some odd jobs when he needs me.”

  Before she had a chance to ask more about his work, an SUV pulled to the front and she smiled, seeing Lance’s face. Turning to Bill, she said, “Thanks for waiting for me.” Standing, she looked back at his boyish face. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” he assured. “I’ll be fine.”

  As Bill watched Jade reach the vehicle, he pulled his phone back out, texting Thomas, I need more work. ASAP.

  30

  Lance parked at the harbor, noting the fishing vessels were gone but there was still plenty of activity with a few sailboats and personal boats docked. As he climbed out of his SUV, he waved toward Skip, who was walking back to his office with a few young dock helpers.

  Greeting him, Skip invited him into the messy office. Papers were scattered across the desk, along with an open laptop. Charts and maps lined the walls.

  Skip shook his head. “I know this place is a mess. Lord only knows how I keep up with everything, but somehow I know where it all is.”

  “The building looks fairly new,” he commented, his gaze roaming about the room.

  Grinning, Skip said, “It’s one of the changes I’ve finally been able to make. It’s small, but we have bathrooms, including showers, for the people coming in to dock for a night or longer. With the Seafood Shack at the end of the parking lot, people have got a nice place to eat. In the busier season, I’ve got some teenagers who help me out on the docks as well.” Motioning for him to take a seat, he added, “This harbor even won an award after I got a grant to fix the place up. We redid some of the harbor, replacing anything worn or rotten. We got the parking lot and loading ramps fixed, cleaned the whole area and lined with flowers beds. Been working here for a while, but damn if the town manager doesn’t balk at everything I try to improve.”

  Chuckling, he said, “That’s what I hear from everyone. Silas likes to have the last word on just about everything.”

  Skip’s intelligent gaze landed on him. “Well, enough pleasantries. I figure you’re here to talk about George.”

  Nodding, he
replied, “George and anyone else you think might know something.”

  Blowing out a breath, he asked, “Anything in particular you’re looking for besides what we’ve already discussed?”

  “We’re looking at the possibility that George might have gone out into the bay at night…not for fishing, but perhaps to meet up with someone. Any chance that could happen and, if so, could that be tracked?”

  Skip rubbed his whiskers, a worried line creasing his brow as his chin dropped to his chest. “Well, obviously, he could go out at night and no one is here to monitor the harbor after hours. Granted, I’m usually here long after my stated hours, but once I’m gone, there aren’t any watchman or guards here. ‘Course the Coast Guard is right over there,” he added, pointing out to the far side of the small harbor.

  “Would they keep track of boats coming in and out of this harbor?”

  Shaking his head, he admitted, “Nah. That’s not their job. We got boats, commercial as well as personal ones, coming and going all hours. In fact, for personal boats, we have an honor system set up for the docking payment if they come at night when we aren’t here.”

  “So, it’s possible for George to have gone out at night, be gone a couple of hours, and return unnoticed?”

  “But why? Why would he?”

  Lance waited silently, giving Skip time to answer his question.

  After a moment, the harbor master sighed heavily and said, “Yeah…it wouldn’t be hard at all. Especially for him.”

  He tilted his head and Skip explained, “He knows…uh…knew…the harbor like the back of his hand. He could slip out and back in barely making a ripple. And while I never knew him to disable his marine GPS…well, it’s possible he could have.”

  The men sat in silence for a moment before Skip added, “I get the feeling from this investigation that George was involved in something…something out in the bay that wasn’t fishing.” When Lance did not confirm, Skip continued, “George was a good man, but for the past six months or so, he seemed to not care as much about his business. His boat needed some repairs and the last time I was at his house, it needed work too. I thought maybe the bills from his wife’s medical costs or his son’s legal woes might have drained him. Offered him some help. Offered to let him work the docks at times when he wasn’t out fishing. But, he always turned me down.”