by Alex P. Berg
“Something woke me.”
“A volcanic eruption?”
I snorted. “I deserved that. Ask a stupid question, or vice versa. Whatever. The point is, do you remember when Mines told us about the last murder in Aragosto?”
“The last murder…?” Shay sat up a little. “Jake, what’s going on? What are you talking about?”
“The last murder in Aragosto. Back when they still had a homicide detective on staff. How long ago did she say that was?”
“I don’t know. Six years?”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” I stood and started to pace. “When I asked Joey about that abandoned home near Sea Ridge Tours, he said the guy who owned it died five or six years ago. Not that he was murdered, that he died, but still.”
“You think it was the same guy?”
“Yeah. Martin something. No. Martinsvale. It was a last name.”
Shay sat up all the way. “Martinsvale? Who the heck is that?”
“Connors mentioned him. Said he was the guy who told him about the merfolk, who showed them to him. Silverbrook ignored him, but what if Connors was telling the truth? Martinsvale must’ve been the guy who lived in that abandoned house. I’m willing to bet that unicorn horn on him being the guy who was murdered six years ago.”
Shay swiped a hand through her hair, trying to tame its unruly nighttime behavior. “Since when do you come up with crazy theories at night? I thought that was a daytime pastime?”
“Think about it, Shay,” I said. “Joey said the home next door belonged to the head of a nature conservancy. That the guy who’d lived there had been a real pain in the ass, both to guys like him and to the Abanos, who if my mind serves me correctly own the hunting ranch Joey works at. Why would he be a pain in the ass? Because he kept them from hunting and fishing the sorts of creatures they wanted to, I’d bet. If they could eliminate a guy like that? The only person who stood in the way and was willing to make a scene about it?”
“Whoa, there,” said Shay. “Are you suggesting all these murders are about—”
“Territory,” I said. “Hunting and fishing rights, and not just to the obvious stuff like fish, crabs, turkeys, and deer. I’m talking about hunting merfolk and unicorns. Trophy hunting, perhaps. Or poaching. But I’m willing to bet there were two sides to that business, the Abano’s and the Nicchi’s. Based on how wealthy the Abanos are, I’ll give you one guess as to who won that battle.”
“But…you think this has been playing out for the last six years? Why would it come to a head now?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe it has something to do with Bianca. Either way, we need to get ahold of the files related to the murder from six years ago. If I’m right and it was this conservancy guy Martinsvale who was murdered, then we might not need to prove who murdered Nicchi. We might be able to nab our killer off a six year old crime.”
“That’s a lot of ifs,” said Steele. “And it assumes people are actively hunting merfolk and unicorns. And what about Joey’s manhunt?”
I started throwing on my clothing. “Mines will be fine without us for the search. She’ll know his haunts better than we would. For all we know, he’s off hiding in the forest. We need to focus on the things we can control, and I know for a fact where those case records will be.”
“But can’t this wait? You know, until dawn at least. Preferably until after Quinto arrives with our clothes and we put some breakfast in our bellies?”
“Good call,” I said. “We can grab more of those egg and sausage sandwiches on our way out. But that’s going to be a no-go on Quinto and fresh clothes. Don’t worry. I won’t throw you back just because you’re a little on the ripe side.”
Shay snorted. “Oh, I wasn’t worried about me…”
“Come on, Shay. Chop-chop. We’re one connection away from breaking this thing wide open.”
Shay grumbled, but she got up and started to get dressed, all while I learned what it felt like to wait on someone else in the wee hours of the morning. It gave me a sense of empowerment, but I somehow doubted I’d be rising early again just for the hell of it.
34
“Come on, come on.” I paced in front of the Aragosto police station, my arms crossed tightly. The morning sky resembled a shallow pool, a dark sea green in color flecked with streaks of blue and magenta. “Seriously, where is everyone? Shouldn’t someone be here? This is a police station, for crying out loud! What if someone got knifed or assaulted or robbed in the middle of the night? They’re supposed to wait until the morning to report it?”
Shay sat on a bench to the right of the locked front doors, finishing the last of her breakfast sandwich. “That’s what Bianca did.”
“Well, it’s a terrible system. Someone should work overnight.”
“Aragosto is small,” said Shay. “As far as we know, there are only four cops in the entire town, all of whom I’m guessing were working later than we were last night.”
I kept pacing. “Mines said she’d be here bright and early to start the manhunt.”
“Well, I guess this is a little too bright and early.”
I snorted and approached a window. Through it, I could see the interior of the station, which stubbornly remained as empty as a minute ago. A clock on the wall ticked rhythmically, the hour hand firmly stuck at six and the minute hand approaching fifty.
“Those doors aren’t going to open no matter how hard you scowl,” said Shay.
“I’m disappointed with the lack of service here. I’m going to file a complaint.”
Shay swallowed the last of her sandwich. “You know, earlier I was thinking I should capture a vivid mental picture of you waking me up before dawn to drag me off to work. You know, to preserve it for posterity. But if this is how you’re going to act before seven, I think I’d rather forget it entirely. Heck, I’ll never wake you this early again myself.”
“Do you think they’d mind if we break in?”
Shay raised an eyebrow in my direction. “That’s a joke, right?”
“Sort of. This front window doesn’t look like it would stand up to a good pounding. We could always blame the damage on Joey if anyone asks.”
“We can’t break into a police station, Daggers. We’ll just have to wait until someone shows up.”
I shook my head. “We can’t do that either.”
“I’m assuming you mean you won’t, but okay. Do you have any better suggestions?”
I snapped my fingers a few times. “What if we talked to the homicide cop in charge of the case directly? You said it yourself, it’s a small town. If he’s still here, I’m sure we can find him.”
“We don’t even know his name,” said Shay.
“No, Mines mentioned it. It started with a ‘G’. Grimes or Gimley or—”
“Gentry.”
“There you go. See? You do remember. Good job.”
Shay stood. “Alright. So we have a name. I’m still not sure trying to find him is a better idea than waiting. Even if he’s up—”
I snorted. “Come on. An old retired guy? Of course he’ll be up early.”
“As I was saying, even if he’s up early, how would we find him? Someone else who’s up would have to point us his way. You plan on asking Weston at the hotel?”
“Well, I’d rather do something than sit here. And no, I wouldn’t ask Weston. We need someone we can trust. Someone who won’t lead us astray.” My eyes widened. “Someone who’d be up at seven in the morning in a spot where we’d know where to find her.”
A light flickered behind Shay’s eyes. “Fair enough. Race you there.”
35
We must’ve arrived right at the top of the hour, but Norma’s word proved true. The door opened upon our touch, the shopkeeper’s bell sounding as we pushed into the bait shop. Just as when we’d let ourselves in yesterday, no one manned the counter.
“Norma?” I called out. “It’s Daggers and Steele. Quinto’s pals, from yesterday? You back there?”
I heard a thump and a groan, and I almost darted into action except for the fact that a deep voice rumbled around the corner from the break room. “Just a sec.”
Instead of Norma, it was Felix who lumbered through the doorway, holding a hand against the top of his head.
“Hey, Felix,” I said. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said, waving. “I was rummaging around in one of the back cabinets when you called. I startled and smacked my head. No biggy.”
I remembered his mom saying something about missing gin, but he didn’t seem drunk. He’d better not be at seven in the morning.
“Your mom around?” asked Shay.
Felix shook his head. “Said she was going to be a half-hour late. Asked me to cover for her. I didn’t have any jobs this morning, so I obliged. Family business and all. Why? Is something going on with Folton?”
“Nothing like that,” I said. “Actually, you might be as much of a help as your mother. You’ve lived in Aragosto for a long time right?”
“Close to two decades. Why?”
“Do you remember a cop who retired a few years back by the name of Gentry?”
Felix rubbed his head, whether in thought or to massage his sore noggin I wasn’t sure. “Uh…yeah. An old guy. I remember him.”
“Is he still in town? And if so, do you know where we could find him?”
Felix pulled his hand down. “Well, to the first question, yeah, he’s around. He comes by the bait shop every now and again. He’s got a fishing dinghy that he takes around the bay, just for sport. Got to do something when you’re retired, I guess. But I have no idea where he lives, if that’s what you’re asking. Sorry.”
I clicked my tongue. “Dang. You wouldn’t happen to have records of bait shop customers somewhere in the back?”
“Not with their addresses, no. Although…”
“Although, what?” asked Steele.
“Well, if he’s got a boat, that means he pays to register it with Keonig, the dock super. His address would be on the registration.”
“And do you think Keonig would be in at the moment?” asked Steele.
“There’s a good chance,” said Felix. “Here. Come with me. I’ll lock the shop up behind us. Mom’ll forgive me.”
Felix ushered us out, down to the edge of the wharf, and over to the middle pier numbers, eventually stopping at a small shack situated there. He pushed on in, and we followed, virtually filling the standing space at the front of the shack’s interior. What little other space remained was occupied by a collection of bookshelves, filing cabinets, and one lonely, yellowing potted plant that looked like it hadn’t been watered in a month.
Keonig sat on a stool behind a slim counter, reading a book with a tattered binding. He looked up as we entered. “Hey. Skillethands. And you guys. The cops. What’s up?”
“You’ve met detectives Daggers and Steele, right?” said Felix. “They’re trying to track down that ex-cop. Gentry? He’s got a fishing boat at the end of the dock, pier thirty-seven or thirty-eight or something. Any chance you have his address somewhere?”
“Yeah, on his pay slip,” said Keonig. “You need it?”
“If you don’t mind,” said Steele.
“Sure. No problem. Give me a minute.”
Keonig stood, squeezed past us to one of the filing cabinets, threw open a drawer, and started flipping through the contents. We waited.
Felix cleared his throat, sounding like a rhino with whooping cough as he did so. “So, um…since we’re here. Do you mind if I ask you a question about Folton?”
“Sure,” I said. “Shoot.”
“I know he’s a cop like you are. But he’s also my family, even if we’ve been separated for over fifteen years. And I know he wasn’t exactly a saint before he joined up with you, but with all that said…”
We gave him a moment. He didn’t finish his thought.
“Yes?” said Shay.
“Well…how upset do you think he’d be if he found out I’d screwed up in the past? I mean…he’d forgive me, right?”
I waved him off. “Come on, Felix. As you said, Folton’s past is checkered, too. As long as you didn’t murder or rape anyone, I think you’ll be fine.”
Felix’s eyes widened. “What? Oh, no. Nothing like that.”
“Then you’ll be fine. Seriously, he’s family. He’ll forgive you.” I narrowed an eye. “You’re not involved in any of this though, are you?”
“Any of what?” asked Felix.
“Johnny Nicchi’s disappearance. Carmine Abano’s stabbing. Whatever Joey Nicchi is up to.”
“No,” he said. “Absolutely not. I promise. I wasn’t even that good of friends with Johnny. We’d talk on the docks sometimes, that was it. I try to be friendly with everyone. Gets me more work, you know?”
Despite being so familiar with Quinto, I couldn’t get a good read on the half-troll’s face. Nonetheless, I trusted him. Call it the family connection.
Keonig pulled a slip from the cabinet. “Here we go. One twenty-one Hill Avenue. If you go down Main, take a left on Walnut, you’ll find it.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You, too, Felix. We appreciate it. Take care of yourself, will you?”
Shay and I started for the door.
“Wait,” said Felix.
I turned. “Yeah?”
“Folton. He’ll be back, right?”
Shay put a hand to Felix’s arm. “He will. Don’t worry. We all want him back.”
“Mostly because he has our clothes,” I said.
Shay nodded. Felix didn’t get it, but he was nice enough to wave goodbye anyway.
36
I knocked on the door for a second time, shifting impatiently on the balls of my feet. A family of baby birds in a nearby tree was chirping up a storm, but as far as noises within the house, I still hadn’t heard any.
“Maybe he’s not in,” said Steele.
“Like I said earlier, he’s a retired guy who lives in a small town. Of course he’s here. The only other place he might be is at sea, and we checked the pier to make sure his raft was still in before hoofing it over here.”
“Raft?”
“Even referring to it as a skiff would be generous.”
With the morning sun strengthening and warming the back of my neck, I knocked a third time and called out. “Excuse me? Officer Gentry? Are you there?”
Finally I heard something. A creaking, some footsteps, what might’ve been a groan, and then the door opened, but only halfway. A guy of middling height stared at us through the gap, his gray hair thinning but closely cropped. Whatever care he took in grooming the hair on top of his head didn’t apply to the bottom half, however, as a wiry, disheveled beard stuck out from his chin in every direction at once.
He glared at us in the way only old-timers can. “Well? What is it? Who are you and what the hell are you doing on my porch?”
“Officer Gentry?” I said.
“Who’s asking?”
“I’m Detective Jake Daggers. This is my partner Detective Shay Steele.”
“Never heard of you.” He started to close the door.
I stopped it with my hand. “We’re not local. We’re from New Welwic, the 5th Street Precinct. I’m sorry to bother you, but we’d really like to ask you a few questions.”
“And I’d really rather not answer them,” he said. “Now get your damn hands off my door. My coffee’s going cold.”
I didn’t flinch. “It’s about Martinsvale. I’m right in assuming he’s the one who was murdered six years ago, aren’t I?”
Gentry squinted at us. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The guy who ran the nature conservancy. I’m taking a bit of a wild guess, but I’m assuming his name was Martinsvale and he was murdered six years ago. You investigated the case, right?”
Gentry pulled the door open a bit further. I drew my hand back. “Who did you say you were again?”
“Daggers and Steele.” I indicated who was who wi
th my thumb. “We work in homicide.”
“Alright. That explains things a little, but it doesn’t tell me why you’re here asking about a six year old murder investigation.”
“Mr. Gentry,” said Steele. “Were you aware that a local man, Johnny Nicchi, had been murdered?”
Gentry pulled the door the rest of the way open. “I’d heard he’d gone missing, not that someone killed him.” He shot a glance my way. “I don’t get out much.”
I didn’t doubt him. “Nicchi washed ashore in our jurisdiction, which is why we’re here investigating his murder. It’s a long story, but we think his death might be related to the murder you worked six years ago. It was Martinsvale, right?”
Gentry nodded. “Yeah. Phillip Martinsvale. Ran a nature conservation society, just like you said, though I’m pretty sure he was the only member.”
“And the case into his death,” I said. “It was ruled a murder, correct? Was it solved, or is it still cold?”
“Murder, yeah,” said Gentry. “But it’s not a cold case. It was warm and pink in the center. We found the guy who did it within a few hours.”
“You did?”
The old guy nodded. “A local bum by the name of Thimbleton. He was drunk as a skunk when we found him, not more than a few blocks from where Martinsvale got stabbed. Claimed he had no idea what we were talking about, that the last thing he remembered he was walking out of the Blind Pig on 4th, but he had blood on his hands and the murder weapon on him. We matched the entry wound and everything.”
I looked at Shay. She gave me a shrug.
Gentry got cagey again. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Questioning the guy’s investigative chops wouldn’t get me anywhere. “Nothing. It’s not important at the moment. But maybe you can tell me a little about the Abanos, since we’re here.”
Gentry lifted a thick eyebrow. “The fishing tycoons?”
I nodded. “When did they start building their fishing and crabbing businesses?”
“I’m not exactly sure. Maybe ten years ago.”