put it past the senator to be involved.”
Letting out a massive sigh, Matt admitted, “Four hours waiting in the emergency room to get patched up, another two and a half on the drive back, and now Sam dead. I’ve about had it for one day.”
Park emptied the Scotch he had just poured for himself and said, “Not to add to your woes, but I got a fax from the Coast Guard today, thanking me for my services and informing me there’s no further need for same. Send bill, they’ll send money, and they’ll take care of the barge from now on.”
“I’ll bet. Them and AFI, but I’m not giving up,” Matt promised as he turned back to the framed photograph of
Native Diver.
“You don’t have to get involved any further, Steve. Me getting the hell beat out of me, and all of a sudden, Sam Gravely dead, murdered, too much of a coincidence, and I don’t believe in coincidences. I’m going to find out what’s down there, and I am not going to wait for Henry Shoemaker to tell me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Nobody beats my ass, figuratively and literally, murders an old friend who was just trying to help, then walks away with all the marbles.”
“You don’t know they did that to Gravely. Could’ve been a burglar. Anybody,” Park argued.
“I’ll see what the cops have to say tomorrow morning.” Matt checked his watch. “Damn! Should’ve said
this
morning.” Looking at the picture on the wall, he added, “Unless you’ve got something planned, I’d like to borrow your boat tomorrow night.”
“No problem…if I can come along.”
“Might get bumpy.”
Park laughed. “Bumpy’s my middle name.”
CHAPTER 12
Friday, 19 October 2001
The Jacksonville Beach Police Department, which Matt remembered being cramped into the old City Hall a block from the beach, was now in a brand new building on the backwaters of South Penman Road, a building that lacked any personality.
Like something the military would build,
he mentally remarked to himself, remembering the fill-in-the-number architecture he’d seen on so many Navy and Marine Corp bases through the years.
At the moment, however, the building’s aesthetic value was only of peripheral interest compared to the day’s agenda. Rather than meeting with Detective Sergeant Terri Good and Detective Mike Hammersmith in an office, he was led to an interview room that felt more like an interrogation room. A bank of fluorescent lights mounted in the ceiling lit the room, while the walls, bare of any decoration, were painted a glaring Day-Glo yellow.
To keep the suspect awake,
Matt decided. They sure as hell didn’t have to worry about that, considering the pain still throbbing along the length of his ribcage and in his head from the beating he’d taken. As for furniture, a single table sat in the middle of the room. He sat on one side, Hammersmith and Good on the other. A cassette tape recorder with all kinds of bells and whistles sat within Good’s reach.
When the two officers introduced themselves and flashed their badges, Matt said, “Interesting!” He reached toward Good’s blue and gold badge nestled in a leather fold-over pouch. “Yours says Jacksonville Beach.” Pointing to Hammersmith’s, he went on, “And his says Jacksonville. How come?”
“Hammersmith’s on loan from the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office,” Good volunteered. “We’re a relatively small force and two of our detectives are in the hospital. Shot trying to stop a B and E in progress.”
“Breaking and entering,” Hammersmith tossed out in an educate-the-civilian tone of voice.
“I’ve heard the term before,” Matt said quietly, already knowing he didn’t like Hammersmith. Turning to Good, he asked, “Not sure why I’m here, but what can I do for—”
“I knew it!” Hammersmith said, his eyes narrowing on Matt’s face.
“You knew what?” Good asked.
Nodding at Matt, Hammersmith answered, “Who he is. Knew it the minute I saw his name on the fax.” To Matt, he
Letting out a massive sigh, Matt admitted, “Four hours waiting in the emergency room to get patched up, another two and a half on the drive back, and now Sam dead. I’ve about had it for one day.”
Park emptied the Scotch he had just poured for himself and said, “Not to add to your woes, but I got a fax from the Coast Guard today, thanking me for my services and informing me there’s no further need for same. Send bill, they’ll send money, and they’ll take care of the barge from now on.”
“I’ll bet. Them and AFI, but I’m not giving up,” Matt promised as he turned back to the framed photograph of
Native Diver.
“You don’t have to get involved any further, Steve. Me getting the hell beat out of me, and all of a sudden, Sam Gravely dead, murdered, too much of a coincidence, and I don’t believe in coincidences. I’m going to find out what’s down there, and I am not going to wait for Henry Shoemaker to tell me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Nobody beats my ass, figuratively and literally, murders an old friend who was just trying to help, then walks away with all the marbles.”
“You don’t know they did that to Gravely. Could’ve been a burglar. Anybody,” Park argued.
“I’ll see what the cops have to say tomorrow morning.” Matt checked his watch. “Damn! Should’ve said
this
morning.” Looking at the picture on the wall, he added, “Unless you’ve got something planned, I’d like to borrow your boat tomorrow night.”
“No problem…if I can come along.”
“Might get bumpy.”
Park laughed. “Bumpy’s my middle name.”
CHAPTER 12
Friday, 19 October 2001
The Jacksonville Beach Police Department, which Matt remembered being cramped into the old City Hall a block from the beach, was now in a brand new building on the backwaters of South Penman Road, a building that lacked any personality.
Like something the military would build,
he mentally remarked to himself, remembering the fill-in-the-number architecture he’d seen on so many Navy and Marine Corp bases through the years.
At the moment, however, the building’s aesthetic value was only of peripheral interest compared to the day’s agenda. Rather than meeting with Detective Sergeant Terri Good and Detective Mike Hammersmith in an office, he was led to an interview room that felt more like an interrogation room. A bank of fluorescent lights mounted in the ceiling lit the room, while the walls, bare of any decoration, were painted a glaring Day-Glo yellow.
To keep the suspect awake,
Matt decided. They sure as hell didn’t have to worry about that, considering the pain still throbbing along the length of his ribcage and in his head from the beating he’d taken. As for furniture, a single table sat in the middle of the room. He sat on one side, Hammersmith and Good on the other. A cassette tape recorder with all kinds of bells and whistles sat within Good’s reach.
When the two officers introduced themselves and flashed their badges, Matt said, “Interesting!” He reached toward Good’s blue and gold badge nestled in a leather fold-over pouch. “Yours says Jacksonville Beach.” Pointing to Hammersmith’s, he went on, “And his says Jacksonville. How come?”
“Hammersmith’s on loan from the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office,” Good volunteered. “We’re a relatively small force and two of our detectives are in the hospital. Shot trying to stop a B and E in progress.”
“Breaking and entering,” Hammersmith tossed out in an educate-the-civilian tone of voice.
“I’ve heard the term before,” Matt said quietly, already knowing he didn’t like Hammersmith. Turning to Good, he asked, “Not sure why I’m here, but what can I do for—”
“I knew it!” Hammersmith said, his eyes narrowing on Matt’s face.
“You knew what?” Good asked.
Nodding at Matt, Hammersmith answered, “Who he is. Knew it the minute I saw his name on the fax.” To Matt, he
Similar Books
