Dangerous Depths (25 page)

“Yeah,” Stark said, bending over for a closer
look. Stark might be afraid of water, but nothing about the dead
bothered him in the least.

“It’s not what killed him though.” The
coroner tipped the body over on its side. “This is what did it,” he
said, pointing at the deep wound at the back of the head. “Skull
was crushed.”

He continued to examine the body from head to
toe before he spoke again, his eyeglasses perched on the end of his
nose.

“The man sure put up a fight. Quite a few
defensive wounds—look at all the bruising on his arms. I’d say he
had them up to deflect the blows. At some point, he must have been
knocked to the floor on his face. That would have been when the
final blow came.”

“What about a weapon?” I asked. “Any
guesses?” I was leaning against a nearby table, close enough to see
all that I needed to see.

“From the looks of the wounds and the
bruising, I’d say something the size and heft of a crowbar.

“We retrieved some tools—a wrench, hammer,
pliers. Could the wound be from something like that?” I asked.

“As soon as the lab examines the tools for
blood and fibers, I’ll take a look at them, see if the pattern of
the wound matches, but I’m putting my money on a crowbar. I’ve seen
the damage one does before. People seem to prefer them when it
comes to killing, you know?”

“Yeah.” If he was right, we hadn’t found the
murder weapon. Whoever had killed Billings had taken it with
him—maybe dumped it out in deeper water, or else stashed it in the
boat that sped out of there after the
Lila B
started
burning.

“I’ll be checking the air passages and lungs
for smoke inhalation, but I’m betting this guy was dead long before
he could breathe any fumes.”

We’d seen enough to have a pretty good idea
what had happened on that boat. Whoever had started the fire was
trying to cover up any evidence of murder. It hardly ever worked.
There were always signs. Even when a body had been badly burned,
the bones would tell the story. In this case, the boat had gone
down before fire did its damage to the corpse.

“Call us when you have a complete report?”
Stark asked.

“Will do.” The coroner had removed his
glasses and was holding a magnifying glass and probing the head
wound with tweezers when we left.

Back at the office, Stark and I filled Dunn
in on the coroner’s initial findings. I tried to convince him that
we should be picking up Jergens.

“Why Jergens?” he asked.

“Come on, Chief. It’s Jergens’s M.O. He sets
fires. I think he set Billings’s boat on fire after crushing his
skull. I’m betting he was responsible for the explosion on Elyse’s
boat as well.”

“Maybe, Hannah, but we don’t have enough to
hold him. Right now, we don’t have a shred of evidence against him
in either murder. And what possible relationship could he have with
Billings? We need more. You two go talk to the wife. She’s already
been told about her husband’s death.”

***

Eleanor Billings lived over at East End on
the second floor of a whitewashed house. The yard was trimmed and
raked; heliconia, hibiscus, bougainvillea, and oleander flowered
under a canopy of palm trees. An emaciated island dog lay in the
shade, oblivious to our approach.

Stark knocked on the door and we stood
waiting. It was a long time before an old woman with white hair and
a house dress that hung from her huge frame answered the door. She
didn’t exactly welcome us to step inside.

“Whatcha be wantin’?” she asked, her face set
in a frown.

“I’m Detective Stark, this is Detective
Sampson. Is this the home of Eleanor Billings?” he asked.

“That’s right, but she don’t need no visitors
right now,” she said, moving to close the door.

“Who is it, Mama?” a voice called from the
back.

“Coupla detectives, honey. They got no call
to disturb you now.”

“It’s okay, Mama.” A younger, slimmer version
appeared behind the big woman. “Come in,” she said.

The apartment was small and neat but
overflowing: a living room couch, a couple of overstuffed chairs, a
threadbare rug, vases filled with flowers from the garden and
hundreds of china figurines most of kittens and angels. One of them
looked just like the fairy I’d been convinced I saw drifting in the
Lila B
. Kind of made me wonder.

The old woman headed to the kitchen and
started putting dishes in the sink, making as much noise as
possible.

“Guess you be here about Teddy.” Eleanor cast
a hopeless glance toward the kitchen. “Please sit down.” She’d
obviously been crying. Her eyes were red, and she held a balled-up
mass of tissues in her fist.

Stark took a seat on the couch while I
perched on the arm of one of the chairs, hoping to avoid contact
with any of the fragile glass creatures.

“We’re sorry to bother you at a time like
this,” I said. “But we would like to find out what happened to your
husband.”

“I be wantin’ to know da same thing.”

“What has Teddy been doing since you left
Flower?” Stark asked.

“We got an old fishing boat, been sitting in
storage for ten years. ‘Bout the only thing Teddy’s dad left him,
named after Teddy’s mama. Teddy was fixing it up. He had an idea
about takin’ tourists out to do some sport fishing. Teddy thought
he could be makin’ a good business. Had dreams ‘bout what that old
boat would look like when he finished. ‘Course, he was putting all
dat modern equipment on her. Went down every day to work on it. His
brothers be loanin’ him some money and we be havin’ a little
saved.”

“Do you know what he was doing up at the
north end of Virgin Gorda?” Stark asked.

“Teddy had been tryin’ to make a little extra
money doin’ some fishing. Had a few fish traps down. Maybe he don
put some up dat way. Sometimes he be out testin’ the boat engine,
that kind of thing. He could get caught up in dat boat and spend
all day out der but he be always home by nine. I knew something be
wrong when he be gone all night. I was about to call da police when
one came knockin’ on my door dis mornin’.” Her face contorted, her
eyes teared as she recalled the moment that she had heard her
husband was dead. She covered her face with the palms of her
hands.

“Was there anything of value on the boat?” I
asked when she regained her composure.

“Just dat new equipment. Like I said, the
boat was old. Teddy rebuilt the engine, put in a GPS, bought a new
radio, dat kinda thing. He was doing a lot of woodworking. Had da
inside pretty tore up.”

“All the equipment was intact when I went
into it,” I said, immediately realizing my mistake.

“You be on dat boat? You be the one who found
Teddy? Was he hurt bad?”

“I don’t think he suffered,” I lied. From
what we’d seen at the coroner’s, Teddy had suffered plenty.

“I hate to have to ask you this,” I said,
“but was Teddy involved in anything illegal?”

“No way,” she said, anger replacing the
sadness for an instant.

“Anything you tell us now can’t hurt Teddy,”
Stark said. “But it could help us find out who killed him. Maybe he
was trying to keep food on the table and got involved with the
wrong people. You couldn’t blame him, out of work and scraping by.”
Stark was giving her an opening to talk.

“I said no.”

I wondered whether she was covering for her
husband or simply clueless. Instincts told me neither.

“I just can’t imagine who dat would be. He
never tole me about meetin’ nobody.”

“What kind of work did Teddy do for Freeman?”
Stark asked.

“Me and Teddy both worked out on Flower
Island. We lived in da little cottage behind da big mansion out
there. Tended to the house and da land. Teddy worked real hard on
dat place, nailing and pounding. He be real handy with a hammer. He
don keep things in perfect shape. Took a lot of hard work. Da house
be real old. I kept up da inside, polishing and cleaning, and also
tended da gardens. Freemans, day be staying dar about two times a
month—weekends mostly. Less since he be busy with dat
election.”

“Why did Freeman fire Teddy?” I remembered
how Billings had lashed out at Freeman at the fund-raiser
yesterday.

“Accused Teddy of stealing. We be workin’ for
da man for two years. Never no problem. Den that. Teddy never stole
nothin’ from nobody. He was real angry about it.”

“Did your husband know Fred Jergens or a
couple named Moore who own the
Libation
?” I asked.

“I not be knowin’ dos names at all. Teddy
never mentioned none of dos folks.”

“Maybe Teddy was working with them, owed them
money, didn’t want you to know about it,” I suggested.

“I just don’t know. Teddy might have tried to
keep something like dat from me,” she admitted. “He be real proud
and real worried about money. Ever since he lost the job on Flower,
he not be himself.”

“One other thing, Mrs. Billings,” I said.
“Did Teddy smoke?”

“No, never did,” she said, surprised by the
question.

“Anybody helping him work on the boat
smoke?”

“No. Teddy didn’t want nobody else on da
boat. He was real particular about dat boat and how things were
done.”

“We’ll let you be, Mrs. Billings,” Stark
said, lifting his huge frame off the sofa.

“What do you think?” I asked when we got out
to the car.

“Man, I don’t know,” he said, rubbing a hand
over his skull.

“I think that Billings found out the same
thing that Elyse did,” I insisted. I knew he’d think I was
stretching it. He did.

“It all sounds pretty sketchy.”

“You got any better hypothesis?” I snapped. I
was tired, short-tempered, and frustrated.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to
invent one.”

“Maybe it’s all connected to the robberies,”
I said, trying to reason with him.

“If Jergens is involved in those thefts,
we’ll find out about it,” Stark said. “But stealing from boaters
doesn’t make him guilty of killing Elyse or Billings.”

Mary had left a message on my office phone,
insisting I meet her for dinner at the Callilou.

“Hannah, I know you’re suffering. So am I,”
she’d said. “It will help us both to talk.”

Nothing like having a psychiatrist as a
friend. She hadn’t given me an option, simply told me to be
there.

By the time I arrived, Mary had already
gotten a table.

“Hannah, I’m glad you made it,” she said,
standing and giving me a hug.

I could see the strain in her face, and the
sorrow.

I hadn’t realized how good it would be to see
her. She was the strongest connection I had to Elyse.

“Let’s order drinks,” she said. “I think we
both could use one.”

About then Alex Reidman walked up to the
table with a bottle of wine.

“My compliments,” he said. “This is the best
merlot in the house, and my favorite.”

I recognized the bottle. It had the same
label as the one I’d found when I’d dived the
Caribbe
. I
mentioned it to Reidman.

“Yes,” he said. “Elyse and I had dinner on
the
Caribbe
last week, musta been Wednesday. I brought the
wine. We had a wonderful evening. I still can’t believe we won’t
have another.” Why the hell did his attitude piss me off? I guess
it was because I knew that Elyse had not been close to Reidman.

He opened the wine, smelled the cork, and
poured a tiny bit in a glass he’d brought with him, swirled it,
drank, and smiled approvingly. Obviously, he thought he was the
only one capable of the evaluation.

“I think you will like this,” he said,
filling our glasses.

“Thank you, Alex,” Mary said, taking a sip of
wine. “It’s excellent.” I simply nodded.

“Enjoy,” he said, placing the bottle on the
table and then heading to the kitchen.

“I don’t like that man, Mary.”

“I know. But let’s not worry about him. How
you are doing?”

I gave her the short version of my dive,
avoiding the gory details, like the fact I’d nearly drowned. Then
we talked for a long time, mostly about all the good times we’d had
with Elyse.

She filled me in on Jilli as well. The girl
had taken Elyse’s death hard, but thankfully Jilli’s mother had
stepped up. Jilli told her parents about the abuse at school.

Her father was furious. Rita was the rational
one and made arrangements to keep Jilli in school and at home. “I
know Jilli wants to see you,” Mary said.

“I’ll see her, but I need to wait till I know
I won’t break down in front of her.”

“It would be okay if you did,” Mary said.

“Not for me,” I whispered.

About then Reidman joined us with snifters of
brandy to accompany our coffee. Last thing I wanted was brandy
after consuming a bottle of it on the
Sea Bird
two nights
ago.

“Heard you had some difficult diving today,”
he said.

“I’m always amazed at the speed of news on
the island,” I said. “How did you hear about the dive, Alex?”

“Ran into Edmund Carr in town. He told me you
recovered Billings. Said you’d been in the wreck bagging a dead
turtle when the boat let loose.”

“A turtle? For goodness sakes, Hannah, why
would you do that?” Mary asked.

“Seemed important at the time.” I was amazed
that the turtle had been the topic of conversation between Carr and
Reidman.

“Well, thank God you got out,” Mary said. I
knew what she was thinking—two friends lost in a matter of
days.

Mary and I said goodbye in the parking lot. I
unlocked the car and headed home. The night was dark, the sky
dotted with thousands of stars. It was past nine and the road was
deserted.

A lizard absorbing the remaining warmth of
the concrete scurried off into the weeds as I approached, and
insects swirled in my headlights. As I turned into Pickering’s
Landing a car came out of nowhere and sped past, the brake lights
glowing once before it took the next bend and disappeared.