The Truth Will Drop: Carter Peterson Mystery Series Book 5 Read online

  I only half heard what he was saying as I racked my brain, trying to remember if I’d seen any such weaponry on the bow of the boat in the video.

  Sarah turned toward me, looking pale. “Yeah … that’s a little scary,” she said, eyebrows raised.

  “You ever see those patrols monitoring the area where Moray brings the freighters in to dock?” I asked Everett.

  “Seems to me they’re around ‘bout half the time. I couldn’t say when, or why, exactly. Sometimes they’re there. Other times not.”

  I pulled my notebook out and jotted down what he’d said---including his previous comment about the machine guns. My real interest, of course, was to find out anything we could about the Sandakan Sun, but I didn’t feel comfortable asking him a direct question about the ship just yet. Sarah had made mention of the freighter while giving Everett his massage. If I were to broach the subject again so soon, he’d surely wonder why---and start asking questions, himself.

  At least we now had the ship tracking website at our disposal. We’d just have to be patient and wait for the freighter to return to our area, then keep our fingers crossed that Everett and the weather would cooperate when it did.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a tug on my arm. I turned to Sarah.

  “We should ask him about the incident,” she whispered.

  I hesitated for a beat in order to weigh the risks of doing so. If I were to introduce the topic casually, Everett would have no reason to wonder why I was asking.

  But, I was reluctant for a different reason: I didn’t want to drag the poor guy into our case any deeper than we already had.

  I looked at Sarah, held my index finger up, and gave her a wink. “Everett, you must have some pretty good stories, having been out here on the river for so many years. Working the water isn’t exactly the safest place to be.”

  “That’s true. Been out here long as I can remember. Since I was a kid, in fact. When I wasn’t in school, and the days was good, we’d go out lobster fishing, me and my father. Never had the first idea ‘bout being a fisherman way back then, and he didn’t push it. Figured I’d make up my own choice, I guess.”

  “Seems like you grew to love it,” I said.

  “After a spell, I suppose. Turns out it was a necessity back in them early days. My father died in 1961, few days after my twentieth birthday.”

  “That must have been tough,” I said.

  “It weren’t easy, but we got by. Ayuh, he was out on a foggy morning. Got sunk by a trawler. We figure he drowned. Never found his body.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sarah said.

  “Oh, well, that’s OK. Probably shouldn’t have been out there that day. But, he was. Course, each state makes up a lot of their own laws. Nothing was stopping him at the time.”

  I felt bad about initiating the conversation after hearing his story, but Everett didn’t miss a beat.

  “Then, there was Skeet Millar,” he said. “Long about summer of ’68, several of us lobster fisherman noticed our catches was falling off. Darn near overnight, in fact. Went on for weeks. Not a one of us could figure out what’s going on till old Skeet turned up face down, near shore. Got hit by one of them fancy jet boats going a mile a minute, just as Skeet surfaced with a net full of our lobsters. Stole ‘em right out of our traps, he did.”

  “Whoa, guess there was some serious karma at work that day,” I said.

  “Got that right,” Everett said. “Then, not too far back---maybe you heard---we had one of them Taylor boys pass. Didn’t know him personally, but everybody ‘round here’s pretty familiar with the family. That Taylor clan’s been working the decks of Moray’s tugs for many a generation. Long as I can remember, anyhow.”

  “Do you know what happened?” Sarah asked.

  “Not exactly, but I overheard some talk ‘bout it down The Ferry Landing. Couldn’t a been no more than a few days after it happened. Young Kief Hall, a local fisherman who comes and goes from time to time … well, he got to talking ‘bout it with some fella I ain’t never seen before. Other fella’s the one who was doin’ most the talking. Other fella said something ‘bout a milk run, then made Kief promise not to say them words to no one.”

  “Milk run?” I asked, discretely jotting down the name of the fisherman, along with the term.

  “Never heard it said before, so I couldn’t tell you what was meant by it,” Everett replied as he spun the wheel. “Gist I got was that everybody who got their hands in it was trying their darndest to keep the whole matter hushed-up. The fella I didn’t know got a little uppity when he thought I was listening, so I done got up and got myself out of there. They was both pretty drunk, from what I could tell. I didn’t want no trouble, you see.”

  I looked over at Sarah, who responded with a shrug.

  I decided to roll the dice. “Now that you mention it, Everett, I do remember hearing something about a deck hand getting killed out here. Middle of the summer, if I remember right. Heard he got hit in the head by a falling crate. Guess it fell off the ship Moray’s tugs were bringing in that day.”

  Everett turned and looked straight at me. “You don’t say. Damn sight more than I ever heard ‘bout it.”

  Sarah looked at me, jaw clenched. She hesitated, then said, “Yeah, well, I can’t remember who we heard it from, but it’s probably not true. This town’s full of people who like to start rumors. Good chance they made the whole thing up, you know?”

  “Could be,” Everett responded. “Plenty of fishing folk in our area. If there was any truth to it, I figure I would have heard something or other by now.”

  I put my hand on Everett’s shoulder. “Sorry I said anything. I don’t want to be one of those people who spread hearsay. I wouldn’t want such a thing getting back to the family. I’d feel terrible if it did.”

  “No worries, Carter. I ain’t much of no social butterfly, so folks won’t hear none of it from me. Fact is, I’d be lucky to remember any such thing come suppertime, anyhow.”

  Everett’s comment made Sarah laugh. “Good to know,” she said. “We heading back?”

  “Ayuh. Ought to be turning the bend just about the time Moray has that freighter lined up for bringing to dock. Fair chance we’ll have a nice view of her coming in.”

  “Bet you’ve seen Moray docking ships hundreds of times,” I said.

  “Guess I must have. Enough times where I don’t really notice no more. Just part of being out here on the water.”

  “I have a question for you,” I said. “Do tugs always keep a line attached to the ships they’re bringing in to dock?”

  “No, sir. They move around a good bit, pushin’ and shovin’ here and there. Depends on the tide, more than anything.”

  “Interesting,” I said, taking a step back so I could jot the information down without him seeing me.

  Everett seemed to know a great deal about what went on out here on the water, but didn’t have much to offer when it came to the particulars of our case. It was probably just as well. Like me, he’d already tangled with Homeland Security. And, after seeing the Coast Guard’s division of Homeland, first-hand---the equivalent of heavily armed military police on the water---I regretted pursuing Sarah’s choice of uninformed informants. The last thing I wanted to do was get an innocent, kind-hearted retiree more deeply involved in a case my gut was telling me could lead to trouble.

  At least Everett had given us a name. And a potential clue.

  As I gazed out through Juneau’s windshield, the freighter and tugs we’d come out here to watch came into view. I figured the process of getting such a behemoth tied-off would be interesting to watch, but my thoughts were now elsewhere. My mind was on locating Kief Hall and figuring out how to get him to explain to us what the term milk run meant…

  …without telling him why we needed to know.

  Chapter 9

  “Thanks again, Everett,” Sarah called out as we waved him off.

  I zipped my coat up tight, the wind off the water more intense now
than it had been when we’d left, two hours prior. I grabbed Sarah’s hand as we made our way up the dock toward dry land.

  “Not all we’d hoped for,” she said. “Matter of fact, watching Moray’s tugs bringing that ship in was borderline boring.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “Look, I know you put in a fair amount of effort to get Everett to take us out on his boat, but … I think it would be best if we lose his number.”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured you might say that after watching that crazy Coast Guard boat go by. Did you see the size of those machine guns?”

  “Yep. Looked like they could shoot a passenger jet clean out of the sky.”

  Sarah pulled herself in close to my side as we walked. “How are we going to keep an eye on the Sandakan Sun when it shows up if we cut Everett loose?”

  “Not sure, but we’ll figure something out. I really don’t want to involve him any further.”

  “Guess I’m with you. Hey, what about that Keith guy Everett mentioned? Think we can track him down?”

  “Keith? I thought I heard him say Kief.”

  “I don’t know, maybe he did,” Sarah said. “Either way, we need to look him up.”

  “We need to find some food, first,” I said, my stomach letting me know the lunch hour had long since passed.

  Sarah pointed out ahead of us. “Might as well hit our usual spot. It doesn’t get much more convenient than that, seeing you parked the car right across the street.”

  “The Hometown Diner? Works for me.”

  Sarah picked up the pace, dragging me up to speed. “I need coffee.”

  I opened the door after climbing the diner’s steps and motioned Sarah through. The smell of fresh-baked pies teased my nostrils as I followed her over to the only available booth.

  “Hey, you two,” one of the servers said before we’d even had a chance to remove our coats. “Coffee?”

  “Please,” I replied as we slid into our seats. I took a look at the specials, written in chalk on the board behind the counter.

  “Oh, look, Carter. Beef stroganoff,” Sarah said.

  “Yep. I’ll take it,” I responded as my mug was being filled.

  “Me, too,” Sarah chimed in.

  “Comin’ up.”

  We both warmed our hands on the hot mugs and took a few sips before Sarah asked, “Do we know what they were hauling on that ship this morning?”

  “Not sure about the cargo, but I can definitely find out. Why do you want to know?”

  “When you asked Everett if he’d ever noticed the patrol boats hanging around the freighters as they came in, he said sometimes, and it got me thinking. Why does Homeland sit out there and perform their watch duties for some, but not for others?”

  I pulled out my cell and got ready to do a search while thinking about Sarah’s question. “It does seem odd that we saw the Coasties and their machine guns out on patrol this morning, but they were nowhere in sight when Moray was bringing that freighter in.”

  “Did you write down the name of the ship?”

  “Nope. But, I committed it to memory. Sibu. From Malaysia.”

  Sarah nodded. “Same registry as the Sandakan Sun.”

  “That ship tracking app Everett mentioned works fairly well on my phone. I bought---well, actually, Carol Taylor bought a subscription to the entire database. Now we have access to schedules, what they’re carrying for cargo, and a slew of other details about any given ship,” I said as I logged in and did a search for Sibu. “Look,” I said as I slid the device across the table to Sarah. “Came right up.”

  “Says they’re delivering gypsum.”

  “Yep. Not a dangerous cargo, unlike gasoline or propane.”

  “Is there any way you can go back and find out what the Sandakan Sun was hauling when Frenchie Taylor was killed?”

  I reached for my phone, tapped on the screen for a few seconds, and had the answer. “Huh. That one was hauling gypsum, too.”

  “Don’t you find that interesting, considering the video of Frenchie Taylor getting killed was shot from a government vessel?”

  “Whoa, let’s not jump to conclusions,” I said. “We haven’t confirmed that, yet. It appears to have been taken from a Coast Guard boat, but we can’t be absolutely sure. It’s going to take some time before we can make that call.”

  “What if we were to get the video enhanced, then watch it on, like, our high-def monitor?” Sarah asked.

  “Yep. Let’s do that.”

  Sarah held her hand out. “Can I look?”

  I handed her my phone just as our food arrived.

  “Here you go. Two specials. Can I get either of you anything else right now?” our server asked.

  Sarah shook her head without looking up, fixated on my device.

  “All good,” I said.

  “It’s coming back,” Sarah said with excitement in her voice as I took my first few bites. “The Sandakan Sun is due to arrive in two days, hauling gypsum.”

  I nodded. “Good. Guess we’d better get busy and come up with a new way to hang out on the river without being seen.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows. “There’s no time. We’re going to have to hit Everett up again.”

  “We can’t. I … I just don’t have a good feeling about him being involved in this any longer than he already has.”

  Sarah gave me a look and began eating.

  I put my utensils down and steepled my hands. “Here’s the thing. We have no idea what Donald Taylor, or his son Jason, even look like, yet. In fact, Jason could have been one of the men on that gunboat this morning. We’re dealing with too many unknowns. Do we really want to roll the dice, and chance putting Everett in harm’s way?”

  “No, of course not,” Sarah said. “But, with this kind of time constraint, we’re going to be hard-pressed to come up with an alternate plan before that ship gets here.”

  “We’ve solved bigger problems in the past. We’ll figure this one out, too.”

  Sarah picked at her meal for a few seconds. “I know … you’re right. OK, Everett’s out. I just don’t like the idea of losing momentum with this case, that’s all.”

  “Me neither.” That’s when it came to me. “What do you say we ask Everett if we can rent his boat from him? You know, just for a day or two.”

  “You mean, like, motor around out there on his boat without him on it?”

  “Not exactly,” I said while bringing up a map of the Piscataqua River on my phone’s screen. “Look. Right here.”

  Sarah leaned forward over her plate of food and stared at my device. “What am I looking at?”

  “There’s a huge private dock on the Maine side of the river, directly across from where Frenchie Taylor was killed. If we were able to get permission to dock Everett’s boat there for a few days, we could set up on-board surveillance without arousing an ounce of suspicion.”

  “Huh,” Sarah said as she leaned back against the seat cushion.

  “I think Everett will go for it, just as long as I pose the question the right way.”

  “In other words, you’re going to lie,” Sarah said.

  “I think your term is a little harsh. I’m going to tell him you enjoyed being on the Juneau so much that it made me want to rent it … in order to surprise you with a romantic getaway. You know, tell him we want to use it as a floating hotel, of sorts.”

  Sarah stared at me for a few seconds before a smile appeared on her face. “OK, this is getting good,” she said. “Do you really think you can get permission to tie Everett’s boat up at that private dock, though?”

  I tossed my hands in the air. “Money talks. Wave enough of it around, you can get almost anything done.”

  “Guess I can’t argue with that.”

  Chapter 10

  “Sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Sarah asked as we arrived home from our brainstorming session at the diner.

  I turned the volume down on the car radio. “Better to divide and conquer, this afternoon,” I sa
id. “Any information you can dig up on this Kief Hall guy could really help us out. And, if time allows, figuring out how to get that video enhanced would be a bonus.”

  “I’m on it,” Sarah said and gave me a wave. “Oh, I almost forgot. Here’s Everett’s home address.” She handed me a slip of paper then closed the passenger side door.

  I killed the music and backed out of the driveway, grateful Sarah had agreed to tackle some of the office work we needed to get accomplished. It looked as if finding answers to Carol Taylor’s questions was going to be more difficult than expected.

  I needed time to think.

  I was kicking myself for not having asked our client for pictures of her husband, as well as her remaining son. My first order of business was to fix that, so I placed a call to Carol’s cell. “Mrs. Taylor. Carter Peterson. I’m out running some errands. Mind if I stop by for a minute, or two?”

  “All right. Come on over,” she replied. “I just got back from grabbing a few groceries. I’m in for the rest of the day.”

  I tossed the cell onto the seat and headed toward the river. I wasn’t looking forward to our visit, the tone of her voice sounding less than upbeat.

  Not that I could blame her. I knew, from personal experience, how devastating the loss of a son or daughter could be. It wasn’t hard to figure out where my reluctance was coming from, her sorrow reminding me of my own difficulties, now years in the past.

  After thinking about our common connection, I felt better about taking the Taylor job. Some cases were simply about making a living, while others had meaning. If finding answers for Carol meant providing closure, or giving her a sense of peace, maybe I’d find a small bit of comfort in it, too.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the familiar ringtone of Sarah trying to reach me. I answered and hit speaker.

  “You’re not at Carol’s place yet, are you?” Sarah asked.

  “Nope. About a minute away.”

  “Good. Glad I caught you. Listen, I wouldn’t mention Kief, Keith, whatever his name is, to Carol. There’s a Hall family, whose house sits right on the corner of Essex, the street leading down to Carol’s place. I’m not sure if it belongs to the guy we’re looking for, but we can’t afford to take any chances. There’s a strong possibility the two families know each other.”