Free Summer People by Aaron Stander

volatile, so you’re not going to have an explosion of diesel fumes. And there’s something else that’s interesting.”
    “What’s that?”
    “I don’t know if you want to crawl in and get all messed up. You can see part of it from here.” He pointed into the cabin; most of its roof had been burned away. “You can see a burn pattern.”
    “What does that mean?” asked Ray.
    “You can see where a burning liquid flowed into the cabin. Looks like the stuff came through the door and ran to the lowest areas of the interior. You can tell from the size of the burn pattern that there was a substantial quantity of fuel.”
    “So you think that it was diesel.”
    “No, the stuff was a lot more volatile. It had to be gasoline.”
    “So what do you think happened?”
    “It doesn’t all quite fit, but then things seldom do. I would guess that the lightning hit the mast, and the charge came down the mast and those steel cables. There must have been a container with gasoline near one of them that exploded when it got hit by the current. He probably had a tank for an outboard. Don’t most of these big boats carry a dinghy or an inflatable?”
    “I suspect they do,” said Ray.
    “So,” continued Mike getting into his role as a raconteur. “This guy’s sleeping, see. He’s probably had a few. We found some gin bottles in there. This storm blows in. The lightning hits the mast and then a gas can blows, spilling burning gasoline onto the deck and into the cabin. The victim wakes up and the whole damn place is on fire. He manages to get out of the cabin and dives for the safety of the water. And that’s all she wrote.”
    “What would have been the victim’s condition?”
    “The autopsy will show that his lungs are singed. I’m surprised that he made it off the boat.”
    “And you don’t think that there’s any sign of foul play.”
    “Not unless you’ve got a murderer who can direct lightning. I think this can be labeled an act of God or an accident caused by nature, depending on the way you choose to explain the unexplainable. But there is one thing that’s less than kosher that you might want to look into.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Come over to the truck?”
    Ray followed him.
    Mike opened the back doors and took out a plastic package. He unwrapped it carefully.
    “I’m trying to be very gentle. I don’t know if this got hot enough to become unstable. We found this tucked off to the side with some tools in the engine compartment.”
    “Is it what I think it is?” asked Ray.
    “Eight sticks of dynamite. If I had known what it was, I wouldn’t have pulled it out of the boat. I’d have called Lansing and let one of our resident nuts come and extract it. They’re coming to pick it up. If this stuff had gone, you would have had a lot more casualties.” Mike continued on with obvious sarcasm, “I’m not into the yachting scene, but is this a common cargo?”
    “I’ll have to check,” said Ray. “It might be the newest thing among the white wine and Brie crowd.”
    “One more thing, Sheriff.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Could you call Lansing and say you need me at least until Labor Day?”
    “Don’t you want to stay until the end of deer season?”
    “No, saw Bambi three times, don’t do that kind of thing.”

16

    Deputy Sue Lawrence met Tawny Holden at the airport as she came through the arrival gate and drove her back to the cottage. Tawny made one last sweep through the cottage, gathering a few remaining personal possessions.
    “Thank you for coming in with me,” she said to Sue. “I didn’t want to be here alone.”
    “Are you worried about your safety?” asked Sue.
    “Not at all, but this place,” she paused and slowly looked around, “is full of bad memories.” Tawny’s voice took on a business-like tone. “I think I’ve got everything.”
    “Are you going to keep the cottage?”
    “Keep?” Tawny gave Sue a look of incredulity. “No. I don’t want to ever come here