Free Harsens Island by T. K. Madrid Page A

know what I’m saying? A fat, ugly white woman married to an angry Japanese fella, and she’s got a black baby boy name of Raul from a one-night stand, all of ‘em poor as muskrats in winter, and there’s not a funny thing about it. Angry, dumb people will inherit the Earth. You did a little bargain hunting, I see. Get any deals?”
    “I think I did, yeah.”
    “You visiting us? Staying at The Rich Man’s Club with the other hoity-toity?”
    “Actually, I bought a cottage on South Channel.”
    Mule came to a full stop.
    “For heaven’s sake! You’re the new girl? You’re the one that got herself mashed up with the drowned girl?”
    “Yeah, my name is Sam.”
    The man didn’t hesitate. He embraced her, hugged her so completely she released her package to the ground. A trace of cigar smoke scented his collar.
    “My dear woman,” he said. “I am truly sorry for your loss. That was a real tragedy,” he said, releasing her but maintaining a grip on her hands.
    “She was a good friend,” Sam said.
    “Did she know how to swim?”
    “Uh, I don’t know, Skipper.”
    “A crying shame,” he said, releasing her hands. “First thought, I wondered, did she know how to swim or at least dog paddle?”
    “Boy, I tell you, Skipper, I’m really not sure. But I was wondering if she came across with you?”
    “Me? Personally? No, she came across late, once we were on the night cycle. And she didn’t fall overboard when she was with us. We got it on the DVR. In the dark, after nine, as I recall. Came over in one of those ugly Detroit cars. You’d think that as we practically invented cars that we could make prettier ones. Can’t tell a Buick from a Lexus, a Chevy from a goddamn Hyundai. Or maybe it’s old age. How old do you think I am?”
    They were by the main building now. He stopped shy of the entry door, an obvious gesture their conversation was ending.
    “Thirty-nine,” she said, smiling.
    He winked.
    “Sam, I don’t know you, but you’re A-Okay with me. It has been a pleasure under difficult circumstances, but I need to get Albert in the saddle and keep the wheels of commerce rolling.”
    He extended his hand this time and she clasped it.
    “Thanks, Skipper,” she said, giving him a firm shake. “I appreciate the time.”
    “And I tell you this, whoever was with her – if he’s alive – has some splainin’ to do once Rowland catches him.”
    Sam was plain in her surprise.
    “She was with someone?”
    “Yes, ma’am. We got it on the machine, time-stamp and everything. It’s what bothers me most about the whole business. She wasn’t alone, but nobody knows who it was. Male, woman, blow-up doll – it was too dark to see what exactly. I’ve got the fear whoever it was is gone too, and may be the one who offed your friend. Besides, it’s what? Seven days? Friday night she comes over and by Saturday night, she’s chum. It’s a sad and crazy business.”
    “I hadn’t heard that, either. You’re sure she was here Friday night?”
    “Yup. She was here Friday night, twenty-four hours before she bobbed up, and where she was and who she was with is a mystery. I suspect Sheriff Rowland’s the only man has a clue. Have you had the pleasure?”
    “Yeah, I have.”
    “He is a fine, judicious man. He’ll give you the unvarnished skinny. And listen, next time you ride with us it’s on the house. I’ll spread the word.”

(11) Chief Lauren Redsky
    A pearl-white Cadillac Escalade was parked in Sam’s driveway. It was new and bore no plates. A woman sat on Sam’s front steps; she stood as Sam pulled in.
    She was lean. She had shoulder length hair, a blend of gray and white. Her skin was pale brown. She wore black leather boots, dark blue denim pants, a black leather belt, and a long sleeve blouse, rolled to the elbows, with a distinctive pattern of muted, dark colors. She removed her sunglasses and revealed brown eyes; her teeth were bleached white. Sam guessed she was in her late fifties to