Free Quint Mitchell 01 - Matanzas Bay by Parker Francis

standing up for his principles may have made Poe a target for the police. “Is there anyone else you think I should talk to about this?”
    “Clayton Henderson is one of Dr. Poe’s closest friends. He also seems to have quite a network of confidants who keep him informed on everything going on in St. Augustine.”
    “I’ve met Mr. Henderson. An interesting man. Lives in town, doesn’t he?”
    “He bought the old Martinez House in the historic district and restored it beautifully.”
    “What did your husband think about Mr. Henderson?”
    She huffed through her nose derisively. “For all his public support for the arts, my husband had an antipathy for intellectuals and academics. Plus he was Dr. Poe’s friend.”
    “Anyone else I should talk to?”
    I watched as she rubbed her shoulder, thinking about my question. She finally said, “Not that I know of.”
    “What about Kurtis Laurance? His name keeps coming up. Aside from being allies on the Matanzas Bay development, he and your husband were pretty close friends, weren’t they?” I recalled the photograph of Marrano and Laurance on the golf course. “Do you think he’d know anything about your husband’s death?”
    “Of course not. He and Kurtis were almost inseparable. Bill was his campaign treasurer, and they’ve worked closely together to get this development off the ground ever since Kurtis moved to St. Augustine.”
    Before I could follow-up with another question, her telephone rang. She excused herself and walked to the phone mounted on a nearby wall.
    The conversation was one-sided. She listened, keeping her eyes on me, until she said, “Thank you,” and hung up. The glow was gone from her face now, the blemish on her cheekbone more pronounced.
    Erin Marrano folded her arms below her breasts and took a deep breath before speaking. “That was Chief Conover. He wanted me to know that Jeffrey Poe has been arrested and charged with my husband’s murder.”

NINE
    Even the largest, best-equipped police department normally took more than a day to investigate a murder case. Poe’s arrest meant he’d either confessed to the murder, which I didn’t believe, or more likely, Conover’s detectives had discovered what they believe to be overwhelming evidence. They probably found his prints on the bayonet, but they’d need more than that to make their case stick before a jury.
    Knowing Poe’s history of depression, I figured he’d take his arrest hard. He needed a friend more than ever. As I drove, I called the County Jail and made an appointment to see him during tonight’s visiting hours. Erin Marrano may be my client, but Poe was my friend, and I planned to do everything in my power to clear him. That meant interviewing everyone who might be connected with the case, starting with Clayton Henderson.
    I turned onto King Street hunting for a parking place. A white Ford Explorer slipped in behind me. He may have been following me from Erin’s house, but I was absorbed in Poe’s arrest and hadn’t noticed him. He stayed on my tail as I turned into the parking lot behind city hall. I climbed out and fed quarters into the parking meter before turning to find Sergeant Marrano staring at me through his Oakley Ducati’s.
    “Sergeant, so nice to see you again,” I said with what I hoped was the appropriate degree of sarcasm.
    He stepped toward me. I reflexively tensed myself in case he blew another valve.
    “You’ve heard the news about Poe?” he asked.
    “Didn’t take long to wrap it up,” I said. “One day. Must be some kind of record, even for a crack investigator like Detective Horgan.”
    “We have a solid case, and Poe’s going to get the needle for what he did.” Marrano spoke quietly, under tight control, unlike the raw emotion he displayed yesterday.
    “That remains to be seen, sergeant. From my perspective, this is a classic railroad job. The prosecutor will have to hold his nose when he presents the case, and the smell will probably