Free Dangerous Depths by Kathy Brandt

place
on the water paddling around near the boats.
    “Hell, Saturday in the harbor. We’re just
trying to keep our students from crashing into the docks or
colliding with a windsurfer. Lots of activity in the Sound. Nothing
out of the ordinary.”
    We made one more stop down at the grocery
store. A couple of sailors were inside, trying to figure out what
they would need to get them to the next grocery store. They were
going to Cooper Island and then around Peter and Norman.
    “Won’t be findin’ no groceries in dos
places,” the clerk said. “Ice if you’re lucky. Less’n the Libation be comin’ by.”
    “What’s the Libation ?” one of the
sailors asked.
    “Dat be da floating supply boat just started
da business. Young folks with a real good idea ya ask me. Usually
have bread, some fruit, rum. You best be gettin’ what you need
here.”
    After they grabbed a cart and started down
the aisle, we stepped up to the counter.
    “Hey dar, ma’am, I be Deputy Snyder over by
Road Town. Dis here be Detective Sampson.”
    “Sure, I’m Karie Brown. I be livin’ next to
your uncle over by Spanish Town. He be talkin’ about you. How you
be gettin’ hurt. You lookin’ good.”
    “That be Uncle George. How he be doin’? I got
to get over to see dat man,” Snyder said. Pleasantries tended to,
he got down to business. “We be checkin’ about dos break-ins on da
boats two nights ago. That woulda been Saturday night.”
    “Yeah, everybody in da harbor be talkin’
about it.”
    “You remember who was around on Saturday?” I
asked.
    “Same’s mos’ every day. Sailors in for
supplies, kids coming in for ice cream. Chef at da restaurant
always comin’ in here in a panic on Saturdays. Running outta one
thing or da other on Friday and gotta have more for da Saturday
crowd. Dis last Saturday, it was eggs, cheese, and vermouth. Wanted
me to sell him the eggs I had on reserve for da Libation .
    Dat man was angry. Told him I wasn’t going to
sell him da eggs. Dos folks on dat supply boat already got a weekly
order in. Nice young couple. They depend on picking up da eggs
‘long with da other stuff dey order—da bread, fresh baked
goods.
    Dey comes in every Saturday late to pick da
stuff up. Spend da night, den motor from boat to boat in da harbor
on Sunday morning. Then dey head down to do a circuit round da
Baths, Cooper, the Bight next morning. Dey say da fresh croissants
be one big hit on Sunday morning in da Sound for folks lounging on
dar boats. Guess I be rambling, but anyways, I tole da chef he’d
have to be makin’ his sauce without dem eggs.”
    “’How the hell I supposed to make hollandaise
without da eggs?’ dat chef be tellin’ me. I tells him dat why dey
call him chef ain’t it?” When Karie laughed, her whole body
shook.
    “You be givin’ my greeting to my uncle,”
Snyder said as we headed out the door.
    Snyder and I made the rounds in the harbor,
talking to the skippers of the boats that had been robbed. All of
them told the same story. They’d been ashore eating dinner and
dancing. One of the local steel drum bands had played long into the
early morning hours.
    None had noticed that things were missing
until the next morning. One guy had lost an underwater camera setup
worth thousands. Others reported missing binoculars, watches, GPS
units, computers. One woman said she had rings, earrings, and
necklaces taken, expensive stuff—diamonds, emeralds, fourteen-karat
gold. Why she needed that kind of jewelry on a boat was beyond
me.
    Snyder and I raced a storm back to Road Town
and made it into the dock right before the sky opened up with a
hard soaking downpour, water coming down in sheets. We ran for
shelter under an awning at the dock and watched the ocean turn gun
metal and seething.

Chapter
10
    Amos Porter was a big guy in work boots and
new Levis. He was standing in the middle of the gravel pit, wearing
a hard hat, leaning on a shovel. He didn’t look like he’d been
using it though.