Yacht Games (Coastal Fury Book 22) Page 5
“When Ms. Clearwater arrived to pick him up,” Kopernick continued, “we went to fetch him, and Lopez had no idea that he was even meant to have been watching him. Apparently, everyone assumed that someone else had passed on the information.”
“And in the end, no one did,” I replied flatly. I understood that mistakes happen, but it was a little ridiculous that they could have messed up this badly, and now a man was dead.
“I won’t make excuses,” Kopernick replied seriously. “This was our error, and I take full responsibility for the mistakes of my officers. I’m extremely saddened to hear about what happened to Mr. Clearwater, and if there’s anything that we can do, we’ll do it.”
At the very least, they both had the decency to look ashamed about what happened. And it seemed that they genuinely felt remorseful, so I supposed that I couldn’t hold it entirely against them.
“I appreciate that,” I replied. “To start, could you give us the name and address of the store where Clearwater was arrested? I’d like to speak to the employees. It’s possible that one of them saw or heard something from Clearwater that could help us figure out more about him.”
“Sure,” Kopernick replied as he tore a page off a notepad that was set on his desk.
As he scribbled down the information, I couldn’t help but feel that this mystery just kept going deeper and deeper.
6
Ethan
The store that Kopernick had sent us to was a small, fancy shop in lower Manhattan. The moment I saw it, it occurred to me again just how strange a choice this would be for Clearwater to rob. Food, money, and adult-sized clothing would make sense, but overpriced toddler dresses? It was bizarre, and it made me think that Clearwater must have been having some kind of episode when he attempted to shoplift. In my opinion, it made the fact that the police had failed to get him home to his family all the sadder.
“Welcome to L’enfant!” an attendant called out to us as Holm and I walked into the store. She looked up at us from the tiny shirts she was folding with impressive precision and speed without ever faltering. “Can I help you find something this afternoon?”
“Not exactly,” I replied as I walked toward her. The inside of the store was just as ostentatious as the front facade. All the clothes were displayed delicately along low tables or hung on sleek metal racks along the walls. “My name is Agent Marston. This is my partner, Agent Holm, and we’re with an organization called MBLIS. We wanted to ask about a man who was here a few months ago. He attempted to shoplift some clothes, and the police were called.”
“Agents?” The young woman finally stopped folding, and the shirt she’d been holding crumpled into a ball on the table. “Like, in the FBI?”
“Kind of,” Holm replied. It was a question we’d gotten before from people who were unfamiliar with us, and though not an exact comparison, it was an easy shorthand to explain the kind of things we did. “Our agency is called MBLIS, though.”
“Wow, that’s… scary,” she muttered as she looked up at us apprehensively. “But, um, I just started working here a few weeks ago, so I don’t know anything about an arrest. I can go ask my boss, Katrina, about it, though.”
“Please do,” I replied.
The girl nodded and scurried off toward the back. I could just make her out through the door at the back of the shop. She fidgeted nervously as she spoke to someone I couldn’t quite see from where I was standing. A few seconds later, she walked quickly back to the front of the store, this time accompanied by another woman.
The woman who I assumed was her boss was tall, with sharp, defined features and long, platinum blond hair that she had pulled up into a tight, severe ponytail. She was wearing a gray wool skirt suit, and she walked with a poised and confident gait.
“Good afternoon,” she greeted us with a smile, though it seemed oddly strained and unnatural. “Jolene tells me that you gentlemen have some questions for me.”
“Yes,” I replied as I looked around the store. There weren’t any other customers inside, but talking about this out in the open didn’t really seem like a good idea. “Is there somewhere else we can talk about this? An office, maybe? I wouldn’t want to disturb your—”
“Agent, we are really too busy for this,” she cut me off rudely. “Please ask me what you need to ask so we can move on with our day.”
I stared back at her in stunned surprise for a moment, taken aback by her antagonistic response. I was used to suspects acting defensive, but it was a little strange to be hit with so much opposition from a mere witness.
“Alright,” I replied. “Three months ago, you called the police on a man who was attempting to take clothes from this store without paying. We’d like to know what happened that day.”
“Well, I’d much rather forget about it entirely,” the woman huffed. “But if you must know, yes. That… abhorrent person rushed in here, in the middle of a busy morning, mothers in the store shopping with their little ones, and he just began grabbing things!” She scrunched up her nose as if just the memory of the man made her want to throw up. “Sticking his filthy hands into all of our clothes! And as if that wasn’t enough, then he tried to just walk out the door with it all! Can you imagine? The nerve of him.” She shook her head in disgust, and though she was technically in the right, I couldn’t help but feel put off by her attitude.
“So, that’s when you called the police?” I asked.
“Of course!” she exclaimed. “That vile man was terrorizing my customers! I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. The entire street’s gone down the drain ever since that homeless camp popped up a few blocks away!”
“There’s a homeless camp?” I asked. “Is that where Mr. Clearwater came from?”
“Probably,” she scoffed. “I knew from the moment I saw them the first time that it was only a matter of time until they spread everywhere, and just look!” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “The city should have done more about them the moment they started to settle down in that old building! Then maybe we wouldn’t have had to deal with one of them barging in here!”
“And where exactly is this camp?” I asked.
Her snobby attitude was grating on my nerves, and I was, frankly, ready to get out of here as quickly as possible.
“Four blocks down,” she replied primly. “Just off Thirteenth Street. It’s impossible to miss them. Especially considering the smell—”
“Okay, thank you so much for your time, Ms. Katrina,” I cut her off before she could continue her abrasive diatribe. “We really appreciate it. Let’s go, Agent Holm.”
Holm nodded to the two women before turning to follow me out of the shop.
“Goodbye,” the owner called as we walked away, and though it was only a single word, somehow it felt impossibly passive-aggressive.
“Wow,” Holm snorted the moment we were back on the street. “She seemed nice.”
“Yeah,” I replied sarcastically. “Seems like a really kind and understanding person. Anyway, at least we got some useful information from her. If Clearwater really did come from that homeless camp, then the people there might know something about him.”
“You think they’ll be willing to talk to us?” Holm sighed. “People living on the fringes of society tend not to be the most friendly toward law enforcement.”
“We’ll just have to see,” I replied as we made our way down toward where the shop owner had directed us.
Though the fancy little store was located in a relatively upscale part of the city, it was jarring just how quickly the surrounding scenery seemed to decline just from one street to the other. As we got closer to our destination, I noticed that the buildings began to look a little less maintained and the roads a little dirtier. The kinds of people I saw walking ar
ound were different as well. Gone were the businessmen in their slick suits and the sharply dressed women carrying shopping bags on each arm. Instead, all I saw in the area surrounding the abandoned building where the homeless camp was were people who looked like they’d hit rock bottom.
The camp itself was only partially located inside the building, which was half demolished and appeared to have been victim to a fire at some point. The entire left side of the building was blackened and charred, and some parts of the wall and roof appeared to be missing entirely. A large scaffolding wrapped around the building, with several “condemned” and “do not enter” signs adorning its metal bars. That obviously hadn’t stopped the homeless community from moving in, though, as I could see several of them sitting around the perimeter of the building, spilling out of its main entrance and even inside the alley just beside it.
As Holm and I approached the alley where most of the residents appeared to be congregated, many of them got up and scurried away without a word. The ones who stayed barely seemed to notice our presence, not bothering to look up at us or otherwise move at all. It looked like Holm was probably going to be right about us encountering problems in our attempt to question the local populace.
We couldn’t just give up, though. The odds were high that someone here knew Clearwater, or at least knew of him. Either way, we needed to do whatever we could to find out as much as possible. I stepped forward to address the crowd at large, but before I could say anything, someone called out from my right.
“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, you probably shouldn’t bother,” the man said. He looked like he was in his late forties or fifties, and he was leaning back against the wall of the alley with a half-finished cigarette dangling from between his fingers.
“Oh?” I turned to look at him. “And why do you say that?”
The man let out a laugh somewhere between a wheeze and a cackle.
“Are you kidding me?” He snickered. “You two might as well have a couple of flashing neon signs over your heads that say ‘COP’! Ain’t nobody going to talk to a pair of police officers. Whatever foolishness you came here for, you might as well just turn around and leave.” He closed his eyes and took a long drag of his cigarette.
“We’re looking for someone,” I explained.
“Well, good for you,” the man cackled. “Still doesn’t change what I said. S’matter of fact, it might actually make it worse. Do you think anyone around here is going to squeal on one of our own? You must be crazy.”
“It isn’t like that,” I protested as I tried to level with the man. “Someone’s been killed—”
“Killed?!” the man exclaimed, laughing again as though it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Now I know you’re crazy. You’re talking about murder here, and you really think anyone’s going to get involved with that? Hell nah. You two should just turn around and get out of here.”
“We’re not going to just give up,” Holm chimed in.
“That’s right,” I added. “We aren’t just going to turn our backs on him. At the very least, we owe it to the man’s family to get some justice for him.”
“Well, that’s damned decent of you.” The man raised an eyebrow at me before taking another drag of his cigarette. “Been a while since I met a decent cop. I gotta say, I’m pleasantly surprised.”
“We’re not cops,” Holm replied. “We’re federal agents.”
“Six of one is half a dozen of the other,” the man scoffed. “But I guess that ain’t so bad then. Now, let me ask you this: who exactly are you two looking for? What makes you think someone here knows anything? I mean, take a look around.” He nodded down the length of the alley. “Don’t nobody here know much of anything, to be honest with you.”
“Logan Clearwater,” I replied. “Seventy-two years old, about six foot. We have reason to believe that he used to be a regular around here.”
“Logan?” The man looked up at us in shock. “He’s who you’re looking for? Now that I think about it, it’s been a while since I’ve seen old Logan around—” He stopped short, his eyes going wide as realization dawned on him. “Wait. You said that this was a murder case, right?” He looked expectantly between Holm and me.
“I’m afraid so,” I replied. “His body was found a few days ago.”
“No…” the man whispered, shaking his head sadly. “Damn, that’s a shame. Logan was a nice man. A bit messed up in the head, you know? But he was a cool guy, always looking out for the newcomers, acting like he was everyone’s dad.”
“He sounds nice,” I replied. “We heard that he was involved in some kind of shoplifting incident. Do you know anything about that?”
“Oh, yeah,” the man rolled his eyes. “They blew all that out of proportion! Old Logan was just trying to help. We had this woman arrive a few months back. Nina, her name was, I think. Anyway, she was pregnant. I mean, this chick was ready to pop. It’s not a good situation to be in when you’re about to have a kid, no home, no money, no nothing. Anyway, Logan was worried about her. He kept mumbling to himself and anyone else who would listen about how she would get food? And diapers? And clothes? I swear Logan was more worried about this girl’s baby than she was. Anyway, one day he gets into one of his weird moods. He used to get all loopy and start doing crazy stuff. So, he goes off to this store and just starts taking stuff for the baby, you know? Man, when he came back from the police station and told everyone about how he escaped, I could barely believe what I was hearing.”
“So, he did make it back here after that?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah.” The man laughed. “Hell, he wouldn’t shut up about it for a while. Going on and on about how he outsmarted the cops and managed to slip away when they weren’t looking. I always thought that part might have been a fib, but what do I know?”
I frowned. So, now we knew that Clearwater had at least made it back here after his arrest. That didn’t shed any light on what had ultimately happened to him, though. If anything, it just raised more questions since now it seemed unlikely that either his initial disappearance or the arrest had anything to do with his death.
“Can you remember the last time you saw him?” Holm asked.
“Well, let me think…” the man muttered as he snuffed out the cigarette on the ground before reaching up to scratch his head. “It was a few weeks ago, I think. Yeah! I remember now; it was right after that other guy showed up.”
“Another guy?” I repeated. “So, there was a newcomer?”
“Sure was.” The man nodded. “Annoying, too. One of those yuppie types that think they’re better than the rest of us. I could tell from the moment he got here, looking down his nose at everyone as if he wasn’t in the same boat.” The man rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Logan was nice to him, as usual. He invited him to stay in the parking garage over on the other side of the street. That’s usually where he stayed. Logan liked his privacy.”
“Over there?” I asked as I looked off at the garage beside the wide, dark alley on the other side of the street. I could see the silhouettes of a few people sitting inside the alley.
“Yeah, but you ain’t gonna find anything there,” he replied. “It’s been picked clean by now. That’s what happens around here when you’re not around to guard your crap. It gets taken.”
“I see,” I replied disappointedly.
“I can’t believe I never thought of that,” the man muttered lowly. “Logan disappeared just as soon as that other guy showed up. I never made the connection, but do you think maybe that guy had something to do with it?”
I pursed my lips together as I thought about it myself. It was certainly possible. In fact, the strange circumstances actually made this mystery man our prime suspect, if he was really the last person that Clearwater interacted with before he went missing.
“A stranger shows up, and Clearwater disappears the next day?” Holm shot me a knowing look, and I knew that he was coming to the same conclusions that I was. “Certainly sounds like he might ha
ve had something to do with it to me.”
“Y’all are all wrong!” a female voice suddenly rang out, breaking through our conversation.
“Dorris, did anyone ask you for your opinion?” The man turned to look at the woman, who stood up from where she was sitting just a few feet away to walk over to us. She was wearing a purple puffer coat, and her long dreadlocks hung down around her sharp face.
“Shut up, Carter,” Dorris scoffed at him before turning to look at us. “That guy that showed up didn’t kill Logan. The dude had a bum leg. He probably wouldn’t have been able to take down a baby, much less a man like Logan. Logan was old, but he was a retired Marine. I saw him fight his way out of his fair share of scrapes in his time here.”
“And you’re absolutely sure the new guy wasn’t the one who killed Logan Clearwater?” I asked. “Are you saying that you know who did?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” the young woman replied. “I know ‘cause I was there that night. I saw them. It was two men who did it, just like they did with everyone else.”
“What do you mean by ‘everyone else’?” I asked as an uncomfortable feeling began to build in the pit of my stomach.
“I mean that this isn’t the first time that someone’s gone missing around here,” Dorris replied firmly. “Someone out there is hunting us down.”
7
Ethan
“Dorris, don’t tell them that bull—” Carter groaned.
“It’s not bull!” Dorris snapped at him. “It’s true! Just cause you’d rather sit here all day and pretend like it’s not happening doesn’t mean it isn’t!” She turned to look at us again. “It’s true. People have been coming here for a while now. They show up in the middle of the night and snatch people away. I’ve seen it happen before, and I saw it happen that night to Logan and the new guy.”
“Okay, slow down a minute,” I replied. “I believe you, but I need you to start from the beginning.”