“Afraid not.”
“He was a cool guy.”
They stopped, and he opened his hand to reveal the collection of flat stones he had picked up during their walk. Nicki selected one and skimmed it over the water. She would turn sixteen soon, and had started taking the long walk into adulthood. He was concerned about her. She and Martin had been close, and he didn’t want her too badly scarred by her grandfather’s passing.
“How many skips was that?” he asked.
“Six. My record is eight.” She took another stone and gave it a heave. This one had Guinness Book of World Records all over it, and she clapped excitedly.
“Nine!” she said. “Should I quit while I’m ahead?”
“Never. You’re just getting warmed up.”
She threw another stone. This one plopped into the water after one skip. She groaned and dropped her chin. She began to cry, and he stood silently beside her, not wanting to disturb the moment. Drying her eyes, she lifted her head and gave him the thinnest of smiles. He had a supply of tissues in his pocket and handed her one.
“Let’s head back,” he suggested.
“Can we stay here? I need to tell you something,” she said.
He said okay. She took the rest of the stones from his hand, and started throwing them. “A day before my grandpa died, we talked over the phone. He made me promise not to tell my folks, so I didn’t.”
“That wasn’t smart, Nicki. Your parents are going to be upset.”
“Are you upset?”
“Yes, I am. This isn’t something you should have kept secret.”
“I’m sorry. There’s something wrong about the way he died, isn’t there?”
She was looking at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He didn’t want her jumping to any conclusions, and decided to put a lid on her suspicions.
“There’s nothing wrong about your grandfather’s death,” he said. “There are just questions that need to be answered, that’s all.”
“Like why he didn’t leave a note.”
“That’s right. What did the two of you talk about?”
“I was having problems with my science homework, so I messaged him. He called and answered my question, and then we talked. He sounded really depressed, and said he hadn’t been sleeping. He told me how sorry he was for the things he’d done.”
An icy finger ran down his spine. Nine months ago, pornographic videos had circulated on the internet with a young girl who looked remarkably like Nicki. The videos had set on fire the libidos of sexual predators far and wide, and put Nicki’s life in danger. That danger had since passed, and Lancaster wondered if Martin Daniels had seen those videos, and been aroused by them. Was that what he’d been hiding?
“Did your grandfather elaborate?” he asked.
“He said that he’d been tempted, and acted foolishly, and hurt himself and his family,” she said. “He asked me not to judge him. Before he hung up, he said that there was a passage in the Bible that would explain it. It was in Corinthians. I looked it up. I’m not sure what it all means.”
“Please show me.”
She took out her cell phone, got on the internet, and pulled up the passage. She handed him the phone, and he shielded the screen with his hand so he could read. It was from 1 Corinthians 10:13. No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it. “He did something bad, didn’t he?” the teenager said.
He handed her the cell phone. Martin had gotten caught up in something, and it had spiraled out of control. This was his goodbye note.
“Let’s go back to the house,” he said. “We need to tell your folks.”
They found Nicki’s father in the living room, answering emails on his iPad. Nolan Pearl was a neurosurgeon at a large hospital in Fort Lauderdale. He had a surgeon’s temperament, and rarely raised his voice or lost his temper.
“How was your walk?” he asked.
“It was fine,” Lancaster said. “Are Melanie and Beth around?”
“They’re in the dining room, going over Martin’s will and bank records.”
He glanced at Nicki. There was no time like the present when it came to telling the truth. She sat on the couch beside her father, and told him about her last conversation with Martin. Nolan gazed out the window when she was done.
“This isn’t good,” he said under his breath.
“We need to tell Melanie and Beth,” Lancaster said.
“My wife said they didn’t want to be disturbed. Let’s wait until they’re done.”
Turning to his daughter, Nolan said, “Nicki, I don’t want you to blame yourself for what happened. There was no way you could have known that your grandfather was planning to take his own life. You’re not responsible here.”
The teenager slid across the couch and buried her head into her father’s chest. She was crying again, and her father consoled her.
“I’m going to fix coffee. Want some?” Lancaster asked.
Nolan said no thanks. Lancaster went to the kitchen and poured beans into the fancy machine and fixed three individual mugs, assuming that Beth and her sister would probably enjoy a pick-me-up. He opened the refrigerator in search of cream, and was surprised at the amount of food lining the shelves. Eggs, an assortment of cheeses, a six-pack of Guinness, bread, a bag of bagels, plus a half dozen yogurts. In the meat drawer he found sliced turkey and ham with expiration dates several days away; in the vegetable drawer, several plump tomatoes and a head of lettuce that looked fresh. He’d dealt with suicides as a cop, and in his experience, the departed waited until the last item in the fridge was eaten before taking their life. That wasn’t the case here, and he found himself struggling to understand Martin’s mindset before he died.
The cream was nearly finished. He split it between Beth’s and Melanie’s mugs, and tossed the empty carton into the trash. A receipt caught his eye, and he pulled it out for a closer look. It was from the local Publix supermarket, and contained many of the items in the fridge. The date was from three days ago, which was when the police believed that Martin had driven his car to Anastasia State Park before dusk and walked down a hiking trail to a secluded spot where he’d taken a gun and ended things.
The receipt had a time. Martin had purchased the groceries at 4:10 p.m. That didn’t make any sense. Why would Martin buy groceries, come home, put them in the fridge, then drive to the park and kill himself?
He didn’t know, but was determined to find out. Folding the receipt, he slipped it into his wallet, then took two of the mugs to Beth and Melanie. He tapped on the dining room door with his foot, and Beth appeared.
“For you, my lady,” he said.
“You’re so thoughtful.” Her face was puffy from a recent cry, and when he glanced into the room, he saw the same bereaved look on Melanie.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you later,” Beth said, and shut the door.
Chapter 4
Martin’s study was on the second floor and faced due east, with a panoramic view of the Atlantic Ocean. A comfortable-looking leather chair was situated in front of the windows, with a neat stack of newspapers on the floor beside it.
The room had cathedral ceilings to accommodate the bookshelves that took up three of the walls. Martin was a fan of the mystery genre, and there were autographed collections by Connelly, Child, Grafton, and James W. Hall, whose Thorn novels set in Key Largo he’d read and enjoyed. Thorn was an off-the-grid loner who helped people in need, and the kind of guy he could see closing down a bar with.