Silence. Herkiser glanced at Gary. And Gary shrugged. “Yeah, Dad. We took it out for a short spin around the bay. Came back maybe an hour later.”
“There you are, Detective... Kersey, is it?”
“Curtci, Senator.”
“Whatever. Mystery solved.”
“No, the mystery is what happened to Beverly Bridger.” She turned to the two collegians. “Did either of you see a young woman out there on Baylook Drive last night?”
“No,” Gary Kingman said. “Not a soul, did we, Herk?”
“Not a soul,” echoed young Herkiser.
“Not when you left in the boat, not when you came back?”
“Nobody,” Gary said.
Herkiser echoed him again.
“Satisfied?” Senator Kingman rumbled.
Gary and his sycophantic friend stood there blank-faced. No, not quite. What was that twitch playing at the corners of Gary’s mouth? A feeling of superiority as he watched his powerhouse father handle an upstart woman cop? Or was something more going on here?
“Senator,” she said, “may I have your permission to check out your boat?”
“No, you may not, Detective. I’m tired of this ridiculous fishing expedition of yours. If you have no further questions, I believe I hear Esmeralda sounding the luncheon chime.”
“Gentlemen,” she said to Gary and his pal, “you will not leave the island until you are cleared by me, you understand?”
“GOOD DAY, DETECTIVE!” Senator Kingman thundered, finally hoisting himself out of his chair. “Leave!”
Thus bounced from the senator’s vacation retreat and fuming at his high-handed attitude, Kat drove to Island Vets to pick up Totoo.
“He’s still a touch shaky,” young but balding Doc Harter told her, “but with a little TLC, he’ll be fine.”
“The man who found him told me the dog was completely exhausted, dehydrated. Could a night on the beach have done that to him?”
“If he was in the surf. He’d been completely immersed in sea water. Salt residue all over him. Gave him a bath. Now he’s a real pretty little cairn. Smart one, too. Found the biscuit bin a second after I put him on the floor.”
“He’s cleared to go?”
“Oh, sure. Just give him that TLC I mentioned, and he’ll be fine.”
Totoo wasn’t going to get much tender loving care in a police retention cage. “Looks like you and I are going to spend the night together,” she told him.
At the Island Mart, she picked up a bag of dog food and a box of biscuits. Totoo zeroed in on the biscuits while they were still in the bag. No appetite problem with this guy.
Tuesday morning, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the little cairn alone all day. She took him with her when she reported in. She was relieved when Moby welcomed the company.
Totoo curled up in a corner of the squad room. “Take him out a couple times, will you, Mobe? I’ll leave you a biscuit supply.”
“You going back for another senatorial filibuster? Know what I think? I think the girl fell off that dock at the end of the street, drowned, and the tide took her on out.”
“Possible, I guess, but why would her dog walk across the island and end up exhausted on the gulf shore crusted with sea salt?”
“Huh. Keep digging.”
“While I’m doing that, how about having our resident computer ace check out those two midnight boatmen for possible rap sheets.”
She called the Coast Guard. No bodies found anywhere in the area for the past month. If Bridger had sunk, though, she wouldn’t come back up for a couple more days.
Kat drove across the three-mile causeway to its pair of toll booths on the mainland end. The two attendants now on duty hadn’t been there Sunday night, but they told her neither of the Sunday night shift attendants had mentioned seeing anything at all suspicious in any departing vehicle.
She returned to Malabar Island. Interviewed the occupants of several houses in the vicinity where the dog had been found. Nobody had seen anything.
“Not much of a ratchet forward, Mobe,” she lamented as the descending sun splashed the squad room with hot orange. “I’m dead certain those two college hotshots know more than a shrug’s worth. I’d like to take a look at that boat, but with what I’ve got so far, the chances of a search warrant are nil. Especially with the senator backing up Gary’s and his buddy’s story.”
“What did you expect a father to do, Kat? He’s not about to— Hey, Totoo, suppertime’s coming up. Hang in there, will you?” Moby swiveled back to Kat. “Never saw such a dog. Sits and just stares at you until you give him the biscuit.”
He shuffled through the papers on his desk. “Computer came up with this much. Herkiser’s clean, but young Kingman’s had his jollies. A slew of speeding and reckless-driving raps, fines paid but no convictions. High-spirited kid stuff, except for a charge of assault in an Altoona, PA, tavern. No conviction on that, either.”
“A pattern, though. An unruly son protected by a prominent father.”
“Seems so, Kat. Looks like you’re up against the proverbial stone wall. Or maybe those two didn’t have anything to do with the girl’s disappearance, after all. Maybe she just bugged out.”
“Sure, Mobe. And left her dog? Get real.”
“Get real yourself, Detective. In two days you’ve got nothing at all.”
“I’ve got a boat leaving.”
“Boats leave all the time, Kat.”
“And, as a long shot, I’ve got Edward Herkiser. He might be the key, but not while he’s with Gary.”
“So get him in here. Hasn’t the senator told you to stay away from his house?”
“Good point, Mobe. Very good point.”
Day three, and she was still nowhere. Now, though, she had a plan. Came to her last night as she played stare-a-biscuit with Totoo.
“Kingman residence,” said Esmeralda in a monotone phone voice.
“I would like to speak with Gary, please. This is Katherine.”
Apparently that was the kind of call Gary was used to getting. He came on the line in seconds.
“Hey, Katherine? Do I know you?”
“We’ve met, Gary. This is Detective Curtci. There are just a few points I need clarified.” She ignored his snort of disillusion and pressed on. “It would be a help if you and your friend would come to the station today. Say, in an hour or so.”
“I don’t think—”
“I really don’t want to bring you in on material-witness warrants, Gary.”
“We’re not under arrest or anything like that?”
Interesting question. “No, no. Just an informal chat.” Said the spider to this formidably-backed fly.
“I’ll see.” Off-balance for sure. Would he run to papa, a worried son with something to hide? Or swagger in here like the arrogant clod his rap sheet appeared to spell out?
Or perhaps the senator had deduced she wasn’t going to let this drop until she interviewed them without him present.
A few minutes before noon, the two of them pulled into the PD parking, an arrival timed, perhaps, for lunch hour to cut her short. Wouldn’t work. She never ate lunch. The car was a lustrous forest-green Jag, no doubt the senator’s vacation buggy.
She took on Gary first, leaving Herkiser in the drab little waiting area. The interrogation room was also barren of decor; just a center table and two hard chairs.
“No one-way mirror?” Gary quipped.
“You’ve been in these before?”
“I’ve seen them in movies.”
“We’re not that fancy here.”
Gary plunked into one of the chairs. Kat sat across from him. For a long moment, she said nothing. The calculated silence seemed not to bother him at all.
“Let’s go over what you told me Monday, Gary.”
“Sure. We took the boat out around eleven-thirty or so. Cruised the bay nowhere in particular. Came back an hour later. We saw nobody when we left or when we came back. That’s all there was to it.”