Cracked to Death

Savannah poked through the piles of driftwood, shell, and bottles on the little entry patio, but came up with nothing of interest. She had just opened the door to Martin’s trailer when Edward arrived back from the park office.

“What are you doing?” His voice was firm, and he lowered his chin.

Savannah stood very tall. “The neighbor told me where the key was hidden. He didn’t see any harm in my looking around. Do you?”

Edward shook his head. “No. It’s a good idea. Maybe we’ll turn up a clue Detective Parker has missed.”

“Not likely, but maybe I can offer some expertise on some of the glass still here.”

“But wouldn’t Parker have already given you that evidence?”

Savannah smiled and put her hand over her heart. “It’s possible he might not recognize something vital to a craftsman. Besides, it won’t hurt to look. Right?”

Edward glanced around uneasily and then nodded his head.

They walked into the tiny front room, where the dinette sat underneath a set of windows that wrapped around the end of the trailer.

“This is where he worked on his creations.” Savannah pointed to the side of the table with craft supplies and tools arranged neatly.

“And this looks like where his laptop was. The police must have taken it away for analysis.” Edward walked to the back end and poked his head into the bathroom. “He was pretty neat for a guy.”

“It also appears he didn’t have much.” Savannah opened and closed the small kitchen cabinets and drawers. “That makes it easier. Oh, what did the park manager say about Martin?”

“He said Martin was a nice guy. Didn’t cause trouble. Paid in cash right on time each month. The model of a perfect tenant.”

Savannah followed Edward back to the tiny bedroom. The bed was made. It looked like the bedspread and curtains were leftovers from a bankrupt motel chain, but everything was neat and tidy. Looking at Edward, she said, “This is not making sense to me. Where did he store all his marine cleaning material?” She moved back into the small hallway and looked under the bed. “Nothing. Is there a shed out back?”

Edward shrugged his shoulders.

They closed and locked the trailer and circled around the back, but there was nothing behind the trailer except the electrical hookup post. Savannah stood with her hands on her hips. “There must be a storage area somewhere. There would be a lot of work involved in cleaning up his salvage items. I’ll bet the rules of the park would prevent that.”

“I don’t think he could afford a storage unit, but it’s something Amanda might know.”

“Well, Amanda doesn’t seem to be telling us all she knows about Martin. Leroy, Martin’s neighbor, told me she was here with Martin on Monday night.” Savannah started for the Mini.

“Why didn’t she say so?” Edward opened the car door for Savannah.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll get spoiled.” She smiled up at him. “It is nice, though.”

“I think we need to find this captain to get more answers.” Edward sat in the passenger’s seat. “Buckle up.”

Savannah pressed her lips together to hold in a reply about not being a child, then relaxed and clipped the belt. He’s right. Sometimes I do forget to buckle up. That’s observant and thoughtful. She smiled.

“Where was Captain Collins’s business?” She pulled out from in front of Martin’s trailer and headed down the dusty road. “Wasn’t it in an industrial park near here?”

Edward reached into the side pocket of his trousers and pulled out his phone. “Let me punch in a search.” He tapped the smartphone. “Here it is. It’s called Collins Salvage and Diving. The address is supposed to be near the trailer park.”

“Oh, that’s up the street.”

“Grrrrr. I’m still not used to the number grid here. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone to three places in a row that are not where I wanted to be.”

Savannah smiled. “It’s the exact opposite of New York City in terms of the grid. St. Pete has streets that go north–south, while the avenues go east–west. Central Avenue is the dividing line between north and south, and Beach Drive downtown is the dividing line between east and west.” She looked over to see Edward rolling his eyes. “It’s simple, really.”

“Grrrr. You were born here.”

“Choose one to memorize. Streets go north–south, divided by Beach Drive. Simple!”

“Okay, okay.” He peered at the road signs, matching them to the map on his cell. “I should have written this on a slip of paper.” He scowled at the screen. “We should be getting close now.” He looked back at her. “You were right. That north-south thing of yours does help.”

Savannah shrugged and turned into a small, run-down industrial park. There was a large sign at the entrance, which listed all the businesses within the park. She looked at the names of the businesses, and Collins Salvage and Diving was listed near the bottom. “This is it.”

The industrial park looked more like a junkyard than anything else, with three rows of low cement-block buildings running the length of the property. Each building had been built with large garage doors facing out. It looked a lot like a storage rental property, but instead, it was outfitted for small business rentals. Savannah pulled up to the far left side and began driving along that side of the long building, passing a vitamin discount store, an antique furniture refinisher . . . in other words, everything under the sun.

After searching the central bank of businesses, they found Captain Collins’s business near the back. It was spread over the final three bays in the building, and all three garage doors were up. Inside the first bay were storage racks crammed with diving suits, belts, masks, flippers, and everything needed for renting dive equipment. The second bay held diving tanks and the compressors used to refill them.

Finally, they found a thin, deeply tanned, and scruffy man in the third bay, bent over a lump of something and scrubbing it with a small wire brush. He was barefoot and clad in cutoffs, a tattered T-shirt, and a grass-woven hat aged to a brittle beige. The bay appeared to be a sorting area, with large tables down the middle and floor-to-ceiling storage racks around the walls, which were filled with marine artifacts.

Savannah parked the Mini across from the open bays so as to not block the limited thruway for the other businesses. At the sound of the closing car doors, the man looked up from his work, wiped his hands on his shorts, and walked toward them.

“Can I help you?”

“We’re trying to find Captain Collins.” Savannah offered her hand for shaking. “I’m Savannah Webb, and this is Edward Morris.”

“I’m Captain Collins.” He shook their hands, Edward’s first. “Do you want to sign up for a salvage dive?”

Edward quickly looked at Savannah and gave a tiny nod. “Sure. That would be great.” He exaggerated his British accent. “We heard you offered a fantastic experience diving for treasure.”

“My specialty.” He led them over to the table. “Here’s a few of the artifacts we salvaged on this morning’s tour.” He picked up a heavily barnacle-crusted propeller blade. “A young woman from Montreal found this on her first dive. I’m cleaning it up a bit so it won’t smell up her suitcase.”

Savannah leaned over the propeller. “Is it valuable?”

“Only in the sense that it will be a memento of an enjoyable dive. She said she’ll keep this on her desk to remind her of her first trip to Florida.”

“Do we need to be certified divers?” Savannah asked.

“No. We can go to places you can explore by snorkeling. When would you like to schedule a trip? I still have a few openings for tomorrow morning.”

“Well, sweetie, do you think we might want to try our hand at this?”

Edward’s eyes opened wide, but he recovered quickly. “If this is what you want to do, love, I’ll play along.”

“We heard a local artist has been making fabulous creations by using items he found on salvage dives. Do you know him? His name is Martin Lane,” Savannah said.

“I have lots of customers who enjoy the sport of diving for artifacts, and many of them use their finds in lots of interesting ways. Would you like to sign up for the sunrise cruise in the morning? I still have a couple of seats available.”

“Well, no. We’re not interested in diving, actually.” Savannah coughed into her hand and then looked the captain straight in the eye. “We’re here to find out more about Martin Lane. I’m a consultant who is helping the St. Petersburg Police investigate his death, and we heard you frequently took him diving.”

Collins sucked in a quick breath. “You tried to trick me. I don’t know anything about Martin’s death. You need to leave.” He backed away and quickly pulled the garage door down over the salvage bay and locked it. “You need to leave now, before I call the police and report you for harassment.” He turned to face them and put his hands on his hips. “Leave. Right. Now.”