Inside the store, Mama Lizbeth’s grown daughter, Joni, was manning the cash register. Gannon waved, but as usual, she ignored him as she turned to the little TV that perpetually played from the edge of the beat-up Plexiglas counter.
Joni was usually all smiles with everyone, the locals and the day-tripping boaters who came in on their grocery store’s dock, but for some reason, she seemed to hate Gannon’s guts with a fierce-burning passion.
Why? he thought for the millionth time as he passed down into the aisle.
What had he done? Run over her dog and not noticed? Looked like someone who’d robbed the store?
He could never figure it out.
He walked to the back. On the shelves, products were laid out in no particular order. Soup cans next to paper plates next to shaving cream.
He saw there were some packages of Oreos on a shelf.
When was the last time he had eaten one? he thought as he picked them up. But then he checked the date on them and put them back.
On the shelf below, there was a box of some desperate onions and a dwindling tray of sorry yams. Getting produce out here in the island sticks was the absolute worst.
He found what he was looking for in the center aisle. A jug of Tide and some Clorox bleach and a package of sponges. He wanted to get his laundry done and tidy up before he left on his afternoon flight.
When he came back up the aisle, Joni was turned almost fully around now, seemingly absorbed in some news on her little TV. He tapped his foot to get her attention, but that did no good, so he watched with her for a minute.
She was watching the BBC broadcast. There was something about a British singer who had OD’d and then something about protests in London over the latest computer hacker, and then there was a lager commercial that made her finally turn around.
He was coming out of the island bodega, blinking at the sunlight, when he saw Sergeant Jeremy. It would have been hard to miss him. His Jeep was parked almost butt up against the bottom of the grocery store’s sandy steps and he was sitting on its hood.
“Hello, Michael, my friend,” he said.
“Hey, buddy. How’s the crime rate?” Gannon said, smiling broadly as he came down the steps.
“Everyone’s still looking into that plane crash. I actually got a visit from a US official about it. He came by the farm.”
Holy shit, Gannon thought.
“Yeah?” Gannon said, shifting his bag to his other arm. “Somebody from the coast guard?”
“No,” Sergeant Jeremy said, folding his arms as he looked him in the eye. “It was a man from the American FBI.”
“No way. An actual G-man, huh?” Gannon said, nodding like a fool as he tried to hide his awe and shock.
“Yes. They’re asking around about anybody who might have come across anything. They wanted a list of anybody out on the water Monday night.”
“Is that right?” Gannon said.
Sergeant Jeremy took off his hat and wiped his brow with a neatly folded white handkerchief he took from his pocket, then meticulously squared his hat back on his head again.
“Yes,” he finally said. “I thought about you and your fishing trip, but you already told me you were far away from the crash site that night, so I said I couldn’t help him. He said he wished to speak to anybody at all out that evening. But he was a very pushy, very arrogant man. I didn’t think you wished to speak to him, so I left you out of it.”
Gannon let out his breath as he began to nod.
“Well, thank you for that. I’m glad they got to the man who knows how to, um...properly handle things around here.”
Sergeant Jeremy looked at him very closely.
“Tell me, what are your plans this week, Michael?”
“Plans? Oh, I was thinking of giving my boy a visit. I’m flying to the States this very afternoon, in fact.”
“Oh, yes, your son. What’s his name? David? No, Dean, is it?”
“Declan. Yeah. Haven’t seen him in a while, so I’m going to hang out with him for a few weeks.”
“That’s sort of sudden,” Sergeant Jeremy said.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t get a chance to see him over Christmas.”
“But the tourist season is just picking up for you, yes?” Sergeant Jeremy said, peering at him.
“I’m going to have Little Jorge take out the boat.”
Sergeant Jeremy gaped at him for a beat. Like everybody else on the island, he knew all about Little Jorge and his family’s sketchy reputation for going on sudden “vacations.”
“Time to give that boy some experience out on his own,” Gannon added. “Do him some good.”
Sergeant Jeremy hopped down from the Jeep’s hood.
“That’s a good plan, Michael. At least the part about you going away for a bit. That’s probably best.”
“Best? What do you mean? Why’s that?” Gannon said to the sly old codger.
Sergeant Jeremy winked as they shook hands.
“We can never spend enough time with the ones we love,” he said.