part0017

LIAR, LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE. The stupid phrase kept going through his mind as he sat opposite the very attractive Detective Ana Maria Cortez the next morning to give his formal statement. A small smile curled her lips when she saw his face. She raised her hand, counting off on her long slim fingers the way she had the previous day when destroying his argument that Winter’s death wasn’t suicide.

‘So. Margaritaville, Sloppy Joe’s, Hog’s Breath’—he thought the last one might actually be a personal comment as she said it, tried to keep his breathing shallow—‘anywhere else? They bury people looking better than you do.’

He admitted that the Schooner Wharf Bar seemed to ring a bell. And somewhere else he couldn’t remember the name of.

‘Sounds like a fun night,’ she said. ‘Shame I was working or I’d have tagged along.’

He tried a noncommittal that would’ve been nice , hoped his tongue wasn’t lolling too obviously. He wasn’t sure he pulled it off. One thing he did know—that particular remark would not be relayed to Guillory, no sir. It would be their secret. Then it was down to business.

‘Hopefully you haven’t erased too many brain cells and your memory’s still working okay.’

He tried a small laugh.

‘Some people say that boat sailed a long time ago.’

She smiled back, the white of her teeth against her lips too bright for this early in the morning.

‘Yeah. Detective Guillory said something along those lines.’

It was enough to make a man paranoid. Then he ran through the events of the previous day for her again.

‘You still suspect foul play?’ she said when he’d finished.

He hadn’t given it a moment’s thought since he last saw her. What with enjoying the drive down through the Lower Keys and then immediately hitting the town in Key West. She didn’t give him a chance to think about it now either. She picked up her notebook, a pointless thing to do seeing as she didn’t consult it.

‘Because what I’ve learned since we last met makes me more convinced that Mr Winter took his own life.’

He expected to see the fingers at work again, bet she’d need both hands from the satisfied look on her face. But he was wrong. The fingers stayed holding the notebook.

‘In addition to the empty whisky bottle and the lack of any restraints, the ME’s initial inspection revealed no head wounds, no indication of him being knocked unconscious. I’m convinced the autopsy will show that he was the one who drank the whisky. I think he numbed the pain with it, strapped on the weight belt and jumped in. If the shock of the water gave him any second thoughts and he tried to unbuckle the belt, his manual dexterity was shot to hell by the whisky.’

She put the notebook back on the desk. That’s when the fingers came into play again. He smiled. Maybe not the best thing to do.

‘Something funny?’

He shook his head. Sorry.

‘No, please. Share it with me.’

‘You like to count things off on your fingers, that’s all.’

She gave him a look like she was wishing she’d asked Guillory a few more in-depth questions before she started the interview. He was thinking about Guillory too, her remark of the previous evening—maybe Cortez can rub it better.

‘Right,’ she said, letting go of the little finger that she’d been holding. He noticed that there was no wedding ring on the finger next to it. ‘Getting back to what I was saying. The weight belt had twisted around so that the buckle was in the small of his back, making it more difficult to undo. And if he couldn’t swim, he’d be more likely to panic. That would only make things worse. And he wouldn’t be accustomed to holding his breath for any length of time.’

Evan listened in silence, not bothering to interrupt or say that he didn’t deny any of it—although he doubted a heavy weight belt would move itself all the way behind him. It was more a question of how the whisky had gotten into him in the first place.

‘Okay, let’s assume I accept that’s how it happened. What about why?’

She smiled at him again. It was still a nice smile, she could use it on him any time she liked. But it was different. This one said, I’m glad you asked that. She leaned back in her chair, hands clasped behind her head. Only for a second though. She realized about the same time as he did what a provocative pose it was, stretching the crisp white fabric of her blouse tight over her body. She leaned forwards again, elbows on the desk.

‘We talked to Mr Segal.’

A smile crept across Evan’s lips.

She knew exactly what he meant, refused to acknowledge it.

‘Did you happen to check the trash? Seeing as empty booze bottles seem to be playing a large part in this. I think you’ll find a couple of wine bottles at least in there. He’d been drinking all day. I could smell it on his breath when he shouted—’

‘When he dropped you in it, you mean? About the fish in your pocket.’

‘We’ll be getting onto that soon.’

Despite the vague fuzziness clinging to his mind after his night out, he didn’t think there was any suggestion of a threat, or of dire consequences to come for him, in her voice. That could all change in the blink of an eye of course.

‘But, no, I didn’t miss the fact that he’d been drinking. Talking to the security guard Rodriguez, it seems he’s like that most of the time. What?’

She’d seen something in his expression that she didn’t like.

Again, she wasn’t having it.

‘You want it all your own way, that’s all.’

She crossed her arms over her chest, the full lips not so full now. Pursed was a better word.

‘Winter was unaccustomed to hard liquor so it incapacitated him to the point where he couldn’t even unbuckle a belt. But Segal’s drunk most of the time, it’s his normal functioning state, so you can believe everything he says. That’s some logic.’

The look on her face suggested that sometimes fate knows best, that the drinks in Key West together if she hadn’t been working might not have been such a good idea after all. It certainly wouldn’t be happening now. She carried on without acknowledging his point.

‘Segal told us that he’d seen the scuba gear before.’

‘Really? Ignoring the fact that most of the time he probably can’t see the boat next to his, let alone what’s on it, Segal is the sort of sycophantic creep—’

‘You really don’t like him for dropping you in it, do you?’

‘—who’d say whatever he thought you wanted to hear.’

‘Moving on,’ she said, ‘we talked to—’

‘Rodriguez told me Winter didn’t dive. He’d been out fishing with him on the boat a number of times. He knew what he did and didn’t have on board.’

It was as if he hadn’t spoken for all the attention she paid.

‘We talked to Rodriguez. He told us that business has been bad for some time. And getting worse. There’s a lot of competition. As I told you yesterday, a boat like that is a money pit.’

Again, his face had given him away. She looked at him, eyes narrowing.

He shrugged, what’s the point?

‘Say what’s on your mind. Guillory says you’re never normally reticent about saying whatever comes into your head.’

He made a mental note to have a word about telling tales out of school.

‘I want it all my own way again, is that it?’

‘Actually, yes. Seeing as you ask. How is it that everything Rodriguez says is gospel when it relates to Winter’s business going down the drain, but you don’t believe him when he says Winter didn’t dive? You’d rather believe that drunk, Segal.’

Her weary smile wavered then resumed its post, except this time it said I know things you don’t, buddy.

‘Well, seeing as you ask, maybe it’s because what he says about the business side of things ties in with other information that’s come to light.’ She paused for a moment, that shut you up. ‘You want to hear it?’

He wasn’t sure how things had turned around. Suddenly he was the one with a closed mind, not her. It was a trick Guillory had pulled on him a number of times. He wondered if it was a female detective thing or just a woman thing.

‘You may already know this’—the tone of voice suggested I know you don’t —‘but Winter wasn’t the sole owner of the boat. In fact, his partner owned a bigger share.’

‘Who’s the partner?’

‘At liberty to disclose that?’

‘So why’d you ask? Anyway, we’ve spoken to his partner. As a result of the way business has been going, he told Winter that he was thinking of selling the boat.’ She leaned back, a satisfied gleam in her eye. This time she couldn’t stop herself from lifting her hand to count off the points on her perfectly-manicured fingers. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got—’

But she was determined to rub it in. Again he wondered if it was a female detective thing or just a woman thing. She ran through all of the arguments they’d already covered first in case he hadn’t been paying attention.

‘On top of all that, the guy’s about to lose the roof over his head as well. I think I’d kill myself.’

The thought came out of nowhere, hijacked him. It took him right back to his conversation with her the previous evening and the thoughts that had gone through his mind. Six months ago, he’d have said never in a million years. Now? He wasn’t so sure.

Cortez took his sudden quietness, the way his face fell, as evidence of the way she’d demolished his arguments, overcome his objections. The realization, false though it was, made her soften and thaw towards him. It was as if somebody had switched off the air conditioning. Her voice lost all of the aggressive edge to it.

‘Winter’s partner even gave me the name of the yacht broker he’s put the boat with. They’re in the historic seaport in Key West, just along from the Schooner Wharf Bar. You probably walked or staggered past them last night.’

He nodded mechanically, doesn’t prove a thing.

Loathe as he was to be the one to bring it up, given his behavior the previous day, he had to ask her about the dead fish and the USB stick. The smile on her lips—a better one this time—told him she was thinking along the same lines.

‘There’s nothing on that USB stick either. I’m afraid that’s your conspiracy theory gone up in smoke. There never was anything on it either. I don’t know whether you know, but water doesn’t damage a USB drive, not unless it’s powered up.’

‘So why’d he hide it?’

She stuck out her bottom lip, shook her head.

‘Beats me. Maybe he had two thumb drives, hid the wrong one. Maybe after he’d drunk some of that whisky he never touched.’ She held up her hand before he could say anything. ‘That doesn’t mean there’s a right one which is still hidden somewhere with all your cloak and dagger stuff on it.’

He wanted to pull out his phone, call Crow, put her on the line to him.

Because that was the job he had ahead of him. He knew exactly the reaction he’d be getting too. It made him wonder if it was even worth going home before being sent back down.

The last piece of information was the final nail in the coffin as far as she was concerned. She had a we’re all finished here look on her face. Then suddenly a light edged into her eyes, a look of almost salacious mischievousness. He sniffed surreptitiously, knew what was coming.

‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’ she said.

Might as well meet it head on.

‘Yeah, I had to wear these pants with the fishy stain on them when I went out in Key West last night.’