Camino Winds (Camino Island #2)(23)

“So you rode out the storm?” Landrum asked pleasantly.

“I did. Not sure how smart it was and wouldn’t recommend it. Do you know the island?”

“Oh yes. We enjoy the beaches there. It’s an easy day trip for us.”

“Ever hung out in downtown Santa Rosa?”

“Sure. Some nice restaurants.”

“And the bookstore?”

“Yes. Several times.”

“I own it. I opened Bay Books twenty-three years ago. You’ve probably seen me there.”

“You don’t say. Was it damaged?”

“It took some water but it’s okay. Nelson Kerr was a friend of mine, one of my writers, and I need to tell his parents something. He moved to the island two years ago and has no family there.”

“I see. The police chief called and we’re sending a crime scene unit to the island today, as soon as we can get across the bridge. I hear it’s rather chaotic there. I assume you think it was not an accident.”

“Depends on the autopsy, sir. Has it been performed?”

“It has. It was done yesterday. I’m not allowed to discuss it with you until I meet with our investigators.”

“I get that. I’m asking for a favor, a little breach in protocol that no one will ever know about. You see, Dr. Landrum, I have some information about the crime, if indeed it was a crime, that I cannot share with you until there is a meeting with the investigators. There is a possible witness, a possible suspect. And a possible motive.”

Landrum looked at Dorothy, who was busy scribbling on her pad. She was of no help.

“Are you sworn to secrecy?” he asked Bruce.

“Whatever you want. I need to tell his family something.”

Landrum sighed, adjusted his reading glasses, and picked up some papers. “In layman’s terms, the deceased died of multiple blows to the head, four to be exact, two of which would have been fatal. His cranium was shattered, massive bleeding around the brain. He was struck at the base of his skull with a sharp object that ruptured his spinal cord, and that alone could have been fatal.”

Bruce closed his eyes and tried to absorb it. He managed to mumble, “So he was murdered.”

“Sure looks like it but it’s too early to be certain. I suppose it’s possible that a man moving around outdoors in a catastrophic hurricane could get hit by debris more than once.”

“But unlikely.”

“I agree. I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Cable.”

“Thank you. And I won’t breathe a word of this.”

“Please don’t. And you say you have additional information.”

“I do. A friend of mine, and also a friend of Nelson’s, knows something. We need to chat with your investigator as soon as possible.”

“Are you headed back to the island?”

“Yes, but we’re in no hurry. My friend is downstairs in the lobby.”

“Does he have time to talk?”

“We have plenty of time these days.”





8.


Things thawed considerably over the next hour as Bruce, Bob, and Nick were escorted to a conference room and served coffee and doughnuts. As they waited, Bob griped at Bruce for being so gung ho.

“You could’ve at least asked me if I wanted to chat with the cops,” he growled.

“Oh, you’re talking to the cops, Bob, now knock it off. You’re a key witness whether you like it or not.”

Nick snorted and chimed in, “You knew the killer and had been sleeping with her for days before the murder. You’ll be the first witness called at trial.”

“What do you know about trials?”

“Tons. They’re in all the crime novels.”

“Well, I’ve sat through one, okay, and I’ve heard the jury say ‘guilty as charged,’ so I’m not afraid of the courtroom.”

“You did nothing wrong, Bob, relax,” Bruce said. “Don’t you want to find the killer?”

“I don’t know, maybe not. If she’s a professional, then some very nasty people paid her. Maybe we should leave them alone.”

“Not going to happen,” Bruce said. “You’re in up to your ears.”

“Thanks for nothing.”

The door eventually opened and an officer in a suit strutted in. He introduced himself as Captain Butler, and passed around business cards. WESLEY BUTLER, FLORIDA STATE POLICE. He found the coffee and joined them at the table. Without removing a pen he asked, “Now who’s who? Who have we got here?”

“I’m Bruce Cable, friend of Nelson Kerr. Same for Bob Cobb, who’s a writer on the island.”

“And I’m Nick Sutton, senior at Wake Forest, summer flunky at the bookstore. Also a friend of Nelson’s.”

“Okay. I just saw the autopsy report. Looks like your friend got banged up pretty good. I’ve talked to the police chief on the island and he’s described the evidence at the crime scene. We’ll get there as soon as we can, hopefully in the morning. I understand it’s pretty crazy down there.”

All three nodded.

“But the crime scene is intact, as far as you know?”

“As far as we know,” Bruce said. “There is no one around. In the spirit of full disclosure, the three of us have been in the apartment more than once. Nick here noticed the stains on the wall and in the downstairs bathroom. I walked around upstairs.”