Page 23 of Murder in Calusa Cove
“I’m not sure,” Dewey said, shifting his stance. “I saw him pull a boat up to shore, and there’s a new structure going up on that little island—one I’ve never seen before. I know all the shacks in the Glades, and that one’s new. I know people live out there, but they shouldn’t. Not even the Seminoles. It’s just not right. I figured you’d want to know what I saw.”
“I’ll check it out.” Dawson nodded. “I appreciate the heads up.”
“I wasn’t sure what to think of you and your buddies when you first moved to Calusa Cove.” Dewey pointed his finger between Dawson and Hayes. “But you’re all good men, and this town is damn lucky to have you all.”
“Thanks,” Dawson said.
“Coming from you, that means a lot.” Hayes stretched out his arm.
Dewey took it with a firm handshake. “It’s a real shame what happened to the old Crab Shack. I’m gonna miss that place, and it will be a damn shame if that city slicker, Decker Brown, gets his hands on the property.”
“You don’t really think he’s going to bid on it when the town puts it up for auction, do you?” Dawson asked.
“For the life of me, I don’t understand why the town would even consider auctioning it off.” Dewey shook his head. “I suggested making a town park or something, but I was told it’s not in the budget.”
“It’s not,” Dawson agreed. “And it’s too far from Parks and Rec to have it make sense. Besides, every department, including mine, has to make cuts. What we need is someone local to buy it and build a new restaurant.”
“Only problem is, no local has that kind of money,” Dewey muttered, letting out a sigh. “Decker Brown is nothing but trouble. We’ve got to keep guys like him out of this town.” He tipped back the rest of his water, then handed the empty bottle to Hayes. “Make sure that gets recycled.”
“Not a problem,” Hayes muttered.
“I’d better get going,” Dewey said. “Baily’s short-handed today—one of her deckhands, Bingo, called in sick, so I told her I’d help out.”
“That was awfully generous of you,” Hayes said, eyeing him with suspicion.
Dewey shrugged. “She’s got no business running that marina. I don’t know why Fletcher hasn’t swept her off her feet yet. But what worries me more is Decker. The man’s slick. He’ll charm her, buy that place out from under her, and turn it into something this town doesn’t need.” He paused, snorted. “Baily might be a woman, but she’s still better than that city slicker.” With that sexist gem, Dewey turned and strolled off through the neighbor’s yard like he owned the place.
Hayes jogged up the back steps and shook his head. “Sometimes, I honestly can’t believe the stuff that comes out of that man’s mouth.”
“What’s wrong with Baily owning a marina?” Buddy asked. “I’ve met her—she’s sharp, knows boats better than most guys I’ve worked with, and busts her ass every day.”
“It’s because she’s a woman,” Dawson said with a laugh. “Dewey still thinks women belong barefoot in the kitchen. He told Audra last week that he was glad she had finally found her place in the kitchen at the B&B. I swear, I thought my fiancée was going to knock him flat.”
“I can’t stand men like that,” Chloe said, her voice sharp. “If I had a dollar for every jerk who told me I didn’t belong in law enforcement just because I’m a woman, I could retire.”
“They’re all assholes,” Buddy said, standing as he gathered the files from the table. “And they’re intimidated—because you’re smarter than they are.” He tucked the papers into his backpack. “I have to head to the ME’s office. I’ll be in touch.”
“I better head out into the Everglades and investigate what this Cole guy’s up to.” Dawson chucked his water into the bin.
“Do you want company?” Hayes asked.
“Since I’m technically not on duty, I suppose I can let the two of you tag along.” Dawson nodded.
“What do you say, Chloe?” Hayes looped his arm around her waist. “This guy’s about sixty years old. He’s seen better days, and we can do a little research on him during the drive through the Everglades.”
“Do you know anything about this man?” Chloe asked, staring into his eyes.
“Dawson did a background check on him when he first came to town. He retired from the military about fifteen years ago, and he’s been a wanderer ever since. His record isn’t squeaky clean. But he hasn’t been picked up for anything other than a drunk and disorderly, or a few barroom brawls,” Hayes said.
“I got very little on his military record. Most of it was redacted, which is typical,” Dawson said. “If you asked for any of our records, you’d get almost nothing because of the tasks we were assigned. But we’ve got some friends in high places, and perhaps it’s time to do a little deeper dive.”
“Maybe this will be our first big break in this case.” Chloe leaned into Hayes’s body. “If this guy hasn’t been here all that long, he could be our killer. We’d have to track his locations for the last thirty-five years, matching them to his deployments, but that’s not an impossible task.”
“Let’s start with a boat ride.” Hayes kissed her temple. “We need to get my tablet.” He glanced at Dawson. “We’ll meet you at the docks.”
“See you there.” Dawson waved his hand over his head, jogged down the steps, and disappeared around the side of the house.
Hayes pulled Chloe into his arms. “Are you okay?”
