Nik Friday had been up for 48 hours
straight. Yet, he was not feeling tired. Standing on The Grand Cougar (the
dumbest name for a yacht he had ever heard) on Lake Tahoe
at 2a.m. seemed refreshing to him. The past two days had been spent getting
clearance to board the boat in the first place, given that the body had been
found on the yacht in the middle of the lake, pretty much on the state line
between Nevada and California . It was a rare find, so the
paperwork had been unclear. Nik had been willing to cede the case to the South Lake Tahoe police,
but they did not want it. Nobody wanted it, in fact. Yet, nobody wanted the
other on their turf. Detective Friday of the Reno Police Department had been
summoned to the case for reasons he could not understand and could care less
about.
Standing with his tan Stetson and his droopy mustache, he looked around
the boat with considerable disinterest. The fresh air was fine, but the rest
was a waste to him. He just happened to be called on when a body was found
mysteriously, and in Washoe
County
He looked down at the body. It was that of a nude man with long gray
hair, pulled into a ponytail, probably late forties or early fifties. The body
was lean and lightly tanned, like he’d been born to yacht on Tahoe. It was
almost as if the man had died where he had wanted to die. If it weren’t for the
three bullet holes in his chest, it would have made for that perfect death. Friday
shook his head at the corpse.
Dwayne Behrens, a newly-promoted detective, and Friday’s new partner, looked
at Friday. “So what do we do?”
“All the paperwork done on jurisdiction?”
“Beats me. We just got here.”
“I thought I told you to call it in.”
“You’ve been telling me so damn much that I don’t know what to do first.”
Nik glared at the young cop. “I’m teaching you what to look for, that’s
what the damn much is, jackass. When I tell you to call something in, it’s not
advice, it’s an order.”
“Want me to call in?”
Nik grabbed the young officer’s cell phone. “I’ll do it, shit.” He
punched in the department’s number after searching the directory. “Don’t you
have the office in here already?”
“I just got that.”
“Christ!” Friday turned his attention to the phone. “Sandy, this is
Friday. We clear on the body? Thanks.” He clicked off then tossed the phone to
Behrens. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Dwayne caught it then shrugged. “You need a nap?”
“I need you to get your thumb out of your ass! Look, man, I know you’re
learning the ropes here, and I’ve been barking shit at you all week, but you
gotta at least be two steps closer to me, here, all right?”
“Fine. We clear?”
“We’re clear. Tell me what you see.”
Dwayne looked at the body for a long while, wanting to say something
intelligent.
“Will I sound stupid if I say he was shot three times?”
“No, you’re stating the obvious, which I generally can’t take.”
Dwayne checked the body more. “If I were to make an even dumber guess,
I’d say the shots form an upside-down equilateral triangle.”
Nik grinned. “Better.”
“Should we turn him over?”
“Why?”
“Exit wounds.”
“Crime scene guys might want to do that themselves, and they’re running
late.”
Dwayne stood up and looked around. “I wonder how many people came aboard
then left.”
Nik shrugged. “Beats me.”
“I mean, it is a yacht, and a lot of people might have checked it out,
contaminated the scene.”
“We can’t worry about that yet. All I know is, we can’t touch a damn
thing until the unit does their thing.”
“So we just sit here until they do?”
“Yep.”
Dwayne smiled. “Any beer on here?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
Dwayne walked around a bit on the deck. “He was found exactly like
this?”
“Yep.”
“So he saw his shooter?”
“Unless he was blind.”
“Lots of boats here. I wonder how many witnesses we’ll get.”
“Witnesses will be plenty. Reliable ones will be few.”
“I’m assuming someone heard a shot, or two or three.”
“Assume that and you’re an idiot.”
“Lighten up, will you?”
Nik sighed. “Look, I’ve been detective longer than you. I know how
witnesses work. They think they see or hear something, but when we question
them for the hundredth time, red becomes blue, white becomes black.
Photographic memories suddenly lack film.”
Dwayne nodded. He’d definitely seen that in court. “The yacht was in the
middle of the lake when it was called in?”
“Two miles out.”
“Incline Village
“Probably not.” Nik was almost enjoying listening to his trainee ramble
on, he just hoped sooner or later the kid would say something that made sense.
He was tempted, though, to turn the body over himself just to see if there were
exit wounds. Waiting for the C.S.T. was a pain sometimes.
Minutes later, Dwayne emerged from below. “Nothing.”
“Nothing what?”
“No bullets.”
“You on a scavenger hunt?”
“Yep.”
“Good, keeps you busy.”
“It’s a long swim to shore.”
Nik took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. “What?”
“The killers. How did they escape?”
“Well, they sure as hell didn’t swim to the yacht, climb aboard, and
kill the guy.”
“Speedboat maybe?”
“Maybe. Look, just settle down, will you?”
“Just trying to be a detective.”
“I know you are, and I like your questions. But being that it’s the
middle of the night and we’re on a moored yacht, I can’t give you answers.”
“There’s a bed down below.”
“Just one?”
“All I saw.”
“You want it?”
“I thought you would.”
“I should, but I don’t.”
“If I want to survive, I guess I’d better learn your hours.”
“Take my advice, Dwayne. Don’t do my hours, they’re just for me.”
“Kind of like sunglasses in the dark?”
“Sort of.”
“Why do you wear those all the time?”
“Can you see what I’m thinking?”
“No.”
“That’s why. If you want to take a nap, go ahead. The team’s probably
fuckin’ around as usual.”
“You sure it’s ok?”
“I’ll kick you when they get here.”
“Somehow I believe you,” Dwayne said, running his hand through his think
blonde hair, then went below.
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