Plum Island Read Online Free PDF Page A

Filling
     out the rest of the form: age, early thirties; hair, medium length, coppery color; eyes, blue-green; skin, fair, not much
     sun for this time of year, light makeup; pouty lips; no visible marks or scars; no earrings; no nail polish; pissed-off expression
     on her face.
    “Are you
listening
to me?”
    She also had a nice voice despite the present tone. I suspected that because of the pretty face, great body, and soft voice,
     Detective Penrose had trouble being taken seriously, and thus she overcompensated with butchy attire. She probably owned a
     book titled
Dress to Bust Balls.
    “Are you listening to me?”
    “I’m
listening
to you. Are you
listening
to me? I told you to talk to the chief.”
    “
I
am in charge here. In matters of homicide, the county police—”
    “Okay, we’ll go see the chief together. Just a minute.”
    I took a quick look around the boat, but it was dark now, and I couldn’t see much. I tried to find a flashlight. I said to
     Detective Penrose, “You should post an officer here all night.”
    “Thank you for sharing your thoughts. Please come out of the boat.”
    “Do you have a flashlight on you?”
    “Out of the boat. Now.”
    “Okay.” I stepped onto the gunwale, and to my surprise she extended her hand, which I took. Her skin was cool. She pulled
     me up onto the dock and at the same time, quick as a cat, her right hand went under my T-shirt and snatched the revolver from
     my waistband.
Wow.
    She stepped back, my piece in her hand. “Stand where you are.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Who are you?”
    “Detective John Corey, NYPD, homicide, ma’am.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “Same as you.”
    “No, I caught this case. Not you.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Do you have any official status here?”
    “Yes, ma’am. I was hired as a consultant.”
    “
Consultant?
On a murder case? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
    “Me neither.”
    “Who hired you?”
    “The town.”
    “Idiotic.”
    “Right.” She seemed undecided about what to do next, so to be helpful I suggested, “Do you want to strip-search me?”
    I thought I saw a smile pass over her lips in the moonlight. My heart was aching for her, or it might have been the hole in
     my lung acting up.
    She asked me, “What did you say your name was?”
    “John Corey.”
    She searched her memory. “Oh … you’re the guy—”
    “That’s me. Lucky me.”
    She seemed to soften, then gave my .38 a twirl and handed it to me, butt first. She turned and walked away.
    I followed her along the dock, up the three-leveled deck to the house where the outdoor lights lit up the area around the
     glass doors and moths circled around the globes.
    Max was talking to one of the forensic people. Then he turned to me and Detective Penrose and asked us, “You two met yet?”
    Detective Penrose responded, “Why is this man involved in this case?”
    Chief Maxwell replied, “Because I want him to be involved.”
    “That’s not your decision, Chief.”
    “And neither is it yours.”
    They kept bouncing the ball back and forth and my neck was getting tired, so I said, “She’s right, Chief. I’m out of here.
     Get me a ride home.” I turned and walked toward the moongate, then with a little practiced dramatics, I turned back to Maxwell
     and Penrose and said, “By the way, did anyone take the aluminum chest in the stern of the boat?”
    Max asked, “What aluminum chest?”
    “The Gordons had a big aluminum chest that they used to stow odds and ends, and sometimes they used it for an ice chest to
     hold beer and bait.”
    “Where is it?”
    “That’s what I’m asking
you.
”
    “I’ll look for it.”
    “Good idea.” I turned and walked through the gate and went out to the front lawn away from the parked police cars. The neighbors
     had been joined by the morbidly curious as word of the double homicide spread through the small community.
    A few cameras popped in my direction, then video lights came on,