CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I drove the rental car toward the south side of Jacksonville, the quiet of a Sunday morning making me think of that old Johnny Cash song “Sunday Morning Coming Down.” The sidewalks, lined by old oak trees draped with moss, were still asleep and I felt a little out of place as if I had suddenly been transported from another dimension to this large southern city cloaked in its Sunday solitude.
Betty Garrison lived in a Georgian-style red brick home fronting the St. Johns River. Apparently her husband Peter had been a very successful lawyer. She answered the door wearing a pair of white linen slacks, a white blouse trimmed in turquoise, and white boat shoes. Her only jewelry was a pendant necklace, a small stone that matched the color of the trim on her blouse. She was a petite brunette with a southern accent that immediately put me at ease.
We went to a family room that had a lot of glass overlooking the river. It was ten in the morning and the sun was already high. A boat with a skier behind roared in near the shore, and the laughter of teenagers floated on the breeze. Far out in the middle of the river a towboat pushed a barge southbound.
The St. Johns is wide as it winds its way through Jacksonville, its languid current pushing toward the sea. It is one of the few rivers in the world that flow northward, and when Jock and I were teenagers we’d spent a lot of pleasant hours on the river’s upper reaches near our hometown in central Florida.
Mrs. Garrison offered coffee, which I accepted, and we settled into high-back chairs facing each other. “I hope I can help, Mr. Royal, but as I said on the phone, I’ve told the police everything I know.”
“I know some of my questions will be the same the police asked, but if you’ll bear with me I’ll be out of your hair real quick.”
She smiled. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”
“Tell me how you came to be aboard the Dulcimer that evening?”
“My husband and I were taking a little break and had gone to Long-boat Key. We were staying at the Colony Beach. We went to the restaurant on the property for dinner. Peter picked up a tourist brochure on the way in and one of the coupons was for the dinner cruise on the Dulcimer. We decided to try it the next evening.”
“Do you remember seeing Katherine Brewster at all that evening?”
“Vaguely. The police showed me a picture of her. I remember seeing her on the boat because she was so strikingly beautiful and I wondered why she was alone.”
“How did you know she was alone?”
“She was sitting at a table for two, but at first no other guest was there. I noticed one man who seemed to be hitting on her stop by, but he left pretty quickly. Then another young man came in and sat with her for a few minutes and left.”
“Can you describe either of the men?”
“The young man who sat with her didn’t stand out at all. He was in a golf shirt and jeans, brown hair, I think. He seemed a little agitated and didn’t stay long.”
“What about the man who seemed to be hitting on her? Can you describe him?”
“No. I couldn’t even tell you what he was wearing. I just have a vague recollection of a man. He may not have even been hitting on her. Maybe I just assumed it.”
“Where was she sitting in relation to you and your husband?”
“There was a line of tables for two set along the windows. She was at the next table, right behind Peter. She and my husband were sitting back to back and I was directly across from him.”
“Was there any indication that your husband knew Katherine?”
“I don’t believe he did. He spoke to her when we sat down at the table, but nothing else.”
“Do you have children?” I asked.
“Two. A boy and a girl.”
“Do they live here?”
“No. My daughter is married and lives in Miami. My son is a student at the University of Florida, but he’s traveling in Europe right now. He’ll be back on campus in a couple of weeks.”
“Did you ask if either of them knew Katherine?”
“Yes. I thought of that. She was close to their ages. They didn’t know her.”
“I understand you went up on deck for a smoke just before the lights went out on Dulcimer.”
“Yes. A terrible habit, but I was down to about five cigarettes a day. I’m completely off them now.”
“Why didn’t your husband go topside with you?”
“He was very sensitive to smoke. The least little whiff of it and he’d start sneezing. I always went outside by myself to feed the habit.”
“Did you see any Asians that night aboard the boat?”
“Nobody ever asked me that one.” She was quiet for a moment, thinking. She shut her eyes as if trying to conjure up a memory, then opened them wide, a look of surprise crossing her face. “Oh my goodness. You’re right. I did see somebody. The man I thought was hitting on Katherine was Asian.”