Chapter TWENTY-FOUR
We finished lunch, and J.D. headed to Bradenton to the sheriff’s forensics lab. She was hoping to get some information on the stolen car found parked across the street from the Seafood Shack. It was so close to where the boat had been stolen, that it seemed reasonable to assume that whoever had taken the boat had also stolen the car.
Jock and I went home and took Recess out on a completely unproductive fishing trip to a man-made reef near the north end of Anna Maria Island. The sea was flat, the sun warm, and the beer cold. Even without fish, it was a fine way to spend a November afternoon.
J.D. called to report that the car had been wiped clean. No fingerprints or anything else that would be of any use to law enforcement. She declined my dinner invitation, saying she was tired and wanted to go home, fix something simple for dinner, sip a glass of wine, and get back into the David Hagberg novel she was reading.
Jock and I called it a day. That evening he got a call from Gene Alexander telling him that the medical examiner had released Nell’s body and the funeral would be the next day, a short graveside service in a cemetery out near I-75. Eleven o’clock in the morning. Gene was going to ride to the cemetery with Les Fulcher. Some of the other islanders would be there.
I called J.D. to see if she wanted to join us. She did, and so did Sammy.
We arrived at the cemetery shortly before the services were to begin. Like much of the developed interior of Florida, the cemetery was a flat expanse carved out of an old cattle ranch some years before. A stand of pine trees bordered the property, separating it from the cars passing by on the highway. The grave markers were those flat plaques that lay on the ground so that the lawn mowers would clear them. One had probably been ordered for Nell.
It seemed a small ending for a life that had been lived well. But then, that’s the way funerals always are. A life stops and all that is left is the corporeal body that needs to be buried or cremated. The dead will be remembered for as long as their loved ones live, but then even the memory is buried. It all seemed so useless in this context, the first step of a child, the striving for success, love, children of their own, success or failure, happiness or despair, all gone in that blink of an eye when life leaves the body. In the end, our entire lives are only a short brushstroke on the cosmic canvas.
Jock, J.D., and Sammy walked toward the little knot of people gathered at the gravesite. I lagged behind and then stopped. I watched J.D. as she moved across the close-cropped grass of the graveyard, her graceful movements so alive in this field of the dead. There is such a fine line between life and death and we never know when we’ll have to cross it. I hoped it wouldn’t be soon.
“Matt,” J.D. said, “are you coming?” She was a few feet in front of me, looking back, wondering, I guess, why I had stopped. Jock and Sammy had moved on.
I wrenched myself back to reality. Only a couple of seconds had elapsed as I stood rooted. I looked at her, thinking that life does go on and as long as we are breathing, happiness is within reach. Maybe she was my happiness. I smiled. “Coming,” I said.
The service was short and the crowd dispersed quickly. We paid our condolences to Gene and drove back to the key. J.D. told us that the forensic people had finished examining the go-fast boat that was assumed to be the one used by the Leffis Key killers. It had been wiped clean, but one of the technicians found a single fingerprint on a stern cleat. It looked as if one of the men had touched the cleat while he was securing a line.
“Were you able to match it?” Jock asked.
“Yes. To a man named Barry Steiffel. He was on parole, released a month ago from Glades Correctional.”
“The same place where Qualman served time,” I said.
“Exactly,” said J.D.
“Do we know where Steiffel is now?” asked Jock.
“No,” said J.D. “He never checked in with his parole officer in Miami.”
“Is that where he’s from?” I asked.
“Yeah,” said J.D. “He went up for armed robbery in Miami Beach. Did eight years of a ten-year sentence.”
“Did you arrest him?” I asked.
“No. Miami Beach is a different jurisdiction. I checked with Miami-Dade, just to be sure I’d never had anything to do with him. As far as we can tell, Steiffel and I never crossed paths.”
“The lady who saw the man get off the boat on the beach said he was alone,” I said. “There were definitely two leaving Leffis Key on that boat. What happened to the other guy?”
“Good question,” said J.D. “Maybe one of them got off farther up the beach.”
“Maybe he’ll show up,” Jock said. “At least we have a name now.”
“You want to join us for lunch, J.D.?” I asked.
“Wish I could,” she said, “but I’ve got to finish up some paperwork. That’s the worse part of this job.”
“Sammy’s got to work, but Logan’s going with us to Tommy Bahama’s restaurant on the Circle tonight. You want to join us?”
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll be on the Circle, but I’m meeting an old friend from Miami for dinner and drinks at Lynches Pub.”
We dropped her at the police station and took Sammy a little farther south to Pattigeorge’s. “I wonder about the friend from Miami,” I said as Jock and I drove north toward the village.
“Slow down, podna. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re probably wrong.”
“I hope so,” I said.
“We could stop by Lynches for drinks after dinner.”
“Yeah. That wouldn’t be at all obvious. You’re not very good at this, are you?”
“Hey,” he said, “I’m not the one in love.”
“I don’t know whether I am or not. It’s confusing.”
“Geez. We sound like we’re still in high school.”
And I guess we did. But if I had known what the night would bring, I would have turned around and taken J.D. home with me. Even if I had to kidnap her to do it.