A Crabby Killer by Leighann Dobbs Read Free Book Online

they were investigating it. He certainly didn’t want it to get back to Zambuco, who seemed to take a dim view of civilians butting in.
    “Maybe,” Dom said. “We were wondering if Bob is around.”
    Bradley’s brows shot up. “You think he’s mixed up in this?”
    Dom laughed. “No, of course not. We just heard the victim was down on the dock here and wanted to know if Bob had seen him.”
    Bradley’s face fell. “Oh. Well, Mr. Cleary hasn’t shown up for work yet today.”
    That piqued Dom’s interest. “Really? Is that unusual?”
    “Yeah. He’s usually here bright and early.”
    Claire had moved down the dock and was looking in the back of the boat. She tilted her head slightly and Dom walked over. A fishing net lay in the back of the boat … and it was made out of brown twine.

7
    C laire had mixed feelings about the discovery of the twine in the back of Barnacle Bob’s boat, not to mention the fact that he hadn’t shown up for work as usual that morning. She certainly didn’t want Bob to be the killer, but at least now they had an angle to follow that didn’t lead to Mae Biddeford.
    Claire had promised to go to the festival with Jane, so she dropped Dom off at his car at the lookout bench, then picked up Jane and parked behind the beauty shop.
    Apparently, the recent murder hadn’t put a dampener on the Crab Festival because the pier was swarming with tourists. Claire and Jane strolled past the tents, inhaling the tangy smell of fried clams and listening to the clamor of the crowd.
    “Have you heard anything from Robby about the … ” Jane tilted her head in the direction of yellow crime scene tape at the end of the pier. “Incident.”
    Claire glanced down through the throng of tourists. Although the rest of the festival was going on as usual, there would be no crab boil today. The police had finished processing the scene and cordoned off the area with an overabundance of yellow crime scene tape. Instead of scaring tourists away, it had acted as a magnet, attracting them to the end of the pier where they could gawk and point.
    Claire watched a throng of seagulls flap noisily above the giant pot which had been too heavy for the police to take. There were no crabs in the pot, but the gulls still squawked loudly, probably angry that they were getting robbed of the scraps of the boil that tourists usually threw to them. There would be no more crab boils until they got a new pot.
    “I haven’t heard a thing.” Claire shifted her gaze to the dock where Crabby Tours and Barnacle Bob’s had their boats. “We did go down and talk to Donovan Hicks earlier this morning because Larry said the victim had been seen down there.”
    “Did you find anything out?”
    Claire shrugged. “Not really, though we do need to follow up with Bob. He wasn’t in when we were there.”
    Claire knew from experience that it wasn’t a good idea to let out too much information from the investigation—even to her best friend. People tended to jump to conclusions and that was never helpful, so she didn’t mention the twine or the fact that Bob had been unusually late.
    They continued down the pier, passing the various vendors, most of whom they’d known all their lives. Claire paused in front of Sally Kimmel’s florist tent. Colorful, lush flowers filled the tent and the scent of lilacs wafted out. It looked gorgeous, as usual.
    Sally was a gifted floral designer and Donovan’s sister. Claire wondered if she should go in and ask some questions, but she really didn’t know exactly what to ask. Sally was one of the few family members who didn’t work in the Crabby Tours business so she probably wouldn’t have had any idea why Donovan had been talking to the victim.
    Jane had paused in front of the Harbor Fudge Shop tent across from Sally’s. She looked at Claire with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Well, I found something out.”
    “You did? What?”
    “The victim’s name.”
    “Do tell.” Claire was tired