Death Among the Mangroves by Stephen Morrill Read Free Book Online Page A

his butt with both hands and a road map,” Toby Daniels said. “I teach at the school. Biology.”
    “Mark Stider would have graduated from here five or six years ago,” Christine said. “But I can remember him because he was the son of Twentieth Circuit Court Judge Hans Stider, and some other things. Last I heard he had graduated from the University of Florida but was still in law school.”
    “A judge. That’s perfect. Just perfect,” Troy muttered.
    “Why? What’s Mark done?”
    “All he is now is someone in a photo,” Troy said. “What were the other reasons you remembered him?”
    Christine looked at Toby. “I’m not sure if I should be talking out of school, so to speak.”
    “First time I’ve heard that expression used literally,” Troy said. “What do you have to say, Toby?”
    “That kid was bad news.”
    “Toby!” Christine said sharply.
    “He needs to know, Chris,” Toby said. He looked at Troy. “You can check your police records too. Mark Stider was broken, somehow, inside. He punched out anyone who looked crossways at him. Arrogant. Waved his dad’s judgeship around like a flag. Probably a sociopath, totally without feelings for others, maybe narcissist too, totally engrossed in his own self.”
    “Sounds like Doctor Duell,” Troy said. “Just had a run-in with him. It ended ugly.”
    “Duell and Mark Stider probably have some things in common,” Toby said. “Though I don’t think Duell abuses people physically. He’s more into psychological abuse of people under his control. Mark wasn’t smart enough to do that. Mark was attractive to some of the girls—jerks like that always seem to draw the dumb ones—but they always left him quickly, quietly, in tears and too often screwed up mentally. We teachers thought he was either molesting some of the girls or at least forcing them to agree to sex with him…”
    “What’s the difference?” Troy asked.
    “You got me. Less beating them up first, I guess. Anyway Chief Redmond ignored us. He ignored the girls who complained.”
    “And Duell? He ignore them too?”
    “Pretty much. Duell really doesn’t have time for teaching or running the schools. He’s too busy polishing the nameplate on his desk.” Troy, whose desk and office door had no names at all, smiled at the image.
    “Chief Redmond was sort of a Judge Stider toady,” Christine said.
    “Well, Redmond is sort of gone now,” Troy said. “I’m the chief and I guess Mark is on his own.”
    “Not while his dad is around,” Toby said. “At least the kid left town. Good for us; bad for wherever he went.”
    “Apparently he’s back, at least for the holidays,” Troy said.
    “Is this about that missing girl?” Christine asked.
    “Just doing some backgrounding,” Troy said.
    “Yeah. Sure you are,” Toby said. “Girl is missing and the chief of police is out on a Sunday waving around a photo of a kid known for abusing young women. I’m guessing he’s not wanted for littering. Do the world a favor. Put a bullet into the little bastard. Improve the gene pool.”

Chapter 8
    Sunday, December 22
    By evening the search was winding down. Townspeople went home to their lives and their dinners. The Sunset Bay boat ramps by the police station were busy with people hauling the boats they had used to search the Gulf in front and Oyster Bay in back. Lester Groud’s friends in the guide and crab communities had taken their boats back to the boatyard on Snake Key where they kept them at docks. A few larger boats were nosing back into the Osprey Yacht Club docks across the Collier River. The sheriff’s helicopter had long since gone away to refuel and then on to other duties.
    Troy watched some volunteer firemen getting into their cars in the parking lot behind the town hall and driving away. He had a hollow feeling in his stomach. They had looked in every obvious place and all the nonobvious ones too and there was not a trace of Barbara Gillispie.
    Troy had his officers