Death Runs Adrift (The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries) by Karen MacInerney Read Free Book Online Page B

the radio.
    Adam rose as he saw us, his usually smiling face grim. He was a handsome young man, tall and dark, with a quick wit and a kind heart. “I heard about Derek,” he said solemnly.
    “As has everyone on this island, apparently,” the policeman murmured dryly. Detective Johnson introduced himself to Adam and the other two lobstermen, both of whom knew Derek, as well. He asked the same questions he had of Tom. Although they agreed that Derek had been unreliable and rather full of himself, no one had anything new to add to the conversation.
    “I understand you fired Derek Morton,” the burly policeman said to Adam.
    “I let him go last week,” Adam said.
    The detective made a noncommittal noise. “Did you see him at all after that?”
    Adam shook his head. “He didn’t come back to the co-op. I don’t think anyone else would hire him.”
    “Did you have any communication with him after you terminated his employment?”
    “I paid him a week’s severance, and that was it,” he said. “I assumed he’d gone back to Ellsworth.”
    “Can we talk in private for a moment?” he asked. Adam shot me a questioning glance, then shrugged. “Sure,” he said, and followed the detective out the door.
    “I knew he was bad news,” volunteered Ernie when they left.
    “Does that cop think Adam did him in?” asked the other.
    “I think he’s just doing his job,” John said, then turned his attention to Ernie. “What did you mean about Derek being bad news?”
    Ernie shifted in his chair. “Just a feeling,” he said. “He was the kind to get into trouble.”
    “Did you ever see anything suspicious?” John asked.
    “He got to work late a lot,” Ernie said. “I think he might have been a drinker; his eyes were always bloodshot, and he was kind of out to lunch sometimes.”
    “Who did he hang out with?”
    “Tania Kean, mostly,” he said. “And Evan Sorenson.”
    Ingrid’s son again. “How long has Evan been back on the island?” John asked.
    “A month or two. He’s living with his parents, and working out at that new farm.”
    “Really? I heard Derek worked there, too.”
    He shrugged a flannel-clad shoulder. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine Derek Morton doing much in the way of weeding. Too lazy.”
    I glanced at the door. “I heard Derek took out Adam’s boat sometimes.”
    “That’s what Adam said,” Ernie replied.
    “How did he find out?” John asked.
    “Boat was tied up wrong a few times, and the gas seemed to be going down awful fast, so Adam stayed back and watched one night. Caught him red-handed.”
    Before I could ask more, Detective Johnson and Adam returned.
    “Thank you for your time,” the policeman said, giving Adam a card. “And I’d like you to come and take a look at that dinghy later on today.”
    Adam seemed paler than usual, and my heart sank a few notches. Even though the dinghy was his, I told myself, anyone could have accessed it. Still, after the way the two men had parted company … it didn’t look good.
    The detective handed additional cards to the three young lobstermen. “If any of you know or happen to hear anything regarding Derek’s death, please give me a call.”
    Something about the question sparked my memory. “While I’m thinking of it,” I asked the lobstermen, “have any of you noticed a boat with a turquoise and orange buoy around lately?”
    “I’ve seen her a few times,” said Ernie, “but I haven’t seen any of the buoys on the water. And I’ve been watching.”
    “What’s her name?” John asked.
    “I never get close enough to see,” Ernie said. “She’s not a boat I’ve seen before. She’s usually pretty quick off the mark when she spots me.”
    “Think she’s putting out traps?” I asked.
    “If she is, she’s using someone else’s buoys to do it,” he answered. Each lobsterman in Maine was assigned a specific buoy; it was illegal to be seen picking up a trap whose buoy didn’t match the one tacked to your