“How many boat slips does the marina have?” I asked.
“Thirty. Plus, there’s the store.”
“Is this a family business?” I asked. “Or how did Rayna come to own it?”
“Her great-grandfather built the marina about a hundred-fifty years ago.” Zane placed his arm on my shoulder and maneuvered me around a crate of fish. “He was a sea witch who saw the future.”
“You knew him?” I mused, not sure why I was surprised.
Zane smiled. “I did. I liked him, too.”
Gulls screamed overhead, diving low whenever a fish came out in the open. I laughed and shook my head. “Between the boardwalk food and the marina, I’m surprised the birds around here aren’t too fluffy to fly.”
Zane laughed. “I guess I can see why you might have that concern.”
Zane called out to a fisherman hosing down his deck. I wrinkled my nose as the pink-tinged water slipped between the planks and back into the harbor. Another fisherman, a sea witch, hurried past us, his cooler of fish hovering in the air near his shoulder.
“I’ve never been happier to be a PADA detective,” I said, flipping my blonde braid over my shoulder. “I don’t think I could do this every day.”
The marina store sat at the end of the massive dock... almost like it was hovering above the water. The weathered wooden sign above the door read Halter Marina Supply & Tackle in faded blue lettering. A chalkboard near the entrance listed the morning’s catch, and I slowed for a second, taking it all in. It was just after ten o’clock, and already the marina was packed with fishermen bringing in their morning catch.
“These guys must be on the water by five or earlier,” I said.
“Earlier in some cases,” Zane said. “Some of the fishermen don’t come in until evening time, but most finish earlier because they start at three or four in the morning.”
“Coming through,” a gruff voice said behind me. “I got fish to sell, little lady.”
12
Zane held the store’s door open, and I stepped inside.
As I expected, the shop was busy. Fishermen crowded the aisles, grabbing supplies and talking over one another. Enchanted lights burned overhead, and all I could do was stand there gaping, taking it all in. It reminded me of a scene from the human moviePirates of the Caribbeanfor some reason. Had Jack Sparrow strolled by and tipped his hat to me, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
To my left, wooden bins held coils of anchor line, dock line, and mooring rope in various thicknesses and colors. Metal shelving units lined the far wall, stacked with tackle boxes, lure kits, fishing hooks sorted by size, and bags of lead sinkers. Below those sat sealed buckets of bait, though the faint smell still crept through. Crab traps and nets hung from ceiling hooks near the back corner, swaying slightly whenever someone walked beneath them.
The right side of the store had boat batteries sitting on low shelves next to jugs of motor oil. Wearable gear sat on a metal rack—slickers, rubber boots, waterproof gloves. A glass casenear the register displayed marine electronics, depth finders, compasses, and handheld radios.
But it was the display near the center aisle that caught my attention.
“Zane,” I hissed. “Are you seeing this?”
Spools of rope and cord were mounted on a wooden rack, organized by material and thickness. Nylon. Polypropylene. Braided cotton. Natural fiber twine. Dozens of possible murder weapons.
“I see,” Zane murmured near my ear.
I strolled over and ran my fingers along a spool of thin braided cord. It was narrow and sturdy. Doc Treestone had said he thought the murder weapon had been narrow. I continued to study the ropes and twine, and I couldn’t help but think that any one of them could have been the weapon used to strangle Mari Quinn.
I turned from the display and looked toward the back of the store. Behind the long counter sat an elevated office that jutted out like a glassed-in observation deck. Three steps led up to a door, and the room was surrounded on all four sides by windows. The glass had a slight tint, but not enough to block the view entirely. From inside the room, you’d have a panoramic sweep of the ocean on three sides and a clear line of sight into the store on the other.
Through the tinted glass, I saw Rayna Halter standing behind a large desk. Her face was pinched, and she didn’t look happy.A man stood across from her, his back to me. Even through the glass, I could tell they were arguing. Rayna kept shaking her head as the man pointed a finger at her.
“Someone’s not happy,” I murmured to Zane.
The man inside the office suddenly turned, yanked open the office door, slammed it closed, and stomped down the steps. Hisjaw was clenched and his fists were balled at his sides...and he didn’t look at anyone as he strode through the store.
But I immediately recognized him. It was the man I’d seen arguing inside city hall in the permits section yesterday about the price of everything going up.
“Do you know who that was?” I asked Zane.
