His face twitched.“I’m familiar with your work back in Portland.”
“Oh, that’s right.”I smiled, taking a step closer.“You’re from Portland too.Hey, seeing as we’re both from the same place originally, maybe you could share some details with me about who the victim is and what happened.”
His brows drew together.“I’m sorry.When I said people needed to stay back because this is an active scene, did you think that didn’t include you?”
I was surprised to feel heat in my cheeks, but I ignored it.“Well, I’m not just here gawking at the body.I’m trying to write an accurate story for my paper.”
“And you think because we’re both from Portland, I’ll just invite you on the boat or something?”
I ignored his sardonic tone.You had to have a thick skin as a reporter.“I noticed you had your officer hang crime scene tape.That’s not usually the case when it’s an accidental death, is it?”That wasn’t completely true, but I wanted to see what he’d say.
His eyes flickered.“We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet.”
“I see.”I twisted my lips, glancing at the boat.“Why do I get the feeling your department is treating this as a suspicious death?”
“I have no idea.Maybe because you’re a reporter and you like to jump to conclusions?”
I couldn’t help laughing.“That’s not true.”
“No?”He smirked.“Seems like that’s exactly what you’re doing right now.”
I shrugged.“I’m just asking questions.That’s my job.”
“Fair enough.”He held my gaze.“And figuring out what happened here by actually examining the facts is mine.The department will issue a statement when we have something to share.”
“And you won’t confirm you’re treating Eddie’s death as suspicious?”
His lips thinned.“We’re investigating the circumstances of the victim’s death.That’s all I can tell you right now.”
A nothing answer, delivered with the practiced neutrality of a man who’d given many statements to the press.He wasn’t going to tell me the name of the victim.Fair enough.But something about how vague his answers were let me know he had questions about Eddie’s death.It was also obvious even if he did have questions, he wasn’t going to share them with me.I respected that even though it frustrated me.
“You know,” I said, “we’re really on the same side.We both just want the truth.”
He grimaced.“Even if that’s true, I can’t tell you any more than I already have.Sorry.”
“Okay.”I sighed.“Well, I’ll be around if you decide you want to talk.”
He nodded and turned back to the scene.I watched him walk away, not sure what to make of our interaction.I was pretty sure the victim was Eddie, even though Declan had refused to verify that.Maybe my time would be better spent talking to people who’d actually known Eddie.I’d need to write a piece about Eddie for the paper.The more I knew about him, the better the story would be.
I spent the next two hours at the harbor, talking to anyone who’d talk to me.I’d been in Coral Cove long enough to have bought enough rounds at the Rusty Anchor to earn a baseline of trust.One of the few useful things I’d carried out of my Portland career was the understanding that sources were people first and information second, and that the difference between a good reporter and a bad one was whether you remembered that.
Whether Hale would confirm it or not, everyone I spoke to believed the victim on the boat was Eddie Salcedo.I learned that Eddie was fifty-eight, married to Rosa for thirty-one years, and the father of two grown kids who’d both left for Portland.He’d been fishing these waters since he was seventeen.Quiet, reliable, and universally liked, which in a community this small and this competitive was unusual.He’d partnered with Gil Moran for eight years, and by all accounts it worked, though a few people mentioned that recently Eddie and Gil had been arguing about something.Nobody knew what or why, or if they did, nobody wanted to say.
By noon, the fog had lifted entirely and the harbor was bright and almost cheery.If not for the crime scene tape strung up on the Pacific Lady, it could have been a scenic postcard from someone’s happy holiday.Officer Nakamura was standing watch, but the crowd had thinned quite a bit.I’d have bet money most of them were warming seats at the Rusty Anchor, already lifting pints to Eddie’s memory.
As I walked up the hill toward town, my phone buzzed with a call from my boss, Margot.
“Where are you?”she asked.
“I’m at the harbor.”
“I had a feeling you would be.”She laughed gruffly.“I’m going to need about fifteen hundred words from you by tomorrow afternoon.The grim stuff up top and then the more sentimental piece below.We want stuff about Eddie’s personal life, how he was such a fixture in the community.You know the drill.”
“The police haven’t confirmed the body is Eddie yet.”
“They will soon,” she said.“I know someone at the police department.She says the body is Eddie’s.They just want to tell the family before the news gets out.”
“Okay, then I’ll do my best to write a moving piece about him.”
