Justified Malice

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1Miles Darien was sure the pounding in his head was from the three vodka martinis he’d had the night before. Turns out it was actually someone knocking loudly at his front door. He crawled out of bed and tripped over the pile of clothes he’d dumped on the floor after returning from a birthday party for his assistant, Anne. Before answering the door, Miles looked out his second-story window and, much to his surprise, saw his friend George Willis’s car out front. When Miles opened the door, there was George looking downright bewildered and disheveled, with his shirt half tucked in and his hair sticking out in all directions.

“George, what in the world are you doing here at 4:00 a.m. on a Monday morning?” Miles asked.

“I’ve been trying to get you for an hour, but you wouldn’t answer your phone,” George growled.

“Come in. It’s cold outside. Strange I didn’t hear the phone.” Miles then saw the phone sitting on the coffee table in front of the TV. He’d forgotten it there when he dragged his martini-addled self up the stairs to bed. “It’s January, so you’re not picking me up to go fishing. Why are you here?”

George’s voice quivered as he spoke. “There’s been an explosion at the marina. Our boat blew up in dry dock.”

“Let’s go!” Without a moment’s hesitation, Miles grabbed a warm jacket and slipped his phone in the pocket. His golden retriever, Molly, was wagging her tail and squealing, clearly indicating she wanted to go out to pee but she’d have to wait.

“What the hell happened?” Miles asked before George had even started the car.

“I have no idea. There was nothing flammable in the boat once we took it out of the water. I can’t believe this happened! I’m out of business.” George’s voice grew louder with each spoken word.

“I assume the police are already on the scene investigating,” Miles said as calmly as he could in hopes of settling George down.

“Yes, they called me from there. No one on the police force has the investigative skills, or the personal interest, to get to the bottom of this—not like you.” George obviously thought this was more than a mere accident.

Miles had a million questions, but he knew it was likely the answers lay at the marina dry dock.

When they arrived at the marina, the crew of Lakeville firefighters had just finished stowing their equipment on the three fire trucks that had been called to the scene. Much of the water they’d used to douse the fire had already begun turning to ice thanks to the brisk, wintry breeze off Lake Michigan. The dark and cold January night had already erased any of the warmth the burning boat had created, and there was barely a whiff of the smoke left from the fire the explosion had produced.

Miles introduced himself to the cops on the scene as one of the boat’s owners. In actuality, he was; and it was prudent to leave it at that, as they’d likely not be happy with a private investigator nosing around a potentially fresh crime scene. As he perused the damage, Miles first noticed the giant, charred hole in the center of the deck. The few boards remaining were badly burned and pointing downward, strongly indicating the blast had originated on the deck, not from the cabin below. This was more than odd, as none of the equipment on the deck contained fuel, or operated on a combustible material. All possible culprits lay below the deck or in the engine compartment.

This was unlikely to have been an accident, Miles thought. It appeared to him as if someone deliberately set off an explosive device intending to destroy the boat, and they did so in the middle of the night, likely to avoid turning this incident into a homicide. Miles stood off to the side simply observing the gathering of evidence by the Lakeville PD. When Jim Rathburn of the Medical Examiner’s office pulled up to the scene, Miles realized that theory was, at least, partially wrong.

Miles watched as Jim maneuvered his large six-foot-four frame though the mangled wreckage of the boat. About thirty minutes after he had arrived, Jim and his team emerged from the boat’s wreckage with a bagged body on a gurney. He saw Miles and walked over to say hello.

“Your boat?” Jim asked, offering his hand.

“George’s and mine. At least what’s left of it, I guess. Learn anything about the identity of the body?”

“Nothing definitive at this point. I’ll keep you up-to-date as our investigation proceeds.” Jim turned to George and asked how his wife, Cora, and daughter, Olivia, were doing.

“Fine, other than this mess. Since you brought them up, I want to thank you again for all you did to help Olivia through that nasty business with the loan sharks. She could have died if it weren’t for you.” George’s eyes teared up as he spoke.

As they parted company, Jim added, “I’m so glad everything worked out for her. I can’t believe that bastard Reese’s company forced her to surrender a kidney to pay off a loan. Hope he gets his comeuppance one day, and soon. Miles, I’ll call you later. I have a couple of other issues to chat with you about. Sorry about your boat, by the way.”

Miles smiled and waved as Jim walked back to join his team. When Miles turned back to George, he saw bewilderment and fear in his friend’s face.

“Someone tried to kill us!” George exclaimed.

“Actually, it was not a murder attempt at all,” Miles assured him.

“I don’t understand.”

“Think about it. If someone wanted us dead, the last thing they would do is set off a bomb in a deserted storage facility in the middle of the night. This was intended for another purpose.”

“What other purpose?” George was obviously confused.

“I’m not entirely sure at this point, but I intend to find out.” Miles’s voice was ripe with resolve.

“Well, you’re the private investigator. Where do you begin?” George asked.

Miles winked. “With breakfast.”

After breakfast, George dropped off Miles at home. The first order of business was to take Molly out. She barely made it out the door before letting loose, while flashing Miles her most appreciative golden-retriever smile. Once back inside, he headed upstairs to wash up and get ready for a day at the office.

After his shower, he checked his phone for messages. There was a text from Jim Rathburn asking Miles to call as soon as possible. Miles called him back immediately.

“Hi, Miles. I have some preliminary information for you about the man’s body we discovered on your boat. There was enough forensic evidence left on the body to identify him as Todd Morton, a small-time criminal who has been arrested numerous times in numerous municipalities. Does his name sound familiar?”

“Sorry, Jim. Doesn’t ring a bell.” Miles had hoped the man’s identity would have been an obvious clue to who perpetrated this attack.

“Well, just be careful,” Jim warned. “It’s entirely possible somebody out there wants to harm you and George, and it may not have been the man whose body we found.”

“Believe me, I totally understand. We’ll take all the necessary precautions. Why don’t you think the guy you found was the guilty party?” Miles asked.

“Did you see the article in the Examiner a month or so ago where a dog dug up a man’s hand?”

“Of course. Aguy was out walking his dog near a construction site, and the dog literally dragged him to the spot where it was buried.”

“Yep, that’s it. Well, the hand was sent to us for analysis, but there was no identification possible due to the length of time it had been buried and how the chemicals in the ground had eliminated the possibility of a DNA match, so we cataloged our findings and closed the case.”

“Sure. But what’s changed?”

“Well, a guy showed up at police headquarters the other day claiming the missing hand was his, and he wanted it back.”

Miles burst out laughing. “Sorry, Jim. I couldn’t help myself. Did you give him his hand back?”

“Of course not. Actually, it no longer exists. Apparently he was in a gang way back when, and they caught him stealing from their stash. They cut off his hand in retribution. He went to jail for an unrelated crime shortly thereafter. Once he was released from jail, he saw the article in the paper about the dog finding the hand. He thought it was probably his and wanted it back so he could feel whole again.”

“That’s hilarious!” Miles exclaimed.

“That part is quite funny, but this part isn’t. The guy who came looking for his hand was Todd Morton.”

“I’d never heard of him before all this, so it’s unlikely he had a beef with me, or George for that matter. It would appear he was either just seeking shelter, or he was hired by someone I do know who wanted to blow up the boat. If that’s the case, the question is who?” Miles was thumbing through his mental Rolodex, searching for a likely suspect.

“That’s the right question, but unfortunately not much to go on. By the way, the police forensics lab is trying to find out what material was used to cause the explosion. I’ll keep you posted on anything they uncover.”

“Guess I now have myself as my new client,” Miles acknowledged.

Jim’s face turned serious. “Changing subjects, I’d like your advice on a personal matter. My son, Danny, came out to us the other night at the dinner table. It wasn’t really a shock. My wife and I were fairly certain he was gay. Now that he’s sixteen, he’s getting pressure from his teammates on the football team to date. They’ve even tried fixing him up with one of the girl cheerleaders. He doesn’t want to pretend, but he’s afraid to to explain to his friends why he’s resisting for fear ostracization, or worse. I was hoping you could offer me some advice on what to say to him.” Jim’s voice cracked as he finished his explanation.

“Jim, I’d be happy to talk to him if you’d like. Insights from someone who’s been through it all would likely be more helpful for him,” Miles suggested.

“Truth be told, that’s what I hoped you’d say. How about dinner at our place on Wednesday evening?”

“That works. Text me your address and what time you’d like me to be there. Oh, and please be sure your son knows and approves of my reason for coming over. An ambush would be a big mistake.”

“I will. Thanks, Miles. We really appreciate your help.”

Miles’s thoughts returned to the body they’d discovered on the boat. His training told him he could not totally dismiss a possible connection between him and George, and the man with the missing hand. At least, not until another more likely motive was uncovered.