Page 37 of Killer Honeymoon
“I was thinking the same thing about you when I saw them,” Sawyer said, sliding his fingers between Royce’s.
The walk home was eerily quiet without the swarm of golf carts cruising around, but the peaceful feeling ended when they turned onto their street and saw a police cruiser parked in front of Frank’s house. The older man was standing on his porch talking to two officers—one male and one female. Frank’s posture was defensive and combative, and Sawyer had a horrible feeling in his gut. To make matters worse, the two frat boys had parked lawn chairs in their driveway and were eating popcorn as they watched the show. Jen and Chrissy remained on the porch and offered small waves when they spotted Sawyer and Royce.
“Oh, this isn’t good,” Sawyer said. “With Frank’s advancing age and shortening temper, he’s likely to incriminate himself for something he didn’t do.” Royce snorted, and Sawyer turned his head. “What? You think he vandalized the boat?”
Before Royce could answer, the men stepped within earshot and heard Frank say, “Yeah, I hate Lester Moore’s guts. So what? There’s no crime in that.”
“No,” the female cop said, “but strong emotions usually morph into unwise actions if left unchecked.”
“Are you calling me stupid?” Frank asked.
“I am,” Evan called from his lawn chair.
The male cop whirled around and aimed a dark scowl at the younger men. “Stay out of this.”
“Derek,” Frank said. The male cop turned back around to face him. “I’ve known you since you were a little boy, haven’t I?”
“Yes, sir,” Derek said, sounding uncomfortable.
“Then you should be embarrassed for implying I’d stoop to such pettiness. If I wanted to get revenge on Mr. Moore, I would’ve blown the boat out of the water, not busted out a window like some douchebag teenager.” Frank pointed a bony finger toward the two heckling jackasses next door. “They’re the kind of douchebags you’re looking for.”
“Oh no,” Sawyer groaned. “See what I mean?”
Royce sighed heavily. “Come on. Let’s go see if we can do some damage control.”
Sawyer and Royce set their purchases down in their driveway, then crossed the street.
“Frank,” Derek said calmly, “the witness didn’t see twin douchebags in kayaks paddling away from the crime scene. They saw you.”
“I’ve been paddling to the bay and back almost every day for nearly sixty years,” Frank replied. “I was in the harbor, but I stayed clear of his flashy boat.” Frank tipped his head to the side and pursed his lips as if pondering one of life’s most significant questions. “You think he bought that huge boat because he has a tiny dick?”
Sawyer groaned while Royce choked back a laugh.
“First time we agree on anything,” Evan called out and raised a beer bottle in a toast. Frank responded by flipping him two birds.
“It’s a bit early for beer, isn’t it?” Royce whispered to Sawyer.
“I think Evan’s probably had some form of booze in his hand since he arrived on the island.”
The female officer spotted Sawyer and Royce first. She turned and walked toward them.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” Her name tag read Officer Garza.
“I’m a lawyer,” Sawyer said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He just hadn’t practiced law since passing the bar exam. He should’ve admitted they were fellow cops, but something in his brain warned him to keep his mouth shut. The local police might resent Sawyer and Royce’s intrusion, and if things went sideways, word could funnel back to Mendoza. They sure as hell didn’t want that.
“He’s my lawyer,” Frank declared. “And I’d like for you officers to leave. I’ve answered your questions. Everyone on this island knows I wouldn’t lose a moment of sleep if Moore went tits up.”
“Kind of like this honeymoon,” Royce said under his breath.
“Frank,” Sawyer said firmly. “I’m going to need you to stop being so…frank.”
“Why? I’ve got nothing to hide. I didn’t vandalize the man’s boat, and they can’t prove I did. Otherwise, they would’ve arrested me.”
“We’re not done talking yet,” Derek said. His name tag identified him as Officer Lowell. “Your neighbors have accused you of shoving a nail into their golf cart tire.”
“Now we need to get the tire fixed or pay a hefty fine to the rental agency,” Evan said.
“The way you drive, you could’ve picked up a nail anywhere,” Frank argued. He turned to the officers. “Do you have any proof I vandalized either the boat or the golf cart?”