Page 28 of Smuggler’s Cove (Twin Lights #1)

Chapter Eleven

The Investigation Begins

T he next morning, Madison decided to dress more appropriately for her jaunt to clam-town, and of course, the police department. White capri pants, white tank, white cardigan, and white skimmers with a rubber bottom. If she were going to fall on her face, at least her shoes would not be to blame.

She checked the labels of the borrowed clothing—extra large—and then quickly walked to the Rag & Bone down the street from her loft.

She suspected Hannah didn’t have anything from the high-end store, but it was the closest place to her apartment, and it was a small gesture to repay the woman’s kindness.

She decided to buy two shirts and two pairs of pants for her.

An hour later, Lincoln and Olivia picked her up, and they headed to Jersey.

Traffic was light, and they arrived before their appointment.

“Do you think we should visit the crime scene?” Lincoln asked.

“Our entire life has been a crime scene, or hadn’t you noticed?” Madison said sarcastically, and rested her head against the window.

“Easy, girl. We will give them our statement and then get out of here.”

“With all the commotion, you never mentioned anything about the real estate agent. What did she say?”

“There are some legal hurdles before we can sell it.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me this.”

“It has something to do with the water rights.”

“What do you mean?”

“Riparian rights. Tidewaters, etcetera,” Lincoln replied.

“What does that have to do with us? The marina?”

“Since the transfer to Uncle Kirby was a result of a gambling debt, we need a clear title.”

“But I thought all of that was taken care of.” Madison was losing hope of ridding herself of this debacle.

“Yes and no. We must get the area surveyed.”

Madison began to moan.

“Listen, we don’t have to do anything for the moment. We give them our statement, and then we can work on the survey and everything else some other time.”

“Are there taxes due on the property?” Madison asked.

“Doesn’t seem to be.”

Lincoln slowly drove past the marina. There was yellow crime-scene tape marking off two of the three piers that jutted out into the water.

Onlookers were trying to get a glimpse of the area where the body was recovered.

Madison slumped down in her seat. “They’re not looking for you,” Lincoln teased her.

“Not yet,” Madison scoffed. “At this pace, I will be arrested for assaulting the deck with my shoes. Or my face.”

“Oh, stop it.” Lincoln laughed.

Madison huffed and slinked up a bit to grab a peek. There were several police officers, a police boat, men in slickers, and some in underwater gear. “I hope they removed the body.” She turned her head.

“I am sure they did.” Lincoln looked over at Olivia and rolled his eyes.

Lincoln continued to the police station where Detective Burton, a stenographer, and another officer were waiting.

Detective Burton was over six feet tall and robust, clean-shaven with a bald head. He seemed to be in his early 40s. He wore a crisp white shirt and tie, looking very official. “Thank you for coming in. I realize this is not exactly what you had planned when it came to your uncle’s marina.”

“That is for certain.” Lincoln jumped in before his sister had a chance.

“Right this way, please.” He showed them down a sparkling clean hallway, with bright light shining through the glass. “New office. We got wiped out during Superstorm Sandy, and it took ten years to get us moved out of the ‘temporary’ trailers.”

“That storm did quite a number on the shore. And Lower Manhattan,” Lincoln added.

“There were some anomalies. Most of the town was six feet deep in water, yet there were a few streets that had nothing. Take your uncle’s place, for example. We joked and said, ‘He was at the right place, at the right tide.’ The shack took a soaking, but nothing fell over.”

“Was that before or after he won the bet?” Madison was curious.

“It was actually the bet,” Burton began to tell the story. “Your uncle predicted that the water line was not going to damage the shack. Billy Bob disagreed and said—I’m paraphrasing here—‘If that shack is still standing, then it’s yours, along with the marina.’ ”

“Almost sounds like a local legend,” Lincoln said, with a bit of curiosity.

“We have plenty of those, but we also had a few witnesses. Billy was a man of his word and turned the deed over to Kirby. Besides, he was planning to move to Florida to be with his daughter and grandchildren. The tax and insurance were draining him. He was quite happy with the outcome.”

At least somebody was, Madison thought to herself. And here we are. She continued to follow the detective down the hall.

Burton opened a door to a small conference room. Madison noticed how chilly it was in there.

The detective noticed Madison’s reaction to the temperature. “It keeps people awake and alert.” He chuckled. “Please take a seat. Can we get you coffee? Tea? Water?”

“Water, thank you,” Madison replied. Burton reached over to a tray of bottled water that sat on the sideboard and handed one to her.

The commanding detective opened a file. “We still have not been able to identify the deceased. The bloating made it tough for the coroner to pull fingerprints.”

Madison hoped the ghastly details would remain at a minimum.

“We also do not know if it was foul play, suicide, or an accident. The body was in unbelievably bad shape.”

Madison gritted her teeth. “What happens now?” She was hoping for a quick resolution.

“We are trying to identify the body, and the coroner will have to determine cause of death. It could take days. Weeks. Months, if it was foul play.”

Madison was taking long, deep breaths. Months? “I see.” She wanted to get the show on the road. “What can we do to help?”

“Just a few questions. For now. Do you have a list of your uncle’s contacts? Friends? Associates? Other family members?”

Madison looked at Lincoln. “Honestly, we do not. I hesitate to say we were estranged from Uncle Kirby, but the communications became less frequent over the years.”

“I understand. Families can be like that.” He clicked his pen and jotted down a few notes. “Can you recall the last time you spoke to your uncle?”

Madison looked at Lincoln again. “Several years, I think.”

“And how did you come to find you inherited the marina?”

“Our family lawyer.”

“And did he mention how he came into that information?”

Lincoln spoke up. “No. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask.” He turned to his sister. “Maddie?”

“I didn’t think to ask, either. Does it matter?”

“Hard to say, but there had to be someone who knew how to get in touch with you after your uncle passed away.”

“I’ll call Sidney,” Madison offered. “May I?”

“Yes, of course,” Detective Burton answered. “If you don’t mind, you can use this.” He slid the black flying-saucer-looking phone in her direction. “Please put it on speaker.”

Madison shivered. Were they suspects? She pulled out her mobile and looked up Sidney’s private number, then dialed via the conference room phone.

“Sidney Rothberg,” he answered with a questioning tone.

“It’s Madison.” She paused.

“Madison. I did not recognize the number.” Sidney’s voice floated into the room.

“Lincoln and I are at the police station in Smuggler’s Cove. We are sitting with Detective Burton.”

“Are you alright? What happened?” Sidney’s voice was tense.

“After we got back yesterday, Detective Burton phoned and informed us that a body had been found tangled in some fishing lines under Uncle Kirby’s dock.”

“How dreadful.” Sidney’s voice lowered. “What happened?”

“No one knows. They do not know who the person is, either.”

“What can I do?” Sidney asked.

“Detective Burton was curious as to how you got the information about our inheritance. We do not know any of Uncle Kirby’s associates.”

“Interesting you should ask. I didn’t think anything of it, but the package was delivered by hand.

It contained a letter of introduction from your uncle, which was handwritten, along with a copy of his will.

I had everything checked out, and you and Lincoln are the owners of the marina. I sent you copies of everything.”

Lincoln chimed in. “There seems to be some question about tidewater rights, but we can discuss that later.”

“According to the paperwork, you own the dock and the building. I will check into the water rights as soon as we get off the phone. I apologize. It had not occurred to me.”

“Me either,” Lincoln said. “It was the real estate agent that brought it up.”

“I will get on it right away, but it may take some time. Bureaucracy moves slowly.”

Detective Burton snorted. He knew all too well.

“Do you still have the original envelope the paperwork was in?” Sidney asked.

Madison reached into her portfolio. “Yes.”

“Return address?”

She turned the large manila envelope over. “No. Just your name and address on the front. You said it was delivered by hand?”

“Yes.”

“Was the delivery person wearing a uniform?” Burton asked.

“That, I cannot say. It was dropped off at reception.”

“Do you have security footage?” Burton asked.

“Yes. I will check with our IT guys and see if they can pull up anything. And I can check with the front desk in the lobby. They should have something. People cannot get in the building without showing ID.” Sidney sent a quick text to both.

“That would be a big help,” Burton replied.

Madison wondered why, but Burton quickly answered her thoughts and turned toward her. “Until we can figure out what happened here, we need anything that is connected to your uncle.”