Bloody Point by White Linda J

Author:White, Linda J. [White, Linda J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Linda J. White Books
Published: 2005-03-31T05:00:00+00:00

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Bloody Point

Chapter 18

CASSIE couldn’t shake off Scrub’s words. Why did he think Frederick Schneider deserved to die? Cassie looked over the marina, which consisted of four floating docks made of aluminum and arranged in a back-to-back E pattern. One of them was covered, and huge, expensive powerboats filled the slips there, shaded from the sun and sheltered from the rain. Of the other slips, around half held sailboats and half held powerboats. At an end slip was a large catamaran, a 40-footer in Cassie’s estimation.

Cassie stepped onto the A-Dock and walked up and down, looking at all the boats. When she returned to shore, she wandered into the convenience store.

“Can I help you?” The young clerk was probably a college student on summer break. She was a blond, in her twenties. Her hair was pulled back in a French braid, and she was chewing gum while she leafed through a copy of Sail magazine.

“No thanks, just looking around.” Cassie fingered a collection of floating key chains at the counter. “Say, I understand this place is famous.”

“How’s that?”

“I heard a guy was murdered here.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Some old guy. A professor at the college.”

“A professor?” That didn’t match with what Cassie knew.

“Visiting lecturer anyway, at Washington College. At least, that’s what I heard.”

The liberal arts college was less than an hour and a half away, in Chestertown, Maryland. Was Schneider teaching there? That would be news to Cassie. Why would an engineer be speaking there? Maybe that’s where he spoke at the conference Desiree had mentioned. “What happened?”

“He had his boat here … right down there, on D-Dock. It’s still there, the one with the ‘For Sale’ sign on it. Anyway, they found him in the grass over there. His girlfriend called the cops.”

“So where was he found?”

The clerk stood up and moved toward the front window. “Right over there, where that orange buoy is lying.”

“Oh, okay, I can see it. Was he shot?”

“Uh-uh. His throat was slashed. Oh my gosh, you should have seen it. I mean, his head was nearly cut off … blood was everywhere.”

“You saw it?”

“Yep. You bet. It was sick.”

“But they still have no idea who did it?”

The girl shook her head. “Creeps me out, every time it rains.”

“What do you mean?”

“The night it happened, it was raining. One of those spring thunderstorms we get. It was just pouring. That’s why we think no one heard anything.”

Cassie pondered that a moment, then smiled. “Well, thanks. Here, let me buy one of these.” She handed a red foam crab key chain to the girl. On it was printed “Sullivan’s Wharf Marina” and the address and phone number. “Thanks,” Cassie said as she took the change. “See you around.”

Cassie walked down the D-Dock. The boat in slip D12 was a Catalina 320. It looked fairly new. The bright blue canvas was unfaded, the deck clean. Cassie copied down the broker’s name and number off the ‘For Sale’ sign. The she walked back up the D-dock and over to the grassy area where Schneider’s body was found.

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