Read The Narrows for Free Online

there was a bad-check file. There were only a few and they were spread out over time, none so large that they could seriously damage the business. I noticed that in the checkbook and with most of the business records either Buddy Lockridge's or Graciela's name was listed as the operator of the charter business. I knew this was because, as Graciela had told me, Terry was seriously limited in what he could earn as official income. If he made over a certain level-which was shockingly low-he was not eligible to receive state and federal medical assistance. If he lost that, he would then end up paying medical expenses himself-a quick route to personal bankruptcy for a transplant recipient.
    In the bad-check file I also found a copy of a sheriff's report unrelated to bad paper. It was a two-month-old incident report stemming from an apparent burglary of The Following Sea. The complainant was Buddy Lock-ridge and the summary indicated that only one thing was taken from the boat, a handheld global positioning system reader. Its value was placed at $300 and the model was listed as a Gulliver 100, An added note said that the complainant could not provide the serial number of the missing device because he had won it in a poker game from a person he could not identify and he had never bothered to write the tracking number down.
    Once I had made a quick check through all of the drawers in the chart station I went back to the client files and started going through them more thoroughly, looking carefully at each customer McCaleb and Lockridge had taken on board in the six weeks before Terry's death. None of the names struck me as curious or suspicious and there were no notations by Terry or Buddy in the file that raised any of those feelings either. Nevertheless, I took a notebook from the back pocket of my blue jeans and wrote a list that showed the name of each client, the number in the party and the date of the charter. Once I had this I was able to see that the charters were by no means regular. A good week for the business was three or four half-day charters. There was one week in which there were no charters at all and another in which there was only one. I was beginning to see Buddy's point about the need to move the business to the mainland in order to increase the frequency and length of charter bookings. McCaleb was running the charter business as a hobby and that wasn't the way to make it thrive.
    Of course, I knew why he was running it that way. He had another hobby-if you want to call it that-and he needed time to devote to that as well. I was putting the records back into the chart station drawer, with the intention of heading down to the bow to explore Terry's other hobby, when I heard the salon door roll open behind me.
    It was Buddy Lockridge. He had come up on the boat without my hearing the Zodiac's little engine or feeling its nudge against the fantail. I also hadn't felt Buddy's considerable weight as he climbed onto the boat.
    "Morning," he said. "Sorry I'm late."
    "That's okay. I've got a lot to look through here."
    "Find anything interesting yet?"
    "Not really. I'm about to go below, check out his files."
    "Cool. I'll help."
    "Actually, Buddy, where you can help is if maybe you called the man who was the last charter."
    I looked at the last name written on the page in my notebook.
    "Otto Woodall. Could you call him and vouch for me and see if I could come by this afternoon to see him?" "That's it? You wanted me to come all the way over to make a phone call?"
    "No, I have questions for you. I need you here. I just don't think you should be going through the files down there. Not yet, at least."
    I had a feeling that Buddy Lockridge had probably already perused every file in the bow. But I was playing him this way on purpose. I had to keep him close but distant at the same time. Until I had cleared him to my satisfaction. Yes, he was McCaleb's partner and had received credit for his efforts to save his fallen friend,