nervous chatter of the passengers. When the music died, so did the engine sounds. That was the reason I thought of her as a ghost ship as she was sliding by me. The big diesels were quiet.
“The engines had been shut down,” I said.
“When?” asked Jacobi.
“I don’t know. Let me think.”
I closed my eyes, trying to get back to the very moment that I became subliminally aware that the engines had shut down. “Just as I crossed her bow, I heard the engines race, as if someone was pouring the fuel to them. Then, just as suddenly, they stopped. Somebody shut them down. She’d gotten a little burst of speed, and then drifted onto the bar. She hit pretty hard, though, so she had some speed on.”
“How much time elapsed between the time the engines were shut down and the boat went dark?” asked Jacobi.
“Immediately. Or almost immediately. I think whoever shut the engines down did so by turning off the ignition and probably reached over and turned off the generator. It was that fast.”
“And how long before the Coast Guard boarded and fired the generator back up?” asked Jacobi.
“Let me think. I radioed Cortez as soon as the lights went out. In the few seconds it took to get a response, Dulcimer grounded and the screaming started. I’m not sure I even got the transmission off before she hit the sandbar. I think it was probably ten minutes before the Coasties arrived on scene and boarded. Somebody apparently went to the pilothouse and kicked over the generator. I’d say fifteen minutes tops, but the Coast Guard log will probably give you a better time line.”
“I’ve already ordered that,” said Jacobi. “We’ll match the log to your recollection.”
“You might want to talk to Logan Hamilton,” I said. “He was there the whole time.”
“We will,” said J.D. “Anything else, Mr. Jacobi?”
He shook his head. “I think we’re through for now. Thank you, Mr. Royal.”
They stood, shook hands, and left.
CHAPTER FIVE
I took my paper and coffee onto the patio. It was getting warmer as the sun rose higher. I was starting to feel a sheen of sweat brought on by the high humidity. Soon it would be too uncomfortable to sit outside. It was time for my morning jog on the beach.
I was just tying my running shoes when my cell phone rang. The caller I.D. told me it was J. D. Duncan.
“Good morning, again,” I said.
“You had breakfast yet?”
“No. I was just going out for a run.”
“If you’ll join me at the Dolphin, I’ll buy.”
“Does this include Chief Warrant Officer Jacobi?”
“No. He’s gone back to Cortez to finish a preliminary report or something.”
“You’re on. What time?”
“Right now. I’m just pulling into the parking lot.”
“See you in five.”
I put on a ball cap and drove out to Broadway, took a left on Gulf of Mexico Drive, and rode south. The royal poinciana trees that lined the road were in bloom, providing a canopy of red blossoms that brightened the island, a neat juxtaposition to the foreboding cloud that had encapsulated my paradise.
I turned into the Centre Shops, a small plaza set among seagrape trees, bougainvilleas, banyans, and other local flora. The Blue Dolphin Café was housed there and during the summer served mostly the local population. In the winter, during what is known as “The Season,” snow-birds flocked there for breakfast and lunch giving the place a buzz that was absent in the doldrums of summer.
J.D. was in a booth near the front door. She stood as I approached. She was wearing a short-sleeved blouse, blue slacks, and low-heeled navy pumps, what she called her detective uniform. Her hair was pinned back from her ears and she was smiling. Her belt held a holstered Glock 19 semiautomatic pistol, a small case for her cell phone, and the gold detective’s badge. A handheld police radio sat on the table.
She gave me a perfunctory hug, the kind that our islanders almost always give, a token of friendship, no more. J.D., whose real name was Jennifer Diane Duncan, and I had become good friends in the months since she had come to our key. We’d share drinks with friends at Tiny’s on the edge of the Village or Mar Vista or the Hilton or Pattigeorge’s, the occasional lunch or breakfast, and sometimes we’d go off by ourselves to one of the local restaurants or take my boat to Egmont Key for a day at the beach. Our relationship never progressed beyond that, even though there