up there on the brick wall.”
“Who moved him?” Nat asked.
“We rolled him off. Not sure the limb did the damage, Nat. It looks like he took at least three blows to the head. This might be more complicated than we think.”
Nat stood and removed his cap and looked at Bruce. “What are you talking about?”
“We found some spots on a wall in the den. Might be dried blood. And some stains in a sink that could also be blood.”
Nick said, “It’s a homicide, Officer. Someone hit Nelson over the head inside, dragged him out, finished him off, and tried to make it look like storm damage.”
“In the middle of a hurricane?”
“Yes, sir. The perfect time to kill someone.”
“And who are you?”
“Nick Sutton. I work at the bookstore.”
Bob said, “He thinks he’s Sherlock Holmes, but he might be on to something.”
Nat was not equipped to deal with situations like this. He paced around for a moment, scratching his head, and finally said, “Okay, show me the blood.”
Nick took him inside. Bruce asked one of the medics, “So what’s happening on the island?”
“Chaos. The National Guard is clearing roads. They just found three dead folks under a beach cottage, just up the road here. The body count is seven so far. Thankfully, most folks left the island.”
The second medic said, “Most of the floodwater has receded but there’s still two feet downtown.”
“I own Bay Books on Main. I suppose it was flooded.”
“About five feet, sir.”
Bruce shook his head, mumbled, and said, “Well, it could’ve been worse.”
Nat followed Nick out of the condo and pulled out his radio. He disappeared around the side and talked to someone privately.
Bruce asked the first medic, “Any phone service?”
He shook his head. “All the cell towers were knocked out. It could be days. Y’all really think he was murdered?”
Nick said, “Either that, or that same limb hit him three times in the head.”
“Which limb?”
Bruce pointed and the medic strained to look.
Nat returned with purpose and said, “Okay, I talked to my lieutenant and he said don’t touch the body. He’s trying to find our homicide guy.”
“I didn’t know we had a homicide guy,” Bruce said. “I can’t remember the last murder on Camino Island.”
Nat said, “It’s Hoppy Durden. He also does bank robberies.”
“I can’t remember the last bank robbery.”
“He’s not very busy.”
Bruce said, “Look, Nat, might I suggest you guys contact the state police and get an investigator in here?”
“Sir, you’re confused. Right now no one is coming onto the island. The bridge is closed and all roads are blocked. We’re trying to get injured folks off the island.”
“I get that, but at some point real soon the bridge will open so the cleanup crews can get in, then the homeowners.”
“Just stay in your lane, sir. Somebody else is in charge of that.” His radio squawked and he stepped away again. The medics were called to another emergency, and so Bruce, Bob, and Nick were again sitting in the sun on the patio watching Nelson roast. Thankfully, Nat had covered him again with the towels.
The officer returned to the patio, said he had been called away, and instructed the three to remain with the body, and don’t touch anything, and he would try and find Hoppy but he was probably busy somewhere else. It was all hands on deck and the right hand had no idea what the left hand was doing.
Luckily, Hoppy Durden arrived fifteen minutes later. Bruce knew who he was but had never met him. As far as he knew, Hoppy spent no time in his bookstore. He was a large man with