Karl squatted to inspect it. “Off-center skiff, plank-on-frame construction. I’m guessing thirteen feet.” He examined it further. “Northern white cedar planks and transom. White oak frame and pine seats. Bronze screw fastenings, oarlocks, and holders. Nice workmanship, although it needs a little TLC.”
“For a guy who doesn’t own a boat, you sure know what you’re talking about.”
“Beginner’s luck.”
“Bullshit.”
“My dad owned a few rigs in his day.”
“Know who the skiff belongs to?”
“Used to be the old owner, George Eaves’s, but he’s been dead a few years now. Then again, I heard this shed was sold.”
“Care to take a look at the kid?”
“Not really,” Karl said, “but I guess if I have no other choice . . .”
Just then Chief Scroggins walked in, huffing and puffing. He was seventy-two, and most people had expected him to retire a few years ago, but for some reason, he hadn’t gotten around to it. His jowly face glowed red because of the heat, and everyone in town knew he enjoyed a few stiff drinks every now and then. A high-profile murder like this had never before happened in Shepherd’s Bay, and he seemed unprepared for all the media hoopla that followed.
“You want to see him, Harry?” Karl asked.
“Not really, unless you don’t want to.”
“Sure, I’ll take this one,” Karl said.
“Just a warning, it’s not a pretty sight,” Kyle said.
Karl walked over to where the tarp covered the body. The recent rise in temperature had made the heat almost unbearable inside this shed. He squatted down, listening to the waves gently lap the shore. He lifted the edge of the tarp and saw green crabs crawling over the head. March and April had been cold, slowing the rate of decomposition. Then the recent heat wave had quickened the process, providing the crabs with an abundance of food. The clothes on the corpse were definitely those of a male: winter jacket, button-down shirt, and jeans. Having seen enough, he arranged the tarp over the corpse.
“I’m fairly certain it’s Dakota James, the kid who went missing in March,” he announced. “DNA should confirm it.”
“Wonder if he came down here to get high. Maybe it was a drug deal gone wrong,” Scroggins said. “Lot of drugs flowing through this town lately.”
“It’s possible,” Karl said. “We’ll need to find out if the kid was involved in that kind of stuff.”
“Best to keep all avenues open,” Scroggins said.
“We should have more information about the cause of death after the medical examiner checks him out,” Kyle said.
“Looks like blood splatter on the wall.” Karl leaned over and examined the stains. “Someone struck him right where I’m standing. That tells me he must have known the person who killed him.”
“What makes you think that?” Scroggins said.
“Did you open the door, Chief? Makes quite a racket when you do. The victim would have certainly heard the killer enter. And you can’t take a step in here without one of these boards squeaking.”
“True,” Scroggins said. “Any sign that a gun was used, Kyle?”
“Can’t say for sure, but during my initial look around, I didn’t see any bullet holes or spent shells. And the splatter stain on the wall looks nothing like I would expect from a gunshot wound. If I had to say, someone whacked the kid over the head, but it’s hard to see with all those crabs swarming over his noggin.”
“Dakota James was five-ten and a hundred eighty pounds of muscle. He played football and wrestled for Chance Academy. I doubt most kids, never mind most adults, could have overpowered him,” Karl said.
“Unless someone used a bat or a heavy object,” Scroggins said.
“There would have been a struggle, had Dakota believed he was about to be attacked. Wrestlers are very good at taking down their opponents.” Karl positioned himself near the wall and faced the ocean. “I’m guessing he was not the least bit frightened of the other person in this shed with him. That’s why he looked away. He never expected it. Then this person, whoever they were, struck him in the back of the head when he wasn’t looking. A crowbar or hammer would have easily done the trick.”
“We can stand here all day and theorize about the cause of death, but it’s all conjecture at this point. Best for us to get out of here, so we don’t contaminate the rest of the evidence,” Kyle said.
They exited the shed. Karl stood under the hot sun, staring at his fellow cops. Scroggins immediately lit a cigarette. He