Read Online Collateral Damage by H. Terrell Griffin - Free Book Online Page A

the mainland in a few hours.
    I turned back to J.D. “Find anything at the Tropical?”
    â€œNothing. But I didn’t expect to. Their surveillance cameras are working and they save about six months worth of images on a computer. One of the techs is going through the pictures now, trying to narrow it down to the day of the shooting. See what we get. I’m not expecting much. He’ll let me know in the morning.”
    â€œYou hungry?”
    â€œI could eat a cow.”
    â€œHow about a hamburger?”
    â€œThat’s a start. Can I have fries with that?”
    â€œSure. I’m in an expansive mood.”
    We sat and ate and talked into the night. Friends stopped by, had a drink, joined the conversation for a bit and moved on to the next bar, the next set of friends. It was getting late and J.D. said she had to work the next day. I pointed out that retired guys didn’t even have to get out of bed unless they wanted to. She punched me with her elbow, got up, and pecked me on the cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow as soon as I hear from the crime-scene people about those pictures. If we get anything, I’ll bring them by.”
    The old peck on the cheek. She didn’t usually do that. Was it a sign? Was J.D. Duncan having erotic thoughts about me? Sure, Matt. Sure. Delusion is good for the soul. Keep thinking that way. Of course, I’d had more than a few erotic thoughts about her. But we were friends. Nothing more. Never even a hint from her that there was anything more. Well, maybe a hint, or maybe it was just my overactive imagination. I watched her walk down the ramp to the parking lot. She got into her Camry and drove away, waving as she left.
    â€œBilly,” I aked, “did you happen to work the Desmond wedding in June?”
    â€œSure did. Who’d have thought the groom would be dead within twenty-four hours?”
    â€œWhat was the setup?”
    â€œThe wedding was held on the beach just at sunset. We had a big tent covering the deck and the reception was held there. It wasn’t a big wedding, but everything was done first class. It wasn’t inexpensive.”
    â€œDid you see any problems, fights, arguments, anything of that nature?”
    â€œNo. Everything was smooth. Why?”
    â€œThe groom’s dad is an old friend of mine from Vietnam. I’m looking into the murder for him. With J.D.’s help.”
    â€œWait a minute. There was one strange thing that night.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œA guy came up to the bar and wanted a drink. He wasn’t part of the wedding party, and I told him we were closed. He seemed pissed off about it and mumbled something about rich people taking over everything.”
    â€œAnything else?”
    â€œYou mentioning Vietnam made me remember him.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œHe was Asian. But I’m pretty sure he was American. He didn’t have any accent at all. He spoke American idiomatic English. I don’t think you get that comfortable with a language unless you grow up speaking it.”
    â€œCan you describe him?”
    â€œHe was pretty big. Not huge, but bigger than the average Asian. I’d say five ten to six feet tall, maybe one-eighty, one-ninety.”
    â€œDid he leave right away?”
    â€œNo. He sat for a little while kind of staring at the party. I didn’t want to be rude to him, but finally I told him he’d have to move along.”
    â€œDid he leave?”
    â€œYeah. Didn’t say another word. Just got off the stool and walked out.”
    â€œHave you ever seen him again?”
    â€œNo. I’d never seen him before either.”
    â€œThat means he’s probably not an islander. Did you get the idea he was staying here at the hotel?”
    â€œNo, but that doesn’t mean anything. He may have been a guest here. I didn’t ask and he didn’t volunteer.”
    I sipped my beer, talking with Billy about fishing. He was