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Authors: M.H. Sargent
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wasn’t about to reveal the truth. “Now, what trouble?”
The man shrugged. “Hard to say. I hear it was some operators from the mainland. They got upset when he went back to the south end.”
“Upset, why?”
“Don’t rightfully know. I guess he got beat up pretty bad once, though.”
Johnstone thought this over. “Anything else?”
“Nope. Well, some of the guys were surprised when his son picked up where the old man left off. I mean, everyone knew his pop had some sort of bitter feud with those people. Or at least, that’s what everyone said. So why do business with them?”
That was a good question, Johnstone thought. A very good question.
***
As Johnstone approached The Crow’s Nest restaurant, he saw Sally sitting on a bench overlooking the harbor. He could tell that she had been crying, her face flushed and her eyes red. She tightly clutched a handkerchief in one hand. It was clear that she had been waiting for him, and she stood when he was just a few feet away. “Detective Johnstone,” she said.
“Please,” Johnstone said, motioning to the bench. After she sat down again, he took a seat near her.
“Is it true that Tom...that Tom was found in Mr. Porter’s truck?” she asked as soon as he sat down. “That’s what people are saying.”
Johnstone nodded.
“I know Matthew was supposed to go to the relocation center today, but I believe him. If the Navy needed his boat, he’d take it to them. Wherever they wanted it.”
Johnstone didn’t say anything for a moment. He just watched as she wrung her handkerchief nervously. Then he gently inquired, “You said Tom and Matthew had changed recently. Grown more serious.” She nodded, not looking at him. “We’re at war. It’s sobered up a lot of young men.”
She whirled her head at him in surprise. “That’s not it.”
“No?” Johnstone asked.
“No, no. Something was going on.”
Johnstone let this hang in the air for a moment, then said, “How often did Tom go with Matthew to take the fish to town?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. I mean, Matthew didn’t go every day. I really don’t know if Tom went each time.” She studied him for a moment, then asked, “Why are you asking about that?”
“I’m not real sure, to tell the truth.” He gave her a tired smile.
There were a few minutes of silence. Then she said, “You’re wrong, you know. Matthew had nothing to do with Tom’s death.”
“I’m sorry, but right now he’s a prime suspect.”
“How can you say that?” she retorted in anger. “They’re best friends, they’re inseparable!”
He wondered if she realized that she talked as if Tom were still alive. Purposely baiting her, he asked, “If Matthew was such a good friend, why leave Tom in the truck? Why not report it?”
“He didn’t know! How would he know?”
“Because he was alive and well when he drove Mr. Porter’s truck to his house. That’s why.”
This took her back. She just stared at Johnstone. Finally, she managed, “Mr. Porter’s truck...It was found at Matthew’s house?”
“Yes.”
“When?” she demanded.
Johnstone shrugged. He was tired. And he didn’t want to fight with her. “I don’t know the exact minute.”
“But Matthew wasn’t there!”
“No,” he agreed. “He’d left in the boat by the time the truck was located.”
“No!” she thundered, rising to her feet. “Don’t you see? The truck, it wasn’t there! Not when Matthew went to his boat to leave!”
This got Johnstone’s attention and now he stood. Staring at her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. In fact, I turned around there. I was driving my dad’s Chevrolet. It’s big. I turned around in their yard.” She stared at him now, her eyes blazing. “I’d remember if Mr. Porter’s truck had been there! It wasn’t! Someone put it there after Matthew left!”
Chapter Seven
Seattle, Washington. March 31, 1942
At first he had believed Tom’s long-suffering girlfriend had
The man shrugged. “Hard to say. I hear it was some operators from the mainland. They got upset when he went back to the south end.”
“Upset, why?”
“Don’t rightfully know. I guess he got beat up pretty bad once, though.”
Johnstone thought this over. “Anything else?”
“Nope. Well, some of the guys were surprised when his son picked up where the old man left off. I mean, everyone knew his pop had some sort of bitter feud with those people. Or at least, that’s what everyone said. So why do business with them?”
That was a good question, Johnstone thought. A very good question.
***
As Johnstone approached The Crow’s Nest restaurant, he saw Sally sitting on a bench overlooking the harbor. He could tell that she had been crying, her face flushed and her eyes red. She tightly clutched a handkerchief in one hand. It was clear that she had been waiting for him, and she stood when he was just a few feet away. “Detective Johnstone,” she said.
“Please,” Johnstone said, motioning to the bench. After she sat down again, he took a seat near her.
“Is it true that Tom...that Tom was found in Mr. Porter’s truck?” she asked as soon as he sat down. “That’s what people are saying.”
Johnstone nodded.
“I know Matthew was supposed to go to the relocation center today, but I believe him. If the Navy needed his boat, he’d take it to them. Wherever they wanted it.”
Johnstone didn’t say anything for a moment. He just watched as she wrung her handkerchief nervously. Then he gently inquired, “You said Tom and Matthew had changed recently. Grown more serious.” She nodded, not looking at him. “We’re at war. It’s sobered up a lot of young men.”
She whirled her head at him in surprise. “That’s not it.”
“No?” Johnstone asked.
“No, no. Something was going on.”
Johnstone let this hang in the air for a moment, then said, “How often did Tom go with Matthew to take the fish to town?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. I mean, Matthew didn’t go every day. I really don’t know if Tom went each time.” She studied him for a moment, then asked, “Why are you asking about that?”
“I’m not real sure, to tell the truth.” He gave her a tired smile.
There were a few minutes of silence. Then she said, “You’re wrong, you know. Matthew had nothing to do with Tom’s death.”
“I’m sorry, but right now he’s a prime suspect.”
“How can you say that?” she retorted in anger. “They’re best friends, they’re inseparable!”
He wondered if she realized that she talked as if Tom were still alive. Purposely baiting her, he asked, “If Matthew was such a good friend, why leave Tom in the truck? Why not report it?”
“He didn’t know! How would he know?”
“Because he was alive and well when he drove Mr. Porter’s truck to his house. That’s why.”
This took her back. She just stared at Johnstone. Finally, she managed, “Mr. Porter’s truck...It was found at Matthew’s house?”
“Yes.”
“When?” she demanded.
Johnstone shrugged. He was tired. And he didn’t want to fight with her. “I don’t know the exact minute.”
“But Matthew wasn’t there!”
“No,” he agreed. “He’d left in the boat by the time the truck was located.”
“No!” she thundered, rising to her feet. “Don’t you see? The truck, it wasn’t there! Not when Matthew went to his boat to leave!”
This got Johnstone’s attention and now he stood. Staring at her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. In fact, I turned around there. I was driving my dad’s Chevrolet. It’s big. I turned around in their yard.” She stared at him now, her eyes blazing. “I’d remember if Mr. Porter’s truck had been there! It wasn’t! Someone put it there after Matthew left!”
Chapter Seven
Seattle, Washington. March 31, 1942
At first he had believed Tom’s long-suffering girlfriend had
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