“How far is the lake from here?”
“Not far. Just take this channel north about two miles, then you come around right another mile or so and you hit the lake.”
“What do you think happened?” I asked.
“They said he must have hit his head on something. They found a bloody glove in the bathroom in the sink and it was Johnny’s blood on it. They figure he cracked his head and went to check it then went back out on deck and fell over somehow. Could have been dizzy, balance off, if he’d cracked it good.”
“And is that a reasonable assumption?”
“Sure. Plenty of things on a boat that a head wouldn’t fare well against. And most people don’t think a lake can get rough, but I’ve seen waters out there look like the Gulf when a storm is pushing against the tide. Anything is possible, even for an experienced man like Johnny.”
I nodded. “Your friend didn’t seem satisfied with that conclusion.”
“None of us are, really. But truth be told, that’s probably more about how much we dislike Silas than anything else. He was never a good daddy to those kids. We all knew it but wasn’t nothing we could do about it. Johnny being so young, I figure he never thought about things like inheritance but I sure wish he would have. Angel should have gotten his things. Not Silas. That’s what Johnny would have wanted.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but like you said, he didn’t set it up legally and with them not being married…”
Mel nodded. “I tell you what, though. It prompted a lot of people to get their affairs in order, especially those working on the water. You never know what can happen. If a man like Johnny can get bested by water, then people start paying more attention.”
“Then I guess one good thing came of it,” I said. “I appreciate you talking to me.”
“You know anything about what happened to Molly?” he asked.
“Probably not any more than you’ve heard,” I said. “The sheriff’s department has ruled her disappearance suspicious, though.”
“But no body’s been found.”
“No, sir. I and my friends here worked on the search ourselves. Most everyone with a boat did. I can’t tell you how much we all wanted a different outcome.”
His eyes widened a bit. “Didn’t realize you knew her personally. I was real sorry to hear about it. We all were. If there’s anything I can do, you’ll let me know, right? Melvin Thibodeaux. I’m in the phone book.”
I was somewhat charmed that he referred to himself as in the phone book. “I will. And thank you for talking to us. If you can think of anything else—no matter how insignificant it might seem—give me a call. Or if you ever need my help yourself.”
He nodded and stuck my card in his shirt pocket. “I hope you find something. Anything that can explain why two good people had to go that way.”
He stared out over the water and I could tell his thoughts were on Molly and Johnny as we left. As we headed out, we were all silent for a bit. Mel’s recounting had been somewhat somber and had reminded us once again that people felt the loss of Molly now and still hadn’t stopped feeling the loss of her brother.
“Well, that was a dead end,” Gertie said, then sighed. “And that was a horrible way to put it.”
“But accurate,” Ida Belle said.
I stared out the window, recalling everything Mel said and trying to find something that led to an aha moment. Unfortunately, I was coming up short.
“You get anything from that?” Ida Belle asked me.
“No,” I said. “I had this wild thought that maybe Silas had killed Johnny somewhere else and carried him onto the boat to get rid of the body, but Mel nixed that theory by saying he didn’t have anything with him.”
“I don’t think Silas could have gotten a body down that dock and into the boat,” Ida Belle said. “Not with his health issues.”
“Probably not,” I said.
Ida Belle shook her head. “It’s looking more and more like Johnny took that boat out and had some sort of freak accident.”
“Do you really think he was going shrimping?” I asked. “In that weather?”
“No,” Ida Belle said. “But we don’t know what else might have been going on with him. Maybe he took the boat out to think. Plenty of people do. He probably figured he would be fine in the storm as long as he was in the cabin and secured somewhere or in the middle of the lake where he couldn’t be lodged against something underwater.”
“That isn’t the worst idea,” Gertie said. “It sounds like the boat was where he felt the most comfortable. If he had something to contemplate, then a storm might not be a deterrent.”
“But Angel didn’t say anything about contemplation,” I said. “She said he was going to work in the garage.”
“Maybe the contemplation was about Angel and he didn’t want to do it at home,” Ida Belle said.
“Maybe so,” I said. “I guess it doesn’t matter in the big scheme of things. He went out, he died, and the only person who benefited couldn’t have done it unless he turned into Superman and the Invisible Man.”
“I’d be okay with those as long as we could prove he did it,” Gertie said.
I slumped down in my seat. “Me too.”
Chapter Twenty
The insurance agency was easy to locate. In fact, we spotted the sign from the service road. Based on the hours printed on the door, the office was open so we all headed inside. No one was at the desk up front and based on the layer of dust on the top, I wondered if it was even used. There were two doors behind the desk. I figured one was probably to the agent’s office and another to a restroom. That would be about the minimum amount of space to run the business. I was contemplating knocking on both doors when the door to the left opened and a gentleman poked his head out.
Age somewhere between Gertie and the grim reaper, five foot ten, a hundred fifty pounds including the suit and dress shoes, maybe the wallet. No muscle tone that I could see. Threat level less than zero unless I considered possibly having to perform CPR a threat.
I’m not sure if it took him a second to figure out there were really people standing there or that he should say something. Finally, he stepped out of the office, his hand extended toward me.
“Pardon my rudeness,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone so you surprised me. You know how it is when you get buried in actuarial tables.”
“More riveting than golf,” I said.
He nodded. “Isn’t it though? My name is Norbert Kent. How can I help you?”
Deciding the PI hired by insurance companies was my best route of getting confidential information out of Kent, I pulled out my ID and a business card and handed the card to Kent. He leaned in to inspect my ID, his eyes growing even larger behind his thick glasses.
“As you know, the company hires PIs to check into policy claims from time to time, especially if anything appears irregular,” I said. “These are my assistants, Ida Belle and Gertie. We’re doing some fieldwork on a policy issued on Molly Broussard.”
He shook his head. “I don’t recall that name.”