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Matthias Jones: The Applegate Murder Robert P. Fitton Matthias Jones: The Applegate Murder  1   Leo Crowley's compressed body was chipped out of a foundation north of town. Jones sat at the jet window somewhere over Nebraska. While at his brother's Redondo Beach home, George Strickland's untimely call from the construction sight trailer shook him. Leo had helped Jones' teams at Hamilton College by lugging equipment and performing duties such a painting the field lines before games or just providing support with a timely cup of coffee. Now, framers on one of the new houses in the Applegate Development had seen part of a boot sticking out of the concrete. Lee Anne Crowley wanted Jones to return from his California vacation to find her husband's killer.   Everyone in the tiny hamlet of Hamilton, New Hampshire knew him as the coach of three sports at the college and he sometimes dabbled in murder investigations. He looked at fourteen-year-old nephew, slated to spend the summer back east, and remembered how he had emphatically promised his brother, Chip would not be a part of Leo's murder investigation. Then he leaned back in the seat, remembering Zelda back in California. Jones thought she was one of his brother's excuses for a blind date, but her natural blonde hair blowing in the beach air lingered in his thoughts. She expressed an interest in visiting New England, but had other commitments in California. Why did Leo have to go and get himself killed? * * *     Jones studied the white caps churning under the plane as the jet approached Logan in mid afternoon. Then he looked up at Boston, under a sunken haze. With a bounce and a jolt the plane touched down. Chip leaned across his lap and looked out the window. Jones rapped his shoulder. " It's not L.A., Chippy. Listen, I'll see if I can get you into Fenway Park again. Maybe when the Angels are in town."   " Uncle Matthias, whoever stuffed Leo Crowley's body in that cement must have worked at Applegate."   " Listen, Chip. " Jones pulled him back from the window as the jet braked abruptly. " I told your father. No investigation. You're going to summer camp and maybe find a girlfriend."   " You told him that?"   " Well, not the part about the girlfriend. Listen, when you get older you can help me."   1

Matthias Jones: The Applegate Murder Robert P. Fitton  " How much trouble could I get into?"   " I don't want to even address that question. Lots&ldots;"   " Uncle Matthias, I'm fourteen years old. "   " I rest my case. George Strickland is going to meet us here. You remember him, Hamilton's police chief..."   The jet slowed and taxied toward the terminal. " I remember that weird old guy who coached before you."   " Lark Larsen."   " Yeah, that's the guy. He brought me fishing, remember?"   Jones pinched the bridge of his nose. " Yup. Lark fell in the Pocquanticut River when he was casting off."   " But he held onto that log for fifteen miles!"   " I know. I chased him the whole way along the river bank."   " You broke you ankle."   " Let's forget about Lark. Leo is dead&ldots; and even worse George says he has no suspects."   The jet nudged back to the terminal. Once they were safely in place, Jones stood, retrieved the carryons from the overhead and moved within the passengers toward the ramp. He patted Chip on the shoulder and talked about the college baseball season, just concluded last month.   Strickland, still in his blue police shirt, tie loosened, stood at the top of the ramp. His round face looked pensive as Jones brought Chip up the ramp, but managed a smile as he met them. " Matthias, having a good vacation?"   " Was... Three thousand miles across the country and-" He blocked Chip's ears. " And leaving a gorgeous, but intelligent blonde haired beauty."   " I know about Zelda."   " Zelda?" asked Strickland. " Sounds interesting."   " It was."   " George, you know my nephew, Chip."   " You going to help us solve this crime?" asked Strickland as they moved in the crowd toward the baggage section.   " George, don't encourage him. "   " It's like getting your license, Mr. Strickland, guess you have to be old enough."   Strickland grinned as they moved through the airport. " Chip, you're even getting Matthias' sense of humor."   2

Matthias Jones: The Applegate Murder Robert P. Fitton   Jones rolled his eyes. " Ha. Ha. If he gets into trouble, I get into trouble with his father. Listen, this Leo thing is bizarre. What did he ever do to anybody? Leo was a nice guy."   " No sign of a murder weapon. No sign of a struggle. No sign of blood on the sight. They took Leo's body to Clayton Morris's office. What a mess."   " What was going on in his life? Obviously, he wasn't tending his orchards or farming anymore. I want to know what he was doing for the last two weeks. I'll ask Lee Anne."   " I don't think she would know that answer, Matthias. She's been at her sister's house in Florida for the last month. I kept telling Bobby Bonner that..."   " Bobby Bonner?"   " Bonner is the builder at Applegate."   Jones nodded and moved across the terminal toward the baggage stairway. All the way to the baggage carousal he remained several steps ahead of Strickland and Chip. He stopped at the carousal and put his foot up on the edge. " What do you know about Bobby Bonner, George?"   " Bonner is based in Prince William. Hasn't built much in Hamilton and is associated with Bill Haywood, the developer."   " I'm surprised they squeaked that development into quiet and sleepy Hamilton."   " I guess Leo wanted to sell his apple orchards."   " Who else is involved here?"   " They're in this thing together with the bank, Prince William Credit Union. Bonner is a typical loud mouthed salesman."   " Is he on the up and up?"   Strickland squinted and ran his teeth over his lip. At that moment the baggage carousal started turning. Jones lost his footing and quickly stepped back. Chip smiled. Jones grinned and pointed at his nephew. " LA is one ticket away, Chippy."  Strickland's half smile dropped. " Bonner has been involved in some questionable activities. I've checked with Dom Pacheco and some of the cops in Prince William. You know the usual. Not paying the subs. Sleazy materials in construction. There are reports from his Prince William developments that he never follows up on any complaints with the houses."   3

Matthias Jones: The Applegate Murder Robert P. Fitton   " Doesn't make him a murderer, George&ldots; Anything else? Did he ever threaten anybody? Specifically Leo. What kind of guy is he?"   " Loud. Pushy. Very pushy," said Strickland.   " Uncle Matthias..."   " One second, Chip."   Strickland nodded and raised his finger. " That could be something to look into. Subcontractors would know more about him."   Jones turned to Chip. " Yeah, Chip."   " Your luggage, it just went around."   " Nuts," said Jones. He raced after the brown suitcases and scooped up each of the five suitcases on the other side and handed Chip two of the suitcases.   " Matthias, you could have just waited until they came around, " said Strickland. " Your uncle is hyper, Chip. "   " George, I can send you to LA, too. "   " Good, Mary and I can use the vacation. "   " Where is your cruiser, Mr. Strickland?"   " Parking garage. We'll walk unless you want to run, Matthias."   " Very funny. Come on. Let's go home. " * * *     Outside Jones stepped onto the curb, gazed at the busy underpass and stepped between the parked taxis and cars. Strickland spoke from behind. " I just want to give you the heads up, Matthias: Arnie Dewars is running around telling everybody you had a blow-out with your brother and that's why you're coming back to Hamilton. "   " Arnie doesn't affect me, " said Jones, but his right eye twitched.   " When I called you at your brother's house, I was going to tell you that Lark was on his way out to Los Angeles."   Jones thought about his bumbling predecessor, the white hair, glasses, and gaudy clothes. How everything Lark touched started chain reactions that usually ended in disaster. " You'd do that, too."   " There is some very spicy news about Lark though."   Jones led the way to the parking garage. " Spicy? Let me guess, Lark's gout is acting up again&ldots;"   " Lark and Flo have broken up..."   " What? " Lark and his girlfriend of twenty plus years were like two halves of a horse costume with Lark taking up the rear. They were virtually inseparable and talk of them breaking up made no sense. He turned to Strickland. " I don't believe it."   4

Matthias Jones: The Applegate Murder Robert P. Fitton " That's not the upshot, Matthias."   " There's more? What more could there be?" Jones smirked and started walking again. " George, this must have hit the Boston papers... Time Magazine... Cable news..."   " Lark is sweet on Cora Jefferson."  Jones stopped again and set down his suitcase. " Who in their right mind could be sweet on Cora Jefferson? Plus, she hates Lark..."   " They're dating. Really. The old boy still has it."   " Yeah, he's got it all right." Jones picked up the suitcase and moved forward again. " It's what he's got that's the problem."   Strickland chuckled from behind. " Oh, the town is buzzing about it, too."   " Why would Lark and Flo break up?"   " Something about money. Actually, something about her buying a house in Bonner's development. Nobody is saying much, Matthias. You know how Lark is when it comes to money."   " The moths come out of his wallet every time he opens it."   " He made me pay for my ice cream at the beach when I was eleven years old," said Chip.   Jones nodded as he led them across the road and toward the parking garage elevator. " Yup... that's Lark. When he passes the birds on the common, they're all chirping... Cheap. Cheap. Cheap."   Strickland and Chip laughed as the elevator doors opened. Strickland let them move inside. " And he's walking around town with Cora Jefferson, the world's most cynical woman."   Jones shook his head. With summer's arrival he would have no coaching or school responsibilities and could find out who killed Leo. The loud mouth, Bobby Bonner came to mind. But Bonner would not have direct responsibility for the land sale to Leo Crowley. That might fall to lawyers, the bank, or Bill Haywood.   Strickland stepped out of the elevator and into the parking garage. The cruiser was a few spaces to the right. He quickly opened the trunk. " Everything should fit in back. "   Jones hoisted his suitcases and then lifted Chip's two cases. " George, what do you know about Haywood?"   " You know, I should have an answer to that and I don't. " Strickland unlocked the doors and headed to the driver's side, thinking as he got in the car.   5

Matthias Jones: The Applegate Murder Robert P. Fitton  " I've seen his yellow and blue FOR SALE signs in Hamilton and Prince William and I've heard he has an elaborate office in the city filled with woman."   Chip slipped across the back seat as Jones nodded and got inside. He looked out the window as Strickland backed around. Finding out how much they paid Leo Crowley for his apple orchard was a good starting point. Land deals could cause hard feelings. Somebody always came out on top or there were complica-tions. He took out his little black notebook and wrote down Bill Haywood's name in bold red letters.   On the next page he started a column called, " Homeowners. " He needed to know who lived in that development, where they were last week, and what they thought about Leo. As a veteran, Leo and spent time with his friends at the VFW hall near the town dump and marched in all the town parades, carrying the flag with his fellow soldiers. Jones pressed his lips and tightened his fists. He liked Leo Crowley.   At the attendant booth he handed Strickland some money for the parking, but the police chief waved him off. Jones stared at Boston's skyward buildings over the water, but soon looked northward. An hour and a half away, Hamilton was racked by Leo's murder. Leo's easy goin personality was an enigma. The man had no real enemies. Yet, somebody had murdered him and dumped his body into foundation forms.                  6

Matthias Jones: The Applegate Murder Robert P. Fitton 2     Jones looked over Hamilton Bay's smooth blue waters as Strickland turned left onto Shore Road. The land deal bothered Jones. How much did they pay Leo and where was the money? Jones would even suspect Lee Anne Crowley if she was out of town. Talking with Bill Haywood and Bobby Bonner as well as every subcontractor working at Applegate   Jones had only a small meal on the plane. His stomach rumbled as he and Chip passed through his picket fence gate and up the brick walk to his white colonial on the common. The first thing he did was to make arrange-ments to meet- Nigel Kent and his housekeep-er at the Colonial House restaurant. He then punched in Clayton Morris' number at the Medical Examiner's office. The line rang as he reached in the refrigerator for a soda. He balanced the phone on his shoulder and poured the carbonated soda into a glass. Chip leaned forward as Jones pushed the tall glass across the counter.   Clayton picked up the line and Jones immediately began the questions, but Clayton was ready. " Matthias, Crowley was hit on the head with a long, blunt object. Things were messy, but... He was in that foundation over the weekend. Now, from what I understand, P. W. Concrete poured that foundation Friday morning. The men framing the house spotted a portion of Leo's work boot in the cellar cement. From what we can determine, Leo was killed Thursday night between ten-thirty and midnight, judging from his stomach con-tents."   " What did he have to eat, Clayton?"   " Roast beef. Probably a submarine sandwich. What concerns me is the head injury. One blow. Solid."   " Somebody really clunked him?"  7

Matthias Jones: The Applegate Murder Robert P. Fitton  " Yes. There was no sign of the body being dragged toward the foundation, but then again, it was raining Friday morning and the trucks crisscrossed the area. However, the marks on the body would coincide with impact points from being stuffed into the foundation forms. No pressure points on the back that you might see during transport. It is likely that he was killed on the lot and was dragged... Numerous marks under the arm pits."   Jones tightened his jaw. He had hoped for something simple like a trail with footprints and a long line across the dirt where Leo's shoes had been pulled to the foundation, but only had specula-tion. The person who killed Leo Crowley possessed enough strength to kill Leo with a single blow and get the body into the foundation. Or the killer had help. " Any thing unusual in this, Clayton?"   " Well, most of Leo's injuries were internal. A small amount of blood around the impact wound, but there was a spot on his pant leg, just below the knee."   " I don't mean to be rude, Clayton. But so what?"   " Blood on his pants doesn't match. Leo was type A. The blood on the pants was O."   " Really?" Home Page   Unimited Annual Access to all Fitton e-books and PODCAST Episodes $ 6.99 © 2000 - 2007 Fitton Books. All rights reserved.

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Matthias Jones: The Club Max Murder Robert P. Fitton   " We have people on the way. Does anyone require medical help?" " She needs a psychiatrist." Mrs. O'Toole opened her mouth and folded her arms tightly across her sweater. " What was that, sir?" " Nothing. Nothing. We're all right here." " Personnel are on the way, Mr. Daniels. Stay away from the murder scene... Touch nothing." Daniels hung up. " They say touch nothing, Mrs. O'Toole." " The taxi is picking me up. I'm supposed to be at the airport in half an hour to catch the red eye." " They'll want to question you." " But I'm going to Arizona!" Daniels shook his head as she left. " Doesn't know his last name&ldots; Unbelievable..."             4

Matthias Jones: The Club Max Murder Robert P. Fitton   2   Jones zipped his red parka and trailed his assistant coach out the locker room door. The colder fall air stung his face as he panned the bright foliage lining the practice field to the Shaker style music conservatory and five-story brick library. With the St. Pats and Hamilton both undefeated, Jones was determined to push his team today. Only one squad would emerge in first place after Saturday's contest.   " Woosey, where's Joe Svoboda?" " I didn't see him, Matthias" answered his wavy haired assistant. " Or his motorcycle. " " Joe is usually the first one on the field. Since the whole world thinks I'm going to run against St. Pat's, I need to keep Joe practicing the long ball. What an arm on that kid." Jones trotted by the leave strewn baseball field onto the adjacent football practice field's limed grids. " Mac says Joe is a brick wall. He's been watching videos of all our games." " Look, Woose, Mac and I are friends, but competitors, too. I won't let St. Pat's win the division... He isn't expecting Joe to pass. We've run for the past five weeks." They reached the upper practice field, rimmed with red and yellow maples. Leo Crowley, his thick beard rusty in the afternoon sunshine, dragged an olive team equipment bag across the grass. " What do ya say, Leo?" Leo's stocky frame filled his red and black Hamilton College wind- breaker. " Coach, Arnie Dewars just heard a rumor from his sister in Prince William. She talked to her friend who is a cop on the Prince William force-" " Excuse me, Leo. One second. Woosey, let's get them warmed up and then we'll run some basic stuff." " You going live today, Coach?" asked Woosey. " I think I will. Contact on a day like this would separate the men from the boys. That's for sure." Jones looked past the baseball field's chain link fence to the locker room door. To the right Larsen Stadium was empty and draped in shadows below the town up the hill. He wondered why Joe was late for practice. " Where's Joe?"   5

Matthias Jones: The Club Max Murder Robert P. Fitton     " That's what I'm trying to tell you, Coach. Arnie says they're holding some kid for murder at the Prince William police station. Some kid with a motorcycle." His stomach jolted, Jones spun around. " Leo, if Arnie Dewars told you: consider the source. " " He seemed sure." " If your implying Joe is over the Prince William police station then just forget it, Leo." " Arnie's sister said the rumor was all over town." " Rumor... I don't believe it. Especially if Arnie had anything to do with it. " Jones walked with Leo along the sidelines. " Leo, when Joe finally gets here I'm thinking of letting him pass. No running game on Saturday. What do you think?" " I always thought Joe should pass more, Coach." " Won't be expected, will it?" " Nope. Kid's the most natural athlete I ever saw." Jones nodded as Woosey brought the team through calisthenics, accompanied by a loud verbal cadence. The sunlight filtered through the half bare maples, producing yellow glow through the wide leaves. A shiny black low rider rolled along the outside fence. Jones thought he saw a pair of binoculars in the open passenger window. He turned back to the team as the boys as they went through simple line and passing drills. He waved his assistant over. Woosey, holding his clipboard, ran across from the line. " Coach, you want to start some plays?" " What I want, Woosey, is Joe Svoboda out on the playing field. This is a critical game on Saturday," said Jones, rubbing his numbed hands together. The low rider's tinted window moved upward and the car looped around to the fence opening. " That low rider keeps going back and forth along the fence. Mac sending people to spy on us?" " Probably just some kids. Matthias, you're always too suspicious. You want me to go back to the school to look for Svoboda?" " No, I'll have Leo check. I need Joe out here practicing. He's the backbone of this team. I just can't use little Larry Resnick against St. Pat's line. " " Resnick and Svoboda hate each other. "   6

Matthias Jones: The Club Max Murder Robert P. Fitton   " I'm not going to base strategy on who does or doesn't like somebody else, Woosey. Start running some plays here." He headed down the grass. " Leo!" Leo looked over his shoulder and turned. " Yo." " Leo, check the locker room for Joe, will you?" " You want me to call the police station?" " Stop with the police station business." Jones shook his head and watched the team. " Arnie has everybody all revved up. Leo, Just track him down." " You got it, Coach." As the large framed Leo trundled across the lower field to the gymnasium locker room, the low rider's engine rumbled like a truck along the fence. Jones glanced over his shoulder and approached his team. " All right guys, we're going live. I need Resnick at quarterback. " Woosey pressed his lips. The thin framed Resnick, shoulder pads out of place, ran across the field and squinted his blue eyes in the sunshine. He looked perplexed as his breath streamed into the colder air. " You want me at quarterback? What about Joe?" " Svoboda isn't here. I'm sure you can see that, Larry. I want you to run through these plays at quarterback until he gets here." Resnick smiled. " Thanks, Coach." " Wait a minute," said Jones, holding his arm. " Don't think I'm starting you on Saturday. Joe is going to be the starting quarterback. And just because you two don't get along off the field, I don't want any problems." " Oh, we get along okay. " " Right. Just don't rub this in his face when he gets here. " The low rider pulled away from the fence toward Hamilton Street. " I understand, Coach." " You're pretty good on the campus radio station, Larry. You'll have to prove yourself on the field." " I will." " Okay, let's try the long yardage game," Jones called out. " We have no linebacker," said Woosey, looking across the field.   7

Matthias Jones: The Club Max Murder Robert P. Fitton " Just put anybody in there. This is an offensive drill, Woosey." Jones stood back as Woosey dragged a large kid named Busey from the sidelines. Again, Jones faced the distant locker room. He was worried about Joe. Something was not right and Leo's rambling about his star player held for murder shook him. Resnick ran the long yardage play, but he bobbled the ball. Jones held back any criticism. The cold weather impaired a firm grip on the ball. Resnick scrambled quickly from the next snap, but his pass was at least fifteen yards short of Joe's easiest toss.   ***   The orange sun lingered within steel blue clouds behind the sinewy branches as colder air sank across the valley. Leo was unable to locate Joe Svoboda. Joe's friends and arrogant roommate had checked the dorm and campus center, but Leo had actually called the police station, but no one would answer his questions. " I can't say the cops were cooperative, Coach. Like they were deliberately holding me back. And that roommate was downright hostile. Told me to mind my own business." " I'm just trying to pretend Joe being missing and the report from Prince William aren't related," said Jones. His players were tired from two hours of grueling contact. Arnie Dewars's huge blue lumber truck squeaked to a stop along the chain link fence. " Oh, no. The last thing I need right now is to listen to Arnie Dewars. " " Hey, Matth-i-as! " Jones realized he was trapped. In his blue striped Dewars shirt, minus a jacket or hat, Arnie ran through the street gate. He continuously pushed his black-rimmed glasses up his oversized nose. " Matth-i-as! " " What can I do for you, Arnie? We're trying to wrap things up here. " " Your boy is in big trouble. " " How do you know this? " Arnie shivered and then elbowed Jones in the ribs. " Can't keep track of your own players, eh? " " Do you have definitive information on Joe Svoboda? " Arnie's hands shook as he lit a cigarette. " Man, it's cold. " " Don't you believe in hats and jackets? " " Ah, jackets are for wimps. " His hands shook as he inhaled the cigarette. " Man, it's colder than a witch's-" " Arnie, what did you hear about Joe Svoboda? " " See, my sister knows guys on the force. They brought in some kid on a motorcycle. " " But did they specifically say they brought in Joe Svoboda? " " Well&ldots;" Arnie pushed his finger into Jones' shoulder " Scared you're gonna lose the big game? " " So, in other words, you know nothing. " " Hey, don't blame me you centered your whole game around one guy. " " Did anybody ever tell you, you're a pain?" " It's my modus operantus. " " Operandi. " " Yeah, yeah, yeah. " Home Page Unimited Annual Access to all Fitton e-books and PODCAST Episodes $ 6.99 © 2000 - 2007 Fitton Books. All rights reserved. \

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		Handyman, Webster Howard, is found dead below deck on his drifting fishing boat. Jones works with self-styled, private eye. The owner of Hamilton's newspaper is shot while investigating the murder with Jones. Suspects include First Parish Church's reverend, an arrogant state trooper, and Webster's wife.
	The Handyman's Secret	This Fitton Book is available as an e-book via $ 6.99 portal membership.

Matthias Jones: The Handyman's Secret Robert P. Fitton   Matthias Jones: The Handyman's Secret  1     Disaster has no excuse. Lark's new Outboard Special skimmed Hamilton Bay's velvet blue waters and was on a collision course with the drifting boat. Back at Hansen's Marina he should have accepted Captain Kendall's offer of piloting instruction. As the boat skipped over rougher water, Lark again gripped the jammed ship's wheel. On the lounger at mid deck, Flo, red kerchief flapping in the breeze, glanced up from her romance novel. He raised the binoculars and prayed she did not sense the impending doom. The old white and green boat, the only craft presently in Hamilton Bay, came into focus.   " There's no one piloting this boat!" screamed Flo from the chair.   She quickly steadied herself along the deck railing as Lark adjusted his captain's hat. " Not to worry, Snookems." He yanked the wheel one more time. " Just a little navigational glitch."   Flo covered her mouth. " The wheel is stuck!"   Lark flipped open the plywood supply chest and retrieved the bulky specification book. He thumbed through the pages, frantically trying to solve the problem. " Wheel, wheel. Must be under W. Or it could be under S for ship's wheel. Or maybe steering."   " Lark, do something!"   Lark dipped his glasses. He should have gotten new bifocals and not waited until somebody had a sale on glasses. " Let's see. Automatic Navigational Compensation: ANC. Dislodge ANC activation throttle and replace command with overdrive secondary protec-tor... Hum."   Lark set the manual atop the storage bin near the railing and peered over the confusing controls. He pointed the binoculars through the salt-sprayed glass shield. Nobody was on the deck of the green trimmed boat.   " What do you see, Lark?"   " The odds are we will miss it. We have to miss it."   " Miss what?" Flo stood on her tiptoes, but probably could not see the boat without the binoculars. Lark searched for the ANC throttle until he located an orange rectangular plastic piece stamped ANC. He pushed the button without a second thought. The ship's wheel now moved freely after a sudden snap. " You did it, Lark! You did it!"   1

Matthias Jones: The Handyman's Secret Robert P. Fitton     " I thought we were dead ducks." Lark gripped the varnished wheel and prepared for a course change, but now the wheel, although unlocked, spun freely.   " Whoops."   " Lark, the boat up ahead."   " Radio, radio, where's the radio?" As his boat bounced along, Lark stuck his head into the storage compartment, knocked his skull on the edge and his captain's hat fell off. Unable to find the radio, he again reached for the manual on the railing. His voice shook as he scooped up his hat. " The manual, it's gone! It must have fallen into the water!"   " Just steer back to shore!"   " Right-O."   He planted himself in front of the wheel again, adjusted his captain's hat and squeezed the smooth wood, but the wheel rotated like a spinning top. With his clenched fist he banged the ANC button, but nothing happened. " We're stuck!"   Flo looked through the glass shield. " Lark, there is another boat out there!"   The older boat he had only seen through the binoculars, was now only a few hundred yards away. He raised his thumb to align his position with the stray boat.   " My God, we are going to crash..." * * *     Jones inhaled the warm May air as Tom McGill scanned the bay waters with the field glasses. Three weeks away from his summer vacation at his Aunt Mae's farm in Indiana, he longed to shed tension accumulated from another year of coaching three sports at Hamilton College. Although the bay was only a few miles from the college, he already felt farther away. To his right Captain Kendall steered their rented boat past vessels moored along the channel. Back at the bridge, along the highway, a woman next to an off road vehicle stared at the bay.   " What the hell is he doing?" asked McGill.   Jones looked back to the Captain. " Bringing the boat to the dock."   " No, Lark."   Jones was so sleepy in the hot sun he did not want to open his eyes. " Lark is enjoying his insurance claim after the hurricane last summer."   " Matthias, he's headed for that boat out there."   Jones' eyes opened and McGill's mix of brown and gray hair came into focus. McGill handed the field glasses to him. Lark's cruiser moved at a good clip, stirred the foamy waves and headed toward another boat. " He's going to hit that boat."   " It's the only boat on the bay."   Jones gave him the field glasses and ran down the pressure treated dock planks. The white bearded Kendall threw out a long, blue nylon rope and brought the boat closer to the dock. " Captain, we've got a problem out on the bay!" 2

Matthias Jones: The Handyman's Secret Robert P. Fitton      The Captain stepped onto the dock and looped the heavy rope around the pole. " You spot some passing whales, Matthias?"   " It's Lark."   The Captain squinted and raised his bushy left brow. " What about him?"   " We just saw his boat heading toward another boat out on the bay."   " I pleaded with him to let me show him how to properly pilot that boat."   They scurried toward McGill in his beige Bermuda shorts. He lowered the binoculars and handed them to the Captain. " Captain, he's going to hit."   The Captain only looked for a second. He motioned them down the dock toward the Harbormaster's orange and white fiberglass patrol boat. They climbed inside and he cranked the engine. Almost immediately they moved away from the dock. The Captain held the radio microphone. " Lark, this is the Captain. Come in Lark."   Jones leaned forward as the boat kicked to a higher speed. Lark's course toward the second boat looked like a demolition scene in a Hollywood movie. " He drives that boat like he drives his car."   " You got that right," said McGill, eyes pressed to the binoculars.   " Lark, come in. This is Captain Kendall."   The wind pushed Jones' brown hair back as they followed the green buoys along the bay. The Captain scanned through his own binoculars. " Captain, why is he headed for that one boat?"   " Don't know."   " I see him!" shouted McGill. " He's trying to move the wheel."   Jones gazed ahead as the Harbormaster's boat moved into the bay, but Lark did not change course and was about to ram the only other boat within ten miles. * * *     " It's broken! It's broken!" Lark raced around the wheel as if his machinations could make a difference. The white and green boat now loomed directly ahead, bobbing gently with every wave.   " You need to shut off the engine, Lark!"   " Right, right. Shut it off. Shut it off." Now he searched for the key. He remembered starting the engine but forgot the ignition location. The older boat was perilously close as he ran his hand under the panels. He felt the metal key and quickly turned it, grinding the starter. Frantic, he twisted it back and the engine shut off. The boat still moved at a high speed and through the glass he saw the faded green letters across the old boat's peeling white bow. 3

Matthias Jones: The Handyman's Secret Robert P. Fitton MAINTENANCE FREE " My God, Lark, we're going to hit that boat!" She grabbed him and they dropped to the deck, nuzzled together against the front wall.   After dead silence and long anticipation, a loud crunch exploded into the sound of cracking wood and Lark's boat lurched upward. For a moment he thought they were airborne. Something broke apart above, raining debris over the deck. He shielded himself over Flo as his boat skidded and scraped bottom. They were now tilted upward and bobbed at an odd angle.   " Are you all right, Snookems?" He squinted in the sunlit blue sky. The boat's strong wooden mast had snapped into a twisted wood splinter.   " You saved me, Lark. You saved me!"   Lark steadied himself as he stood, not sure what he had done. He tensed his jaw. His glasses were still in place as he edged his way through the debris to the railing. His boat had careened atop the other vessel. Stairs led below the Maintenance Free's dull,varnished deck. Lark had seen this boat in the marina. Flo crossed the deck and held him as both boats continued to sway in the water.   " This is Webster Howard's boat, Flo."   " The maintenance man?"   " Sometimes he goes fishing... I wonder if anyone is on board." He stroked his chin. " Hum, only one way to find out."   " What do you mean? You're not going down there, are you?"   He cupped his hands. " Hello down there!"   " You think he's on the boat, Lark?"   " No, sir. " He squinted his eyes. " We're dealing with a run-a-way boat."   " You make it sound like a western where the horse breaks away from the coral."   " I assure you, Snookems, no one is aboard this boat."   " Unless we knocked him out or something."   Lark nodded and raised his index finger. " You may have a point, Flo."   He waddled to the box under the panels and pulled out the emergency rope ladder. " Lark, you're in no shape to be climbing ladders."   " A man's got to do what a man's got to do."   Lark straddled the railing and lowered his bulbous body onto the unsteady rope ladder. He longed to be twenty years younger and forty pounds slimmer. Rung by shaky rung he descended the ladder and finally stepped onto the older boat's weathered deck. 4

Matthias Jones: The Handyman's Secret Robert P. Fitton " Do you see him?" asked McGill from the Captain's boat.   " I'm going under." Jones raced down the stairs, but met resistance at the door.   " He's dead! Dead, I killed him!"   Jones pushed open the door. Webster Howard lay face down in blood splattered jeans and army shirt. Lark's frantic eyes were opened wide as he hugged the cabin wall. " Web, oh my God."   " Lark, what happened?"   " My boat... I lost control. Poor Webster."   Jones gazed across the body, but suspected something more than Lark's pleasure boat had killed Webster. " He's dead, but his body is just lying there. I don't see where he impacted on anything. This is very strange."   McGill moved through the squeaky cabin door. " What the hell is going on?"   " I killed Webster Howard," whined Lark. " I need a private investigator!"   " Don't be so sure, Lark." Jones first studied the small cabin's table, bolted to the floor and scanned the tiny stainless steel sink under a row of white Formica cabinets. Some of the lower cabinets had sharp edges, but Webster Howard's body was at least ten feet away. Next to the sink was a plastic cup and a white paper napkin smeared with tomato sauce and marked, R/L. A coiled microphone cord dangled from a transmitter near the window.   " What are you thinking, Matthias?" asked McGill.   " I'm not sure yet, Tommy." Webster Howard's hands were strong and callused, still tightened as if he were in the midst of a fight. A finely molded body filled his army shirt. Bringing down a man of this physical strength required more than just being knocked to the floor. " Lark, did you see him on deck before the accident?"   " No. I thought it was an empty boat. Oh, dear, God, what have I done?""   " I don't think you did anything besides crash into his boat." Jones knelt next to Webster without touching him. Behind the edges of the orange and green baseball cap, through the dark strands of hair, the dried blood of an expanded, gaping wound indicated a more extensive injury. And the blood on Webster's army shirt and jeans was long since dried.   " Was he murdered?" asked McGill.   Jones studied the ripped jute rug, floorboards exposed, but none of the rug stains contained blood. " Yeah... but not in here." 5

Matthias Jones: The Handyman's Secret