“His biggest problem was that he just got lazy…leastwise, that’s what I thought,” Harold Taylor said, taking off his cap and wiping his brow. “I told George over and over that he needed to keep his boat in better condition, but…well, to be honest, it was my wife that finally got me to understand that after Sylvia died, George just wasn’t the same.”

Shifting his stance slightly, Lance prodded, “The same?”

“Yeah…without his wife or his son, George just seemed to not work as hard, and this isn’t a business you can slack off with and expect to put money in the bank. He’d act like money didn’t matter to him, but then I’d see him staring at Richard’s new boat like he was jealous. I don’t know…George just seemed to lose his direction.”

He nodded, looking around at Harold’s deckhands, standing around, their hands busy but their attention directed to the conversation about George. “Any of your men have dealings with George?”

Harold turned and looked at his small crew. “Any y’all ever work for George Caday?”

They all shook their heads before returning to their tasks. He turned back to Harold and asked, “Can you think of anything else about him that would help our investigation?”

Shifting on his feet, he replied, “I always liked George. Easy to get along with. He’d have your back if you needed him.” Sighing heavily, he said, “Gonna miss him.”

Back on the dock, Lance walked toward the bench occupied by Jade and Skip. Nodding to the pair, he sat next to Jade, wrapping his arm around her. “You okay?” he whispered.

She turned her sad gaze up to him and nodded. “Yeah. Skip and I were just reminiscing about George. Of course, he knew him for years and I only recently met him, but the harbor just doesn’t seem the same without George’s smile.”

Turning toward Skip, he studied the weather worn face of the Harbor Master. Up close, it was easier to see that he was younger than first expected. His ring finger was bare, but the indentation from a former ring was visible. Shifting his gaze to his face, he asked, “What can you tell me about George?”

Heaving a sigh, Skip replied with a nod out toward the boats, “Probably not as much as the two you’ve been talking to. I’ve been Harbor Master here for about eight years. Came from a much bigger harbor…I worked out of Norfolk for the first part of my career, but after coming here to do some fishing, I fell in love with the place. Decided that I’d rather be the head person at a small harbor than just one of many in a much larger place.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he dropped his head, staring at his boots. “Me and George hit it off. He’d let me go out on his boat some and then, when I applied for the position, he backed me all the way. Our wives became friends and they’d come out early in the morning to look for sea glass together.”

“It sounds like me,” Jade smiled. “I go out almost every morning I can when school’s not in session.”

“Bet you give some of it to Lance to use for his art.”

Slipping Lance a sly grin at the memory of their first encounters, she replied, “I take it to my students. In fact, I’ve recently taken a bunch there for them to create sea glass picture frames for their art projects.”

Nodding, Skip said, “My wife wasn’t artistic but she and George’s wife would save the glass in big jars.” Sobering for a moment, he added, “Hell, me and George ended up having more in common than we should have.” He twisted his head around as he explained, “My wife got cancer about the same time as Sylvia. Both good women, but the disease took its toll on all of us.”

She reached out, resting her hand on his arm. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“George’s wife actually died first. My Anne lasted almost another year, but it was hard and she finally denied the last of the treatments. George was a good friend then, even though he was dealing with his own grief.”

“I know you’ve already thought of all of this, but do you know of anyone who would want to harm George?” Lance asked.

“That’s what makes no sense,” Skip said, leaning back suddenly, his voice harsher. “Old man…not much money…didn’t have the new, shiny boat or equipment…didn’t have a lot of business. Hell, there was nothing for anyone to be jealous of or want that he had.”

“So, he didn’t have much money?” Lance prodded, carefully watching Skip’s response.

Snorting, he looked at him, shaking his head. “I figure you’ve seen his house. Sylvia kept it so nice, but after her death, George lived in a mess. I don’t reckon he had much money to begin with, but in the past several years, he sure as hell didn’t earn a lot.”

Nodding, he gave Jade’s shoulders a squeeze and said, “Thanks for keeping Jade company and answering my questions.”

As they stood, they shook hands before Skip smiled at Jade. “Been a while since I had a pretty lady to just sit and enjoy the harbor with me. Thank you.”

Smiling in return, she shifted into his embrace as they walked back to his vehicle. After settling her inside, he jogged around to the driver’s side, noting the huddle of helpers from the Taylor’s boat deep in conversation, before they turned and looked at him.

* * *

Another tear fell, but was quickly wiped away with a tissue pressed into her hand by Lance. She peered up at him, grateful for his presence, as well as his understanding.

The minister gave a beautiful, graveside service for George. The cemetery had placed chairs underneath a canopy for the townspeople to stand nearby, and Mayor Corwin Banks had taken his wife’s arm and led her to the front, until he saw George’s son sitting there. With a purple hue to his face, Corwin moved to the other side, sitting next to Silas Mills. After the minister’s service, he called for a few of George’s friends to speak.

First Richard walked to the front, his anecdotes bringing smiles to the large gathering. “We started out together as teens, fishing on the weekends for old Mr. MacGreggor and, damn, if George didn’t fall into the fish tank the first time we went out by ourselves. It was raining and I was trying to figure out how to get him out. By the time we got back to the harbor, we had a few fish we’d caught, but stunk like ol’ seaweed.” He wiped his eyes at the memory, before heaving a sigh. “Hard to believe he’s gone, but for anyone who knew him, he was not just an old salt o’ the sea, but truly a good man.” Looking at the picture sitting on the coffin at the front, he said, “I’ll lift a glass to you in the pub, old friend.”

Harold shook hands with Richard on his way to the pulpit, before facing the crowd. “When I think of George, I think of a man who loved his wife and son, and loved his job. For those of us who spend our lives out in the elements of the sea, we feel closer to God, out on the water, than anywhere else. George began to drift over the last few years, and I think that Sylvia was his anchor. So, George, my friend, you’re with her now.”

Lance shot a glance to the front, seeing Anthony wiping tears from his eyes. He was wearing an ill-fitting suit, sitting next to a suited, prison guard. He found it impossible to not analyze the case, even when at the funeral.

Who gained from George’s money? Obviously, Anthony, since George’s Will only listed his son as beneficiary. But did he know how much money his father had in the bank? And did he know how his father was getting the extra cash? And where did the money come from?

An elbow in the side sent his gaze darting back to Jade. Blushing, he faced the front again, now interested in Thomas Fedor. He approached the front from his seat next to the mayor, his expensive suit and polished shoes in stark contrast to Richard and Harold’s clothing.

“As most of you know, I’ve only been in town a couple of years, but I got to know George before I arrived. I was interested in the restaurant for sale, but knew I wanted fresh, local fish, so I hung out at the harbor for several months beforehand. Got to know all the good fishermen there and George was always willing to get what I needed…”

He stopped listening as Thomas’ words hit him—always willing to get what I needed. He narrowed his eyes as he stared at the man in front of the gathering. Thomas is talking about seafood, but what if someone used George to get something off the ships in the harbor? Not smuggling for himself, but as a means to an end for someone who was using him?

Another elbow jab brought his mind back to the funeral and he caught Jade’s lowered brow. “Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling her in closer. Thomas was still speaking, so he tuned in once more.

“George will be missed and his place in the fishing community…as the whole community, will be hard to fill.” Stepping down, Thomas walked back to his seat next to Corwin Banks and his wife, a smile on his face.

As the crowd dispersed, he kept his arm on Jade as they walked over the grassy terrain of the cemetery, making sure she did not fall. Assisting her into his SUV, he asked, “You want to go to the pub or go home, babe?”

“The pub,” Jade replied without delay. Seeing his lifted eyebrow, she rushed, “I’m not tired, Lance. Well, I am…but that’s from the emotions of the last week, not from my injuries. My foot is much stronger and my wrist will be back to normal soon.” Placing her hand on his forearm, feeling the steel of muscles underneath, she added, “I’d like to spend some time with our friends for a little while. And I know the pub will be more of a celebration of George.”

When they arrived, the pub was packed, Aiden and Brogan behind the bar pulling beers and keeping a practiced eye on the crowd. Katelyn assisted the servers as Gareth worked behind the bar as well. Ginny slid into the booth next to Grant and Jillian, facing Mitch, Tori, Jade, and Lance.

His gaze traveled around the crowded room, staring at the faces but unable to discern anyone who might know what George was involved in.

Jade eyed him and said, “I could see the wheels turning in your head all during the service.” Looking at the other officers, she asked, “I suppose it was the same with you all?”

Ginny grinned, while shaking her head. “Yeah, it’s hard to turn it off.”

“Can’t you talk about it a little?” Jillian said, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear.

“Babe,” Grant replied.

Jillian rolled her eyes and looked at Tori and her. “I swear, he says babe, and it’s supposed to mean something different depending on how he says it. That was his you know I can’t talk about police business babe.” Smiling at Jade, she said, “Get used to it.”

She nodded, happy that Lance seemed at ease with their friends and with his new police responsibilities.

As though Jillian could read her mind, she said, “I have a feeling I just gave up one of my favorite artists, Lance.”

“It’s my stress reliever, Jillian. I’m sure you’ll still get some work from me.”

Before anyone could respond, a loud whistle sounded throughout the bar. Aiden stood on a chair to get the crowd’s attention and said, “Richard wants to offer a toast to George, so if everyone could listen up.”

Aiden hopped down from his perch and the crowd quieted as Richard stood in front of the bar. Looking down at his boots for a moment, he said, “George was a sailor…a fisherman…a member of this community…a good husband and father…and to me, a good friend.” Lifting his beer, he called out, “To George Caday.”

The gathering lifted their glasses as well, repeating the toast as George’s name rang out in the bar.