Colt Crawford - Chapter 6 (Monday)

As Colt drove the car down Shoreline Drive toward the harbor, his assessment of the situation wavered between awkward, comfortable and, nothing-but-business. His mind churned, pondering what this all meant while simultaneously trying to maintain a coherent conversation with Krissy. The realization struck him just before they arrived at the marina that he didn’t have to be involved in the case at all. No one had hired him, no job description mandated that he solve this crime. This was a strictly voluntary effort on his part. Since he had no legal or financial obligation with the investigation, the business factor was eliminated. So what was left? Awkward or comfortable? It didn’t have to be awkward either, but it was. If he let it get too comfortable, it could go right back to awkward in a big hurry.

Colt wished he could read Krissy’s mind. Was she feeling uncomfortable? She had probably ridden in cars with guys a hundred times as part of her job. It was only for Colt that this was a new experience.

Making a right turn onto Harbor Way he marveled at the sight of the boats. The lines of empty masts rising high into the air created a scenic picture as the cool afternoon sun reflected off the shimmering water. As a lifelong land lubber, boats were somewhat mysterious to him. Scanning the vast display of tall masts, he once again became aware of the purpose for their visit to the marina. “Remind me of this guy’s details,” Colt said as he pulled the BMW into a parking spot on the eastern edge of the lot.

Looking down at the paper in her hand, Krissy went over the guy’s life in a nutshell. “Steven Mathis, age 35. Successful yacht broker with offices in Long Beach and here in Santa Barbara. Settled a tax debt of about 50 grand with the IRS for a fraction of that amount, but did some time as part of the deal. Two homes, one here and one in the L.A. area.

“That certainly gives him access to both ends of the crime. When did he get out?” Colt asked.

“He was released last August.”

“So a grudge could still be fresh in his mind,” Colt added as his trendy, yet casual bowling-inspired shoes hit the pavement. He shut the door and met Krissy at the trunk. Together they walked across the lot toward the yacht office. A sign was suspended above the door, dangling from two chains that were attached to a pole that protruded from the side of the building, giving some resemblance to a ship’s boom. “The Yachtery. Very clever,” Colt said glancing up at the artistically arranged sign.

The conversation with Steven Mathis was brief and his alibi was strong. He had been on a harbor cruise with a potential client the night Samantha had been abducted and his secretary was able to prove it by producing his calendar and a bill of sale for a very expensive yacht. “Feel free to contact the client,” Mathis said rather casually, “but he will confirm that I was on the water with him at 5:00 on New Year’s Day.”

Colt and Krissy thanked the man for his time and headed back to the car. “He seemed believable to me,” Krissy said. “I’ve done this a few times and I am usually right.”

“That must be nice,” Colt said.

“You get used to it,” Krissy said flashing a bright smile rimmed with only the slightest hint of lipstick. “Actually, I’m not ready to completely clear him yet. He may have been on the water on New Year’s Day, but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t hire someone to go after Samantha.”

“I’m planning to head back to L.A. either tonight or early tomorrow to pay a visit to Creighton Ford,” Colt said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some connection between him and this Mathis guy.”

“I hate traffic, so let’s leave early. I’ll be ready at 4:00 a.m. You can pick me up at the P.D.,” Krissy said much to Colt’s surprise. It wasn’t so much her interest in making a trip to L.A. that surprised him, he had actually expected that, rather it was the “You can pick me up” part that got him. And she hated traffic.