Colt Crawford - Chapter 8 (Monday)

When Detective Krissy Malone arrived at the Santa Barbara Harbor, she quickly tracked Colt down in front of the Yachtery office. “I saw his truck in the parking lot,” Krissy said as she leaned her back against the railing that separated the commercial part of the marina from the private docks.

“He’s out on a cruise right now with a client,” Colt replied. “He’ll be back soon.” Nodding toward the art gallery next door to the Yachtery, Colt added, “Let’s go talk to the guy in there.”

“You want to go in as cops or as wealthy art connoisseurs?” Krissy asked with a mischievous gleam in her eye that did not go unnoticed by Colt Crawford.

“The artist in me couldn’t possibly pass up an offer like that,” he replied. With a quick pivot he offered his arm to Krissy and together they marched toward the gallery. Although the gesture had been entirely in play, something about it felt right.

The inside of the gallery displayed various color and black and white photography by one of the local artists. On the back wall, Colt found himself transfixed by a display of photos of various doors from old European buildings. The washed out blues and dull reds captured the mixture of the hope and despair felt by the locals. Something about the images made him wonder what was hidden on the other side of the doors. How many doors had Colt closed in his lifetime? How many had he failed to open? Were there doors to open in front of him now? Was he missing opportunities that he should seize?

His mind traced back to the church service he had attended that morning. Something that the pastor had said reverberated in his mind as his eyes traveled across the wall form door to door. “If you ask God for wisdom, He will give it to you?” Were the answers to all his questions simply waiting behind a door labeled, Ask God?

“May I help you?” a voice asked from behind. Colt and Krissy turned and greeted the trendy young proprietor of the gallery.

“We are actually waiting for Mr. Mathis next door at The Yachtery,” Colt said. “But I am very intrigued by these photos.” Colt decided to use the photography exhibit as a tool for starting the conversation that could lead into questions about Steven Mathis. The proprietor began to explain that the photographs had been taken by a local photographer who had made several trips to Europe over the past decade, each time adding to his collection.

After several minutes of a low pressure sales talk, Krissy jumped in to redirect the conversation. “Honey,” she began, staying in character, “we are here to buy a boat, not a picture.”

Colt took the hint and immediately changed the subject. “Is he usually late for appointments?” he asked gesturing toward the office next door.

“I don’t know about his schedule. But he is odd.”

“Really? How so?” Colt asked.

The proprietor continued, “For a salesman, he’s not very friendly. He goes into his office and only comes out to show boats to clients. I’ve tried saying hi to him before, but he doesn’t seem to have time to say anything back.” The man paused for a minute as if trying to decide if he should say any more. Apparently deciding to go on he added, “You know what I’ve always thought was strange, though?”

“What?” Krissy asked quizzically.

“He gets these clients in there who obviously can’t afford what he is selling. I’d say most of his clients are not the yacht type, if you know what I mean. But” he continued, “he takes them out on these cruises anyway.”

Colt and Krissy nodded as he spoke, not quite sure what it meant.