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Once a twelve-acre island suitable for farming, Nixes Mate today is just two hundred square feet of uninhabited rock protruding from the harbor, most of the land lost to mining operations and rising sea levels. It essentially serves as a pedestal for a cone-shaped, black-and-white navigation marker for ships entering the harbor.
When Andie arrived, it was an active crime scene. In addition to the Boston Police’s harbor unit, responders included the U.S. Coast Guard, Massachusetts State Police, Massachusetts Environmental Police, Boston Fire Department, Massport Fire, and Boston EMS. Several other boats were outside the crime-scene perimeter, from which camera crews were recording footage for the local news.
“Who’s in charge?” Andie asked.
The pilot maneuvered his boat alongside a larger police boat on the scene. “Boston Police, homicide,” said the pilot. “Lieutenant Wall.”
Wall was the detective who had summoned Andie from Miami.
The first mate dropped rubber fenders over the side, and the two vessels rafted up close enough for Andie to hop over to the bigger boat. Lieutenant Wall met her on deck, as the speedboat pulled away. The crime scene was on the leeward side of the island, which afforded just enough protection from the northeast wind to keep the stationary boat from rocking and rolling. The rain had stopped, but Wall was still wearing a bright yellow rain jacket with the Boston Police logo. After a quick introduction, Andie started where she started any investigation.
“What do we know about the victim?” she asked.
“We think her name is Shannon Dwyer. Aspiring model who supports herself by waiting tables. Lives alone in Cambridge. But we’re not positive it’s her. The only clothing on the body is a nightgown, so no ID.”
“What makes you think it’s Shannon Dwyer?”
“A girlfriend reported Shannon missing yesterday morning. They were supposed to meet for brunch, and Shannon never showed up. The girlfriend was worried because Shannon called her late Saturday night freaked out about something. When Shannon didn’t show up forSunday brunch, she went to Shannon’s apartment to check on her. The door looked like it had been jimmied open. Shannon was gone.”
“Does the victim meet Shannon’s description?”
“So far. We’ll know more when we bring her up.”
“Up?”
Wall pointed with a jerk of his head, indicating the concrete piling at the island’s edge. “We’re at high tide. Right now, the body is completely underwater.”
Andie spotted the scuba divers’ bubbles at the surface. “Still chained to the piling?”
“Yeah. I directed the underwater recovery team not to remove the chains until the body is at least partly above the waterline, so we can get a clear look at the killer’s work. I want to see the body exactly as it was left here, which I presume was low tide. Then we’ll move into recovery mode.”
Andie’s gaze drifted back toward the piling. “I understand there was a tip to the local newspaper.”
“This morning, to theBoston Herald,” said Wall. “Anonymous caller. Said exactly where the body could be found. Just like in the McCormick case.”
“Actually, even the timing of the tip is like McCormick.”
“How do you mean?”
“Once the medical examiner gave us an approximate time of death, we were able to determine that the call came in to the Miami news station about thirty-six hours after the murder. If Shannon went missing after that Saturday night call to her friend, that’s pretty close to the same time lag between the time of death and the anonymous tip.”
“What do you make of that?” asked Wall. “The time lag, I mean?”
“Too soon to say,” said Andie. “But it could mean we have a copycat.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Wall. “Which is why I wanted you here when the tide is out. If there’s something inauthentic about this, I want to know if we have a copycat to worry about. On the other hand, if it strikes you as authentic, well...”
“You’re referring to the signature, I presume,” said Andie. “Goodbye girl.”
“Yeah,” said Wall. “No report yet from the divers whether it’s there.”
Andie’s gaze swept the island, then fixed on the concrete piling. “If it is, then we really have our hands full.”
“Either way, our hands are full. Your husband’s, too.”
“It’s best if we don’t bring my husband into this.”
“Nobody’s bringing him in,” said Wall. “He’s in, whether he likes it or not.”
