John Brown’s Body

“John?” said Terry, looking at Blackbeard. “Didn’t know you even had a first name.”

“Terr, meet Captain David. Old friend of my father’s. Years ago.”

Captain David just kind of waved at Terry. “Not only has a first name, had a father. Pretty good cop, even better fisherman. Back in the days when Panama City Beach was just a sleepy little town where people made more money from fishing and smuggling grass than from tourists.”

Terry grinned. “Don’t suppose they smuggle grass anymore?”

“Not so much. Big money now is in smuggling condos.” He waved the back of his hand at the tall buildings at the beach. “I’m afraid to go to sleep these days. Wake up and find five more of those monsters landed on the beach. More money in any one of them than all the nickel and dime stuff we used to pull. And some of what the condo developers do is even legal. Some of it.”

Blackbeard said, “Marina seems kind of empty. We stopped at a couple of boats before, couldn’t find anybody home.”

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