The case was long closed but he never stopped searching. This was the one stuck in his craw. Finally retired, it became an obsession. On this tiny Bahaman Island, a weathered old boat perched atop the roof of The Absent Skiff. He laughed, “Hiding in plain sight.” The boat was reported missing the same night of the disappearance. It never turned up; no connection was ever made. He entered taking a slow look around. Locals, not too crowded, the type of place a stranger would stick out, like him. Three burly men stationed around the perimeter. Seemed excessive. He seated himself at the bar. He’d wait. She materialized behind the bar, eyes on him as she deliberately made her way over. “It’s nice to finally meet you Victoria James.” “I’m Marina,” her eyes held his. He passed her a picture, “This is Victoria and Vincent James. They went missing in Miami long ago. Never heard from again. He was worth a fortune, evidence pointed to him running from a gambling debt; he fled with his daughter.” “Interesting story,” she was placing an umbrella into a glass of blue-black liquid. “Where’s your father, Victoria?” “He went fishing for marlin. Have you ever?” I shook my head. “You can join him tomorrow. Have a drink,” she handed him the glass, lifting her own, “Cheers.” He took a long swig. “Not bad. What’s it called?” “Morte della notte, my specialty; and my name is Marina, Detective Mueller.” This was my second round submission for the 250-word NYC Midnight Microfiction Challenge 2019. My assigned genre was Suspense and/or Thriller, action was using an umbrella and the word was absent. I didn't place within the top 5 in my group and therefore didn't make it into the final round.
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