The Stranger in the Lifeboat

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Dobby put his hands above his head and slowly rose from the lectern.
“I gotta stand up, please,” he pleaded. “My back is killing me.”
LeFleur kept the gun pointed, but he, too, was getting tired. The reading of
the notebook had been draining. He realized this wasn’t the most wellthought-out
plan, coming to the exclusion zone to pry out a confession. He
had no backup. If something went wrong, he was a long way from help.
“I’m still waiting for an answer,” LeFleur said. “How did you do it? Why
did you do it?”
Dobby lowered his hands to the filthy podium. He pushed some ash away
with his fingers. “Look,” he said. “I don’t really want to tell you all this. But I
can see it’s the only way you’re going to believe me.”
“You’re gonna say you were never on that yacht?”
“I never was. I saw it. I’d gone with Benji to Cape Verde, and I drove him
to the docks the morning they loaded up. I was worried about him. He’d been
through a lot, and he was acting strange. Agitated. I didn’t want him to be
alone.”
“Why go to the docks?” LeFleur asked.
“This manager of Fashion X was supposed to be there. I wanted to say
hello. To be honest, I was hoping he’d hire me for their next tour. That’s all. I
swear.”
“So you saw the Galaxy?”
“I saw it. It was a beast, just like he wrote. A monument to greed and
excess.”
“Now you sound like the man in the notebook.”
“I’m just telling the truth. The upper deck was like an outdoor theater, a
stage, dozens of chairs, a massive sound system. And every guest on that
yacht had a staff member assigned to take care of them. Whatever they
wanted, the staff person had to provide. Drinks. Towels. An iPad in the