The Stranger in the Lifeboat

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them as lost souls who, for some reason, felt found on Montserrat. Maybe
because half the island itself was lost, buried in volcano ash.
They pulled into an open-air restaurant that was part of a small motel.
LeFleur pointed to an outside table and told Rom to take it.
“I’m going to find a bathroom,” LeFleur said. “Order whatever you want.”
Once inside, he rang the front desk bell. Out from the back came a middleaged
woman with a sweep of black hair across her forehead.
“Can I help you?”
“Listen,” LeFleur said, his voice low, “I need a room for an hour or so.”
The woman glanced around.
“Just me,” LeFleur sighed.
The woman produced a registration form.
“Fill this out,” she said flatly.
“I’ll pay cash.”
She put the form away.
“Also, do you have any paper towels?”
A few minutes later, LeFleur was inside a simple room with a double bed,
a desk, a lamp, a floor fan, and some magazines atop a mini fridge. He went
into the bathroom, ran water in the tub, then removed the notebook from the
plastic bag. He ran the notebook gently through the water, just once, to
remove dirt and dissolve the salt that was binding the pages together. Then he
laid the notebook on one towel and patted it with another. He slid paper
towels in between some pages and pressed down. After a few minutes, he
was able to separate the cover and reread the opening sentences:
When we pulled him from the water, he didn’t have a scratch on him. That’s
the first thing I noticed. The rest of us were all gashes and bruises, but he
was unmarked.
Who was this stranger, LeFleur wondered? He glanced at his watch and
realized how long Rom had been waiting. The last thing he needed was that
guy to grow suspicious.
He placed the notebook upright on the desk, then pulled the floor fan over
to help dry the pages. He hurried out, locking the door behind him.
At the restaurant, LeFleur saw Rom at a corner table, with a glass of ice
water in front of him.
“Did you find what you were looking for, Inspector?”