"That's what Donor Miller told the detectives when they asked him about the owner of the T-shirt in the trash bin. "I don't know anything about him, except he does what I tell him, as long as I keep it simple."Detectives Flanck and Anschutz smelled an unpleasant aroma down by the docks, but as native Floridians they weren't alarmed. People from out of state might have recoiled, and exclaimed, "Who died here?" But as native Floridians, Paul and Robyn recognized the "fragrance" of a backwater bay. It was the smell of dead fish and of sulfur from the decaying layers of leaves that fell into the water from the branches of mangrove trees around the marina. This was, after all, part of the New River, a fascinating waterway that winds through scenery that is dramatic both by virtue of its content and its contrasts: From the parkways, bridges, and boat docks of downtown Fort Lauderdale, up the big branch into Bahia Beach, and back up the north channel to Lake Okeechobee, it's a biologist's dream, a boater's fantasy."What's his full name?""Raymond Raintree.""Where can we find him?""Hell, he's always here."Robyn Anschutz and Paul Flanck exchanged glances."You mind if we look for him?"The boat owner sank down on a dock rail, and put his face in his hands.
