Murder Mystery Who Dunnit

New Year’s Eve, 1974.

It was an extremely cold and rainy night at the docks and Harold Green, ABC’s local newscaster was on his 34-foot cabin cruiser named “Liquid Asset,” tucked into a middle slip on D-Dock at the Dana Inn’s marina. It was only 5:30 PM, but the skies were dark on this New Year’s Eve. Usually, at this hour he was in the studio reporting the news with his buddy Hal Clement on sports, Captain Mike doing the weather, and Adrienne Alpert. Paul Bloom was filling in for him tonight because he had a hot date. To warm up the boat, which now served as his home after his second wife kicked him out of his house and filed for divorce, Harold battened down the hatches and cranked the engine to warm up the cabin. He turned on the TV to channel 10 and watched his stand in do an admirable job reading off the teleprompter, so he went to his berth in the bow to tidy up (in case he got lucky, and he usually did) and change into his signature look—a thick turtleneck, velvet blazer, slacks, and platform shoes. He was already tall, but why not tower over people? Harold poured himself a stiff drink, finished it off and headed for the hotel bar where he was a regular. Although he was famous to the locals, tourists staying at The Dana didn’t know him from Adam so if he wanted to be left alone, this was the place. Even so, he was often recognized, and truth be told, he loved the attention—especially from the ladies. This was the number one reason his wife was leaving him. She knew that when he finished with the nightly news and stayed on the boat he was rarely alone. She knew because that’s how they met. He looked at his watch. It was now 6:00 PM and the pretty blonde teller from the bank would be meeting him at the bar at 7:00 PM. Up until now the two had kept it professional. Cathy was married to a Marine serving in Vietnam and he was married—and still they flirted, but nothing ever happened. When her husband was killed in action, he told her if she ever needed someone to talk to, he was available. He only came in twice a month to deposit his check, until recently when he came in frequently to withdraw large sums of cash (always below the minimum required to be reported by the bank). He would wait until Cathy was free to make the withdrawal. He confided in her he was getting divorced. He only told her to let her know he was available, but it also let her know (unknowingly) that he was hiding money from his soon-to-be ex-wife. A lot of money. She let it be known she was going to be all alone on New Year’s Eve when Harold came in on December 30th. He asked her if she’s like to watch the Sea Wold fireworks from his boat, and she eagerly accepted. He told her where he kept his boat, but she already knew. Harold stepped down to the swim step and nearly slipped and fell. It was raining and his shoes were not made for being on or around boats. “Man,” he thought, “that drink hit me hard.” As he stumbled down the dock, his slip mate, Dan, a shady character who owned a strip club near the airport called Dirty Dan’s, was heading down the dock from the other direction. A short, fat, bald man, he was still intimidating for some reason. Maybe it was because he was connected to the mob. The LA Mob sent him to San Diego to get set up so they could expand their operations—plus to get the degenerate gambler out of their hair. As Dirty Dan approached Harold, he noticed the big man was a little wobbly, so he asked, “You up for some poker tonight? My boat, 10:00 o’clock.” Harold slurred, “Can’t make it, got a date.” Dirty Dan cursed. He couldn’t understand how this idiot newscaster consistently cleaned him out at poker time after time. He had to be cheating. Now that he was off his game, maybe he could win back what Green took from him. “Come on Harry, let’s play some cards.” “First, nobody calls me Harry, it’s Harold!” He never said what the second thing was and stumbled off to the bar. The whole hotel had a Polynesian flair to it and so did the bar at the back of the property. It also served as a restaurant for the guests. It had tikis out front and looked and felt like the tropics inside. Known for their extra strong Mai Tai’s and a drink called the Navy Grog, unsuspecting tourists got wiped out here—many ending up spending the night in his boat. Lately, he’d been seeing the waitress, a tall brunette named Carole. It wasn’t serious, but she was a lot of fun. What Harold didn’t know was the bartender, Randy, was interested in Carole, too, but never got up the nerve to ask her out. He suspected Harold and Carole were more than friends which is why he made Harold’s Mai Tai extra, extra strong. Tonight he was going to make his move and Harold would be too sloshed to get in the way. From behind his bar stool a short, full-figured woman tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around, he had the same reaction he’d had the first time she did that… and the second, third, and fourth time too. He recoiled and said, “Oh, hi Dorothy, it’s you.” To say she was unattractive would be unfair to unattractive people. Her short curly hair, buck teeth, and thick glasses were off-putting. He wanted to be nice; she was his biggest fan after all, but it was hard. To get her to leave him alone, he’d given her a signed headshot, tickets to a Chargers game, a Channel 10 mug, but it only made her more aggressive. She all but said she wanted to make babies with him which made him shudder. Thankfully, Carole sat down next to him and made it known with her eyes that she wanted Dorothy to back off. This was her man and she wanted to tell him something exciting. Carole broke the news to the newscaster: he was going to be a father. She was pregnant! He had no reaction; he just finished his drink, got up and walked out the door. The next morning, a boater found Harold’s dead body floating face down near the fuel pumps and launch ramp. He was dead. When the police (and news crews) arrived, they pulled his body from the water and although his watch and wallet were missing, they knew exactly who he was. He was a big deal in San Diego. There were no signs of obvious trauma, but he was dead. When they searched his boat, it had been ransacked. Someone was either very angry or looking for something. Who killed Harold Greene? How and why did they do it?