3 Treasure Under Finny's Nose

by Dana Mentink

  A shiver rippled Sandra’s shoulders. “That was horrible. We didn’t kill him. As a matter of fact, we cautioned him against night diving, but Reggie was a, uh, determined person. Ethan tried to keep an eye on him, figuring he’d be happy to double-cross us. The night Reggie went out, Ethan kept watch for hours until he gave up. And anyway, why would we stick around if Reggie had already gotten the pearls and we’d killed him for them?”

  Jack leveled a look at her. “Good question, Ms. Marconi. I’d love to hear your answer.”

  Sandra didn’t seem to have an answer. She stuttered to a stop several times before bursting into tears. Nate went to fetch a glass of water. She was dismissed to the waiting room and told to stay in Finny for the next few days.

  Ethan’s interview was similar in content though much less emotional. “We haven’t committed a crime. We should be allowed to go. You have no right to keep us here.”

  Jack drummed his fingers on the desk. “Did you try to run down Mrs. Budge?”

  Ethan blinked but remained expressionless. “No. Why would I do that?”

  “Because she figured out the secret of the treasure you’re looking for.”

  He shot her a quick look. “I didn’t know that possibility existed until Sandra told me there were missing pages. Frankly, no offense, Mrs. Budge, but I thought the journal was so generic that you wouldn’t be smart enough to glean any info about the pearls from it.”

  Ruth sighed. Round, waxy, and dumb. She really had to work on how she presented herself.

  “Did you try to break into her house to retrieve the papers?” Jack continued.

  “No.” He sighed. “We’re probably idiots for thinking we could find those pearls, but we’re not criminals, believe it or not.”

  Ruth believed him, but then again, she reminded herself, she believed everyone.

  After another string of questions, Jack dismissed him with the same admonishment he’d given Sandra, along with one other piece of advice. “Stay out of the water.”

  Ethan gave him a cool look. “I will, but if someone murdered Reggie for those pearls, then we’re not the only ones you need to be worrying about.”

  Jack slouched in the chair after Ethan left. Ruth noticed the tired shadows under his eyes. Paul’s accident had taken a toll on him and she was sure Bobby’s announcement had, too.

  “Thanks for helping out, Ruth. Are you ready for dinner?”

  He took her to a small café at the edge of town, one busy with locals and visitors. She wondered if he was looking for some background noise to discourage busy ears from listening in. They settled down over bowls of chicken chowder and chopped salads.

  “Thanks for having dinner with me. Too bad it’s not as good as Monk’s soup.”

  She laughed. “Nothing’s as good as Monk’s soup.”

  “True. Monk is an amazing guy, and he’s devoted to you.”

  “Yes. I am very blessed.”

  Jack looked around the room for the umpteenth time before he finally spoke. “In a way, that’s kind of what I wanted to ask you about. You’ve heard that Bobby is leaving?”

  “Yes.”

  He shifted, toying with the spoon in his hand. “I’ll be honest here. I want her to stay, but I’m having trouble giving her a reason. I’m not sure if I can’t let go of Lacey or if I’m just a coward about committing to Bobby.” He sighed. “I’m a dismal failure in my personal life.”

  Her heart ached at his painful admission. He looked so confused, a vulnerability creeping over his face that she hadn’t seen before. “No, you’re not, Jack. If you were, Bobby wouldn’t love you.”

  “I guess. Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”

  “Fire away, Detective.”

  “I just wondered, you know, after Phillip died, how you found closure and everything. How did you put that behind you so you could start a new life with Monk?”

  “That’s the thing, Jack. I don’t think it is a new life. It’s just another phase of the one God gave me in the first place. But I admit that I spent years being mad, and devastated, and then a few more feeling guilty for not feeling that way.”

  He nodded slowly. “I’ve been trying real hard to figure it out. I loved my wife more than anything, but I know that she wouldn’t want me and Paul to be alone. I think it’s something else.” His forehead creased. “I’m pretty sure that I feel more afraid than guilty.”

  She covered his hand with hers. “I know that kind of fear, Jack. I’ve been there, too, and now, at my advanced age, I’m going to bring two more lives into this world with all the worry and fear that entails. If that isn’t enough to strike terror into the heart, I don’t know what is.”

  He leaned forward. “So how do you do it? How do you accept that?”

  She thought carefully before she answered. “I try to remember Jeremiah 29:11.”

  He squinted in recollection. “ ‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ ”

  She sat back. “Exactly, and I can tell what you’re thinking. We’ve both already experienced a hefty dose of harm, haven’t we? Your wife, my husband.”

  “That’s right.”

  She took a breath, trying to put into words the sum of a lifetime of love and loss. “But we’re still here, Jack. We still have joy and terror and fear, and more joy and bunches more fear. We still have the chance to laugh and hug and weep. We have the great privilege to get up every day and love someone, to show the tenderness to another that God has shown us. As long as we have that chance, we have to take it.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “That’s a hard thing to do.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but if we turned our back on the chance to love, then our lives would be a much greater calamity, a waste of our God-given purpose. There’s a reason you are here, beyond your job and your duties. You are here to love other people, and that’s just not a safe thing to do, is it?”

  He looked at her for a long moment, as if he was solving a puzzle in his mind. Then he grinned, a wide, slow smile that spread over his face in degrees. “Nope, it’s a crazy, risky, nutzo thing to do.” He laughed. “How did you get so smart, Mrs. Budge?”

  “Oh, believe me, Jack. Most of my days are spent in terror about the impending birth of two—count them— two babies. But now and again, God pokes me with a bit of joy and I know He’s got my future in His hands and theirs, too.” She thought of Bryce and his decision to stay close by, and Cootchie and Dimple’s imminent return. An infant elbow, or perhaps a foot, made a tickle in her belly. “Watching Monk try to put together a baby crib provides enough laughter to fill me up for a long while.”

  Their chuckles were cut short by the chirp of his cell phone.

  “Duty calls,” he said as he answered it.

  She watched his face change. The pleasure gave way to a professional mask, his voice morphed into clipped tones. “I’m on my way.”

  He clicked off the phone and looked at her. “I’m sorry, Ruth. It’s Bryce.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jack drove her to the hospital and supplied her with sketchy facts along the way. Bryce had been found on the beach with a serious head injury.

  Ruth felt as though her head was spinning like a carousel. “Did he fall off the cliff?”

  Jack gave her a sympathetic look. “I don’t know the details, but we’ll find out soon.”

  She sat in numb terror as they completed the drive.

  The nurse met them in the waiting area. “There’s a lot of swelling in his brain. The doctors are taking some images now to assess the situation.”

  Assess the situation. Did medical professionals have a book somewhere that taught them how to give information without really telling a person anything? She felt light-headed, and Jack led her to a chair. For the first time Ruth noticed Roxie in the corner, knit cap twisted in her hands.

  Her eyes were bloodshot. “Ruth, I’m so sorry. I found your son
on the rocks and called the ambulance. Is he going to be okay?”

  “The rocks?” Jack came over. “How was he lying? Did you see anyone else around?”

  She shook her head. “I was out checking the boat because I just had the motor adjusted and I wanted to see if I got my money’s worth. Bryce was lying on his stomach on the bottom of the cliff, the one that the pelicans like to roost on. There was no one with him, but the tide was coming in fast, so I thought I’d better get him out of the water.”

  Jack’s eyes narrowed. “So he was just on his stomach there? Alone? No one else was around?”

  “No. Maybe I shouldn’t have moved him, but the tide didn’t give me much choice.”

  Ruth’s stomach spasmed. “This is like some kind of horrible dream.”

  “So you didn’t see him fall?” Jack pressed.

  Roxie’s eyes widened. “Look, Detective, I didn’t do anything to this kid. I could have left him there to drown, but I didn’t, so don’t give me the third degree. It’s called being a Good Samaritan, isn’t it? I thought that was a good thing.” She jammed her hands into her pockets. “Oh, I forgot about this.”

  She fished a small object from her pocket and gave it to Ruth. It was a fragment of shell about five inches long, pearly on the inside and the outer covering rough and dull colored. “It was in his hand when I found him. Weird.”

  “Why weird?” Ruth managed as she stared at the thing.

  “He must have brought it with him or something because that’s not from any kind of abalone I’ve ever seen.”

  Ruth squeezed the shard in her hand, too scared to speak, too overwhelmed to say anything. Visions of her boy swam before her eyes. Bryce, her baby, her son. “Please, God,” she whispered. “Please help.”

  Jack pressed a hand to her shoulder. “Are you okay, Ruth?”

  She shook her head. “I am going to be sick.”

  Jack ran to summon a nurse, and Roxie escorted Ruth to the bathroom, where she promptly threw up. Roxie helped her to the sink, and she got a good look at herself.

  The terror had carved her face into an aged mask. She pressed a hand to her cheeks, wondering how much longer her legs would hold her up.

  Roxie watched her in the mirror, her eyes bright with sympathy, her hands ready to catch Ruth if she faltered. “Can you make it back to the waiting room?”

  “I’m not sure. My knees are awfully wobbly.”

  “Lean on me.” Roxie put her shoulder under Ruth’s and clasped a hand around her waist. She half escorted, half carried her out to a chair. The nurse went off to find a temporary room for Ruth. Jack brought her a cup of water. They stood, uncertain, watching her for a sign of what they should do next.

  None of it seemed to touch Ruth. She was isolated, insulated, by a cloud of disbelief thick as Finny’s springtime fog. The only sound that made a dent was the booming voice of Monk charging through Jack’s phone line. The detective handed the cell over to her and moved a discreet distance away with Roxie.

  “Ruthy? Jack told me. How is Bryce? I’m still stuck here because there’s a whopper of a storm coming in. Oh, Ruthy, if I thought it would be any faster, I’d rent a car and drive, or even crawl on my hands and knees. Are you okay? I mean, health wise? Do you need to see a doctor?”

  “I’m okay.” Her voice sounded dull in her own ears. “Just sick. They’re finding me a room to lie down.”

  “This is killing me, not being there with you. Is Bobby there? Is Jack staying with you?”

  Ruth looked up to see Bobby just entering the building, a worried frown on her face. “She’s here. They’re all here. I’m perfectly fine. It’s Bryce I’m not sure about. He’s got a bad head injury.” Her voice broke.

  “I know, honey, but he’s a strong young man. Comes from good stock. He’ll make it. I just know it.”

  It was exactly what she needed to hear. They talked for a long while; the anguish in his voice was clear.

  “I’ll be home just as soon as I can, Ruthy. I’ll pray for Bryce. Mom and Dad will, too, and Dave. We’re all going to pray like crazy for him and for you. I love you. I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too, Monk. Come home soon.”

  The doctor emerged a moment later with discouraging news. “He was hit with something, I’m fairly certain. The wound is too precise to have come from falling against those rocks. He has a skull fracture and significant swelling. We’ll keep him in a medically induced coma to allow his body to rest. When the swelling subsides a little, we’ll see if we can bring him out of it.”

  “If you can bring him out of it?” Ruth repeated, stupidly. “What happens if you can’t?”

  The man raised a hand to quiet her. “He’s had a severe head injury. Nothing is guaranteed here. We’ll have to take things one day at a time. That’s the best I can do for now.”

  It seemed to Ruth that she’d been taking things one day at a time since the day she’d discovered she was pregnant. I ought to be better at it by now.

  Dr. Ing was summoned to check on her. Bobby sat with her through the doctor’s gentle poking and prodding. The sound of the babies’ heartbeats reassured Ruth. He told her to get some rest, keep hydrated, and try to relax.

  “That’s a good one,” she told Jack and Bobby as they rode home in Jack’s car. “How can I relax? Someone tried to run me down, Paul is hurt, our house is broken into, and now Bryce.” Her eyes pricked with tears. “I should be there, in the hospital. I should stay with my son.”

  Bobby squeezed her hand. “The doctor insisted you go home until morning. They’ll call if there’s any change at all. I’m going to stay with you every minute, and we’ll pray together. Jack, Mary, and Nate are going to take shifts watching the house at night. Uncle Monk will be home as soon as he can. You need to take care of yourself and the babies.”

  She nodded, but the feeling of dread in her gut did not lessen.

  “And if that isn’t enough,” Bobby said with a smile, “we can always go get Alva. He’s ferocious with a baguette.”

  In spite of herself, Ruth smiled. “I guess it will be okay to go home for a little while.”

  They bundled her into the house.

  Jack lingered in the kitchen after checking the house and grounds. Ruth surmised he was hoping to talk to Bobby alone, so she made herself scarce.

  Jack’s plan apparently did not pan out as she heard Bobby say, “Let’s talk later. Now isn’t a good time.”

  It is a good time, she wanted to tell the girl. She felt the urge to scream it at the top of her lungs. Grab hold of love because it can be gone in a moment. Sobs choked her throat. She went into the bathroom and turned on the bathtub taps for a good long soak. The running water covered the sound of her weeping.

  Tucked into bed an hour later, her dreams were troubled, vague images of cold water and suffocating darkness. Sleep eluded her for a long while until she did finally drop off into a fitful sleep.

  The next morning she got up before dawn and quietly made tea, trying not to wake Bobby. She was halfway through her cup of decaf Earl Grey when she remembered the shell Roxie had given her. It was still in the pocket of her sweater. She laid it gently on the table, watching the play of colors in the fluorescent light. A picture of a sparkling walkway sprang into her mind. She could see them both in her imagination, Hui and Indigo feasting on Hang Town Fry, watching the sun electrify the treasures thrown up from the sea.

  Bobby interrupted her thoughts, padding into the kitchen in a robe and slippers. “You’re up early. Did you get any sleep?”

  “Some.” Ruth pushed the shell to her. It seemed so important somehow, to understand how the small piece wound up in her son’s hand. Thinking of Bryce made her throat thicken, but she steeled herself against tears. She wouldn’t do him any good if she turned into mush. “How could Roxie tell this abalone isn’t from around here?”

  Bobby peered at it. “It looks like a regular abalone shell to me. I’m better with land species than ocean life, I’m afraid. I was lea
rning a lot from Ethan, but we didn’t have a chance to complete our dives. Do you think it’s a clue to who—” Her words trailed off.

  “I don’t know, but it’s the only thing I can do to help him. Wait a minute.” Ruth hurried to the shelf where she’d put the library books.

  She grabbed the one entitled Pacific Coast Ocean Life. There was a section on abalone, oysters, and mussels. Ruth read aloud about the five major species of abalone along the California coast.

  “Did you know abalone come in designer colors?” Ruth squinted at the small print. “Black, white, green, pink, and red.”

  “I’ve never seen most of those types.”

  She read on. “That’s because abalone is such a slow grower and reproducer. Indigo was right when she said their numbers were falling, and apparently we haven’t done much to fix that problem since 1850. Look at this.”

  Ruth pointed to a section in bold print. “In California currently, all five major species of abalone are depleted.”

  Bobby picked up the shell and looked at it closely while Ruth continued to read. “People can still harvest red abalone, but they have to follow strict rules. Roxie was telling me about that. It is illegal to harvest white, green and pink and black at all. The white one is even on the endangered species list.”

  Bobby frowned. “You know, I’ve seen red abalone shells before and this one is different, now that I think about it.” She turned it over and examined the other side. “Of course, we’ve only got a piece of it, but it’s pretty high domed and small.” She hefted it in her hand. “It’s light, too, and the inside is silvery white rather than multicolored.”

  Ruth scanned down the page to a small picture. “Does it look like this one?”

  They bent their heads together and held the fragment up to the tiny photo.

  “Sure does to me.” Bobby read the caption.

  The both sat back in surprise.

  Bobby was the first to break the silence. “The question is, considering they’re nearly extinct, where did Bryce get a shell from a white abalone?”