Beached_A Mer Cavallo Mystery

by Micki Browning

  "You're suggesting someone tipped them off," Gina said.

  Mer thought of Cole, Phoenix, and Skipper. "We can't discount the possibility."

  "All along, they've been one step ahead of us," Talbot said. "It's as if they knew what we were doing, and where we were, as soon as we began."

  The answer slapped her with its obviousness. "They're using GPS trackers." It all fit. "They used one in the bale, the boats, my car." She smacked her fist against her thigh. "How did we miss that?"

  "You didn't." Talbot pushed back his chair and stood. "I did. From now on, this is a law enforcement-only operation."

  "You planning to swear me in?" Mer asked.

  "The plan was meant to keep you out of harm's way, not put you in the middle of it."

  They couldn't scrap the plan. Not now. Not when they were so close to saving Oscar. "Do you want to take my statement now, or tomorrow night?" She tried to sound casual, but the challenge in her voice was unmistakable.

  Talbot's hand lingered on the back of his chair. "Why would I talk to you tomorrow night?"

  Mer stepped into his personal space. "Because by that time I will have spoken to Winslet Chase, met with Bart Kingston, and rescued Oscar Vigil."

  "Oh, boy." Leroy tipped his chair against the wall again. "I swear. We need a popcorn machine in this shop." He turned to Bijoux. "I'll even pitch in."

  "The state allows me to take people into protective custody if I deem them a danger to themselves," Talbot warned.

  She didn't flinch. "At the beginning of this operation you said it was up to me to determine what I was capable of."

  "That was before you turned into an addle-pated lack-wit."

  "I'll match my wits against yours whenever you're ready, Detective."

  Talbot reached into his back waistband and dangled a pair of handcuffs in front of Mer's face.

  Mer inched closer, her pruned toes nearly touching his deck shoes. "Double dog dare you."

  "With pleasure."

  Bijoux and Gina sprang into action at the same time. Gina slid between the two while Bijoux grabbed Mer by the shoulders and dragged her backward.

  "You're shaking," Bijoux said, her voice silky with reason. "Your wetsuit is frozen. Why don't you go change? Get dry."

  "Regain some of the wit you apparently lack," Leroy added.

  Gina whispered something to Talbot. He flushed, but his posture visibly relaxed.

  The damp neoprene sapped the warmth from Mer's body and stole her energy. She didn't want to fight. She just wanted this all to end. They were so close. She had to convince them it would work. "All I have to do is call Winslet and tell him I've found the galleon. I've got proof. The coin."

  Gina appeared poised to intercede again. "How's that going to save Oscar?"

  "Bart said he'd kill Oscar if I didn't give him the coin. Problem is, he's never told us how to contact him. But if he and Winslet are in cahoots like we think they are, calling one is as good as calling the other."

  "What makes you think they'll let you go?" Gina asked.

  "No one wants me. They want the galleon," Mer said. "Plus, I'm hoping you guys are going to swoop in and arrest them."

  "How?" It was the first word Talbot had spoken since threatening to handcuff her.

  "Don't you have some electronic thingy you can use to find out if there's a tracker on the boats?"

  "We prefer to call it a thingamajig."

  She didn't know if he was coming around to her way of thinking or just being sarcastic. "Can you check the boats before we go out tomorrow? Confirm that they tracked us?"

  "You're not going out tomorrow."

  "You can't stop me from diving," Mer said. "So let's table that issue."

  Talbot implored Bijoux. "You control the boats."

  "Yes, Detective, but I do not control Meredith. She works for a dive shop. That means at some point she will again be on the reef. Would it not be better if she were under your supervision when that inevitability occurred?"

  Mer could tell Bijoux's words made more of an impact on the detective than her own. "I can help you end this."

  "Once more unto the breach?" Talbot asked. "No. The potential price is too high."

  Mer picked up the portrait dollar. "Not if we do it right."

  "You must have one doozy of a plan," Leroy said. "I'd kind of like to hear it."

  The captain gave her the opening she needed. "We can assume they've been tracking the boats for at least two days. One to follow the Finders Keepers and another to realize the Dock Holiday was mapping an area and we were diving the hits. We use that to our advantage."

  "How?" Talbot repeated.

  "They don't know we've found the coin yet. We act as if we're diving a new site in the morning—just like every other morning we've been out. Then we pick a spot—you pick a spot—that gives you the tactical advantage and we park the Finders Keepers over it."

  "It's the ocean," Gina said. "There isn't much tactical advantage anywhere."

  "There is." Talbot darted out of the room and returned a moment later carrying a chart. "If we choose a site here for the salvage boat." He tapped the map and then swept his finger over to a new location. "We can use the backside of Tavernier Key to stage the patrol boat. At the first sight of Bart or Winslet, you sound the alarm and we'll be there in a flash."

  Mer drew her brows together. "That's a fair distance from where we've been dragging the magnetometer."

  "It's there or nowhere," Talbot said. "If you stay in the area you've been working, it will lengthen the response time. I won't have it."

  Gina studied the map over Talbot's shoulder. "It'd be safer to snatch them on land," she said. "Easier to contain them. More backup's available."

  "We've been turning over rocks. He's not in the Keys." Talbot scrubbed his face. "For all we know, he's commuting from the Bahamas. The Picuda is designed for quick crossings."

  "What about Winslet Chase?" Leroy asked. "He's got a high profile. He ought to be easy enough to roll up."

  "Chase hasn't gotten his hands dirty enough yet. He's offered Dr. Cavallo a job and delivered a message. It isn't even enough for a warrant."

  "You know he's up to his eyeballs in this," Mer said.

  "Knowing it and proving it are two different things. Judges are sticklers for something called probable cause."

  "Then this is your best bet." The wetsuit and the audacity of the plan chilled her and she started to shiver. "We're beyond the need for subterfuge. So let's give them what they expect. We're hunting treasure. Drop the mailboxes. Make it look as if we've blown the site. What do we have to lose? They know where we mapped. It wouldn't take more than a few days to reconstruct the work we've done and find the galleon themselves."

  "Then why wouldn't they get rid of Oscar and just wait us out?"

  "Because I'm going to warn Winslet that if he goes off-script, I've made arrangements to announce the GPS coordinates of the legendary Thirteenth Galleon to the world. He wants the glory too much to let that happen." She willed Talbot to understand. "You know they're monitoring the marine radio. Let's invite them to the party. Tell them if they don't deliver Oscar, posthaste, we're going to blab the news."

  "Posthaste?" Leroy eyed Talbot. "I'd say you're rubbing off on her."

  The screen of Talbot's phone lit up with a text. He glanced down. "I've got to go brief the brass. No promises, but either way I'll come back and see if I can locate tracker signals on the boats."

  "What about my car?"

  "I can swing by the house and check later." He looked more tired than he had an hour ago. She seemed to have that effect on people. It wasn't one of her better traits. "You might as well drive it home. It would seem odd if you suddenly changed behavior. But consider staying with your neighbor."

  They both knew which neighbor he meant.

  He left and the energy in the room fizzled. Holiday music dripped from the speakers.

  "What now?" Mer finally asked.

  Gina collected her bag. "
Change out of your wetsuit. Go home. Celebrate finding the galleon."

  Leroy stood and intentionally bumped her on his way to the door. "And try to make it through the night without stirring up a hornet's nest."

  "We both know the improbability of that," Bijoux said. She rolled up the chart and rapped Mer on the shoulder with it. "But I would be grateful if you at least tried."

  Mer delayed Gina while Leroy and Bijoux left the room. "What about the coin? Shouldn't you book it for the night into evidence for safekeeping or something?"

  "Nope." Gina dug through the bag for her keys. "Not evidence of a crime. It's your problem."

  "Oh." Mer fidgeted with the cuff of her wetsuit.

  "Something else bothering you?" the deputy asked.

  Mer wrapped her arms around herself. "I just wanted to apologize."

  "For what?"

  "I put you in an awkward position earlier. Detective Talbot and I...I mean... We don't always play well together." She sighed. "I swear that man brings out the worst in me."

  Gina failed to hide a smile. "No worries."

  They walked toward the door.

  "I'm curious. What did you say to him to calm him down?" Mer rubbed her arms in an attempt to bring some feeling back into them. "I might need to use it someday."

  Gina stood in the threshold of the shop and the door chime kept cycling until she stepped back. "I told him if he wanted you in handcuffs so bad, he should at least have the courtesy to buy you dinner first." She stepped through the door before Mer could sputter a response and called over her shoulder, "See you tomorrow."

  Mer retraced her steps until she shadowed Bijoux's office door. "I don't understand men."

  "If it makes you feel better, Madame Scientist, we are enigmas to them as well."

  "No. Not really." She held up the coin. "Can we lock this in the safe, tonight?"

  "Of course." Bijoux placed her pen down on a stack of paperwork. "Would you like to spend the night at my house?"

  Mer contemplated the offer. "Thanks, but I'm going to pass. I need to take care of some things tonight." Selkie topped the list.

  Her boss leaned back in her chair. "Be honest with him."

  Mer started to utter a denial, but changed her mind. "I intend to."

  Bijoux spun her chair and opened the cabinet door behind her, revealing the office safe. She spun the tumblers. "You seem certain your plan will work tomorrow."

  "I hope my plan will work." Mer handed the coin to her friend.

  "So do I. Now go home." Bijoux placed the coin in the safe and tumbled the lock.

  "You coming?"

  "Not yet. I have my own things to take care of."

  "Don't stay too long," Mer said.

  Downstairs in the equipment room, she peeled off her wetsuit and for the first time in hours, drew on dry clothes. She'd kill for a hot bath. Maybe later. After all was said and done.

  She hung her gear, grabbed her backpack and locked the door behind her.

  Night noise followed her as she walked to her car. Music from the pub at the end of the canal drifted over the water. Behind the wheel, she pulled her phone from her backpack and held it for several minutes before screwing up the courage to text Selkie.

  He answered almost immediately. "I'll be waiting."

  Unto the breach, indeed.

  38

  Mer picked up champagne on her way home. She'd made history and she was thirsty. It made showing up on Selkie's doorstep less awkward. Plus it was a safe bet that he had champagne flutes.

  She paused in front of his massive door with her knuckles at the ready, and then lowered her hand. This was silly. She was only here to talk. To apologize and set some ground rules. With any luck, they could get back to normal—only better.

  Condensation beaded on the champagne bottle—a common occurrence in the Keys, even when winter humidity was at its lowest. She readjusted her grip and realized she was stalling. Mer straightened and drew a deep breath. No one was forcing him to meet her. That meant something—unless he was just humoring her. She took a step back and dragged her fingers through the seawater tangles in her hair. Maybe she should have cleaned up first so she looked more presentable.

  Finally she raised her free hand and knocked.

  "I'm out here."

  The champagne bottle nearly slipped from her grasp.

  "I didn't mean to startle you." He leaned against the corner of the house, half hidden by the shadows on the wraparound deck.

  "I'm a bit jumpy lately." She hoped he hadn't seen her indecision at the door, but he didn't miss much. Before he could misconstrue her actions, she blurted, "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

  She wanted to say a lot more, but best to start out small.

  He emerged from the shadows. "With champagne?"

  "I also wanted to share some news with you."

  "Must be good news if it warrants bubbly."

  "I found the galleon." Awe tinged her voice. She still had difficulty believing it. "The Thirteenth Galleon. It's real."

  "Congratulations!" He wrapped her in a bear hug and lifted her feet off the ground, then lowered her almost immediately. "Shit. I'm sorry. Did I hurt your ribs?"

  "I'm good." The length of her body still pressed against his and she breathed in the comfort of his scent. She'd missed him. "Celebrate with me?"

  His hand sought hers. "Come on back, tell me all about it."

  Her trepidation fled. It was going to be all right. "I found it because of an octopus."

  "Why am I not surprised?"

  She followed him onto the rear deck, rearranged the throw pillows, and sank into one of the teak patio chairs. "I recovered three portrait dollars. They had fallen through the reef. If it hadn't been for the octopus, I'd never have figured out they were in the reef."

  "I'm happy for you, Mer." He took the bottle and tilted it to read the label. "Shall I?"

  She shook her head. "I'll do it."

  He laughed. "Wow. This is a day of firsts."

  His words stung. For a reason she didn't want to ponder, it became imperative that she open the bottle herself. "I'm quite capable."

  Selkie held it up and to the side, like a child keeping a toy from his younger sister. "It's not a big deal. I know it scares you."

  "Lots of things scare me." She held out her hand. "Give me the bottle."

  "All yours."

  It was a hollow victory. She'd never actually opened a bottle of champagne before. Probably for the same reason she hated opening a sealed tube of pre-made biscuits or her irrational dislike of Jack-in-the-boxes. Anticipating explosions set her teeth on edge.

  The bottle felt heavy. Dangerous somehow. She pulled off the foil. "Did you know that it's the industry standard that the wire cage is twisted six times?"

  He reclined on the chaise and folded his hands behind his head. "You don't say."

  Mer untwisted the wire securing the cork. "Not five, not seven—"

  "I get it. Six."

  She slid the cage off and clamped her fingers down on the cork.

  "I'd be glad to help you with that," Selkie said.

  She sucked in a breath and pushed harder on the cork.

  "Uh, the objective is to get the cork out of the bottle."

  "Every year scores of people go to the hospital because of champagne cork accidents. Mostly on New Year's Eve."

  "Give it here." He grabbed the bottle.

  For a moment they played tug-of-war. What was she doing? This was supposed to be a celebration, not a war of wills.

  "Fine." She released the bottle. "You do it."

  "So which is worse? Popping the bottle or asking for help?"

  "I like to be self-sufficient."

  "So asking for help."

  Two seconds. Two seconds and already she regretted backing down. "I just wanted to celebrate."

  "That doesn't require another person. What do you really want to say, Mer?"

  The breeze played in the palms and carried on it the scent of night bloomi
ng jasmine.

  "I want to say I love you."

  The intensity of his scrutiny unnerved her.

  "But?" he prompted.

  She owed him the truth. "I'm not sure I should say it to you."

  His gaze cut away as if he no longer appreciated her candor. "Huh." He tilted the bottle. "I would have chosen a weightier red for this conversation."

  "Look at me." She put her hand against his chest. His heart pulsed beneath her hand and she marveled at the evenness of it, while the erratically beating heart in her own chest ached. "Please."

  He shook off her hand.

  "You scare me," she admitted.

  Hurt flickered across his face. "What?"

  "Because of what happened the first time we fell in love."

  "You can't let that go, can you?" He dropped the cage back over the top of the champagne bottle and twisted the wire. Once. Twice. "Six times, right?"

  "Up until recently, I thought I had forgiven you. But I hadn't. I was a kid when we fell in love. When you left, I buried myself in my studies. But I never licked my wounds. I ignored them. Then they healed over and I didn't think of you again."

  He winced. "I'm sorry."

  "But all that's changed. I've been thinking about you—about us—a lot lately," she said. "Did you know there are five parts to an apology?"

  A rueful smile softened the angles of his face. "Is this like the six twists of the champagne cage?"

  The tension eased fractionally, but enough for her to poke fun at herself. "I quantify things. It's what I do." Her hand worried the seahorse pendant at the base of her throat. "You should also know I'm not trying to hide anything. I'm here because I think this is important."

  "I know that, Mer."

  "An apology is first and foremost an expression of regret."

  "I said I was sorry."

  "For many people, that's as far as it goes. But they never actually accept responsibility. They deflect it. Or worse, they ignore it," she said.

  "I've already said it was all my fault."

  "Stop." He wasn't going to make this easy. She didn't want him to. "Let me finish. Please."

  The breeze toyed with the foil wrapper and he caught it before it dropped off the table. "Sorry." But he said it as just a word, with no meaning behind it.