From the Murky Deep

by Kerry J Charles

  The fact that Freddie had prattled on about it incessantly on the trip back certainly had not helped. Obsessive by nature, Freddie had trouble letting things drop, too. He had even suggested that they go back out, after leaving off the passengers, to check on the buoy. Dan had laughed and explained the folly in that idea. The tide had already turned, quite literally. But he knew Freddie couldn’t let it go, and neither could he.

  #

  Dulcie stopped by Dan’s boat the day after the funeral. One look at him told her that he was annoyed. “Okay, out with it. It can’t be me because I just got here. What’s up?”

  Dan put down the chart he was analyzing. “It’s nothing major. We got caught up on a buoy the other day. It took a few minutes to get free. Freddie was looking at it while we were untangling and noticed it was the only one around with that particular pattern of colors. I think it was set wrong too – it seemed to cross the other lines.”

  “So maybe it was an amateur? A recreational license? They don’t know what they’re doing sometimes.”

  “That’s what I thought at first too, but something else is bothering me about it.”

  “You’re obsessing, Dan.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But I know how you feel since I’m frequently guilty of that too.” She looked down at the chart. “Where is it?”

  Dan sat down and smoothed the chart out on the bench next to him. “Right here,” he pointed.

  Dulcie leaned over for a closer look and her sunglasses flipped off her head onto Dan’s finger.

  “Ow.”

  “Oops! Sorry.” She retrieved them and looked again. Then she looked up at Dan. “Seriously?”

  Dan’s brow wrinkled. “What do you mean by that?”

  Dulcie looked again. “Well, it just seems odd. That’s the same cove where Jennifer Hully drowned. Or rather, that’s the beach where they found her body. I don’t think anyone knows exactly where she drowned.” Dulcie pointed to the short span of beach on the chart.

  They both sat silently for a few moments. “Should we go pull the trap?” asked Dulcie.

  Dan laughed. “You know as well as I do that, not only is it illegal, but we could be staring down a shotgun if the owner shows up.”

  Dulcie nodded thoughtfully. “I know.” She looked up at her brother. “However, I also know who we should tell about this.” She pulled out her cell phone. “Dammit. Battery is dead. I forgot to plug it in last night.”

  Dan reached in his pocket for his phone and handed it to her. She looked at it curiously. Without her own list of contacts, Dulcie did not have the correct number. “How do I look up a number on this thing?”

  Dan grabbed it back and rolled his eyes. “Whaddya need,” he said without looking up.

  “Nick,” she said.

  Dan grinned and raised his eyebrows.

  Dulcie groaned. “You know what I mean! Just find the Portland Police Department number and I’ll take it from there.”

  “Ummm hmmm!” Dan nodded, still grinning. He dialed the number and handed her the phone.

  She pressed it to her ear just in time. “Yes, could I speak to Detective Nicholas Black, please?” She was silent for a few moments. “Yes, I’ll leave a message.” She heard his voice on the recorded message. He always sounded so clear and calm. Finally, she said, “Hi Nick, it’s Dulcie.” She elbowed Dan, who had just given her a mocking shove when she called him ‘Nick.’ “I just wanted to run something by you. If you get this in the next hour,” she checked her watch, “by eleven o’clock, could you give me a call on Dan’s phone? It’s 555-2347.” Dan shoved her again but this time shaking his head. “Oh, no wait, that’s…,” she watched Dan mouth the numbers, “Sorry, it’s 2437. 555-2437. My battery is dead on my phone. Thanks, talk to you soon.”

  She clicked off the call and handed the phone back. “Thanks for your help, dork.”

  “Anytime.” Dan’s grin faded as he looked back at the chart. “Here’s what I’m thinking. I’d like to go check out that buoy and the trap with it. How’s your diving gear looking these days?”

  “Actually, not bad. I just went last month. I’ll have to get my tank filled.” She looked back at the chart. “Bottom looks rough in places there. We should go at high tide, don’t you think?”

  Dan didn’t even look. “Absolutely. Way easier.”

  They chatted for an hour, then Dulcie got up to leave. Dan’s phone rang just as she stepped off the boat. He answered, then tossed it to her. She almost missed, nearly dropping it in the water. Dan just shook his head in dismay. Dulcie had never excelled at anything athletic.

  “Hi, Nick? I’ve been talking to Dan. We want to run something by you. Are you nearby? We’re on his boat… Great, I’ll stay put and see you in a few.”

  Ten minutes later, Nicholas Black stood on the dock staring at the chart. “It’s worth checking out. But Dulcie, you’re not going alone. I’ll go with you.” He looked at Dan. “How soon can you get us out there?”

  Dan said, “I’ve got two scheduled runs this afternoon. But I’d like to wait for high tide anyway. That’s at five after six. I could meet you guys here at five o’clock. That’d give us plenty of time to get out there.”

  “And for me to fill my tank,” said Dulcie.

  “Me too,” Nick added. “Great. Dulcie, why don’t I grab your tank and get them both done.”

  “Perfect. It’s back at the house.”

  “I’ll give you a ride.” He reached out for her hand and helped her off the boat. Dan smirked at Dulcie behind Nick’s back.

  “See you at five,” she said sweetly to her brother, but gave him a deadly look.

  #

  Lydia had walked up and down the beach so many times, she was surprised that she had not scraped a channel through it. She didn’t really care. Her sister was dead. Her marriage was a mess. She was a thief.

  How had it all happened? Certainly not overnight. She had been flattered by Clark’s interest. She tried not to take advantage of his money. From the start she wanted him to know that she liked him, not all of the things he could buy.

  She kicked the sand. How could she be so naive? The engagement party was the first time she had noticed. He had told her that the statuesque blonde he had been talking with at length was an old girlfriend, nothing more. Did he think Lydia was stupid? Evidently, she actually was stupid. She trusted him. She wanted to believe him. Plus, she had been in the middle of planning what was rapidly becoming an expensive wedding. If that backfired, she would have felt like a complete idiot.

  Instead, her marriage was now backfiring and she knew for certain that she was indeed a complete idiot. Yet she could not openly admit it. She could not accuse Clark. First, she had no real proof. Second, she had been stealing from his family.

  The first theft was purely spite. She had always made a point of not taking money, not overspending. She wanted to show Clark’s parents that she wasn’t a gold digger. When she realized that he was cheating on her, however, she wanted some kind of revenge. The best revenge she could think of was to take something from them. She had been alone for several moments in the attic of her in-laws’ Beacon Hill townhouse. The painting was quite small, and had a pocket attached to the back with plenty of documentation. Glancing through the papers, she saw that Amelia Davenport-Jones had bought it several years before for slightly more than fifteen thousand. Small change in their world.

  Lydia would never forget how it dug into her skin when she stuffed the corner of it in the waistband of her jeans. She was wearing a loose, bulky sweater. Quietly she had gone down the stairs and managed to transfer it into her tote bag without being seen. Joining the family in the library for drinks, she had nearly jumped when Amelia asked, “Did you find what you were looking for?” Lydia had forgotten that she had originally gone to the attic to find a lamp that Clark thought he remembered.

  Jennifer had given her the idea of selling the painting. Jennifer was her confidant for everything. Jennifer knew about Clark and hi
s affair. She agreed to hide the painting for Lydia, and then helped her to find a buyer for it. They split the eighteen thousand dollars.

  Afterward, Jennifer had volunteered to spy on Clark, but Lydia stopped her. Even though she knew he was cheating, she didn’t want proof. Yes, it would show that she was right, but it would also prove what a fool she was.

  No, she would bide her time. She would steal and sell and raise enough money to break away from him on her own terms. Then she could divorce him without anyone knowing about his infidelity and without suing for any extra money. She would keep her pride, her mother-in-law would having nothing to say, and she would be self-reliant.

  What now, though? Jennifer still had two works that Lydia had taken. She didn’t know where they were, and that frightened her. If they were found with Jennifer’s things, they would be identified. That could lead directly back to Lydia.

  She was also concerned by the way Jennifer had died. It simply wasn’t like her to dive alone. Lydia instinctively knew that Jennifer had not.

  Something told Lydia that she was in danger. She looked up at her beachfront cottage. Clark stood in the window, staring out at her. He quickly moved back into the shadows.

  It's not what you look at that matters,

  it's what you see.

  ― Henry David Thoreau

  CHAPTER 12

  The last of Dan’s passengers stepped off the boat as Dulcie came walking down the pier. She had her diving gear in a big canvas bag strapped to a luggage carrier. Navigating it down the bumpy timbers was not an easy chore and Dan laughed when she nearly dumped it over.

  “You know, you’d burn off a few more calories if you carried that,” he said.

  She looked up at him. “It’s too much to carry in one trip.”

  “Ever heard of making two? That’s even more calories.” He grinned.

  “Shut up and help me with this.”

  They had just loaded everything when Nick arrived. “See,” said Dan. “He’s carrying his gear. No roller carts for him!”

  Nick looked from Dulcie to Dan quizzically.

  Dulcie heaved a sigh. “You see, Nick. Dan just made fun of me because I didn’t carry my gear, I rolled it down the dock with this.” She pointed to the luggage carrier.

  Nick glanced at it, then looked at her. Then he looked at Dan. “Well, she is only about a hundred pounds soaking wet.”

  Dan burst out laughing and said, “Whoa! She’s a lot more than that! She’s actually...OUCH!” Dulcie’s sharp elbow jabbed into his side.

  Freddie jumped down from the bridge. “You gonna need me?”

  Dan nodded. “Wouldn’t hurt. They’ll be in the water,” he said pointing to the other two, “so it’d be good to have someone watching for them and someone else watching the boat. Can you stay?”

  “Lemme call the missus.” He pulled out a very old cell phone and went back up on the bridge.

  “And we can guess how that call will go,” said Dan. “Honey, can I go out on one more run or do you need me back at the house?” Then Dan’s voice went up an octave. “Ohhh, nooo, Fred! You do whatever they need on that boat! You stay out all night if they need you! I’m just going to the mall with MaryAnn. Have fun dear!” He stopped when he heard Freddie clamoring down again.

  “Yup, no problem. She’s going to the mall with her friend so I’d be home alone anyway,” Freddie said.

  Nick turned away to hide his smile. He looked over at Dulcie who was suddenly very busy pulling her gear out of her bag.

  “Right then! Freddie, get ready to cast off the lines. We’re off to Kettle Cove!” Dan vaulted back up to the bridge and started the engine.

  Dulcie and Nick watched the coastline slip by as they made their way out of the harbor. “I have to remind myself that people pay thousands to come up here in the summer,” said Nick. They rounded Portland Head Light, one of the most famous lighthouses in the world.

  “I know!” said Dulcie. “Hard not to be jaded. I try to tell myself often that I’m pretty lucky.”

  The ocean swells were low and steady, and the boat travelled easily across them as it rounded the cape and reached Kettle Cove. Dulcie hauled her wetsuit out of her bag and laid it out on the deck. Then, in one quick motion, she stripped off the T-shirt dress that she was wearing. Nick heard himself gasp and tried to stop. She had on a bathing suit of course. A simple, one-piece, bright blue suit. He hoped she hadn’t heard him.

  Nick forced himself to focus on his own gear but stole glances at her as she pulled on her wetsuit. Her legs were tanned, but not overly so. Just a soft, warm color. He could see the muscles in her legs and arms as she worked the wetsuit over them. Not too much muscle, just enough. He tried not to think about her hips. They rounded perfectly to a small waist. He took a deep breath and yanked on his own wetsuit.

  “Got it! Right ov-ah heya!” For some reason, Freddie’s accent was thicker when he yelled. He had spotted the buoy. Dan slowed the engine and they gently drifted toward it.

  “I’m not going to anchor right on top of it,” he said. “I’ll drop it a few yards away. That’ll give you guys some room.”

  Nick and Dulcie nodded. The early evening sun was shining at an angle into the water, and they could see the rope from the buoy descend downward. Dulcie hoisted her tank into her buoyancy vest resting on the bench, and snapped it in place. Then she sat down in front of the vest, reached back and pulled it forward. This was the part she never liked. The gear was heavy and difficult to get on. Once it was on, it was even harder to move around the boat. She grabbed her mask beside her and pulled it onto her forehead, leaving her eyes uncovered for the moment.

  “All set?” asked Nick who had just done exactly the same thing beside her.

  Dulcie nodded. Then she grabbed his arm. “I want to try something down there. You said that Jennifer was drugged. I want to see if I can still breathe if I’m not paying attention to the fact that I’m diving.”

  “Uh, I’m not sure if I like this idea,” Nick said.

  “It’ll be fine. If I lose the regulator just hand it back to me. When I’m going to try it, I’ll do this,” She waved her hand back and forth in a horizontal line in front of her. “Then just watch me and see what happens.”

  “And if I say ‘No’?”

  “She’ll do it anyway,” said Dan. He had just joined them.

  “Correct,” Dulcie laughed.

  Nick and Dulcie both tested their air, and then pulled down their masks. They waddled to the stern and, steadying each other, pulled on flippers. Nick stepped off first, making a big splash as he bounced into the water. Once in, he turned quickly to watch Dulcie.

  Reminding herself to breathe normally, she made the giant step off the stern. She plunged into the water, watching it engulf her. She shivered as it quickly seeped beneath her wetsuit. That was the part she disliked the most. Maine ocean water was never warm, and today was no exception. It always took a few minutes for her body to heat it under the neoprene and for the wetsuit to do its job.

  She looked over at Nick and gave him the OK sign. He returned it. Then he flashed a thumbs down sign. Dulcie always thought it was funny that for divers, this was a good thing. It meant that they were ready to descend. She returned the sign and slowly they made their way down, following the rope attached to the oddly colored buoy.

  The wooden lobster trap at the bottom was beneath only twenty-five feet of water, even at high tide. Dulcie and Nick poked at it gently. There were no lobsters in it. Dulcie looked more closely. She noticed that part of it had been altered so that lobsters would not be able to make their way in. She pointed to the rigged piece that she saw, but wasn’t sure if Nick understood.

  Nick began to gently shift the trap. At first Dulcie was not certain what he was doing, but then realized that he wanted to look under it while disturbing the bottom as little as possible. They were already kicking up silt and debris, and the visibility was becoming poorer. She helped him to pry the trap up slowly.

 
Nick located his flashlight and skimmed the strong beam over the sand. Nothing unusual. He motioned for Dulcie to hold the trap up at an angle. Nick gently worked his hands into the sand underneath. He moved his way along carefully while Dulcie was beginning to wonder if this was a worthless outing after all. Suddenly, Nick stopped and quickly looked up at her. His eyes were very big. Gradually, and with deliberate care, he pulled out a long, black plastic tube with a weight on one end.

  Dulcie forgot what she was doing and let the trap fall. Clouds of silt billowed into the water. She lost sight of Nick for a moment. When she saw him again, he was giving her the thumbs up signal. He wanted to ascend. It had taken Dulcie months to stop using that as the ‘I’m OK’ sign when she had first learned to dive. She shook her head and waved her arm in front of her horizontally as she had on the boat. She wanted to try her experiment.

  She saw bubbles stream from Nick’s mouthpiece and knew he had just exhaled loudly. He was not happy with this, but made the OK sign.

  Dulcie willed her entire body to become limp. She relaxed all of the muscles in her mouth. Then she closed her eyes. She was floating, dreaming, sleeping. Her breath barely registered. As she relaxed she couldn’t feel the weight of the vest or even her wetsuit against her. She was drifting in time. She thought that this was what it must feel like to be in outer space. As her body slipped through the water, rolling with the slight motion of the tide’s current, her breathing stayed steady. The mouthpiece stayed in.

  She wanted to continue like this, floating, drifting... Suddenly a huge force grabbed her arm and yanked her sideways. She opened her eyes half frightened and saw Nick’s eyes directly in front of hers, their masks nearly touching. He looked angry. She was breathing hard now, bubbles streaming out each time she exhaled. He pushed her away to arms length and, without letting go, gave her the OK sign. She returned it. Then he jerked the thumbs up sign at her and without waiting for a reply slowly ascended. He never let go of her arm.