From the Murky Deep

by Kerry J Charles

  When they reached the surface, Nick motioned to the boat. Dulcie pulled out her mouthpiece and started to speak, but Nick yanked out his own from his mouth and cut her off. “Not now. Keep breathing your air. Get back on the boat, then we’ll talk.”

  Puzzled and somewhat annoyed, she replaced her mouthpiece. Nick followed her back to where Dan was waiting for them at the stern.

  When she reached him Dulcie took off her fins and handed them up, then climbed the ladder and eased herself down to sit on the bench. She unbuckled her vest, pretending not to notice Nick pulling himself up onto the boat. He sat opposite her. Dan took their tanks out of their vests and stowed them where they would not roll around, then threw Dulcie a towel. “I’ll pull the anchor up and get Freddie started on heading us back.” One look at them told him to leave them alone for a few moments.

  Dulcie stood and unzipped the back of her wetsuit. She sat down again to peel off the top part. She waited for Nick to speak first.

  Grabbing the towel he scrubbed his hair dry then turned his full attention to her. “What the hell was that?” he said quietly.

  His voice made Dulcie nervous. “What?” she asked.

  “You know what. I tried to get your attention three times! I grabbed your fin, your leg, your arm... I thought something was really wrong, that you were holding your breath and had an embolism or…”

  Dulcie stared at him. “But I told you I was going to…”

  “You didn’t tell me you were going to play dead!” He slid over on the bench beside her. “Dulcie, if anything had happened, I don’t know what I would have, I mean, I was… worried.” Without thinking he put his hand on her cheek, turning her face toward his. “I thought something had happened,” he whispered.

  Dulcie stared into his very gray eyes. Her heart was pounding. She put her hand on his, still touching her face.

  “All set to head back! Anyone need a beer?” Dan’s voice boomed from the bridge.

  Nick quickly slid away from Dulcie and busied himself with pulling off his wetsuit. Dulcie looked at him, then toward the bridge. She couldn’t see Dan in the shadows, but knew he could see her. “Yes, please! Two!” She didn’t clarify that both could easily be for her.

  With the boat underway, Dan came to the stern carrying three bottles of beer. He handed one to each of them. “So what’d you discover? Anything good?”

  Dulcie had forgotten about Nick’s find. She turned quickly to him. “What the heck is that tube, and what’s in it?” she said excitedly.

  Dan’s eyes were wide as Nick pulled the tube out of the straps on his buoyancy vest. “Where was that?” he asked

  “Under the lobster trap. Buried just enough so no one could actually see it, and weighted so it’d stay down.” He slid the towel along it, drying it thoroughly, then handed the tube to Dulcie. “Want to do the honors?”

  She made sure her own hands were dry, then took it.

  “Wait, what if it’s a bomb?” she said nervously.

  Nick snorted. “It’s not a bomb.”

  “How do you know?” Dulcie demanded.

  Nick leaned back against the cushion behind him. “First of all, it’s way too light. Secondly, the way it was hidden, it doesn’t fit the profile of a bomb.”

  “You’re sure?” said Dulcie holding it gingerly.

  “If I wasn’t, would I have given it to you?”

  “Good point,” Dulcie replied. Carefully opening the cover, she peered inside. “Can I have your flashlight?” she asked Nick. He pulled it off his vest and wiped it dry before handing it to her. She shined the strong beam into the tube, and nearly smacked heads with Dan who tried to look in at the same time. “Would you mind?” she said without looking up.

  Dulcie slipped her fingers in and gently pulled out what looked like two large pieces of paper, each encased in clear plastic. She unrolled them and let out a low whistle.

  “What have we got?” said Nick.

  “We’ll have to get them authenticated for sure, but this one,” she held up the larger of the two, “looks like a Jean Cocteau.”

  “Looks like a poster to me,” laughed Dan.

  “And it is!” replied Dulcie. “A poster worth about ten grand, give or take, if I’m not mistaken.” She held up the smaller piece. “This, on the other hand, is an original. I think it’s a Calder.”

  “Didn’t he do sculptures?” asked Nick.

  “Those hanging ones! Mobiles!” added Dan. “See Dulcie, I’ve listened all those times you’ve tried to educate me.”

  “You’re both right,” Dulcie said. “He actually did a little of everything. BMW even commissioned him to paint a car.”

  “So what’s this one worth?” asked Nick.

  “It’s hard for me to say, but I’d bet at least two or three times what the Cocteau would get.”

  They sat silently, staring at the two artworks that Dulcie was holding. Dan took a long swig of his beer, then said, “So you’re telling me that about forty thousand dollars was sitting down there on the bottom of the ocean?”

  “Buried under a lobster trap,” added Dulcie.

  Nick looked at her. It was too much of a coincidence. “Jennifer did this. She must have. But where did they come from? How did she get them? And was she just the middle-man in the game?”

  “Isn’t it always the middle-man who gets killed first? They know too much,” said Dan while shaking his head.

  “True. On TV, anyway.” Nick was thoughtful. He reached over and took the Calder, examining it closely. “Do you think these are the real thing?”

  “My bet is yes, for sure, since she went to great lengths to hide them.”

  “How could she sell them, though? Is the black market that strong?”

  Dulcie’s smile was rueful. “Unfortunately, it is. Especially for things like this that aren’t the top-tier works. If you tried to sell a Calder sculpture on the black market, that would be a lot more difficult, but a work on paper like this,” she took the drawing back from Nick, “would be much easier. Less demand. Fewer people even know that he did these.”

  “And what about the poster?” Dan added.

  “Same thing, more or less. This would have had multiple copies printed, so it isn’t an original work. It’s valuable now because few remain and because it’s a Cocteau. But like Calder, he was multifaceted too. He was best known for his writing.” Dulcie took the Cocteau piece and carefully rolled it back up with the Calder work. “We’d better get these out of the light.” She slid them back into the tube.

  Nick stared across the water at the shoreline rushing by. “The Feds will be all over this once they hear about it. They took the other painting as soon as I put it in my report.”

  Dulcie looked at him closely. “So, does that mean that we never saw these?” she asked. “For now, anyway?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. I just need more time to put this together.”

  Dan’s eyes swiveled back and forth between them. “I didn’t see a thing! In fact, I think I’ll just mosey on back to my fridge and see if I can scare up another round here for us. They are light beers after all, right? So two equals one?” He chuckled at his own joke as he made his way into the comparative darkness of the cabin.

  Dulcie’s doorbell rang an hour later. She had showered and changed into a light cotton dress. The evening was hot and a bit sticky but she had hesitated to turn on the air conditioning. She needed the fresh air, however uncomfortable it might be.

  She had turned on a fan, however, and almost tripped over the cord as she hurried to the door. She peeked through the window beside it. Nick stood on the step with a large paper bag. Dulcie opened the door quickly. “Chicken fried rice,” he said. “And a few extra things too.”

  Dulcie laughed. “Looks like you ordered the whole menu! Good. I’m starving.” Grabbing the bag, she motioned for him to come in. She put the bag on the kitchen table and tore it open, all in one motion. Nick looked at her with surprise. “Oh,” she said, somewhat e
mbarrassed. “I’ve discovered it’s the easiest way to get everything out. They pack it pretty tightly.”

  “The quickest way, too!” added Nick.

  “You must think I’m a glutton,” she said as she opened the refrigerator.

  “Actually, I don’t. To be honest, it annoys me when women, and it’s usually women but sometimes men, eat like birds. It makes me nervous. If they control that much in their lives, what else are they holding back?”

  “I never thought of it that way, but it makes sense.” Dulcie pointed to a drawer where Nick found silverware. She poured two glasses of wine. Just a simple merlot, nothing fancy. She didn’t want to intimidate Nick, although she had forgotten that he was the one brought up with privilege. “So what’s the next step?” she asked as they both ate out of the white cardboard boxes.

  Having quickly finished his first box, Nick reached for another. He pried it open, peered in at the contents and smiled. Dulcie laughed.

  “I think the next step is to have another talk with our grieving sister Lydia.” He dug in to something with noodles. “What are your thoughts on her?”

  “Probably the same as yours. She hasn’t been telling us everything. Not even close, I don’t think.”

  “Here’s a crazy thought: what if she killed her sister?”

  Dulcie paused for a moment, slowly sipping her wine. She shook her head and swallowed. “I don’t think so. Both times I’ve talked to her she’s seemed genuinely upset. But you know, Nick, she also seemed a little frightened. Did you get that from her?”

  “I did, but that’s often the reaction when someone is killed.”

  “Maybe, but she doesn’t know that her sister was killed. So far, she just knows that it was an accident.”

  “True. I think she suspects, though. She was adamant about Jennifer not diving alone.”

  “Could she be saying that just to point the finger at someone else?” Dulcie asked.

  “It’s possible.”

  “Is that lo mein?” Dulcie asked, pointing at a partially open box. Nick nodded and handed it to her. She popped it open and stuck her chopsticks in. “What can I do to help?”

  “I’ve been thinking. Is there any way you could track down the ownership of those two items we found today? And could you do it without anyone knowing?”

  “I can certainly try. If they were sold recently, there would be a record. Especially if they were at auction.”

  “What if they weren’t sold recently?”

  “That makes it more difficult, but I can still look back through records. I’ll also see if there are any collectors of either artist in the area. I’m assuming that whoever they were stolen from would be somewhat local.”

  “I think that’s a good assumption. How quickly can you find out?”

  “I’ll start online tonight. I can make some calls from the office tomorrow morning. I can’t make any promises.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “So other than talking to Lydia, what are you doing next?” Dulcie asked.

  “I think it’s time to make a statement that we suspect foul play, then bring everyone in for questioning. The first thing I need to do is establish where family members and close friends were on the night Jennifer was killed. Someone put poison on her equipment, and they had to do it just before she went on that dive.”

  “I wonder where they got the drug?” Dulcie mused.

  “Good question. Could have been bought illegally, stolen from a pharmacy, or even taken from a vet. I know they use it for animals, too.”

  Dulcie put her glass down hard, then cringed thinking that she’d broken it. Nick looked startled.

  “Sorry. But I just remembered. The other day I found out that Lydia’s new father-in-law takes care of horses. He’s an equine vet.”

  Nick’s eyes narrowed. “I thought none of them had to work. The Davenport-Joneses have tons of money.”

  “They don’t have to work. But Ross Davenport-Jones evidently wanted to be a veterinarian. He’s the youngest of a bunch of brothers. I heard that he was always the quiet one and wanted to go his own way.”

  Nick sat back in his chair. He knew all about that – going one’s own way. He suddenly felt sympathetic toward Ross Davenport-Jones.

  Dulcie was still talking. “I wonder how he ended up with Amelia, though? That seems like such a mismatch.”

  “Didn’t have much of a choice,” Nick mumbled.

  “Sorry?” said Dulcie. “What did you say?”

  “I was just thinking out loud. Kind of.” He began gathering up the empty boxes.

  “No, no! You made dinner, I’ll do the dishes!” Dulcie took the boxes from him and threw them in the trash. They both laughed. Dulcie realized how much she liked Nick’s smile. He had a dimple on one side, and she suddenly understood that it had far too much potential to make her melt.

  “I’ll get going. Are you sure you’re comfortable having those pieces of art here?” Nick asked.

  “Yes, absolutely. This place,” she gestured around her, “has extra insurance for works that I have here temporarily. It isn’t uncommon for me to have a lesser-valued piece with me.”

  “Lesser-valued,” repeated Nick. “It’s all relative, isn’t it.”

  Dulcie smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid it is. I’ll call you tomorrow if I find out anything.”

  “Same here. And Dulcie,” he had just pulled open the heavy wooden door and stopped in the open doorway. Dulcie could feel a cool ocean breeze coming through. “I’m sorry about earlier, on the dive, and after. I was concerned and….”

  “No worries,” she said softly. “‘Night, Nick.”

  He reached up as if to touch her cheek again, as he had on the boat, but drew his hand away. “G’night,” he said quickly and left.

  Dulcie closed the door gently and took a deep breath from behind it. Well! Working with Detective Nicholas Black was certainly getting interesting! She cleaned up the rest of the Chinese food boxes and wiped off the kitchen table. Pouring a second glass of merlot she slipped off her shoes by the front door, then went in the next room to her desk. She carefully put the wine on another table. She had already ruined one laptop with a particularly expensive, and not to mention excellent, cabernet. It was not going to happen again.

  Three hours later she yawned, stretched, and closed the computer. She’d made very little progress. The research confirmed that her guesses had been correct on the value of each work. However, she had not been successful finding either of them in recent lists of sales.

  “I’ll have to start again tomorrow. And talk with some people. Maybe that will point me in a different direction.” She went to the kitchen and rinsed out the glass. Then she unlocked the safe that she’d had installed in the back of her clothes closet, secured the artworks in it, and went to bed.

  The object isn’t to make art,

  it’s to be in that wonderful state

  which makes art inevitable.

  ― Robert Henri

  CHAPTER 13

  The BMW convertible hugged the curves of the winding road. Clark’s baseball cap nearly flew off as a gust came in from the ocean. He knew he was driving too fast. He didn’t care.

  Clark was in over his head. Lexi had called him that morning. In her ever-so-subtle way, she demanded that he spend the weekend with her. She said that she was lonely. He knew that she was simply bored. He tried to refuse, but her next statement made him nearly drop the phone. “I know about you and Jennifer.”

  How could she know? What could she know? It wasn’t like they’d done anything, really. He had met Jennifer for drinks a couple of times, just to get to know her better, he said. The second time he’d had a few too many and made a pass at her. She didn’t brush him off. He was surprised at that. They went back to his boat that night but he’d been drunk and couldn’t… couldn’t. Not for lack of trying, either. It was before the wedding, so he didn’t think it counted as officially fooling around.

  He knew Lydia would not see
it that way, especially now that Jennifer was dead. But how could Lexi know? Maybe she was just guessing. Maybe it was all a bluff. He couldn’t take the chance, though.

  Clark pulled the car into a scenic overlook and stopped. He got out and sat on the hood, looking across the ocean. He had two choices: come clean with Lydia about Lexi and Jennifer, or lie to her about the weekend and continue the charade. Clark was not a strong man. The second option seemed much simpler. Plus, it had the bonus of Lexi, at night….

  He found himself smiling, and simultaneously hated himself for it. He loved Lydia. Really he did. But maybe he just wasn’t cut out to be a husband? He was glad that Jennifer was gone and he didn’t have to worry about that angle any more. Just as long as Lexi kept quiet.

  #

  Lydia heard a knock at the door and instantly froze. She did not like unannounced visitors. She peeked through the window overlooking the driveway and saw Nicholas Black’s car parked there. “Dammit!” she said softly. She heard the knock again.

  Pulling herself up to be as tall as possible, which did not accomplish much, she went over to the door and opened it quickly. “Detective Black? Hello! I thought I heard the door. I was out on the front porch.”

  Nick knew a lie when he heard one, but he let it pass. “Then shall we go back out? If you have a moment, I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”

  “Yes, of course,” she motioned toward the porch and followed him out. She sank into the cushions of a wicker chair. Nick sat on the edge of the one opposite. “Can I get you something to drink?” Lydia asked, almost lazily.

  Nick shook his head. “No, thank you. I won’t be long. I just wanted to let you know before it becomes public. Your sister did not drown in an accident. We believe that she was murdered.”

  Lydia’s entire body shot forward in the chair, as though an electric current had just run through it. “WHAT!?”

  “We found traces of a drug called ketamine on the mouthpiece of her diving equipment and in her body. Do you know if she used drugs recreationally?”