Out of Her Depth

by Brenda Hiatt

  “Look,” I interrupted, “I really do have to go now, but we can meet later and I’ll tell you all about it, okay?”

  “All right. Take down my number and call me as soon as you’re free.”

  He gave it, and I jotted it down, hung up, then looked at the clock. It was two minutes past eight. I was late. Cursing under my breath, I grabbed my purse, stuck my feet into my shoes, and headed to the elevator.

  Of course, because I was in a hurry, the elevator stopped at almost every single floor on the way down. Then I had to wait for the elderly couple in front of me to make their way out of the elevator. They took so long the doors actually tried to close twice before we were all out.

  I rounded the corner to the main area of the lobby and saw I’d been right about not needing descriptions. Two men waited there, and even though they weren’t in suits, they were so stiff and ill-at-ease I could tell at a glance they were the Feds. For their sakes, I hoped these guys never had to go undercover.

  The taller one was actually looking at his watch as I hurried over to them. An apology for being late was right on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it. I refused to start off on the defensive.

  “Agents Truman and Walters?” I said instead. “Wynne Seally. Welcome to Aruba.” Island time, I reminded myself when that apology almost slipped out in spite of my decision. They might as well get used to it.

  To their credit, neither one mentioned that I was at least five minutes late.

  “Thank you for meeting with us, Ms. Seally,” the taller man said, extending his hand. “I’m Frank Truman, and this is my partner, Boyd Walters.” He discreetly flipped open a wallet showing his badge and ID. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk privately?”

  Frank Truman looked exactly like I’d have imagined him, if I’d thought to do that. Square jaw, light brown hair and eyes, attractive in a serious sort of way.

  Boyd Walters was blond and looked like he’d been a wrestler in a previous life: shorter, barrel-chested, and muscular, too apple-cheeked to be considered handsome. In fact, if I’d met him under other circumstances, I might have described him as jolly looking.

  “We should be able to find a quiet corner outside near the pool this time of night,” I suggested. I wasn’t about to invite them up to my room.

  They nodded and followed me out to the enormous, intricately landscaped area surrounding the meandering pool. A couple of kids were playing down at one end, so I took a path going the other way between the mazelike hedges and found us a table and chairs in a secluded area, with no one remotely within earshot.

  “Give me five minutes to scout the area before we start,” Walters said. He ducked through the nearest opening in the hedge and disappeared while I did my best not to smile—or laugh out loud—at such exaggerated cloak-and-dagger tactics. Did these guys think they were in a movie or something?

  “What exactly are you afraid of?” I couldn’t help asking. “Do you think the bushes might be bugged? It’s a lot more likely you were seen loitering in the lobby, if you’re worried Melanie Melampus will find out you’re here.”

  Agent Truman looked a little sheepish, which made him seem a lot more human—and attractive. “I guess we don’t exactly look like typical tourists, do we?”

  “Not exactly, no. And I’m afraid someone has been tracking my movements, or at least . . . Well, I’ll wait until Agent Walters gets back to tell you that story.”

  He came back around the hedge right then, so on cue that I wondered if he’d been eavesdropping.

  “No one nearby,” he said. “We’ll just have to assume they haven’t managed to acquire or install any high tech surveillance equipment.”

  “So you are afraid they’ve bugged the bushes?” I asked, only half jokingly. It was hard to treat this business lightly after this morning’s attack, though these FBI guys somehow brought out my sense of the ridiculous.

  “I doubt anyone’s had time, but we can’t rule it out,” Walters said, betraying not the slightest trace of amusement.

  “Obviously you’re taking my story a little more seriously than you seemed to during our conversations yesterday. Decided I’m not some publicity-seeking crackpot after all?” I couldn’t help myself.

  “The ring you described checked out, Ms. Seally,” Agent Truman said. “We spoke with the people at the Oranjestad Cartier store and looked at the list of effects that went missing along with Melanie Melampus.”

  “Speaking of which, can we see it?” Agent Walters asked, then actually held out his hand for the ring.

  Alarm bells went off in my head. So that’s what this was about—getting their hands on the evidence before I showed it to anyone else? I glanced at Agent Truman, who looked politely expectant, then at Walters, who looked positively avid.

  “I don’t have it with me,” I replied with what I thought was admirable coolness. “After what happened this morning, I felt it was wiser not to carry it around.”

  “And what was that, Ms. Seally?” Agent Truman asked. “You said something about your movements being tracked?”

  “Yes. Someone—I can only assume someone connected to Melanie Melampus—has apparently been following me. He joined a dive I went on this morning, at the last moment, then tried to get the ring away from me while we were underwater.”

  It sounded so matter-of-fact, stated like that, conveying none of the terror I’d felt during the attack—and which echoed through me even now at the memory.

  “You had the ring with you underwater?” Walters sounded skeptical.

  “On a chain around my neck, tucked inside my wetsuit. The hotel safe was broken into a couple of days ago, and my own room was searched shortly after I first contacted the Cartier store, so keeping it on me seemed the safest option. Of course, I never expected someone to physically assault me for it.”

  The two agents exchanged looks, then Walters asked, “So the man who assaulted you is in custody now? Did you find out his name?”

  I shook my head. “He swam to another boat and got away. And I doubt the name he gave our captain was his real one.”

  “And what makes you think he was connected to Melanie Melampus?” Agent Truman asked. “He could have been a common thief, or even someone working for Stefan Melampus.”

  “I can’t imagine a common thief paying for a dive plus rental equipment to steal a ring he couldn’t even have known about. And why would Stefan Melampus want the ring stolen? It seems it would be in his best interest for me to publicize where I found it, or turn it over to the authorities. Or his lawyer.”

  I started to add that one of his lawyers was here in Aruba, then changed my mind. I didn’t want to get into a wrangle just now about who had rights to the ring.

  “Yeah, we’ve been talking about that,” Walters said. “It would have made sense for Melampus to have arranged to have the ring planted here in Aruba for you to find. He could have kept the ring when he killed his wife, then sent it to someone here.”

  I almost laughed. “What, and had them fling it in the ocean on the chance some random diver might find it? Not much of a plan. I’m starting to think you guys are making this up as you go along.”

  “He could have arranged in advance for that ‘random diver’ to find the ring.”

  I stared at Agent Walters, then looked to Agent Truman for support. He, at least, looked a little uncomfortable with his partner’s theory.

  “You really think I’m in league with Stefan Melampus?” No way was I going to mention his phone calls or his lawyer to them now. “Do you think I also arranged to have someone attack me underwater this morning? Me, a brand-new diver? You can check that story out with the local police, by the way.”

  Walters just shrugged, refusing to give anything away.

  “But if Melanie Melampus faked her own death and framed her husband,” I continued, “s
he wouldn’t want anything out there that would screw up that scenario, would she? Especially given that I saw her, here in Aruba, it makes much more sense that she’d be behind this.”

  Now Agent Walters was scowling. “Then why didn’t you bring the ring with you when you came to meet us? Once you turn it in, you’ll be out of danger.”

  “Only if Melanie knows I’ve turned it in,” I pointed out. “And what, exactly, will you do with the ring if I give it to you?”

  “If?” Walters barked.

  “Submit it as evidence,” Agent Truman said, slanting a glance at his partner. “What else?”

  But I was watching Walters, who still looked angry. “Even though that would undermine the case you’ve been building against Stefan Melampus?”

  “Who said we were building a case?” Truman asked sharply. “This isn’t the first time you’ve said something to make me believe you’re more closely connected to this case than you’re letting on, Ms. Seally.”

  I raised a brow for effect. “It was Agent Walters who told me that, if you must know.” I looked pointedly at Truman’s partner.

  Walters glared at me, then, with a visible effort, schooled his expression to something approaching neutrality. “I said that there was circumstantial evidence pointing to Melampus’s guilt.”

  He’d said a lot more than that, but I decided not to press it right now. I also decided there was no way Walters was getting his hands on the ring. If anyone was likely to make it “conveniently” disappear, it was him.

  “Is there anything else?” I asked, glancing pointedly at my watch. I was anxious to hear Ronan’s take on this conversation.

  “I’m sorry if you have plans, Ms. Seally.” Agent Truman didn’t sound sorry at all. “We’ve come quite a long way to speak with you, however, so we’d appreciate it if you’d answer our questions.”

  I stifled a sigh. “Fire away. Though I’m not sure why this couldn’t have been handled over the phone.” Except that they wanted that ring.

  Truman took out a flip-pad and a pen, just like the guys in the TV crime shows. “You claim you saw Melanie Melampus in Oranjestad. When would that have been?”

  “The night before last—almost exactly forty-eight hours ago, in fact.”

  “So it was dark at the time?”

  “There were lights from the stores around the square, but it was night, yes. About nine o’clock.”

  “Had you ever seen Melanie Melampus before?”

  “Only pictures. When I realized the ring I’d found might be relevant to the Melampus case, I did some research on the internet and found quite a few photos of both Melanie and her husband.”

  “So you’d been following this case in the news all along?” he asked.

  “Well, no. I really didn’t know much about it—or the Melampuses—at all until I did that research. But that was just a couple of hours before I saw her, so those pictures were pretty fresh in my mind.”

  “I see. Then just how did you become aware that the ring might have something to do with the Melampus case?”

  Yikes. I’d walked right into that one. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Walters grinning but Truman’s face was still stone-serious.

  After too long a pause, I said, “Someone on the boat—one of the other divers—recognized the names in the inscription. He’d been following the case, I guess.” It was basically the truth, but it still sounded lame.

  “So you showed the ring to everyone on the boat?” Agent Walters demanded before Truman could probe my story further. “Why didn’t you mention that before?”

  “When would I have done that?” My innocence might have been feigned, but my indignation wasn’t. Jerk.

  “When I talked to you on the phone yesterday,” he said. “When I told you not to discuss the ring with anyone else until we got here.”

  “You never said for sure that anyone was coming here. You just issued edicts and then hung up on me, after implying I was some kind of nutcase. The next thing I heard from you guys was your phone message today saying you were on your way.”

  Again, Frank Truman sent his partner a look that told me he’d had to deal with Walters’s temper all too often in the past. Then he turned back to me.

  “I apologize, Ms. Seally, for the way we’ve handled things. It’s true that I originally suspected that you were another, ah, nut case, as you put it. We’ve come across more than our share of them in connection with this case. It was actually Agent Walters who convinced me you might be telling the truth.”

  “Then I guess I should be grateful to him.” I didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  He ignored it. “Now, can you tell me the name of the person in your diving group who recognized the ring as pertaining to the Melampus case?”

  I’d been hoping Truman had been deflected from that line of questioning, but he was like a pit bull. “It was one of the men,” I said slowly, stalling for time as I tried to think of a way to satisfy my questioner without giving Ronan away. “Rick, maybe? I’m terrible with names, I’m afraid, and everyone was talking at once.”

  I thought it sounded plausible, and though he practically drilled through me with his gaze, Agent Truman didn’t challenge my story.

  “I’d like the name of the dive shop and instructor. If they can give me the names of everyone in your group, maybe you’ll remember which one showed such interest in the ring. I’d like to question him, if possible.”

  “Sure. It was the dive shop here at the Royal Aruban, and our instructor was Jason. I don’t remember his last name,” I lied, “but he’s probably the only instructor there named Jason.”

  At least now I’d have time to warn Ronan before they came looking for him—if they did. Since he wasn’t one of the students, maybe they wouldn’t ask for his name. It was time to distract these guys further, so I finally pulled out my big guns.

  “I do have something else here you might find helpful,” I said, taking the envelope I’d previously given to Ronan out of my purse and handing it to Agent Truman.

  He pulled out the photos and examined them in silence before handing them to his partner. “Why didn’t you mention these before?” he asked.

  “Again, I wasn’t given the opportunity. Both of you were pretty abrupt in our earlier conversations.” I told them about the phone message purporting to be from the Cartier store, which had given me the idea to stake out the place, and how I’d managed to get the pictures without being seen.

  “Of course, the quality isn’t great because of the distance and lighting,” I said, “but surely you’ll admit that looks like Melanie Melampus.”

  “Or her sister,” Agent Walters said, handing the pictures back to Truman with a dismissive gesture. “You do know that Melanie Melampus had a sister, don’t you, Ms. Seally? Michelle Alvares. Word is, they looked an awful lot alike—and she was last known to be in Aruba.”

  I stared at him, my mouth hanging open until I remembered to close it. “Melanie has a sister in Aruba?”

  Even as I said it, I remembered Ronan telling me about a sister. She was the beneficiary of Melanie’s life insurance policy. But he hadn’t said anything about her being in Aruba. Wouldn’t the insurance company have known that? In which case . . . wouldn’t Ronan?

  “That’s right,” Agent Truman said. “We’re hoping to track her down and speak with her while we’re here, since it’s possible Melanie spoke with her before she was killed. If Melanie feared for her life and spoke to her sister about it, it will strengthen our case.”

  “So you think this—” I pointed to the top photo—“is Melanie’s sister and not Melanie at all.”

  “It would make sense, Ms. Seally. A lot more sense than Melanie Melampus suddenly appearing some two thousand miles from where she disappeared off her husband’s yacht.”

&nbs
p; I had to admit it was possible. Maybe even probable. Still, something didn’t add up. “But . . . how could the ring end up in Aruba, then?”

  “Maybe she gave the ring to her sister before she was killed—or mailed it to her,” Walters said.

  “Then why would you come here to get it? And why would Michelle Alvares threaten me over it? Why send a thug after the ring if she’d had it in the first place?”

  “As I said before, it’s possible that attack had nothing to do with the ring or the Melampus case.”

  But I wasn’t buying that one. “And whoever ransacked my room? And broke into the hotel safe? I suppose those had nothing to do with the ring either. And then there was that bogus message on my phone. That’s a lot of coincidences, Agent Truman.”

  For the first time, I saw a trace of amusement in his expression. It looked even better on him than his earlier embarrassment.

  “I’ll give you credit for using your head, Ms. Seally. No, I can’t claim all of those were coincidental, but that doesn’t mean Michelle Alvares was behind any of it. There are plenty of people all over the world who’d like to see Stefan Melampus get what’s coming to him. He’s made a lot of enemies, particularly over the past year or two. Some of them are very powerful—and wouldn’t be above violence or even murder to destroy any evidence that might set Melampus free.”

  “Oh.” I sat back, deflated.

  And much more frightened than I’d been before.

  Chapter Fourteen

  AFTER ASKING me a few more questions about where and how I’d found the ring, and about that morning’s attack, Agents Truman and Walters finally left. I walked back to the lobby with them and waited until I saw them get into their car before calling Ronan.

  “If that offer of a drink still stands, I think I could use one,” I said by way of greeting.

  “That bad, huh? Poor baby. I’ll be waiting in the lobby.”

  “I’m already here,” I told him and shut my phone.