by Kait Carson
“That you remember.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Excuse me?”
“That you remember. You were at the marina the morning he died or the morning after he died, depending on the time of death. You claim you have no recollection of how you got there or why you were there. An equal case can be made for you.”
For the first time Hayden wondered if the sharing of information, unexpected through it were, had been a set up in a different way.
“You look shocked. Of course I know about your being at the marina. Monroe County developed the information. It’s not in the report, it’s not official record yet, but I got a call. Look, I need your help. I can’t afford to hire a private investigator to help my sister. I can’t believe she murdered her husband. I can’t investigate his murder on my own. It would not only be unethical, it would be impossible. No one would give me, a grouper trooper,” Janice used the slang term for the marine patrol, “the information I need to do it. Right now, they’re sharing as a professional courtesy.” She picked up a pen from the desk and twirled it between her fingers.
“I don’t mean to make a speech. The sharing will come to an end as they solidify the information and I won’t be able to expect straight answers from any of them...Including my own agency.”
“Interesting that you use us/them terminology, but I still don’t see what you expect me to do about it. I need to clear myself.”
“Right—you need to clear yourself. And in the process find out who killed Richard. If anyone did. He may have fallen overboard, unfortunately wrapped in the anchor chain. He may have been tossing the anchor over and it caught him. I work on the water. The sea has a hundred ways to get you if it wants you. By clearing yourself, you can clear my sister too.”
“You say Richard’s death may have been accidental? How come no one seems to be looking at that possibility?” Hayden turned in her chair and knocked the bracelet off the desk.
“I don’t know and that worries me. You don’t normally look to foul play as your first resort in this kind of death. You let the evidence take you there.”
“This kind of death?” Hayden asked.
Janice leaned over and picked up the fallen bracelet. “Where did you get this?”
The sharp edge to Janice’s voice startled Hayden. “Found it underwater the last time I dove. Why?”
“Do you know what it is?”
“Sure, it’s a charm bracelet. I had one when I was a kid. Probably still do somewhere.”
“This one isn’t old. This one tells a story to a Cuban. Here, look.” Janice grabbed a disk using it as a starting place for her story. “This shows a birth, see the star? It shows a birth in Cuba. Now, on the back, it says el anno de doce millones. That’s the year of the twelve million, 1969. It had to do with the sugar harvest. The word Mami means it commemorates the mother’s birth. Here, you have a second star. This one says eighty-nine and shows a baby bottle. That’s the birth year of whomever owned this bracelet. It’s likely the mother and daughter shared the same birthday twenty years apart. That’s why the mother charm is there. The mother disk may have been a gift from the mother’s parents who couldn’t afford to add to her bracelet.” The uniformed officer ran her fingers over the disk lost in her own thoughts.
“Here’s a little cruet. That signifies baptism. In 1989, baptism was a crime. Cuba had no open priests, often lay people baptized, it was all very secret. Here again, see this dove? That’s for confirmation. And here, fifteen. The quinceana. The fifteenth birthday. For a 1989 birth, that would be 2004. This bracelet is not old. Someone is looking for this.”
“What about the other charms?” Hayden asked. Tiger Cat jumped into her lap and curled up looking for affection.
“This one for school graduation.” Janice flipped to the next disk. “A tree, for Christmas most likely. Two for young pioneer’s achievements. The parents must have bought those two. Maybe you should take an ad?”
“Maybe, I’ll consider it now that I know how much it must mean to someone. Let’s get back to your sister and the evidence against her and me. You were saying you don’t look to murder first?”
“No. That’s what’s so strange. Why go to murder when it could be an accident? Tangled in an anchor line. It’s a typical boating accident. Tragic, but innocent. Who stands still and lets someone wrap them in an anchor chain?”
“Why does the Coast Guard suspect your sister? How do they even know about her? I can see from the file it was a volatile marriage but so are a lot of marriages. There’s always divorce.” A knock on the door interrupted the two women.
It was Mallory.
“Hey, Hayd. I wanted to stop by and apologize for being so busy today. I see you have company.” She inclined her head towards the car in the driveway next to Hayden’s truck. “I won’t stay.”
“No, come in, I’m glad you’re here.”
Hayden brought Mallory back to her office and introduced her to Officer Kirby. She listened as the officer brought Mallory into the picture. Hayden was relieved that Kirby seemed to have no objection to Mallory’s involvement. Rather, she seemed to think the more investigators, the better for her sister. Hayden moved off into the kitchen to make some snacks. It looked like it was going to be a long evening.
“Janice,” Hayden began, “how close is Monroe County to attempting to get a warrant?”
“As far as I can tell, they don’t even have enough evidence to suggest it. Everything they have on you is circumstantial. Tips don’t count for much, not in this case. An ex-boyfriend. No history. No, they’re hoping you’ll incriminate yourself.”
“And for your sister?”
“Same. Right now it’s all circumstantial.”
A thoughtful look crossed Janice’s face, but she didn’t elaborate on her statement.
“What happens to you if they find out you’ve spoken to me?”
“I’ll lose my job, I guess. Well, not for talking to you, for sharing information.” For the first time since Janice had arrived, Hayden saw a shadow of fear touch her face.
“Okay, why, other than blood, don’t you believe your sister did the murder?”
Janice took a deep breath and said, “I don’t know. They did have a volatile relationship. That’s public record. My sister hated the water ever since we came here as children. She never went out on his boat. Richard never asked her to. That night he asked and she went. She said they went fishing. My sister never fished. When she called me, she was petrified. She said they went fishing and had a fight. He dropped her off on the dock behind their house. He went back out. He never came back. She’s petrified. Still, even now. And her in-laws are trying to throw her and her two children out. I don’t know if they know she’s two months pregnant.”
“Where’s the boat?”
“Missing.”
Twenty-Six
Hayden lay in bed and listened to the rolling thunder. Tiger Cat snuggled in the small of her back. Most nights she loved to listen to the sound of the rain hitting the shutters outside and dappling through the trees. Sometimes, if rain fell like this on moonless nights, Hayden would go out to her patio and wash her hair in the runoff from the tile roof valley. She swore her hair felt softer when she washed it in the rainwater.
Tonight the sound put her on edge. There didn’t seem to be a break in the thunder and the rain hit so hard it sounded more like hail. Stretching under the sheet to dislodge Tiger Cat, she swung her legs around and let her bare feet hit the time-smoothed Dade County pine floor. Images of palm trees bending and tossing branches reflected in the moonlight on her walls. Nights like this didn’t need air conditioning. Still, something in the noise level upset her. Hayden walked from room to room, closing windows and put the air conditioner on low.
Telling herself she was having a case of the heebie-jeebies because of recent
events, she went to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a brandy. Rolling the liquid in the balloon glass, she sniffed deeply, then raised the glass in a mock toast and drank it down in one draught. Hayden’s last thoughts before she fell asleep were of her telephone conversation with Grant. He’d agreed to let her have time off, with pay, to try to work her way out of this. He’d cautioned her not to confuse herself with law enforcement. He’d also assured her he was willing and able to help her out, but reiterated his suggestion to call Mallory’s boss. He assured her that as attorney of record, he would hear about any developments and would let her know what he heard. Sleepily, Hayden wondered if she should arrange a meeting and bring him up to date. As foolish as it sounded, she didn’t want to talk about a lot of stuff on the phone. Not even with Grant.
The air smelled fresh scrubbed when she got up in the morning. The humidity was low and the sky had that special depth of blue. She decided to leave her air conditioner on. It was mid-summer in the Florida Keys after all. Humidity would climb as the day went on. Hayden poured herself some coffee and went into her office for a map. She knew where Big Pine Key was, of course, but she’d never been on any of the side roads. Janice had given her Elena’s address and Hayden wanted to be sure she knew how to get there. She knew the home backed up to a lagoon or canal but that described most of the homes on Big Pine. She wasn’t even sure which of the multiple islands that composed the Key would have the house.
The bracelet caught her eye as she opened the drawer. Remembering her promise to Janice, she put her coffee down, picked up the bracelet and spread it on a piece of dark blue paper splaying out the charms so they’d all show individually. Grabbing her digital camera, she snapped a photo intending to take it to the newspaper on her way back to Marathon. Janice seemed to think someone would miss the object and be grateful for its return. Picking up her coffee cup again, Hayden turned back to look at the bracelet. She decided to rearrange it to conceal the quince charm. She shot the photo again. Hayden picked up her portable photo printer, and juggling the printer, camera and her coffee, nudged the screen door open and went out on her front porch. As she unloaded her burdens on the teak wood table, she noticed a collection of police cars queued at the end of the street. Curious, Hayden seated herself so she could enjoy her coffee and keep an eye on the activity.
The printer was chugging out a second photo of the bracelet when her phone rang. Hayden grabbed her mug and ran into the kitchen to answer the call. She tucked the portable phone under her chin and poured herself a refill of the fragrant vanilla coffee. Frou frou coffee, Mallory called it.
“Hey girl, I got the day off and we can head for deep blue water if you want,” Mallory said, before she laughed into the phone. “Oh, and I thought I might go with you to Elena’s house. After all, a second set of ears and eyes never hurt anyone. I may pick up on things you miss.”
“Hah, like what?”
“Like the neighbor’s house. Are you outside? I hear a lot of noise for your street.”
Instantly sobered by the reminder that Kevin’s paramour lived, or used to live, next door to the Anderson property, Hayden responded, “Sure. You can come along, I’ll pick you up on the way. The police are at the end of the street.”
“Police or Border Patrol?”
Border Patrol would mean a smuggling boat had dropped Cuban refugees off on the beach. Hayden’s street was out of the way but sometimes, especially on nasty nights like last night, smugglers took pity on their cargo and tried to get them to more protected areas before they dumped them off in the water.
“Both. Not enough commotion for a smuggler find though. Oh, here comes the morgue van. Must be a body.”
“Could still be smugglers. Last night’s storm would have tossed things around enough to bring someone from the ocean to your lagoon. It’s happened before.”
“I don’t know why the Coast Guard can’t do more to stop those boats. All this marvelous radar and tracking stuff they have. They claim they can tell a sailboat from a go-fast and they can’t apprehend these guys. Bonnie had a bunch on her lawn. They waited quietly for Border Patrol and they all had phone numbers of relatives to call. She said there were at least thirty of them. And the Border Patrol said they’d arrived in a thirty-two foot boat. Sad, very sad.”
“Well, kiddo, we’re not going to solve the world’s problems today. Get dressed and come get me. Should I bring dive gear or should we pick it up on the way back?”
“Way back, but you call Cappy. I don’t want him yelling at me when we show up late.”
The slow procession of morgue van and police cars moved up the street. Hayden picked up her gear from the porch table and headed for her front door. One of the cars, a silver Crown Victoria without agency markings, slowed in front of her house.
Twenty-Seven
“What’d Cappy say?” Hayden asked as she jumped out of the Tahoe to help Mallory wrestle her nitrox tanks into the truck. “We leaving these at Seahorse to get them filled? I don’t want them in the truck when we stop. They can go off like little sidewinders you know. Derek had an overheated tank shoot a valve through his windshield.”
“I never believed that story but yes, we’re dropping them off at Seahorse. I thought I’d get some thirty-two percent.”
Hayden knew Mallory was referring to the percentage of nitrox she intended to use for her dive mixture. Thirty-two percent would allow her to dive safely to approximately one hundred and thirty feet. For a trained diver, nitrox was safer than regular air. The nitrogen buildup she would experience in her blood would be less and she would be able to have a longer dive time.
The two women settled in the leather seats of the Tahoe. “Did you find out what happened on your street this morning?” Mallory asked.
“No.” She chewed her lip and debated whether to tell Mallory about the car that slowed in front of her house. “I almost went down to the crowd, but…I hate the feeling of being a gawker.” She shuddered. “If I thought I could help…”
To cover her emotions, Hayden hit the radio button tuned to the country western station. Mallory reacted by rolling her eyes and reaching between the seats to fish out the CD case Hayden kept on the back floor. Mallory selected a CD and prepared to hit the load button when Hayden reached for her hand.
“Wait,” She commanded. “Did you hear the news intro? The next story is about a body found in Marathon. Let’s listen and then you can put in Jimmy Buffet.” Hayden laughed at her friend’s reddening cheeks. “I know, who else would you put in the CD player?”
Both women listened when the news began. A dog walker found the body of a young woman washed up near a boat ramp in Marathon. No identification yet, but the woman appeared to be between eighteen and thirty. She looked like she’d been in the water for no more than a few weeks. Hayden shuddered. Her mind filled with images of what a day-old body in the water looked like. The newscaster continued to explain that early indications were a Cuban smuggling operation gone bad. The Coast Guard and FWC were looking for more bodies.
“I’m glad I don’t own a dog,” Hayden said. “What a rotten way to start your day. I guess that’s what was going on at the end of my block. They were down far enough to be at the boat ramp.” She reached over and hit the CD button. The sounds of Jimmy Buffet filled the cab of the truck.
“You OK?” Mallory asked. “You look a little pale.”
Ignoring the question, Hayden joined the traffic of U.S. 1 and asked, “Where do you want to go?”
“Big Pine?”
Making a choking gesture with her hands, Hayden said, “Okay brat, after that—no wait, after we go to Big Pine and after we drop off the photo and do an advertisement in the Keys paper and after we pick up your tank and after…”
“Alright, enough, I want to go to the Humboldt.”
The Tahoe’s brakes and Mallory both squealed when Hayden swerved into a pa
rking lot and stopped short. Hayden heard her blood pound in her ears, “No.” She swiveled in her seat to look Mallory full in the face. “I don’t want to go back there.” She spaced each word out carefully. A chill touched her and goose bumps rose on her skin. “It’s a bad luck dive to me. And after this morning…No.” She turned to look out the windshield, her knuckles showing white through her skin as she gripped the steering wheel.
“God, Hayden, you scared the heck out of me with that skid stop.” Mallory laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “Richard wasn’t a smuggled refugee. I want to see the opening in the top wheelhouse for myself. And I want to look around to see if you missed anything. At that depth, two heads are better than one. You know what it’s like down there. You see all these wonderful things you want to talk about when you get back to the boat. Then you surface and you can’t think of one.”
“It’s pointless, Mallory. Do you know how many divers have been down since I found Richard? Do you know how many divers went because I found Richard? Forget it. There’s nothing left to see.”
“Or there’s a lot stirred up. One way or the other, I want to go.” Mallory blew her chocolate colored bangs out of her eyes. “And you need to get back on the horse. It’s your favorite dive.”
Hayden heard the metal in Mallory’s voice and refused to reply. She’d known Mallory long enough to know her mind was made up, and she was not going to be able to change it. Instead, Hayden pointed the truck’s nose back onto U.S. 1 and down to Big Pine trying to untangle the images of dead bodies in the water from her thoughts.
“Turn there,” Mallory shouted, looking at the plat map on her lap. “That’s Jolly Roger Lane. Now, go over the bridge, onto Jolly Roger Island. Follow the street around and the Anderson lots should be the first three at the end of the street. Wow, these are some classy digs. No old Florida conch here.”