Decorating Schemes

by Ginny Aiken

  Images dazzled across my mental screen. Water. Tanks. The shop. The pier. Divers and books and masks and sun.

  “That’s it,” I whispered.

  I bolted to my feet.

  Lila, Chris, and Dutch looked at me as if I’d suddenly taken flight. And in a way I had. At least my thoughts had. And I was sure they’d landed on the X—the right X, the one that marked the spot. In my heart of hearts, I knew what had happened. I knew who’d killed KC, why, and how.

  Now all I had to do was prove it.

  Lila, Chris, and Dutch were now sure I was certifiable. When a woman leaps up from a chair, babbles incoherently, then runs out, there’s good reason to question her sanity. More often than not, little guys in white coats follow, fit her with the latest in straightjacket couture, then haul her back to the nearest hospital’s psychiatric ward.

  I raced to Tyler’s dojo, which was only two blocks away from the PD. By the time I got there, my back was nearly black and blue from the beating it took under the pounding of my backpack purse.

  I ignored the sore ache. I had more important things to think about, much worse injuries to worry about.

  My sensei took one look at me and pointed straight to Asian World. I made a beeline to his office and then just waited for him to join me.

  “I’m okay,” I said by way of greeting. “Really, I am. I just need a moment to pull myself together. Then there’s a bunch of things I have to do.”

  Tyler’s dark brown eyes narrowed. “Do I need to call Tedd?”

  “You can, but it’s not about me right now. It’s about the dead teen and her baby. I know what happened. And I have to figure out what I’m going to do next.”

  His muscles bulged when he crossed his arms. “You’re going to call Lila Tsu right now, is what you’re going to do next. You’re not going to pull another kamikaze stunt like you did last year, sister. Not while I’m here to stop you.”

  “Of course I’m not.” I waved dismissively. “I’m not going to do anything crazy. I just need some time to think, to clear my head. I’m not even sure how I know or how to make sense of it all.”

  “And you had to come to my office to think? What’s wrong with home, Haley?”

  I averted my gaze. “That’s part of the problem, Ty. Dad’s got himself engaged to a woman with a rotten past. She’s even got a rap sheet, for goodness’ sake. And her daughter’s part of the problem. I need some peace and quiet. Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid.”

  He barked out a dry laugh. “Depends on what you call stupid.”

  “Look. I promise I won’t do anything dangerous. I’ll go home in a little while, make and eat dinner, take Midas for a walk, go to bed, take my scuba lesson tomorrow. I won’t do anything out of the ordinary. And I promise I’ll call to run any changes in my regular plans by you. Deal?”

  He didn’t look too sure. “Deal. Just don’t leave until I’m done with my next class. I want to talk to you, see where your head is, before I send you home.”

  “Go. Your adoring fans await you. And you wouldn’t be sending me home, sensei. I can come and go on my own.”

  “That’s what’s got me worried sick.”

  After he left I wrestled down my niggle of guilt. I hadn’t lied. I made no change in my plans. I just orchestrated a few side events that would support what I’d figured out.

  First off I called Bella. “You wanted to help me investigate, didn’t you?”

  She was silent—in rapturous joy, I’m sure. Then, “Does Seattle stink of coffee?”

  “Okay, Bella. Here’s what you have to do. And it’s really, really important. I have to know I can count on you.”

  Emotion filled her assurances. Although it took some doing, I got her to agree to back out of tomorrow’s dive. It was easier for her to agree to latch on to Dad. All I had to do was tell her his safety, his very life, depended on her surveillance and protection.

  True, I laid it on a bit thick, but if either of the shady Smith women got a whiff of what I was up to, Dad would be in danger. They’d use him to get to me. It was best to keep him at church, focused on whatever problem Bella brought him.

  I can always count on Bella for trouble.

  Then I called Tom to tell him Bella wouldn’t join us, and I hit my first hitch. He was in bed with a stomach virus and wasn’t able to do tomorrow’s dive. I didn’t have to fake dismay.

  “Don’t worry.” His voice wobbled. “Ken Harris agreed to take my place. He’s good. You’ll like him.”

  It occurred to me as I hung up that a substitute instructor might be even better for my plans. All I had to do was sweet-talk him into letting me do my thing.

  When I called Dutch, he was worried. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I dumped a landslide of assurances on him, none of which seemed to take. “I’m okay,” I said for the thousandth time. “I’m at the dojo and am on my way home in about...” I checked my watch. “In about twelve minutes. Ty asked me to wait until he finished his class.”

  “You’re going straight home then?” When I assured him that was the case, he added, “I’ll pick you up. I don’t want you out alone in the dark. Remember, I drove you to Lila’s office. You’re on foot if I don’t come.”

  I would rather have walked, for the privacy, if not for the exercise, but he wasn’t having any of that.

  “Wait for me. I’ll be there.” His voice had that steely note.

  In the end I was fine. I answered both Ty’s and Dutch’s questions truthfully. They weren’t convinced, but that was their problem, as I told each of them. And finally I got home.

  Dad had left a note. He and Madeleine would be out late. They’d gone to dinner and another art lecture. I ate a frozen dinner; fed, watered, and walked Midas; then holed up in my room. I made a couple more phone calls, confirmed some of my suspicions, turned to my Bible, prayed, and eventually slept.

  To my surprise, I awoke rested and alert the next morning. I’d managed more sleep than I otherwise would have in a week. Thank you, Jesus.

  Since I didn’t want to give Dad a chance to lecture or question me, I grabbed two slices of bread, smeared them with peanut butter, and called it breakfast on my way to the dive shop.

  There I found Max at the counter and a middle-aged man in a wet suit arguing the merits of various brands of valves.

  “Hey, Haley,” Max said. “This is Ken Harris. He’s taking over Tom’s lessons until he gets over his stomach bug.”

  “Hi, Ken. It’s good to meet you.”

  Ken nodded, slapped the top of the counter, then said, “Let’s go check our gear. I’m ready to roll.” When he reached the door, he turned. “Oh, by the way. The other woman, Bella something—”

  “Cahill.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Bella Cahill couldn’t make it today, so it’ll just be the two of us.”

  “That’s too bad. She’s always psyched to go down.” I stepped out into the partly cloudy day. “So what do you have planned for today’s dive?”

  “Tom says you’re ready to go out as far as the ridge.”

  My eyes nearly popped. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? “You’re serious?”

  “As a judge. I still remember how it feels.”

  He might remember how it feels to finally head off to a true dive, but that wasn’t the cause for my excitement. I was on a mission. My goal was the area along the ridge where Stewart Marshall and his little collection bag had disappeared the other day.

  Ken and I did the usual check of our tanks, valves, regulators, and masks. Every diver is adamant about this one thing: safety is everything.

  Finally we took off for the pier. Just as we reached the end, the sun broke through the splotchy cloud cover. I looked up and smiled. Thank you, Father.

  As I went over the edge and into the water, I spotted a familiar figure. Great. Why was Dutch out here?

  Well, it didn’t matter anymore. I was underwater, and he couldn’t just jump in and stop me. I put him out of my thoug
hts and turned my attention to my dive.

  I followed Ken out from the end of the dock, so thankful that the sun had come out, even if only for a short while. The eerily beautiful landscape beneath the water beckoned; it lured me farther and farther into the depths.

  The ridge itself was awesome. It looked just like something you’d see in a book about the bottom of the sea. Craggy rocks jutted in irregular angles. Lacy seaweed swayed in rhythmic waves. I flipped out when a silvery fish darted out from behind a bulky stone.

  This was so cool. I owed Tedd big time for turning me on to diving. I could see why it had become a consuming passion for KC.

  The thought of the dead teen stole a chunk of my enjoyment. I wasn’t down here for nothing more than a walk in the park. This wasn’t just a pleasure dive. I had a job to do.

  As I followed my instructor, I realized why I’d known I had to check out what Stewart Marshall had been up to. The ridge itself was pocked with dark areas that might be nooks and crannies. If that’s what they were, they’d make perfect hiding spots for whatever a guilty person might want to hide.

  I signaled to Ken, indicated that I wanted to get closer to the rocks. He gestured for me to follow, and we approached the area. What I saw kicked my excitement up a notch.

  Not only was the ridge dotted with dark little nooks, but it also sported a dark opening, one that really looked like a small cave with an entrance about four feet in diameter. I pointed at the spot, and Ken shook his head and pointed it the opposite direction.

  I put my hands together and pleaded.

  His head shakes grew more determined. He reached for my arm with one hand, while with the other he pointed away again.

  But before he could stop me, I darted inside. He followed right at my heels, still shaking his head. Forceful jabs toward the opening of the narrow but deep cave made too clear his intention, but now that I’d reached my goal, I wasn’t about to let him drag me back out until I was good and ready.

  I had snooping to do.

  As I swam farther into the darkness, I began to take deeper and deeper breaths. I tried to calm myself, knowing that my oxygen would go faster if I let my breathing continue at a more excited rate. I turned on my underwater light and nearly gasped out my regulator mouthpiece.

  Lined up along the right side of the cave’s wall, I counted dozens of lift bags held down with the lead weights divers use to help them stay at the bottom of the sea. My heart began to pound. I remembered Stewart Marshall swimming away from his fellow divers, collection bag at his side. I knew he’d had one of these lift bags among his more innocuous gear. I know I should open one to make sure it contained what I feared, but I also knew myself. I couldn’t, just couldn’t, handle that hideous sight.

  I felt sick. I grew lightheaded. I struggled to breathe.

  Another deep drag brought no relief to my lungs.

  That’s when I began to panic. I turned to look for Ken and saw him tugging at and checking his gear. I did the same. I pulled my air pressure gauge out from where I’d tucked it in my dive vest, and I saw it read full. I saw nothing strange—everything was hooked up as it should be and was working correctly.

  But I still had to fight for the smallest breath. And unless I was very wrong, my instructor was having the same problem. Just then he stopped checking his gear and jerked a thumb toward the front of the cave.

  This time he didn’t have to ask me one more time.

  We headed out, but I saw him struggle, slow his pace, and weaken his kicks. His expression through the mask was frantic. It seemed that as a larger person, his oxygen was running out even faster than mine. I reached out and checked his gauge, and then it hit me.

  Both gauges read full. Completely full.

  Neither registered the air we’d used so far.

  Something was very, very wrong.

  I grabbed Ken’s arm. He fought me off, shook his head, pushed me out.

  I grabbed again and began to pull. We would either both make it out of here, or neither of us would. I was not about to leave a living human in that cave. I wasn’t about to give Stewart Marshall any more kills. Not if I could help it.

  There was no coincidence here. Someone had tampered with our tanks. The only person who would want to harm me—and I knew I was the target rather than Ken—was the doctor whose filthy, murderous secret I’d uncovered.

  As I’d been taught to do in case of emergency, I held my breath to conserve air. I tugged at Ken and dragged him out of the cave. When I could no longer stand it, I took another small breath. Then Ken went limp in my grasp.

  No! He couldn’t die. I wouldn’t let him.

  I kicked harder, aimed for the surface, fought against what was now a near dead weight. But I made no headway. I wasn’t strong enough.

  I had a decision to make.

  If Ken was to have any chance at all, we would have to have help. And that wouldn’t happen if I didn’t make it up. I simply couldn’t surface and drag him with me. And my air was dangerously low.

  Praying for forgiveness, for the Lord’s protection, for mercy for Ken, I let go and watched him sink the foot and a half to the bottom. I took the deepest breath I could, filled my lungs like balloons, and kicked up with all I had. Those few seconds were the longest of my life.

  Hurry, hurry!

  I urged my legs to kick harder and harder, felt the air in my lungs buoy me up... and then I finally broke through. I spit out my mouthpiece and sucked in clean, fresh, life-giving air.

  Then I screamed with all I had.

  “Help!”

  “Hang on!” Dutch called back. “I’m almost there.”

  I saw him chug toward me in the dive shop’s dinghy, its motor loud and rough. As I watched, Stingray and Max slipped over the little boat’s side and under the water.

  “Stay there,” Dutch said. “They need you to mark where you and Ken were so they can find him.”

  “How... how’d you know...” I shivered so hard that I had to stop talking.

  “Give me a minute, will ya?” He cut off the engine and paddled with the oar. I felt a tug at my flipper, looked down, and saw Max give me the thumbs up. All I saw of Stingray was the back of his heels as he swam down for Ken.

  I started to cry.

  “Here,” Dutch said. “Grab on tight and let me pull you in.”

  A second later he hauled me up the side of the boat and into his arms. I collapsed against him and sobbed. “Thanks...”

  “Hush. Don’t try to talk.”

  I cried some more. “How did you... how did you know to come?”

  “Give me some credit, okay? I knew you were up to something last night. So I followed you here this morning. I wasn’t going to do anything unless I thought you were in trouble.”

  “But how did you know...?”

  “I didn’t. Stingray came in right after you and Ken took off. He began to check his gear, and saw that something wasn’t right with the tank he planned to use. He said it felt light, even though the pressure gauge showed three thousand pounds of pressure.”

  “Ours read full too, but we ran out of air.”

  Dutch’s big hand trembled when he cradled my head closer to his chest. “Well, when Stingray checked it out, the gauge was stuck. Not only that one but also all the other gauges on the dive shop’s tanks.”

  Anger stirred in my gut. “I was right. No coincidence.” I shuddered. “And it’s no coincidence that I found a cave lined on one side with bags. I had to do the dive to make sure I wouldn’t send the Smurfs on a wild goose chase, even though Ken did everything he could to stop me. We have to call Lila. I was right. She has to send someone to check out the bags.”

  “She should be here any second now. I called as soon as I knew what had happened with the tanks.”

  “Dude!” Max yelled. “Give us a hand here. Ken’s still alive.”

  In a blur of activity, Dutch helped Max and Stingray get Ken into the dinghy. Dutch took over for Stingray, who’d shared his oxygen with Ken and
was now giving him mouth-to-mouth while he and Max swam the unconscious man toward the boat.

  “Start the engine,” Max told me. “You just get this thing to the pier. We’ll swim. And hurry!”

  I’d never operated any kind of boat, but either divine inspiration or sheer, raw fear guided me. I got the dinghy back to the dock, where EMTs, Lila, and three of her giant Smurfs were waiting.

  The EMTs took over Ken, while the detective and the Smurfs surrounded me. The questions began to fly.

  I lost it. “Come on! We don’t have time for this. You have to hurry. Don’t waste time on me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lila asked.

  I yanked off my flippers and made for my Honda. “Dr. Marshall. You can’t let him get away. The medics will take care of Ken, but go! Go find Stewart Marshall. He messed with our tanks, and I found his burial ground in a cave in the ridge. Hurry!”

  Lila’s heels tapped on the wooden dock right behind me. “You’d better know what you’re talking about.”

  Over my right shoulder, I shot her a glare. “I do.”

  She called out to the Smurfs and gave them instructions. The three men took off, sirens fading in seconds. I stepped off the pier and onto the rocky beach terrain. My pace slowed considerably even though I felt as determined as ever. I had to get to my car. There were things I had to do; I had to make sure everything went down as it should.

  Lila followed me, and even though she wobbled on the rocks when she reached my side, she held out a hand and we steadied each other as we limped over the rocks. I glanced back and saw the EMTs in action. Ken lay on the dock, an oxygen mask over his face. Dutch stood about five feet to the side, concern on his face.

  “Is he... will he live?” I called out, tears in my eyes.

  A woman with short brown hair looked up. “We’re doing our best.”

  I nodded.

  Lila put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you really okay?”

  “Not yet, but I will be in a while.”

  “How does it feel to be right—again? Since the doctor’s office is so close, my guys are probably there by now, and he’ll soon be wearing handcuffs.”