Mystery of the Tempest

by Sam Cameron

  Musing about it later, as he biked the half-mile to Mom’s bookstore, Denny figured that Steven had told him because he wanted help. He simply couldn’t admit it, because he was a big macho jerk. But what kind of help could Denny offer? He was still thinking about it when he parked his bike against the back concrete wall of the Florida Keys Bookmine.

  No other store from Miami to Key West could match Mom’s store. She had bought it from an old-timer who’d built every shelf himself and had little interest in alphabetizing, organizing, or making the aisles navigable. As a little kid Denny had gotten lost more than once in the towering stacks of books, overwhelmed by the smell of musty old paper and yellowed light bulbs.

  Now, ten years later, the store had clear diagrams for shopping, shelves that were actually labeled, and two annexes for the overflow of books. Two steps inside reminded Denny how nice it was to have air-conditioning, too. Three steps inside, he was ambushed by Sean Garrity and Robin McGee.

  Sean’s hair was sticking up in more directions than usual, his eyebrows drawn together in consternation. “You nearly die, you get saved by some random Adonis, and then you take off for the weekend without telling every dirty detail to your best friends! What’s wrong with that?”

  Denny felt contrite. “Sorry. I lost my phone. But it’s not as exciting as you think.”

  “I hope it’s more,” Robin said as she and Sean trailed Denny toward the front desk. Her T-shirt today said, “I SUPPORT CIVIL RIGHTS” and she was wearing men’s shorts. “We live vicariously through you. Don’t you know that?”

  “We want dirt,” Sean said. “Moist, fertilized dirt.”

  “I don’t even know what that means,” Denny said.

  “And we want to know about fireworks with Brian Vandermark,” Robin said. “You and him in a boat? Mouth-to-mouth CPR?”

  Denny spun around and brought both of them to a halt. Through the shelves he could see his mother making a sale to two tourists in fishing hats.

  “No fireworks!” he told them, low but vehement. “None! Nothing. You know I’m not interested in that.”

  They gazed at him in frank disbelief.

  “For years you’ve been denying it,” Sean said, with an eye roll.

  “We’re not fooled,” Robin added.

  “Nothing,” Denny repeated. “And if you say anything in front of my mom I’ll have to kill both of you in the most unpleasant way possible.”

  He didn’t mean to sound so snippish, or maybe he did, because at least they didn’t follow him to the register.

  Mom said, “Hey, here you are,” as if she hadn’t seen him at breakfast just a half hour ago. Her gaze immediately narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said.

  She peered up at him, short but stubborn. Her dress today was yellow with orange palm trees on it. His eyes watered if he looked too long at it.

  “No lying, Dennis Andrew,” she said.

  The truth was impossible, though. How could he tell her he was a closet homosexual in lust with both the rich Brian Vandermark and the much older Nathan Carter? Or that Steven was lying about the military and the SEALs?

  “I’m just tired, Mom. Steven snored all night. Give me some iced coffee and I’m all set.”

  She tapped the end of his nose. “All right. Coming right up.”

  The store wasn’t too busy. Denny switched the radio on, tuning it to an oldies station out of Miami. The customers liked it, even if it made him think he was stuck in a Clark Gable movie. Sean and Robin had been assigned to shelving books in the Romance section, and he could hear them mocking the cover pictures of lovers, bosoms, and bare chests.

  An hour after the store opened, Dad came in with two men in suits. One of the men was retirement age, with thin white hair and an ill-fitting suit. The other was much younger, Hispanic, and had very expensive shoes.

  Denny recognized him immediately—the man in Key West who’d warned them about asking questions about Nathan Carter.

  “This is Agent Garcia and Agent Crown of the Miami FBI office.” Dad adjusted his gun belt. “They want to talk to you, Dennis.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Steven went to work feeling strange. It was a relief to finally have told Denny the truth. But at the same time saying the words aloud made the whole thing more real. He really had been turned down. He wasn’t going to be a SEAL.

  Because of some stupid defect in his eyes.

  Color-blind. It was ridiculous.

  He put his keys and cell phone in his locker, punched in, and went outside to the beautifully landscaped garden. About a half dozen guests were already in the pool, which was open before and after the lifeguard was on duty. Steven scooped up crystal blue water in vials for the mandatory chemical test, noted the perfectly fine results on his clipboard, and climbed up into his chair overlooking the deep end.

  A half hour later, Kelsey Carlson and Jennifer O’Malley showed up. Kelsey’s dad did legal work for the resort and was comped free admission to the pool all year long.

  “How was Key West?” Kelsey asked, as if he hadn’t answered every one of her messages all weekend. She knew he’d gone to class, and knew he’d gone out on a WaveRunner, and knew that he’d run into Eddie.

  He hadn’t told her about Bethany. A guy had to have a little breathing room, after all.

  “Good,” he said and came down from his chair for a kiss. “Hi, Jen.”

  Jennifer flashed him a brilliant white smile. She was wearing a tiny blue bikini with white dots on it. The top of it barely held in her breasts, which were much bigger than they’d been last summer. She was always showing off her latest fashion purchases online, and he was pretty sure he recognized the designer beach bag she’d brought along.

  Not that he watched her webcasts.

  Much.

  “I heard you have a new mystery,” Jen said. “Some boat blowing up?”

  “Something like that,” he said.

  Kelsey stretched out on a chaise lounge in her own red bikini. Steven climbed back into his chair and tried not to look too much at them—Kelsey all tall and lithe, Jennifer with her curves and glossy dark hair. Every now and then they whispered or giggled or sent him smiles. He wouldn’t call himself paranoid, but he suspected they were comparing notes about him.

  Just before lunchtime, Kelsey’s phone rang.

  “It’s your brother, looking for you,” she said. “He says it’s important.”

  Steven took the call away from the pool deck, careful to keep an eye on the swimmers. “What?”

  “The FBI’s on their way to talk to you about The Tempest,” Denny said. “They just left here. And you know one of them.”

  “I do?”

  Thanks to Denny’s forewarning, Steven wasn’t surprised to meet Agent Garcia when Dad arrived. The FBI interviewed him in his manager’s office, just off the gym where guests were using treadmills and lifting weights.

  “I didn’t see the boat explode,” he said.

  Agent Crown peered down his glasses at his notes. “They were with Mr. Nathan Carter.”

  Garcia didn’t blink at Carter’s name.

  “Yes,” Steven said.

  “Your brother and Brian Vandermark are…friends?” Crown asked, his voice inflected at the end.

  Dad didn’t move from his position by the wall. He had his professional face on. You’d think he was disinterested, but he was really taking in every word.

  “We all graduated together.”

  “Do you know why they were out on the water together?” Crown continued.

  “You’d have to ask them,” Steven said, trying not to get annoyed. He didn’t like what Crown was insinuating. He especially didn’t like that he was insinuating in front of Dad. Steven slid Garcia a glance. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t come down Friday to ask all this.”

  “We only got assigned the case this morning,” Garcia said stiffly.

  “What about the agent who interviewed Brian Vandermark on Saturday night?”
Steven asked.

  Garcia and Crown exchanged looks.

  Dad shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “Which agent?” Garcia asked.

  “Brian said some guy with a badge showed up and asked questions.”

  “We’ll talk to our boss,” Crown said. “Probably a mix-up.”

  Garcia didn’t look so convinced.

  The FBI agents left a few minutes later. Steven thought it was interesting that they didn’t ask about Nathan Carter at all. He went back on duty at the pool and saw that Kelsey and Jennifer had both stretched out facedown on their lounges and undone the straps of their bikini tops.

  “Will you put lotion on my back?” Kelsey asked sweetly.

  “And mine,” Jennifer added. “I don’t want to burn.”

  The coconut-smelling lotion made his hands slippery. Kelsey’s back was strong and broad, freckled in the sunlight. Jennifer’s shoulders were smaller but more toned. When he looked at Kelsey he heard her saying, “It was a little fast.” When he touched Jennifer, he remembered how they’d had sex in her big white bed while her parents were away. She’d never complained, not once, about his technique or style or speed.

  At one o’clock, Kelsey starting packing up her things. “I have a hair appointment,” she said. “Dinner tonight?”

  “Sure,” Steven said.

  She kissed him. “Coming, Jen?”

  Jennifer stretched out her legs. “No. I need more Vitamin D.”

  Steven got off his shift at three and ducked inside the locker room for a quick shower. Jennifer was waiting for him in the air-conditioned hallway when he was done. She’d pulled a low-cut white sundress over her bathing suit and freshened her lips with coral-colored lip gloss.

  “I missed you at my party last week,” she said.

  Steven leaned against the wall. “Did you?”

  Her perfectly tanned shoulder came to rest on the wall beside him as she leaned, too. “I shouldn’t tell you,” she said, with wide-eyed sincerity, “but Kelsey’s been complaining about…you know. Your night together.”

  He kept his face blank. “What did she say?”

  She shrugged. “She’s got all the wrong ideas. Too many crazy books. I told her you were the best guy I’d done it with, and she should just learn to relax.”

  Steven studied her perfectly plucked eyebrows and smooth complexion. “Best guy, huh?”

  Her smile was full of straight white teeth. “And I would do it again.”

  He couldn’t deny that he was tempted. Couldn’t pretend he hadn’t spent all day acutely aware of her glossy hair and surgery-enhanced breasts.

  “My parents aren’t home,” Jennifer said. “You should come over.”

  “And what would I tell Kelsey?”

  Jennifer moved in closer. “Anything you want to.”

  Steven felt himself teetering.

  “Have you ever read the Kama Sutra?” he asked.

  “Never heard of it,” she murmured, her mouth hot against his.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Denny got off work at four. He biked over to the marina, but Nathan Carter wasn’t aboard his boat.

  “Walked himself over to the yacht club,” Miss Nellie said from her folding chair.

  A tourist with strawberry-blond hair and a floppy white hat was standing by the wreckage of The Tempest. Yellow police tape still surrounded the boat, but there was no sign of a guard. The strong breeze kept trying to push off the woman’s hat and raise her red skirt up to her hips, which meant she was clutching her clothes while trying to talk into a tiny voice recorder.

  “—you stop to think why anyone would destroy such a fine boat—” she was saying, and then the wind lifted her hat away completely.

  “I’ll get it,” Denny volunteered.

  He chased it down the dock for her. Clattering high heels sounded on the wood behind him. When he grabbed the hat and turned around, the woman was just a few feet behind—pretty, green-eyed, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three years old.

  “Thanks!” she said, and jammed the hat back on top of her wild curls. “I only brought one hat. That’s what you get when you jump into the car only half-packed and forget even to feed the fish. How long do you think goldfish last without food?”

  “A day or two, maybe,” he guessed.

  Her smile widened. “Can I quote you on that? Are you a fish expert?”

  “Mostly I catch and eat them. But I had an iguana once.”

  “You’re an expert in my book.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Lucy Mcdaniel. What do you think of that yacht blowing up?”

  Denny shook her hand. “I think whoever would destroy a ship like that ought to be keelhauled.”

  “I like that!” Lucy reached for her voice recorder. “I’ll have to quote you for sure, now. I’m doing an article for Florida Sail Magazine.”

  “They sent someone down already?”

  “Well, first I have to write it, then I have to try and sell it to them,” Lucy said. “That’s what I do. Freelance writing by day, underpaid and overworked waitress by night.”

  Denny liked her. She talked fast, like someone from New York, but she was the kind of girl he’d like to date if it weren’t for being gay and everything. It was easier to talk to girls. Nothing was at stake.

  “Good luck with the article,” he said. “I’ll read it when it gets published.”

  “Thanks. I hope they find the arsonist. I’ll be watching with you when they keelhaul him.”

  Denny biked over to the yacht club next. The dining room and function rooms were closed, but the lounge was open to some yachtsmen drinking by the sunlit windows.

  “Come on, Steven,” said the bartender. “You know you’re too young to be in here.”

  Denny didn’t bother correcting him. “I’m looking for Nathan Carter. Big guy, blond—”

  “Downstairs in the game room.”

  Nathan Carter was shooting pool by himself while a TV played softly in the corner. He was taller than Denny remembered, but also more handsome. Like a movie star who’d happened to drop by Fisher Key on his way to making a mega-blockbuster action flick. A gay movie star, according to Sensei Mike.

  Carter sank two balls into a corner pocket before acknowledging Denny’s presence. “How you feeling, kid? Cough up all that water yet?”

  He sounded nice about it, like he genuinely cared. Which launched a whole new set of fantasies in Denny’s brain.

  “I’m okay. Thanks for saving my life.”

  Carter sank another ball. Nothing showy about it, just a man doing a job.

  “You’ve got a funny way of showing gratitude,” he said mildly. “Asking about me all over Key West?”

  Busted.

  Denny said, “You made us curious.”

  “If you’re going to make discreet inquiries, the key part is ‘discreet,’” Carter said. “I had four people send me messages. You ever hear the phrase ‘Elephant in a china shop?’”

  “I thought it was bull.”

  Carter raised an eyebrow.

  “In a china shop,” Denny said quickly. “Besides, no one talked. And your friend was pretty clear that we stop.”

  “Which friend?”

  “Agent Garcia.”

  Carter reached for the pool chalk. He was wearing a white polo shirt and khaki pants, all of which showed off his physique very well. “We’re not friends.”

  “That’s not what he told us,” Denny said.

  A pause, then Carter bent over the table. “What else did he say?”

  “Nothing. But he didn’t sound like he was lying. Did the FBI come talk to you today? They talked to me.”

  Carter’s next shot missed.

  “I’m busy today. They’re coming tomorrow.” He straightened. “Why’d you come over here today?”

  “Are you gay?”

  Carter stared at him.

  Denny wished he could surgically seal shut his own mouth. What kind of dumb question was that to blurt out? Especially t
o someone who’d probably studied torture in the military.

  “You don’t have to answer, but some people—it’s not that it matters, but people think it about me sometimes, and they’re wrong, and they should mind their own business, right?”

  Carter was still staring at him. “Are you going to hyperventilate on me?”

  “No,” Denny said.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, I’m going to hyperventilate?”

  “Yes, I’m gay,” Carter said. “Anything else you want to know?”

  Denny had about a thousand questions he could ask, but there was really only one he’d come to ask.

  “I have a friend who wants to join the SEALs, but he got turned down because of some stupid color-blind test. Is there any way he could get around it?”

  Carter started gathering the balls and lining them up in a black plastic triangle. “Would this friend happen to be your brother?”

  “No!” Denny said. “He’d kill me if I told anyone.”

  “So it is your brother.”

  “Can we just remain anonymous?”

  Carter took a pool stick off the wall and offered it to him. “How about this? Win a game, just one game, and we’ll talk.”

  Talk over a candlelit table in some fancy restaurant? Talk while entwined in a big bed, satin sheets twisted around them? Denny’s mind immediately detoured down a list of dirty possibilities.

  “Well?” Carter asked.

  Denny took the pool stick. “Ten bucks says I win.”

  Carter smiled widely. “You’re on, kid.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Kelsey plucked one of Steven’s onion rings from his plate. “Are you going to miss this?”

  “Miss you stealing my food?”

  “This place,” she said. “Everything.”

  They were sitting in a corner booth at the L’il Conch Cafe, music and TVs blaring overhead for the tourist crowd. For a Monday night, the place was pretty crowded—a family of six at one big table, some old folks in the booth behind Kelsey, a pair of honeymooners feeding each other pasta and slices of garlic bread. Steven thought that was kind of sappy. The sun had gone down in a blaze of pink, and now the highway outside was dark and empty.