Case of the Ostentatious Otters

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  I automatically nodded. I even knew the answer to this question, and it was thanks to the research I had done five books ago, for my alter ego, Chastity Wadsworth. I forget which book that was, but I do remember setting it back in the 18th century. I was just as surprised then as Jillian was now, to learn that after Spain finally colonized California, all Spanish ships traveling along the coast, and that included the Manila galleons, had to stop in Monterey. Of the 250 years of trading that Spain did, nearly 30 galleons had been lost. I wish I would have remembered that earlier.

  “You’re kidding,” Jillian exclaimed, as she suddenly lost interest in the jewelry case. “The ships had to stop here, in Monterey? Why?”

  I shrugged, “I never really understood why. But, do you realize what this means?”

  Jillian nodded, “There could be gold out there.”

  “We just learned that there could be sunken treasure out there,” I reminded my girlfriend. “Try to look a little bit excited, okay?”

  Jillian laughed, just as Harry and Julie wandered by.

  “Did we miss something?”

  “There’s a better-than-average chance that Jack Carlton was looking for sunken treasure,” Jillian quietly explained. “Zachary says that a number of Spanish ships stopped here, at Monterey, through the years. A number of them went down, so there could be a sunken ship out there.”

  Julie nodded, “In that case, it makes perfect sense that only a highly skilled diver would try and search for such a ship. That must be incredibly dangerous.”

  Harry snorted, “I’ll say. Jules, it killed the guy.”

  “No, it didn’t,” I corrected. “That neurotoxin probably killed the guy.”

  “He died by drowning,” Harry argued.

  “A professional master diver drowned? While wearing a tank of air on his back? Seriously, Harry?”

  “Hey, it could happen.”

  “It could, but it didn’t,” I insisted. “That tetrodotoxin would have caused paralysis. If you can’t move, then you can’t swim. That’s probably what got him.”

  I turned to reach for a baseball cap, with the words ‘Monterey Bay’ across the front, when I thumped into someone I hadn’t known was there.

  “Whoops, my bad,” I immediately apologized. “I didn’t see you…”

  “Mr. Anderson!” a friendly voice announced, as I trailed off. “What a surprise!”

  It was Chet Mayberry, coin collector extraordinaire.

  “Hey there, Chet. How are you?”

  Another guy appeared next to Chet, holding a light green shirt with a manta ray on it. He was about the same age, in his early fifties, lean as a rail, had chestnut brown hair, and a neatly trimmed beard. He noticed me staring and looked back at Chet.

  “Do you know this man?” he politely asked, in a guarded voice.

  “Of course. This is Zack Anderson. His wonderful dogs located my missing coin.”

  The calm, guarded demeanor was quickly replaced by a smiling, friendly face.

  “How nice! I was just telling Chet how much I’d like to meet you. Oh, I don’t see your dogs. Are they here with you?”

  I looked back at Chet and waited for him to make the introductions. When nothing was forthcoming, I held out my hand to the newcomer.

  “I’m Zachary Anderson. And you are?”

  The newcomer sighed, shook his head, and grasped my hand.

  “You’ll have to forgive my husband. Chet’s mind is probably already off somewhere else, thinking about coins. I’m Roger Parrish. I’m delighted to meet you. You made my Chet’s day with the return of that blasted coin.”

  Jillian appeared by my side.

  “Roger, this is Jillian, my girlfriend. Jillian? This is Roger, Chet’s husband.”

  “How do you do?” Jillian politely asked. “What a surprise, bumping into Chet here, of all places. I would think the locals would avoid us tourists.”

  Roger grinned at us and shook his head, “To be honest, we usually do. However, Chet ruined one of my shirts when he used it as a polishing rag,” he said, as he gave a stern look at Chet, who smiled and shrugged sheepishly. “This store, while trendy, and way too crowded for my tastes, does offer some fantastic prices.” Roger held up three shirts. “Since the one he ruined is no longer here, Chet gets to buy me three new ones. In fact, I have a great idea. Since you returned his missing coin to him, and I’ve had to listen to him prattle on and on about how glad he is that it has been returned, he’s going to buy you your hat and shirt as well.”

  I looked down at the two items I had been holding and fought the urge to whip them behind my back.

  “Hey, I appreciate the thought, but that really isn’t necessary. I was going to…”

  Like magic, the items I was holding vanished from my hands and reappeared in Roger’s.

  “I insist. It’s the least you could do, isn’t it, Chet? I mean, did you even offer these poor people a reward for returning your coin?”

  Chet’s eyes widened, as though he was a deer and had just been caught in a pair of headlights.

  “I, er, no. I didn’t. Well, I should…”

  I held my hands up in a time-out gesture.

  “Just a minute, guys. While I appreciate the gesture, a reward isn’t necessary. We’re here on vacation, and thus far, it’s been a memorable one. You really don’t need to give us anything. In fact, I was going to ask you two if you drink wine.”

  Roger nodded, “Of course. Who doesn’t?”

  Jillian hooked a thumb at me, “Him.”

  It was Roger’s turn to look surprised. “Oh.”

  I waved off his concern.

  “The reason I ask is that, in Oregon, I own my own winery. Do you like Syrah? That’s what my winery is known for. If you start giving me stuff, then I’ll do the same for you two.”

  “Now I’m intrigued,” Roger admitted. “I can say I’ve had my share of wine over the years.”

  “Cases and cases,” Chet confirmed, chuckling. “He is to wine, as I am to my coins.”

  “I still know more about coins than you do about wine,” Roger good-naturedly accused.

  “True.”

  “What winery?” Roger finally asked.

  “It’s called Lentari Cellars,” Jillian answered for me. “We’re from Pomme Valley, Oregon. It’s a small little town in the southwestern section of the state.

  “Lentari Cellars,” Roger repeated. “I don’t think I know that one. But, never fear. I do now. I’ll be sure to pick up a bottle when I see one.”

  I looked over at Chet and realized I had the perfect opportunity to ask him something that I had been wanting to know.

  “Chet, you obviously know your own coin, right?”

  Chet nodded.

  “That coin I gave back to you. Was it in the exact same shape as when you reported it stolen?”

  Chet was already shaking his head, as though he had anticipated the question.

  “Heavens, no. Then again, it’s to be expected. If what you say is true, and an otter was using it to break open shells, then you can imagine that damage can and will occur.”

  “What’s different about it?” Roger suddenly asked, interested. “The level of details on the coin’s face, is that it?”

  Chet nodded, pleased, “Yes. If the coin encountered any currents in the ocean, and was dragged over the surface of any rocks…”

  “…or if an otter used it to open his dinner,” I added.

  Chet grinned at me and nodded, “Exactly. Wear and tear is to be expected.”

  “I guess what I’m asking,” I lamely continued, as I struggled to search for the proper way to phrase my question, “based on how long the coin hasn’t been in your possession, could a period of 8 months change the coin’s appearance as much as it has?”

  Chet slowly nodded, “I see where you’re going with this. Yes, there are some major differences. The detail on the castles has been greatly diminished. The mint mark is no longer as crisp as it used to be.”

  �
�Can that type of wear and tear occur over that short amount of time?” Roger asked.

  Chet shrugged, “It’s hard to say. No one has really done an experiment on a coin that age to see how it would break down in seawater.”

  “Is there any way I could get a picture of it?” I asked. “I’d love to be able to show people what I found and that it could be part of a pirate treasure.”

  “Pirate treasure?” Roger repeated. “Where in the world did you hear that?”

  “It’s based off all the research I’ve done for one of the books I’ve published. Monterey used to be a stopping point for many Spanish ships in the 18th century, after Spain colonized California.”

  Roger snapped his fingers, “Right. I had forgotten. Well, since you asked, I can send you a copy of what Chet sent me yesterday, when he announced his coin had been returned. He sent me a picture to confirm it.”

  “I couldn’t help it,” Chet grinned. “I was in a good mood.”

  Jillian smiled warmly at the coin collector and his husband as I pulled out my cell and handed it to Roger. A few moments later, a new text message had arrived and voila! I had a picture of the coin I had – ahem – stolen from an otter.

  As we bade our goodbyes and exited the gift shop, my cell rang. At least, I thought it was mine. Seeing nothing on my display, I looked at my girlfriend.

  “For once, that’s you.”

  “Oh. Let me see who it is… it’s Julie. Hi, Julie! We were just leaving the… what? What’s wrong? Slow down. What’s going on?”

  Concerned by the worried tone of voice Jillian was now using, I gently pulled us out of the steady stream of foot traffic and guided us to an empty bench nearby.

  “No, I’m sure everything will be okay. All right. Stay there. I’ll be right over.”

  Jillian finished the call and looked at me with concern evident on her face.

  “That was Julie. She and Harry had a huge fight, which resulted with Harry storming off. She sounds like a mess right now. I’m sorry, Zachary. I have to go to her.”

  “At what point did they wander off to have their fight?” I curiously asked. “I mean, they were just with us a few moments ago.”

  “I don’t know, Zachary. Oh, I have a bad feeling about this.”

  I held out my hand, “Give me Watson. You go take care of Julie.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  I held up my phone and tapped the display.

  “I was thinking about returning to the library to see if I can learn anything else about this coin.”

  “Shouldn’t you go after Harry?” Jillian asked.

  I shook my head, “If Harry got mad enough to steam off in a huff, then we should let him calm down. There’s someone who doesn’t react well to bad news. The question I’m wanting to know is, what bad news was he given?”

  “I’d like to know that, too,” Jillian confessed. “I don’t understand what happened. They were getting along so well.”

  “Go see what you can do,” I suggested. “If you need me for anything, then just give me a call. Where are you going to be?”

  “Julie is down at the water, near the location where we first found the body.”

  “Even with my supremely terrible sense of direction, I’ll be able to find you. If not, well…” I held up my phone, “…I’ll cheat.”

  Jillian gave me a brief hug before hurrying off.

  The library, I knew, was a little bit longer of a walk, and granted, I probably should have used my ridesharing app, but it was nice outside, and I didn’t mind the walk. Neither did the dogs. Besides, it gave me time to think. More specifically, about just what the hell was going on with my good friend, Harry? Why weren’t the two of them getting along? Was there something he wasn’t telling me?

  Back at the library, and armed with a photo of the coin I was researching, I quickly found a website that specialized in locating and cataloguing shipwrecks. All you had to do was enter some search parameters, like the year(s) you’re interested in, the geographic location, and so on, and the website would produce a list of shipwrecks known to include those coins.

  Inputting ‘Spanish galleon’ under keywords, ‘1721’ for the year, and ‘California’ for location, I hit ‘Search’ and sat back in my chair, eager to see what results would appear. As I mentioned before, there were several wrecks that happened along the Pacific Coast. There, directly in front of me, were two damn-good possibilities, and as I read through the specifications of each of them, my excitement grew. I gave each of the dogs a thorough scratching behind the ears and settled down to read. Both dogs slid into ‘down’ positions and elected to watch the people milling about.

  The two results that appeared on my screen were for two different ships. The first was nicknamed Wax Galleon. It was so named because, for hundreds of years, huge chunks of wax kept washing ashore. These large slabs of wax were then carbon dated, and discovered to be from the late 1600s.

  It was very unlikely that this was the ship I was looking for, due to the location involved, namely the Oregon coast. Why, then, would it appear amidst the results when I searched for California? Because chunks of beeswax had washed ashore as far south as Northern California. However, the general consensus was that, somewhere in Oregon, there was a shipwreck containing thousands of pounds of beeswax, and that it was about 500 miles north of where it should have been. So, this couldn’t be our ship.

  The second, more promising result was for a ship called San Augustin. In the year 1735, San Augustin departed Manila, en route for Acapulco, Mexico. Loaded with spices, silk, gems, and even some porcelain from the Ming Dynasty, this 200-ton ship was supposed to have been wrecked in a place called Drake’s Bay, which would have placed the ship roughly 170 miles from here. However, the wreck of the ship has never been found, and that certainly wasn’t for a lack of trying.

  Now, I will admit that there still was no definitive proof that the ship Chet’s coin came from was the San Augustin. However, it was a damn fine suspect. The next question I wanted answered was, if found, could anyone lay claim to the ship?

  The answer to that, thanks to the Abandoned Shipwreck Act of 1987, is a resounding ‘no.’ The US government would hold title over any ship found within its territorial borders. Additionally, striking another nail in the coffin of any hopeful treasure hunters, if the shipwreck falls within the boundaries of any marine sanctuaries, or National Parks, then it was all but certain that the government would never allow salvage operations, regardless of how much treasure was at stake.

  If Jack Carlton had located San Augustin, then no wonder he never told anyone about it. To do so would be akin to finding a huge treasure chest full of riches, and then handing it to the government, saying, ‘Here you go! Don’t spend it all in one place.’ There was simply no way our deceased diver was trying to pull this off by himself. He had to have an accomplice, but the question was, who?

  Armed with my newly acquired knowledge, I texted Jillian to see if she was still down at the water. She replied almost immediately, which made me think she had been waiting for my message. Hopefully that didn’t mean things were going badly with Julie and Harry. The last thing I wanted to see was another of our friends going through a painful divorce. On the plus side, though, the other friend of ours who had visited divorce court this year, Hannah, had finally had her divorce finalized and, thankfully, her attorney prevented her deadbeat husband from getting a single penny out of her. Then again, Jillian and I both pitched in to cover the cost of the attorney, and both of us opted to get the best one we could afford.

  I found the girls sitting on the sand down at the beach. Much to my shock, Harry was with them! Also compounding my confusion was the fact that everything looked so normal. Harry and Julie were laughing together, while Jillian was smiling. Sherlock and Watson hurried over to the water’s edge and, suddenly, I had my hands full with trying to prevent two dogs from diving nose-first into the water. Both corgis, I should add, then gave me the stink eye when they realize
d a dip in the cool, refreshing water wasn’t on the itinerary.

  Jillian beamed a smile at me as I strolled up and cautiously sat down on her left. After a few minutes, Sherlock trotted over and gave my hand a lick, while Watson climbed into my lap and promptly went to sleep. I guess I was forgiven? Or else it was a ‘We apologize in advance for what was about to come’ gesture. I sincerely hoped it was the former. Just then, a family strolled by, caught sight of the dogs, and stopped to ask if they could pet them. Five minutes later, after numerous belly rubs had been doled out, the dogs’ admirers wandered off. Jillian stroked Watson’s red and white fur for a few moments before giggling.

  “I don’t know if these two dogs have ever had so much exercise and attention,” Julie said. “Practically everyone that walks by wants to stop and say hello to them.”

  “And you noticed we’re ignored,” I guessed.

  “Completely, man,” Harry agreed.

  I looked over at my best friend from high school and studied his face. What, exactly, had happened? And why had he stormed off? And, more importantly, what had brought him back and had him acting like nothing had happened? Harry cracked a joke just then, which brought a peal of laughter from Julie. I immediately nudged Jillian’s shoulder.

  “Is everything all right? I wasn’t expecting to find Harry here when I arrived.”

  “Everything is fine,” Jillian assured me. “It was just a bad reaction on Harry’s part.”

  “A bad reaction to what?” Harry asked, overhearing his name.

  Jillian turned to Julie and held out a hand to me.

  “Perhaps you’d like to fill Zack in on what happened? I know he was just as worried as I was, and now you two have confused the heck out of him.”

  Julie stretched out an arm and laid a hand over mine.

  “I’m so sorry for getting you guys so worried. It was just bad timing, and a less than favorable reaction from Harrison, who has since apologized.”

  “I did, man. I didn’t react well, and I’m truly sorry.”

  “You didn’t react well to what?” I wanted to know.