Pressing on his left eye to alleviate the omnipresent tingling and twitching, which he knew presaged stabbing pain, Gary climbed the narrow staircase to his bedroom. He rolled his suitcase out of the closet and lifted it onto the bed. He began to fill it with his usual travel kit: two suits, three dress shirts, Ferragamos, belt . . .
Stopping mid toss, he let a recently laundered (medium starch) dress shirt slip out of his hand to the floor and laughed.
Won’t be needing dress shirts in Mexico!
Feeling better already, leaving the mostly empty suitcase on the bed, he trotted back downstairs. He’d just buy what he needed when he got there. Maybe he’d get some shorts or those loose linen pants plantation owners in the tropics favored. Go commando. Probably not.
Back in the dining room, he scanned the contents of his briefcase. Everything seemed to be in place. Passport. Mineral rights paperwork. An extra copy tucked away in a safety deposit box. Laptop. Chargers. Everything was there.
He clicked it shut and took a last look around the place.
Keys in one hand, briefcase in the other, he locked the front door and walked to his car. Three minutes later, he pointed his car toward Southern California.
In several hours, the freeway exit said Castaic. Castaic? What the hell did that mean?
The blinding pain was coming, but he’d learned to keep it at bay for a while with deep, even breaths. Soon, he’d have to pull over at a rest stop for a few hours’ rest. Real sleep was something more than he could hope for.
Getting through LA would take at least two hours, no matter what time of day he got there. No way to avoid that, but he’d still get into Jasper by late afternoon.
He’d already called and set up the meet.
It took three stopovers and the last of his pain pills, but he finally made it. If only the pain would stop. He arrived at the sea otter center just as a tired sun hovered above the horizon.
He pulled straight into the side entrance as directed and parked next to an older model, small silver Audi he assumed belonged to Ms. Sauvage. The upper lot was empty.
He glanced at his watch. Relieved. Just enough time to conduct his business and make his flight. It was scheduled to depart SNA at 10:07 p.m. Red-eye to Guadalajara. He’d pump himself full of alcohol and sleep the whole way.
Patting his briefcase for reassurance, Gary turned off the engine and got out of the car. He reached into the back seat to retrieve another item, a North Face rolling bag, which was empty.
Solange Sauvage, expressionless, stood silently waiting for him, silhouetted in the doorway. Green light from the exit sign mingled with the light flowing through the blue glass on each side of the door, transforming her into a diminutive, female Poseidon.
A stiff breeze sharply snapped the metal grommets of the canvas banners against the metal flagpoles above, startling the seagulls perched there.
Shutting the door behind him after he ducked in, Solange lead her guest back, past an office and into a large lab.
Gary looked around the room and down the hall.
“Don’t worry, no one’s here. The volunteers won’t come in until tomorrow morning, and I sent Gina and Dennis down to La Jolla to evaluate an injured sea otter. They’ll be gone overnight. I offered to take their shift.”
Solange walked around the island and took a seat on one of the swivel stools, facing him, delicate hands folded on the cool, empty surface.
Her black eyes glittered with unidentifiable emotion. She indicated he should take one of the stools on his side. The sun’s last rays streamed in the back doors, flooding the gleaming surface of the lab table with a brief but fiery lava red.
Gary walked over but remained standing. Rolling the proffered seat out of the way with his foot, he placed his briefcase on the slab, popped open the locks, and lifted the top, removing the mineral rights deed for lot 429. Pushed it across where she could read it.
“It’s all there. Registered and filed, rightfully mine.”
Solange glanced at the papers but did not reach for them or respond.
Gary continued, feeling a little nervous. This wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d anticipated. Something was definitely wrong.
“It’s worth a lot more than a million,” he continued. “You’re getting a bargain. Lucky for you, a million is all I need.” He didn’t see a duffel bag or briefcase anywhere. “Where’s the money?”
Solange continued to gaze at him steadily, but said nothing.
Finally, she cleared her throat and looked him right in the eye. “I don’t have it,” she said simply.
He was momentarily stunned. What came out of Gary’s mouth was more sputter than anything else, and he took half a step back, as if he’d been physically struck. He definitely had not been expecting this.
What did she mean she didn’t have it? Of course she had it. She had no choice! If she wanted to save her precious sea otters, she’d jump at the chance to secure the mineral rights so no one could drill for oil under her little aquarium.
This was supposed to be easy, a quick stop on the way to the airport.
“Give me the money!” he raised his voice.
Solange stayed where she was.
“You have to pay!” he said, leaning forward, then starting to walk around the five square feet of lab table separating them.
This is ridiculous! Is she going to make me beat it out of her?
“You’re being filmed, Mr. Schofield,” Solange informed him calmly.
“What?!” Gary said, wildly looking around the room.
“Oh, you won’t see them. The cameras are hidden. I had the security system beefed up after Dennis was attacked. From your arrival to your latest vile threat, every slimy word has been recorded.” She let this sink in, then continued. “I’m not giving you any money—not one dime. You can’t just extort money from people,” she said, her voice rising in quiet determination. “You can’t just demand payment—this isn’t some mob movie.” Solange stood. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” she said.
The room was almost dark. In silhouette, she looked like a delicate, snowy egret, guarding her nest from an overbearing hawk, just inches away now.
“You lose, Mr. Schofield. Go ahead and sell the mineral rights. No one is going to let anyone drill for oil under a sea otter sanctuary. That paper is worthless!”
With that, Solange reached for a button hidden under the counter.
All reason fled what was left of Gary’s working brain.
29
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Fury and frustration rose in equal measure. Almost of its own accord, his left arm shot out and grabbed and yanked her toward him. Long, sinewy fingers wrapped tightly around her throat, he effortlessly lifted her completely off the ground.
Solange writhed and fought, scratching desperately at his hands. Eyes bulged, face contorted with the effort. Gary looked on dispassionately, as if someone else were doing the strangling. Finally, Solange’s body went limp. He let her slip silently from his fingers into a small heap on the tiled floor.
The killing brought an unexpected calm. For no particular reason, Gary went through her purse and was rewarded with eighty dollars in twenties. Must have just been to the ATM. Let them film him. He’d just murdered a woman. He didn’t think adding petty theft would be any big deal. Besides, she was probably bluffing about the security cameras. Like those fake “ABC Security Service” or the “Beware of Attack Dog” signs people stuck in their lawns or in the corner of their windows. Useless.
He put the file back in his briefcase. It was still valuable—just to someone else. He had two other buyers—and they didn’t care about disturbing sea otters.
Gary’s only job now was to get to the airport and make his flight. He needed to get out of the country as soon as possible. It was dark now, but he didn’t turn on any lights. He
could see well enough. Didn’t need to have some beach jogger identifying him.
Solange hadn’t made it to the panic button, but he didn’t know how often the security company checked their video feed, if there really was one. The panic button could have been a dummy, too. No sense taking chances.
Felix or Bill would come up with the cash. He could handle everything from Mexico. Should have started with the two obvious sources, anyway. He should have known anyone idealistic enough to throw their money away by building a home away from home for sea otters wouldn’t think practically and just pay the money.
Stupid woman.
Before he could leave the lab, he heard a heavy clunk. Something mechanical, like a gear, engaged across the room.
Now what?
The elevator.
No time to hide the body.
He quickly crouched down behind the center island.
“Gina? Dennis? Anybody home?”
Gary risked a quick look around the side. In the dark, he could see his visitor was a kid, but since his eyes were adjusting to the dark, the kid couldn’t see him.
Carrying a large, unwieldy stack of clothes, pushing his feet ahead to avoid stumbling, the boy was edging his way toward the cubbies along the right wall.
Gary held his breath, waiting. Maybe the kid wouldn’t notice the dead body on the floor. He wasn’t sure he could see it from that angle.
“Somebody want to turn a light on in here?” the boy called.
No, someone doesn’t.
The boy was Jeff, and the laundry he carried was a gift of love.
All the volunteers got two T-shirts, a pair of overalls, and boots. The boots got hosed off and stored in the bottom cubby at the end of each shift. Purses, keys, and any clothing you didn’t want to wind up smelling like fish was stored on the top shelf. The rain ponchos and welders masks hung from hooks next to the cubbies. Everyone had to wear one when working with the otter.
Since laundry facilities didn’t come with Amy’s summer cottage rental, Jeff volunteered to do her otter duds with his.
“My mom doesn’t mind at all,” he’d insisted, “she won’t let me wash my fishy clothes with anything else, anyway—might as well throw yours in there, too,” he told her when Amy said he didn’t have to do that. It was as close as he was likely to get to Amy, he knew. He’d seen her fiancé. Tall, handsome, smart. Had a job. And he’d seen the way they looked at each other. But he couldn’t help the way he felt. He’d do anything for the strawberry-blond mermaid who swam through his dreams.
He wasn’t brave enough to use her name, but decided to leave a copy of the song he wrote for Amy with her things. She’d find it in the morning. If she liked him at all, she’d realize the song was about her and let him know she returned his feelings. If not, he’d just pretend he’d written the song for someone else.
That would work.
It was dark, but the back doors were open, so Jeff could see well enough to find Amy’s cubby and put her stuff inside. Decision made, he placed the flash drive on top, taped to a note he’d worked on for hours at home.
New song—let me know what you think, the note said.
He hoped that sounded nonchalant enough.
Maybe Dennis and Gina were out on the deck or had to check on the otter pool or something. He walked through the open doorway, leaned over the railing.
“Gina, Dennis, anybody here?”
No one answered. Straightening up, he turned to go back into the lab, then froze. Something straight out of a sci-fi nightmare loomed between him and the safety of the lab. A faceless, alien monster stood before him. Darth Vader in a suit.
Jeff was suddenly acutely aware of everything.
“What do you want?” he asked, pressing himself back against the railing. “I don’t have any money,” he yelled, throwing his car keys at him. “Here! Take my car—it’s in the parking lot.”
The monster didn’t answer.
Jeff turned and raced down the metal stairs, taking two at a time, but the monster stayed right behind him.
Nothing personal, kid.
30
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Amy turned south onto PCH. She’d spent the afternoon and early evening at Fashion Island doing prewedding shopping, just like she’d promised her mom when she borrowed the car. She really was doing wedding shopping, just not with Liam like she said, and not all day.
She did find some cool stuff, but everything she liked was really expensive. The thought of being Liam’s wife filled her with joy, but the actual details of planning a wedding were proving to be a little overwhelming.
Traffic was heavy in both directions, but steady. The radio said a storm was coming in, but for now, the coast basked in the last rays of an afternoon sun. Everything from highway to hills glowed warm, reflecting a crimson and tangerine sky. To her right, the sun flooded the ocean with liquid mango.
She couldn’t wait to get to the center. She needed some Sadie time! Amy had long since given up thinking of the orphaned sea otter pup as Otter 1, though she kept up the pretext around Gina. She had an idea Dennis knew she wasn’t following all the rules, but so far he hadn’t ratted her out.
In order not to arouse suspicion, she would only have about an hour with her little pup. Gina and Dennis were down in La Jolla checking out a stranded otter—a possible new resident for SSOS, a friend for Sadie, she hoped—but they might decide to drive back today, instead of spending the night down there. If they did stay overnight, Gina would make arrangements for one of the other volunteers to cover the night shift, so she didn’t have much time.
When she arrived, it was just dark, but a few small security lights lined the gravel road that led to the main parking lot.
Telling her mom she was doing some registry selections with Liam and Liam she was going wedding dress shopping with her mom was a brilliant plan. With only five reminders to drive safely and be sure to push the clutch in all the way before shifting, her mom finally handed her the keys to Lola for the afternoon and evening. Her mom said she was doing some work in her studio anyway and wouldn’t need to drive anywhere. She had seemed pretty distracted. Apparently there was some kind of funding problem. Her mom would straighten it out. She always did.
Liam was happily ensconced in his dining table office at their rental cottage, writing a journal article on the local kelp-bed restoration project he’d been working on with Tava’e’s cousins. He hoped to publish it soon.
Normally a truthful person, Amy only felt slightly guilty about this deception. She just couldn’t think of any other way to get some time alone with Sadie. From the minute she looked in the orphaned sea otter pup’s eyes, a fierce flood of warmth surged through her body. She’d never known such a primal, instinctive protectiveness and love.
Logically, she knew the ultimate goal of every sea otter pup rescue was release back into the wild, but they just built this beautiful aquarium. They had a whole empty sea otter paradise here! Why shouldn’t Sadie have the benefit of leading a long, safe life versus being thrown back into the ocean, which was full of sharks and crazy people on boats with outboard motors and pollution!
Still, her conscience nagged. Was she doing it for herself, or for Sadie?
Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she got out of the car. Dark clouds meant rain was on the horizon, though they were still a ways out. She wasn’t going to be long, but she left the top up anyway, just in case. Anyone raised in a beach town knew weather changed quickly. And her mom’s car had leather seats.
Faint thunder sounded in the distance. The air smelled like rain. She let herself inside.
Wanting to save a few minutes by taking the elevator directly down to level 1 versus going in the side entrance, which was farther from the elevator, Amy parked in the main parking lot by the fountain. Gina gave them all keys to the main entrance so she
or Dennis didn’t have to keep coming up to get them every time.
Sadie’s favorite food was shrimp. The little otter had graduated from Dennis’s clam shakes last week and, ever since, ate a healthy amount of shellfish every day. All Sadie’s food was now stored on level 1 in the large freezers and refrigerators that would feed all the residents once they were fully stocked.
When she turned right at the T to park in the main lot, Amy noticed a big black sedan next to the employee entrance. Gina must have gotten a new car. Weird. Didn’t seem her style. She didn’t peg Gina for a major boat car. That was something old people drove.
Looked like they took the Jeep down to La Jolla. Maybe that meant they would bring the injured otter back and Sadie would have someone to play with once it was nursed back to health. If it was a mature female, maybe she could even act as a surrogate mother. Gina said Sadie would need an older female otter to teach her how to be a sea otter. Amy wished she could change into a sea otter so she could show Sadie how to dive, find shellfish, roll over, and groom her fur perfectly.
Only in Disney movies.
Level 1 was dark. Dungeon-like on a good day, tonight it was definitely spooky with no one around, so Amy didn’t waste any time. Filling one of the plastic buckets halfway up with a healthy shrimp snack for Sadie, she shut the freezer and hit the “Up” arrow for the elevator. The light was on a timer and would go off in a few seconds. Inside, she pressed the button and impatiently waited for the ding signaling her arrival at level 2, where her charge was housed. It arrived with a clunk before the doors opened.
Eeeeeee! Eeeeeee!
Nothing wrong with Sadie’s ears. Amy’s little sea otter knew that ding meant company, and usually, company meant food. Not bothering to go back to her cubby to change clothes or don the mask and poncho outfit, Amy turned right into the otter tank room where Sadie was waiting for her, calling at the top of her little lungs.
“Hey, little girl! Hungry?” Amy said, reaching into the bucket with the scoop for some shrimp. Her charge was definitely hungry.
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