Something Fishy

by Lois Schmitt

  The police needed to question Moray. I doubted he’d evade their inquiries the way he did mine. It was time for Katie to go back down to the police station and insist on a missing person’s case. Tomorrow would be the fourth day since Sam had vanished.

  Meanwhile, I had a job to do.

  Bradford Monroe and Commander West had wandered off. Ruby Diamond stood by herself. I dashed over before someone else grabbed her attention.

  “Ruby Diamond?”

  “Yes.” She eyed me suspiciously.

  “I’m Kristy Farrell with Animal Advocate Magazine. I’d like to ask you a few questions.” I pulled out my pad and pen.

  “Animal Advocate Magazine, huh. Let me guess. You’re in favor of the aquarium expansion.”

  “You’re not?”

  “Leave the land alone. We don’t need more development.”

  “But the expansion will enable the aquarium to work on problems such as pollution of our waters and vanishing marine species.

  “It will bring more tourists. Thousands of people will come trampling through.”

  “It’s my understanding that some of the new areas, such as breeding grounds, will be off limits to the public.”

  “Still, won’t work. Listen, I’d like to talk to you but not now. I need to organize my forces before the meeting. Why don’t you come to my place tomorrow?” She reached into her bag and handed me a card that read: Ruby Diamond Pottery. Underneath was her address followed by the phrase, “One mile east of the Cove Motel.”

  I noted that the address was down the road from the aquarium. I was pretty sure it was adjacent to the twenty acres that were for sale. I smiled. Who wouldn’t want to live next to vacant pristine land?

  “I’ll be there all day. I live in back of my studio,” she said.

  “Fine. l’ll see you late morning. I’m curious about your organization.”

  She scooted off and joined two young men—one clean shaven and one with a billy goat beard. I wandered to the spot in the corner where Commander West and Bradford Monroe appeared to be wrapping up a conversation with a woman who was holding up a sign that read, “Nine Out of Ten Living Things Live in the Ocean—Support the Aquarium.”

  As the woman departed, Commander West said, “That lady is chair of one of the major environmental groups on Long Island. We have the support of the local university, major science groups, and all local environmental organizations.”

  “Not all,” I said. “What about Friends of the Fish?”

  Bradford made a pickle face, then answered. “I question whether that organization exists or if Ruby Diamond has a personal agenda.”

  Before I could question Bradford about his comment, he and the Commander excused themselves to talk with another group of supporters. I turned and spotted Katie Chandler. She appeared to be deep in conversation with two older men. I started navigating in her direction when the sound of a banging gavel stopped me in my tracks.

  “Will everyone please find a seat. I’m councilwoman Brady and I’ll be running tonight’s meeting. Just a reminder. This meeting’s purpose is to ask questions, get answers, and dispel rumors.”

  Katie and I made eye contact, and she maneuvered her way to meet me. “The people I was talking with are Sam’s co-workers,” Katie said as we both slid into chairs. “They don’t know where he is either. Did you find out anything from Moray?”

  “No, but I have a strange feeling he’s hiding something,” I replied in a low voice. “Tomorrow, you should contact the police again. They need to hear Moray’s message on Sam’s voice mail.”

  Councilwoman Brady called the meeting to order. The program started with Moray’s power point presentation on his condo complex of seventy-five units, ranging in size from one to three bedrooms. The facility included two pools, two Jacuzzis, a tennis court, restaurant, club house, and small marina.

  “I hope that pompous twit Bradford Monroe can raise the extra money so the aquarium can buy the land,” Katie whispered in my ear. “Moray will destroy the ecosystem.”

  “Katie, you’re contributing six million from your grandmother’s will. If the aquarium falls short on its fund raising, can you provide more?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Grandma left twelve million for me to distribute in two years to three organizations that she specified. But she also left restrictions. One is that no more than six million can be given to any one group.”

  “Ssh!” A lady, resembling my third grade teacher, Miss Clump, turned around and frowned.

  Chastised, we stopped talking and listened as members of the audience shot off questions to Moray. Commander West came next, his presentation also followed by questions and comments. It was apparent most of the audience had formed opinions and taken sides long before tonight’s meeting.

  I was reading my notes when a familiar voice on the microphone caught my attention. I jerked my head up and looked toward the podium.

  “I’m Ruby Diamond, Chair of Friends of the Fish. Moray Development is just another example of corporate greed. But I want to address the pseudo environmentalists here. I say pseudo environmentalists because that’s what they are. Using more bay front for the aquarium is not the solution. This land should NOT be developed and—”

  “Ms. Diamond,” Councilwoman Brady interrupted. “These twenty acres have been zoned commercial since the 1950s. They are grandfathered in. Whoever buys the property has the legal right to develop it. They’ll need to file for permits with the building department. If the plans don’t conform to village standards, and a variance is necessary, they’ll need to come before the zoning board.”

  Katie whispered in my ear, “The village council wants the condominiums. As do members of the zoning board. Most are part of Clam Cove’s business community. Besides, the tax revenue will far exceed anything that the aquarium could bring in.”

  “So if Moray succeeds in buying the land, he’ll get just about any variance he wants?”

  She nodded.

  The meeting continued with more speakers. Some were proponents of the aquarium, others in favor of Moray Development. But Ruby Diamond and the two young men sitting next to her appeared to be the only group against either, making me wonder about the size, strength, and legitimacy of Friends of the Fish.

  During the next hour, those approaching the podium only repeated what had been said before, so my mind wandered back to Sam Wong and Jack Patterson. I leaned over and whispered to Katie. “Could Jack’s death have anything to do with the land fight?”

  “Jack had nothing to do with the acquisition. He was only a fish keeper.”

  I still wondered if there was a common thread.

  The meeting ended after midnight. I said my good-byes and headed outside, my breath visible in the cool autumn night air. Once in my car, I sped off westward, leaving the village and soon finding myself on a lonesome country road.

  Only a slither of a moon and a handful of stars shone in the early October sky. I saw nothing but the dark shapes of trees, haystacks, and pumpkins growing in fields, as well as the outline of an occasional barn or house. At night, this was a desolate area. I turned my lights on bright and slowed down, worried an animal would dart in front of me.

  The road curved southerly, now running adjacent to the bay. I passed the aquarium, its domelike structure transformed by darkness into an eerie sentinel against the sky. Then came the vacant land—the twenty acres of untouched sandy beach and shoreline now bathed in total blackness.

  Suddenly, lights flashed from the water.

  A boat, I reasoned, probably night fishermen.

  But a boat should provide a steady stream of light, not flashes.

  The flashing stopped, and once again, I saw only darkness.

  Then lights flashed again.

  But this time, they came from the beach.

  Chapter Nine

  “You
seem in a good mood today,” I said to my husband when he stepped into the

  kitchen the next morning. He appeared happy but preoccupied. He still hadn’t asked what my mother was doing here.

  “I’m in a great mood.” He poured coffee into a mug and gulped some down. “I’ve figured out a way to generate more business for the veterinary hospital.”

  “Sounds good. Tell me,” I said.

  “Not yet. There are a few kinks I need to work out.” He winked.

  I hated when people winked. Especially people who were members of my family. It always meant trouble.

  *****

  If I’m anything, I’m a multi-tasker. While driving to Clam Cove for my interview with Ruby Diamond, I confirmed the caterer for the dinner tonight with my mother’s fiancé and made an appointment with the aquarium’s head fish keeper for my second article for Animal Advocate which was entitled “Dangers of the Deep.”

  As I neared my destination, the road curved, and I found myself driving parallel to the bay with its sandy beaches, occasionally dotted with restaurants, motels, and marinas. I spotted the Cove Motel and slowed down. Ruby’s pottery studio was a mile east of here. Soon her pink shingled cottage came into view.

  I noted it was only a few yards from the empty stretch of beach where I spotted the flashing lights last night.

  A barefooted Ruby, dressed in a green and purple caftan, answered the door, and a strong odor of paints greeted me inside the house. I was thankful the window on the right side of the house was partially open.

  I swept my gaze across the room. On the left, was a kiln and potters wheel. Two long tables, with paint jars and a collection of vases, pots, and urns, were placed against the right wall.

  “Beautiful work,” I said. I wandered toward the last table. “Do you sell these?”

  Ruby nodded.

  Since the items were for sale, I assumed I could examine her work more closely. I picked up a modern looking, zebra-striped vase. It was heavier than I expected, and it almost slipped out of my hands.”

  “Please don’t touch anything,” Ruby said as she grabbed the vase from me and placed it back on the table. “I would hate to see my creation smashed to bits if you accidentally dropped it. Plus, I have a buyer for that item.”

  “Of course.”

  “If you want to purchase my pottery, a gift shop in the village sells it.”

  “Is this how you make your living?”

  “Art is more than a job. It’s my passion. My parents were both doctors, and they wanted me to follow in their footsteps. I attended medical school for a year. It wasn’t for me. I want to create.”

  “Were your parents disappointed?”

  “I guess so. I haven’t spoken to them in ten years. Enough about me.” She motioned toward an aluminum folding chair, located toward the back of the room. “Have a seat, and I’ll tell you about Friends of the Fish. Here’s a flyer describing our group.”

  The paper she handed me was no more than a puff piece providing Ruby Diamond’s contact information and stating the organization’s goal of keeping the beach pristine. I stuffed it into my bag.

  “How many members do you have?” I asked, settling into the chair and pulling out my pen and pad.

  “We’re not large. But we have hundreds of supporters.”

  “But how many actual members?”

  “We don’t pay dues or keep lists so its hard to say. But again, the key is those who side with us. Most are afraid to go public. They’re too tied into the establishment.”

  At last night’s meeting, the hall overflowed with residents, some in favor of the aquarium, others were with Moray. But aside from Ruby Diamond and two young men, no one seemed to support Friends of the Fish.

  “Would you say you have fewer than twenty members?”

  “Probably, but that’s not the issue.”

  “Fewer than ten?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “How long has your group been in existence?”

  “Don’t know exactly. I guess we came into being when news of the aquarium’s expansion plans became known.”

  “Okay. Let’s talk about something else. I can understand your opposition to Moray, but why are you against the aquarium?”

  “It’s well intentioned but wrong. Tourists trampling over the dunes.” She frowned. “It’s not natural.”

  “But that wouldn’t be allowed to happen.”

  “Not true. There is going to be a camp.”

  “For scientists. They won’t trample or do anything to harm the environment. Besides, you live on the beach.”

  “I exist as one with nature. Most people aren’t aware—”

  A sharp rap on the door interrupted our conversation.

  “I’m not expecting anyone else.” Ruby frowned then eyed me suspiciously. “You didn’t bring a photographer, did you?”

  I shook my head.

  Ruby rose from her chair as the door flung open. The young man with the billy goat beard who had attended last night’s meeting stepped into the room. His plaid shirt hung over a pair of torn jeans, and his feet were encased in flip flops.

  “We need to talk now about next Thursday, Ruby. I don’t like that it’s not on Tuesday anymore and that they’re moving the time up two hours—”

  “I have a visitor,” Ruby said, gesturing in my direction. A look of fear flashed through her eyes.

  The man frowned. “What’s going on??

  “This woman’s a reporter for Animal Advocate Magazine. She wants information on our organization.”

  “I’m Kristy Farrell.” I extended my arm. “And you are?”

  “Kyle.” He squeezed my hand, perhaps a little too tightly.

  “Are you a member of Friends of the Fish?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’d love to get your view for my article.” I flipped a page on my notepad. “What’s your reason for joining?”

  He glanced in Ruby’s direction.

  “He doesn’t want the land developed,” Ruby answered. “Right, Kyle?”

  He nodded.

  “Are you an active member of Friends of the Fish? Are you an officer?”

  “Officer?” He stared at me as if he didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  “We’re not organized like a traditional group,” Ruby said. “I’m chair of the group, but we don’t have a vice chair, secretary, or treasurer. We sort of go with the flow with everyone pitching in when needed.”

  “What do you do for a living, Kyle?” I asked.

  “He runs a kayak rental and sales business,” Ruby said as she gently touched my elbow. “I’m sorry, but Kyle and I have work to do. I think I’ve told you what you need, but if you want more information, call me later. My number is on my card.” She ushered me out the front door.

  I never liked getting the bum’s rush. Something was up.

  As I lingered near the doorstep, I noticed Ruby and Kyle watching me through the front window. I headed to my car, but once out of sight, I made my way to the right side of the house where I spotted a garbage can near the open window. I knelt down and hid behind it, straining to hear the conversation inside the cottage.

  “I’m worried about the set-up a week from Thursday,” Kyle said. “I don’t like that it’s being moved up to ten o’clock. That’s too early—”

  “Ssh!” Ruby interrupted.

  “Why should I be quiet? There’s no one here.”

  “My window is open because of the paints, you fool. Voices carry. That snoopy reporter may still be hanging around. Let’s go in the back to my apartment.”

  They left, and I was no longer in earshot.

  Making my way to my car, I reviewed what had occurred. I’d learned nothing new from Ruby, except Friends of the Fish appeared to have only a few members. Basically th
e organization existed on paper.

  But, more importantly, something was happening a week from this Thursday. Something that Ruby didn’t want Kyle to talk about in my presence.

  Chapter Ten

  Back home, I fed Archie and Brandy, then shooed them into the back yard at my mother’s request. God forbid her fiancé should wind up with dog hair on his clothes.

  Mom was upstairs getting ready for tonight’s dinner party. I plopped myself down by the kitchen table with a glass of white wine, my thoughts wandering to Ruby Diamond, Jack Patterson and Sam Wong when Matt burst through the door. Judging by the spring in his step, his day had gone well.

  “Are you ready to hear my idea for attracting new clients?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear. “A fall festival for animal lovers.”

  A fair? This was his plan to save the veterinary hospital.

  He reached into the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and popped the cap. “I’m not the only one feeling the pinch from the Health and Wellness Center for Companion Animals. Estelle’s Dog Grooming, Todd’s Canine Training School, and Jackson’s Pet Sitting Service are also losing clients.”

  “When is this going to happen?”

  “We’re coming together in my parking lot on the third Saturday in October, so residents can find out about our services. People can bring their pets. We’ll have an animal photographer for complimentary photos, sample treats, agility competitions with prizes—”

  “Who’s paying for this?” I was always the practical one.

  “We’re still looking for sponsors—”

  Before he could finish, the front doorbell chimed.

  “That must be my brother and Barbara.” I rose from my chair and we headed out of the kitchen. “We’ll talk about the festival later.”

  The front doorbell chimed again.

  “Yup. Gotta be Tim and Barbara.” My sister-in-law’s signature was impatience.

  I pulled open the door, and Tim and Barbara stepped into the living room. The four of us did the kiss and hug bit.

  “I can’t believe your mother has a boyfriend,” Barbara said, rolling her eyes as Matt poured drinks. “Shouldn’t she be busy with Bingo and line dancing?”