by Elaine Viets
They’d lifted Ceci’s body off the bottom, but she was still facedown, her brown hair spread out like seaweed on the water.
Helen shivered in the hot sun. “Oh, no,” she said. “No, no, no.”
“What?” Phil asked.
“I think Ceci’s dead,” Helen said.
“It’s too early to give up hope,” Phil said. “You’d be surprised what lifeguards can do.”
“Ceci!” Daniel screamed when he saw his wife. He started out toward her, splashing water everywhere. Jim and Phil held him back by the arms.
“Stay here, dude,” Jim said. “The guards know what they’re doing.”
On the pier, people shouted confusing suggestions: “You both should get on her right side,” one screamed. “Take her head by the hair,” another shouted. “Flip her over and drag her out by her feet,” a third said. Others snapped cameras and cell phones like demented paparazzi.
Helen saw Kim snap the rescue tube onto Garcia’s rescue board, while Daniel struggled to break free of Phil and Jim’s grasp.
“She’s my wife,” he said. “Let me do something, please!”
Now Kim waded to Ceci’s right side, pushed the closest arm under the water and reached for the other. Garcia, the second lifeguard, helped her turn Ceci. At last she was faceup, her head cradled in Kim’s brown arm, her body floating in a straight line.
“Her face is out of the water,” Daniel cried. “Brilliant!”
The crowd cheered.
Helen didn’t see anything to cheer about. Ceci’s head lolled against the lifeguard’s shoulder. Her mouth hung open. She didn’t gasp or sputter. Her arms and legs were lifeless. Her lips were nearly blue and she had a jagged gash on her forehead, but it wasn’t bleeding.
“This is bad,” Helen whispered.
“It doesn’t look good,” Phil said, “but the lifeguards will work on Ceci when they get her on the beach.”
Garcia slid the rescue board under Ceci’s body, while Kim held her face out of the water. Kim took the front of the board, Garcia took the back, and they hauled it toward the shore.
The water was shallow now, only about two feet deep. Spectators crowded closer, watching with avid eyes, as if Ceci’s drowning had been staged for their entertainment.
“Please move,” Kim said to them, with a polite tone Helen didn’t think the ghouls deserved.
In less than three minutes, they were back on the beach. The rescue board had skids and moved easily across the sand. Ceci was still rubbery and slack jawed. One pink-nailed hand flopped over the side. Helen watched closely but didn’t see Ceci’s chest move.
Garcia ran to the red ATV and came back with a thermal blanket and a small plastic suitcase.
“Back off so we can resuscitate this woman. Move, please,” Kim said to the crowd. Sand Castle Daddy gathered up his son’s bucket and toys and carried the boy away. Others were not as courteous.
“Please back off,” Kim said, her voice harder. “Clear the beach. Now.”
The sharp command got through. The gaggle of men and women shuffled back, never stopping their obscene staring.
Kim opened a pouch around her waist and snapped on blue protective latex gloves. Garcia wrapped the blanket around Ceci. Kim placed two hands in the center of her chest and pushed down hard, twice.
“Ow,” said a scrawny tattooed guy with a cigarette butt dangling from his mouth. “Right on the boobs. That’s gotta hurt.”
Daniel turned on Mr. Tattoo, his voice soft with menace. “That’s my wife, asshole,” he said. “Get out. Get out or I’ll kick your ass up between your shoulder blades. This isn’t a show, losers. My wife is in danger. Beat it.”
A large woman in a World’s Best Grandma T-shirt looked ashamed and left. The rest of the crowd slunk farther back. Mr. Tattoo tossed his cigarette butt in the sand but stayed. The crowd had a scruffy, feral look, like a coyote pack.
Kim continued the chest compressions, but Helen didn’t see any sign of life.
Garcia had opened the small suitcase and snapped on his gloves. “The AED is ready,” he said.
“What’s an AED and why is Garcia attaching those wires to Ceci’s chest?” Helen asked.
“That’s an automated external defibrillator,” Phil said. “It’s supposed to help restart her heart.”
“But Kim is still pressing on Ceci’s chest while Garcia uses the AED,” Helen said.
“They’re doing the right thing,” Phil said. “She’s still out cold. Combining an AED with chest compressions and rescue breaths is the best treatment for someone who isn’t breathing.”
“She’s still not breathing,” Helen said.
“Come on, Ceci,” Phil said quietly. “Breathe, dammit.”
But Ceci didn’t move. Her skin was gray under the pink sunburn. Her wet brown hair was a flat cap.
Helen heard a siren now, then another howl as Daniel wailed, “Honeybunch, wake up. Please.”
Ceci could have been a wax doll.
An EMS ambulance slammed to a stop in front of Sunny Jim’s trailer. Four muscular paramedics bounded out, spoke briefly to the lifeguards, then rushed Ceci onto a wheeled stretcher without removing the blanket or the rescue board. The paramedics worked briefly on Ceci. Helen thought they were attaching an oxygen mask, but it was hard to tell.
Seconds later, they hustled her into the ambulance, still trying to revive her.
“Ceci!” Daniel cried. “That’s my wife. Where are you taking her?”
“Riggs Beach General,” a ponytailed woman paramedic shouted as she slammed the ambulance door.
“Where’s that?” Daniel said.
“I’ll drive you,” Sunny Jim said. “Phil, get the boards and lock up. Then meet me at the hospital.” He tossed Phil a set of keys.
“Will do,” Phil said, running toward the trailer.
The ambulance rolled off in a blur of flashing lights and sirens. The feral crowd melted away and left Helen alone on the trampled sand.
A huge wave washed up and wiped out the sand castle, caving in the crenulated towers and taking back its seashells.
CHAPTER 6
Helen couldn’t stop shivering. Phil ran to Sunny Jim’s trailer, threw open the door, yanked out a beach towel and wrapped Helen in it.
The sun-warmed towel felt good, but Helen was still shaking. It was too much: Ceci’s awful husband, the botched rescue, the lifeguards bringing her possibly dead body back from the strong current. Phil held her in his arms. Helen leaned her head against his chest and he rocked her gently.
“That poor woman,” she said. “Do you think Ceci will make it?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “She still wasn’t breathing when the ambulance took off. Even if she survives, there might be brain damage if she didn’t get enough oxygen.”
“I hope her husband feels good and guilty,” Helen said. “He told her she looked like an orange pumpkin in that life jacket.”
“Those kind never feel guilty,” Phil said.
“Sir?” It was a third lifeguard, a woman clutching a red plastic clipboard. “I’m Zone Lieutenant Samantha Jenecek.” Lieutenant Jenecek was about five foot six and had a red pixie cut. But those weren’t Tinker Bell muscles. She had an athlete’s fit frame. “Do you know the victim’s name? Could I get a witness statement from you and your friend?”
Helen said quickly, “I’m Helen Hawthorne,” in case Phil introduced her as his wife and blew their flimsy cover.
The lifeguard nodded.
“Did Ceci ever start breathing?” Helen asked.
“She’s going to a good hospital,” the zone lieutenant said, evading the question. “Riggs Beach General handles all the beach and boating accidents. Do you know the victim’s last name?”
Before Phil could answer, a second siren shrieked and a Riggs Beach police car swung to a stop in front of Sunny Jim’s, spraying sand. The officer sauntered over to them like a gunslinger in an old cowboy movie. Helen had a hard time taking the officer’s John Wayne str
ut seriously when she saw the Riggs Beach logo on the police car: a blazing yellow sun wearing a smile and shades.
He was scrawny, with no-color hair and a pale complexion pebbled with pimples. “Officer James, Riggs Beach Police,” he said. “Did you witness the drowning?”
“Has the woman been pronounced dead?” Lieutenant Jenecek asked.
“Don’t know if she’s dead or alive. She’s at the hospital,” the pimpled officer said. “We already had an officer at the ER. He said the victim had arrived but didn’t report her status. What did you see?”
“Two of our lifeguards pulled her out of the water about twenty minutes ago,” Lieutenant Jenecek said. “The woman’s husband and Jim Sundusky, the paddleboard concession operator, followed her to the hospital. The lifeguards returned to their towers, as per Riggs Beach Ocean Rescue procedure. We can’t leave the beach unguarded. These two civilians were with Sundusky. They stayed behind.”
“Stick around, you two,” Officer James said. “I need to talk to other witnesses.”
What other witnesses? Helen wondered. The beach was nearly deserted. The ghoulish gawkers had melted away, leaving a residue of trash-strewn sand. The camera clickers were gone, too. A few swimmers were splashing near the lifeguard tower, as if Ceci’s emergency had never happened.
“What’s the victim’s name?” Officer James asked, giving Lieutenant Jenecek a lazy smile. He wasn’t immune to her good looks.
The lieutenant was all business. “Her husband called her Ceci. He took off before I could get more information.”
“I have it in our company computer,” Phil said. “Ceci and Daniel rented paddleboards from Sunny Jim. Okay if I look it up?”
Officer James nodded yes. Helen stayed to eavesdrop.
“What caused the victim to fall into the water?” Officer James asked.
“I didn’t see that,” Lieutenant Jenecek said. “Kim, the Tower Three lifeguard, witnessed it. I took her statement. She reported that the victim was on a stand-up paddleboard. The victim strayed into the no-swimming area near the pier. The lifeguard blew her whistle and shouted at the woman to turn back. She thought the woman was trying to turn around when she toppled off her board. There was a strong west wind and she couldn’t handle the board. When the victim didn’t get back on, the lifeguard radioed emergency response and I alerted 911. I came on the scene when the lifeguards were carrying her out of the water.”
“Did the lifeguards see anything that looked like she’d been pushed or deliberately harmed?” Officer James asked.
“I asked the Tower Three guard,” Lieutenant Jenecek said. “She said no. But visibility isn’t good in that area. The waters are murky from the rip current.”
“Did she see anyone in the water who was close but not making an effort to render aid?” the officer asked.
“Like I said, the victim was in a no-swimming area,” Lieutenant Jenecek said. “No one else was in the water there. As soon as the lifeguard blew her whistle, Jim Sundusky and the woman’s husband tried to run out to rescue her, but they didn’t know what they were doing. Our lifeguards arrived first: Kim, the Tower Three guard, and Garcia, in Tower Four.”
“Did the husband impede the rescue?” Officer James asked.
“He didn’t aid or impede it,” Lieutenant Jenecek said. “He obeyed their orders and let them proceed. The lifeguards got the victim faceup and on a rescue board. She had a cut on her forehead. They thought maybe she hit a piling when she fell and was knocked unconscious.”
“How would you describe the current?” he asked.
“Strong,” Lieutenant Jenecek said. “The lifeguards carried the rescue board with the victim to the beach, where they tried to revive her until the paramedics showed up. The paramedics were still working on her when she was loaded into the ambulance.”
“Did the paddleboard rental operator follow proper safety procedures?” Officer James asked.
“Like what?” Lieutenant Jenecek looked puzzled.
“Was the victim wearing a life jacket?”
“No, but stand-up paddleboarders aren’t required to wear jackets in a swimming area. When she strayed into the restricted area, the lifeguard signaled her to turn around, but it was too late.”
Phil returned and read from the iPad screen. “The couple’s name is Odell, Daniel Marcus and Cecilia Ryan Odell,” he said. “They live at 225 Clafin Drive, Kirkwood, Missouri. That’s part of St. Louis, I think.”
“A very nice part,” Helen said.
“What did you see, Miss, uh . . . ?” Officer James asked.
“Hawthorne,” Helen said. She gave him her name and address but didn’t mention that she and Phil were working undercover. Florida state law wouldn’t let private eyes divulge much about their work without their clients’ okay.
“It happened so quick,” she said. “One second Ceci was paddling on the board and the next she was underwater.”
“Did you hear the lifeguard blow her whistle? Did she warn the victim to move to a safer area?” Officer James asked.
“Oh, yes,” Helen said. “It looked like Ceci was trying to do that when she fell off the board.”
“Where was Mrs. Odell when the lifeguards reached her?” Officer James asked.
“About a third of the way out on that pier,” Helen said, pointing toward the area. “Where that couple is standing. Except she was in the water. Under it, actually.”
“Was the victim wearing a life jacket?” he asked.
“No,” Helen said. “She put one on, but her husband made fun of her and she refused to wear it.”
“Did you take any photos or videos of the incident?”
“Lots of people did, but I locked up my camcorder in the trailer when I ran out to help,” Helen said.
The officer asked Phil similar questions. Phil said he first noticed Ceci was in trouble when the Tower Three lifeguard blew her whistle. Sunny Jim wanted to paddle out to help her. Her husband, Daniel, took a paddleboard to rescue his wife, but he couldn’t get on his board. The lifeguards asked them to stay away and they followed their orders.
“Did the victim have any paddleboard training?” Officer James asked.
“One lesson from Sunny Jim on Riggs Lake,” Phil said. “Ceci did well and wanted to go out on the ocean today. She and Daniel made reservations, but this morning he said he didn’t want to go out even though he’d paid for a board.”
“And Mrs. Odell didn’t wear a life jacket?”
“Not after her husband said it made her look fat,” Phil said.
“Did Sunny Jim insist she wear the life jacket?” the officer asked.
“No, he couldn’t force her to,” Phil said. “He did insist that she keep the jacket on her paddleboard. I carried her board out to the water and Jim brought the paddle and the life jacket.”
“Was Mrs. Odell a good swimmer?” Officer James asked.
“She said she was,” Phil said.
The officer turned back to Lieutenant Jenecek. “Did the tower guards see a life jacket on the paddleboard?”
“You’ll have to ask them,” she said. “If you have any further questions, you can interview them. They’re off duty at five o’clock.”
“What about you, Miss Hawthorne?” the officer asked.
“I saw Jim carry a life jacket and a paddle when Phil took her board to the ocean. Jim didn’t come back with either one.”
“But you didn’t actually see him put it on the board?”
“No,” Helen said.
“Did you notice a life jacket in the water when the lifeguards went out to help Mrs. Odell?” he asked.
“No,” Helen said, “but it could have been swept away in the rip current.”
“Are you an expert on ocean currents?” Officer James asked.
“No,” Helen said. Why was the officer cross-examining her?
“Officer, if we’re finished here,” Phil said, “my customers are waiting to return their paddleboards. Can I help them?”
“I ha
ve your contact information,” he said. “You can go. You, too, Miss Hawthorne.” He pulled out two business cards, wrote a number on them and said, “If you remember anything, contact me. That’s the case number.”
“What was that about?” Helen said, as she and Phil loped across the trampled sand. “That police officer sounded like a frustrated trial lawyer.”
“I didn’t like it, either,” Phil said. “Seemed like he had it in for Sunny Jim.”
The two Aussie tourists stood by the trailer with their boards, flirting with a pair of bikini-clad office workers. Their damp hair hung in ringlets and their noses were sunburned.
“Have a good time?” Phil asked the muscular blond Aussie in the blue board shorts.
“Bloody right, mate, until we saw the amby and then the blue heelers,” he said.
“The what?” Phil asked.
“The ambulance and the cops—the police. Something happen?”
“A woman fell off her board and was taken to the hospital,” Phil said.
After an awkward silence, the blond Aussie said, “Hey, it’s beer o’clock. We should get out of the bloody hot sun and into a cold beer.”
“We like beer,” said the tall office worker in the yellow bikini.
“Is the woman going to be okay?” Ms. Pink Bikini asked.
“We hope so,” Phil said. “How was your mental health day?”
“We’re still crazy,” Ms. Yellow Bikini said, “but now we’re thirsty. We’re going to decide whether the USA or Australia makes better beer.”
“An important step toward better international relations,” said the blond Aussie solemnly. The group left together, laughing.
“We can go when we find the last three boards,” Phil told Helen.
Daniel and Sunny Jim’s boards were still on the beach, next to their paddles. Helen and Phil carried them back. Ceci’s board wasn’t floating near the pier.
They walked along the beach. The board and paddle had washed up a quarter mile south, sandy but undamaged. There was no sign of the missing life jacket.
Phil brushed the sand off the board. “I’ll get it,” Helen said.