Diver Down (Mercy Watts Mysteries)

by A W Hartoin

  “You have a key? That’s great. Just because someone lets you in, doesn’t mean you have to go,” said Mom.

  It kinda does.

  Mom’s voice went up. “Are you listening to me?”

  No, not really. When do I ever?

  “Yes, Mom. I’m listening.”

  “You can’t get involved with that kidnapping. It’s bad enough that you got involved with the Carrows’ problem.”

  “I thought you liked them,” I said.

  “I do,” said Mom.

  “Then what’s your point? You want me to let Lucia get killed, so I won’t mess up our vacation?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I want you to stop looking for trouble.”

  “Trouble comes to me. Giftwrapped,” I said.

  “Well, don’t open the package. I’ve had enough of this with your father. You’re supposed to be a girl.”

  “There are girl detectives, you know.”

  “But you’re not one. You need to remember that,” said Mom.

  I crossed my arms. “Then stop making me work for Dad, if you don’t like it.”

  That stumped her, a feat I’d never before accomplished. She couldn’t have it both ways. I don’t think she’d ever thought she couldn’t have exactly what she wanted. I had to admit her track record said she could.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” said Mom.

  “If later means never, I’m totally for that,” I said.

  “It means later. Come on. You have to talk to your aunt. She’s serious about this gardener.”

  Now she’s my aunt.

  Mom took my arm and I gave a pleading look to Aaron, who was polishing his butter knife on his shirt. Hopeless.

  “Just let it go, Mom,” I said. “He’s a nice guy.”

  “You don’t know the whole situation.”

  “Because no one will tell me.”

  “That’s beside the point,” she said.

  “Not to me. And I’m not going to talk to Aunt Tenne about this. She can do what she wants.”

  “She doesn’t know what she wants. I’m her sister. I always take care of her.”

  I walked off toward the restaurant with Aaron trotting behind me.

  Mom yelled after me. “I made some calls!”

  I halted and Aaron ran into me with an oomph. “What calls?”

  “I know people. Your father knows people.”

  “Tell me you didn’t have Bruno put on the terrorist watchlist.”

  “Not yet. Talk to Tenne. She’ll listen to you. She thinks you walk on water,” said Mom.

  “No!” I yelled. “I will not!

  “Yes, you will!”

  “Then tell me why!” I yelled so loud, my throat felt like it’d been strip-mined.

  “I can’t!” Mom yelled back.

  “Fine! Stay right there.” I stomped up the stairs to my room, flung open the door so that the glass rattled, and grabbed my lock picks. I went back down and took Mom’s arm.

  “Where are we going?” she said, while trying to wiggle out of my grip.

  “To see why you should leave Bruno and Aunt Tenne alone.”

  “There’s nothing on earth that could convince me of that.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  I dragged Mom through a maze of paths and promptly got lost. Aaron took over and we arrived at Bruno’s door in five minutes, instead of the twenty it would’ve taken me. I knocked on the door. No answer, so I opened my lock pick case.

  “No, no, no,” said Mom. “This is breaking and entering. We are not doing this.”

  “Why’d you let Dad give me this kit then, if I’m never supposed to use it?” I asked.

  “I…I…”

  Score!

  “This will only take a second and then I want you to back off Bruno, okay?”

  “Fat chance.”

  I stuck my picks in the lock and listened for the click, which came faster than I expected. I turned the doorknob. “You know, Mom, I’ve never understood that phrase. Fat chance means the chance is big, right? So in this case it’s accurate.”

  Mom crossed her arms. “I’m not going in there.”

  “Aaron,” I said.

  He poked Mom in the back with his butter knife. She yelped and turned on him. “You think I should go in there?”

  “You’ll listen to Aaron and not me?” I asked.

  “Aaron is sensible.”

  “How can you tell?”

  We looked at my partner, who was now picking his teeth with the butter knife. Sensible was not the word I’d use.

  “Go in,” he said with the knife still in his mouth.

  “Alright. Then I will.” Mom flounced in and I waited outside.

  “Why does my mother like you so much?” I asked Aaron.

  He kept on picking his teeth and shrugged. “Everybody does.”

  I considered the statement and it was true. I’d never met anyone who didn’t like Aaron. He was like a panda, fat and odd-shaped, but nevertheless irresistible to the general population. I’ve never been a panda person, though. I didn’t get it.

  Mom stepped out of Bruno’s room, white-faced and silent.

  Oh, crap! Has Bruno slashed the paintings or put blood on them or something?

  I squeezed past her and peeked in the room. The paintings were intact and there were a few more. Bruno had moved on to yet another technique. Chiaroscuro, if memory served. Aunt Tenne was painted as the Madonna, nude from the waist up, and so beautifully done in light and shadow it made me a bit breathless. Rembrandt would’ve been jealous. I left the room reluctantly and relocked the door.

  “So what do you say now?” I asked.

  Mom gazed at me with big green eyes filled with tears. “He’s a genius.”

  “He is, but even if he only loved Aunt Tenne that would be enough. Call off the dogs. If she’s making a mistake, so be it. She’s been sad my whole life. Bruno makes her happy. Who cares if it doesn’t last? At least she’ll be happy for awhile. That’s better than nothing.”

  “I’m worried about the fall,” said Mom. “She can’t handle it.”

  “We don’t know what will happen, but I do know something should happen. She’s been alone too long.”

  Mom hooked her arm through mine and we walked back to the restaurant. Dixie and the Carrows still sat at their table, laughing. The Gmucas were at the bar, probably ordering more drinks for me to throw on cruise ship passengers.

  “There you are,” said Dixie. “We were just talking about taking a glass-bottomed boat tour. What do you think?”

  I looked over at Lucia and Graeme. Their color was good and they’d both eaten. “How do you feel?”

  “Great,” said Lucia. “This whole thing has been weighing on me. I’m so glad it’s over.”

  “Over? Since when is it over?”

  “We heard that the cops are looking for that Colin character.”

  “I never liked him,” said Graeme. “He always looked stoned. The cops think he’s the reason Andrew was kidnapped. Didn’t you know that?”

  “I did, but that doesn’t mean he tried to kill you and Lucia.”

  “Who else could it be? Nobody else was there every time something happened,” said Lucia.

  Aaron ran off to the bar and I sat down, feeling tired again. Lucia had a point. No one else was around at all the incidents. He was diving with us during both scuba incidents and I’d seen him in the vicinity during both poisonings. Colin as a hitman. It was a little weird, but what wasn’t in the world of crime?

  “Colin is the suspect at the moment,” I said.

  “But you’re not convinced,” said Graeme, his fingers drumming the table.

  “Not yet. We have zero evidence.”

  “We have motive,” said Dixie. “He has gambling debts.”

  “That’s true,” I said. “It’s probably him. Dad always says that crime is crazy, but it has a certain logic to it.”

  Dixie smiled. “If it looks like a duck, it ain’t a freaki
ng camel.”

  Mom burst into laughter and we joined her, causing half the restaurant patrons to stare in our direction.

  Dixie dabbed her eyes with a napkin. “That was something my husband, Gavin, used to say.”

  Mom and I waited for her to start weeping, but she didn’t. Her dark eyes were sad, but there was a remembered happiness in there, too.

  “But it might be a goose,” I said. “That’s how my dad always finished Gavin’s saying.”

  “I’m not sure what that means,” said Lucia.

  “It means that most murders are exactly what they look like. If it looks gang-related, it probably is, but it might not be the gang you originally suspect,” I said.

  “There are outliers,” said Mom. “Thrill killers, for instance.”

  “You think a thrill killer was after us?” asked Graeme.

  “Not for a minute,”I said. “I think it’s money.”

  “So Colin fits,” said Lucia.

  “He does, but we’ll have to see when Tabora finds him.”

  “If he finds him,” said Mom. “This island isn’t exactly easy to search.”

  “As long as they find Andrew, I don’t care,” said Dixie. “So what about that tour?”

  “I’m going to lay on the beach,” I said.

  “We’re up for it,” said Graeme.

  I stood up. “I’d rather keep you in bed, but if you think you’re up to it, I just need to do a wound check.”

  Lucia sucked in her lips and gave me the big eyes.

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “I sort of took the packing out.”

  “Why in the world?”

  “It was itchy.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I still have to check it.”

  “No more packing. It feels so weird.”

  “Are you going to be difficult?”

  Graeme stood up and laughed. “Probably, but let’s get a move on.”

  Lucia and Graeme led the way back to their bungalow. He seemed completely normal and she wasn’t limping hardly at all. Mom and Dixie said they had to change and split off from us when we got there. Their bungalow was so clean, it was a relief after Joe’s disgustarama room. Lucia laid down and unwrapped her bandage. There wasn’t any pus, only good white granulation, a sign that healing was well under way.

  “So?” asked Lucia.

  “Alright. I give in. You’re looking very good, so I won’t pack it again. You have to keep it dry, though, and don’t overdo it,” I said as I rewrapped her thigh.

  Lucia touched my hand. “Have you talked to my brother lately?”

  “Nope. My phone died a watery death. Have you?”

  “Only every day. I’m still not ready to tell him about the diabetes. Please keep it to yourself when you see him after we get back.”

  “Maybe I won’t see him,” I said.

  It was Lucia’s turn to roll her eyes. “Haven’t you learned anything about our family yet? You will definitely see Oz. There’s no way you can avoid it.”

  “So have you told him about the stabbing and poison?”

  “Not yet. I’ll tell him after Colin is charged,” she said.

  “Sounds reasonable,” I said. “Just between the three of us, assuming Colin is charged, will he make it to trial?”

  Lucia sighed. “I doubt it. And I won’t have any say in that decision. Aunt Calpurnia won’t ask me my opinion.”

  “So she really runs the whole deal.”

  “Just between us, yes. She’d like you.”

  “She’d scare the crap out of me,” I said.

  “I doubt it,” said Graeme. “You don’t appear to scare easily.”

  I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I agreed. What was scared anyway, if it didn’t have an effect? I’d been afraid for my life plenty of times. There were other times I should’ve been terrified, but I was too stupid to know it. Either way it didn’t seem to make much difference to me. I didn’t have an off switch. I just kept going, whether it made sense or not. I didn’t want to meet Lucia’s Aunt Calpurnia, though. It just wouldn’t be healthy.

  I left after giving them a lecture on hydration and resting. Lucia and Graeme nodded, but they were listening to me about as much as I listened to Mom. I opened their door and found Aaron standing there, holding an extra-large glass.

  “What have you got?” I asked.

  “A synthehol smoothie. I invented it.”

  “Imagine that. What’s synthehol?”

  “Synthetic alcohol that doesn’t get you drunk.”

  “So this is a fake drink?”

  “No, it’s real.”

  I took the drink. “You are so weird.”

  “Don’t give it away.”

  “I won’t.” I sucked down half of Aaron’s latest creation and went to change into my swimsuit. I found my remaining one-piece hung on the back of my bedroom door and it too had the seams ripping out. Was someone trying to tell me something? I wasn’t too big for that suit, was I? I drank the rest of my smoothie and felt pretty good, despite the fact that I was busting out of my seams. How much alcohol was in that thing?

  “Aaron!” I didn’t let him in, but if he wasn’t there, I would’ve been shocked.

  “Yeah!”

  “I thought so. What was in that smoothie?”

  He listed about twenty ingredients, including macerated blackberries, but only a shot of chocolate liquor. “You hungry?”

  “Not anymore.” I found Chuck’s gift bag still stuffed in my suitcase and pulled out the teenie bikini.

  Groan.

  It fit like latex and I’ve never felt so obvious in my life. Then there was another obvious thing in the room. An idea that had never before occurred to me and I felt kind of stupid even thinking it, but once that thought got in there, I just had to ask.

  I peeked around my door to find Aaron standing there with, you guessed it, another fishdog. Gross. “Aaron, why do you follow me around?”

  “Tommy told me to.”

  “Is that the only reason?” This is so stupid. “You’re not like in love with me or something, right?” I asked, wincing.

  “Huh?”

  Sigh of relief. Aaron in love was too bizarre to be seriously contemplated.

  Wait a minute.

  “Aaron, is there another reason you follow me around? I mean, a reason besides Dad.”

  “Yeah.”

  I waited and predictably nothing happened. “Okay. What is it?”

  “Chuck.”

  “What about him?”

  “You won’t let him follow you, so I gotta do it.”

  I ducked back in my room and put on my cover-up, which looked like used Kleenex. So Chuck wanted me stalked. Why did everyone think I was so incompetent? I hadn’t gotten killed yet. I hadn’t even gotten that close, only within say three hairsbreadth. Not too bad. I came out and Aaron followed me to the beach, right on my heels as usual.

  “When did Chuck tell you to follow me?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “He didn’t.”

  I spun around and waited for Aaron to stuff the rest of his dog down his gullet. “So why are you following me for Chuck, if he didn’t ask you to?”

  “He wants me to.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know.”

  Okay. That’s about as clear as chocolate ganache.

  Hmmm. Ganache.

  I found the perfect spot on the beach and ordered a Monkey Lala. Bruno was raking the sand in front of The Aviary and I suffered a wave of guilt. It didn’t happen very often, guilt, but something about Bruno made me feel worse than the time I stole Dad’s car, drove it around with fifteen friends stuffed in it like a clown car. They were drinking White Russians and guess what got spilled? The smell was unbelievable. Dad still couldn’t talk about that without veins popping out on his forehead.

  Confession is good for the soul or so they say. I’d never found that to be true, especially after being grounded for three months, but I thought I’d give it another go.
I handed Aaron my drink and squared my shoulders. Aaron started to get up.

  “Don’t follow me,” I said. “I can handle this alone.”

  Bruno spotted me at ten paces and leaned on his rake. I bit my lip and tried to look more regretful than I felt. I did feel guilty, but I wasn’t sorry. Now that was a familiar situation for me.

  “Bruno, I have to tell you something,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “I broke into your room.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not surprised?”

  “No.” His face was as impassive as Aaron’s usually was.

  “Why not? How often do people break into your room?”

  “Never.”

  Usually when I made that sort of confession there was a lot of yelling. I didn’t know what to do with the quiet, but the guilt was definitely worse.

  “Do you want to know why I did it?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You invaded my privacy.”

  Oh, yeah. Privacy. I had so little of it, I forgot that other people did.

  “My mother was going to put you on the terrorist watchlist to keep you out of the U.S.”

  His eyes widened just a smidge. He was surprised. Thank goodness.

  “She’s crazy. She would’ve done it. I had to show her your work. It was the only way.”

  “My work is private,” he said.

  “It still is,” I said. “It’s only Mom and she’s not that bad.”

  “You said she’s crazy.”

  “Well, there’s that, but she’ll back off and leave you alone.”

  As much as she leaves anyone alone. Cringe.

  Bruno went back to raking. I was not forgiven and it sucked. I settled back on my chair with itchy guilt weighing on me and with it unreasonable anger. I guess I could’ve let Mom go all Mama Bear on him. Is that what he wanted? Dixie came down and told me they were taking off for their tour and I watched Lucia and Graeme get into a water taxi with Mom and Dixie. At least that felt good. They were okay. It was our second to last day and we were almost in the clear.

  I woke up with a fresh sunburn an hour later with three guys standing over me. I squinted at them.

  “Haven’t you heard about sunscreen?” asked Mauro.

  “The only sunscreen that works for me is called a tent. What happened? Did you talk to the right people?”

  Spitball laughed and scratched the grey stubble on his chin. “I wouldn’t call them right, but we put the word out.”