Secrets of the Treasure King
Page 10
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Rick
DEPUTY BAKER LOOKED up from her inspection of the lock on the equipment room door. “Do you have any idea when someone might have jimmied this?”
It seemed like a silly question to Rick. Mancini hadn’t even noticed the problem, and Heather had appeared shocked by the discovery. And now they were looking at each other as though the breach in security were the other’s fault.
“Like I said before, I thought somebody left it unlocked.” Mancini’s jaw clenched and his eyes cut to the side.
“Somebody?” Heather scoffed. “Really? Deputy, that’s Gavin’s euphemism for saying he thinks I screwed up.” She returned the look of irritation Gavin had given her. “I didn’t.”
“So anyone could have entered this room unnoticed and stolen the speargun,” Rick said. “Who knew what was kept in here?”
“They all did,” Mancini said. “Carroll insisted on giving all the passengers a tour.”
“Since you docked, has anyone from Seaside Cove been aboard?” Deputy Baker asked.
“No,” Mancini said.
Heather again rolled her eyes. “For crying out loud, can’t you be civil, Gavin?” She looked at the deputy. “Only passengers and crew are allowed aboard. Morris was very particular about that.”
“That seems to cut down our list of suspects,” Rick said. “Nobody from town had access or would have even known about this room.”
“Security through obscurity,” Baker said.
“Exactly.” Rick eyed Mancini, then Heather. They’d both known about the room, the weapon, and had access. “Mr. Mancini, where were you between the hours of six p.m. and nine p.m. last night?”
“I know my rights,” Mancini grumbled.
“Gavin…they’re just doing their jobs.”
“Sure. Whatever. I had an early dinner on board, then went for a walk to the lighthouse around six. I was back here by seven and in my cabin reading.”
“Is it a good book?” Rick asked. “I’m always looking for recommendations.”
Mancini smirked. “Boring, actually. I’m studying maritime navigation. I want to get my pilot’s license.”
The answer, while not exactly specific, gave Rick what he wanted—a quick response that probably meant Mancini really had been reading. “Doesn’t sound like my cup of tea,” he said.
“Did you leave your cabin at any time after you got back?” Baker asked.
Gavin shot a glance at Heather, stretched his neck to one side, then the other. “No. I was alone all night.”
Baker made a note on her pad, then looked at Heather. “And you, Ms. Sanna?”
“After the dinner debacle at the Crooked Mast, I went for a walk, too. I had to cool off and I’d heard it was a good walk out to the lighthouse.”
“Wait,” Rick said. “You both went to the lighthouse? Did you see each other?”
They replied in unison. “No.”
Baker seemed unconcerned by the overlap. “What time did you get back here, Ms. Sanna?”
“I got back around seven-thirty. I watched TV in my cabin until about nine, then went to sleep.”
“And did you see Captain Carroll, either alive or dead, on your way back?” Baker asked.
“No.”
To Rick’s surprise, Baker turned and fixed him with an intense stare. “You were involved in the confrontation at the Crooked Mast. You didn’t happen to run into the captain after your little dinner, did you?”
Rick put a hand to his chest and shook his head. “I took Marquetta home. She wasn’t feeling well after that whole incident.”
Baker grunted. “She never did deal with confrontation very well. I’ll have to talk to her, too.”
“You think Marquetta killed Captain Carroll? You can’t be serious.”
“This is a murder investigation, Mr. Atwood.”
Rick held his ground with Baker, unwilling to break eye contact first. After what felt like an eternity, Baker huffed and returned her attention to Gavin. The confrontation between them heated up with Baker demanding access to the entire boat; Gavin refusing to cooperate; and Heather mediating between the two. Standing on the sidelines, Rick was thankful that Heather seemed able to moderate Gavin’s hostility. If she hadn’t been around, this would probably have turned into the equivalent of a battle between two roosters in a ring.
At first, Rick tailed behind as Gavin and Heather guided Baker through the boat, but as the search wore on, he grew increasingly distanced from the questions and answers—and more concerned that they would not find the answers they needed on The Treasure King.
Tired of the deputy’s methods, Rick texted Marquetta.
—Was Baker always a bulldog?
—She was always goal oriented.
Rick considered the message. Goal oriented. That could mean a lot of things.
—More about results than feelings?
—Always.
—She’s searching the boat for a missing speargun. Feeling like a third wheel. BTW, she says she’ll want to talk to you about where you were after I dropped you off.
After a long pause, Marquetta’s response came through.
—Got breads coming out of the oven. Have to go.
What did that mean? Was she really in a rush? Or was that some sort of code for something else? Between his questions over Marquetta’s response and the bickering over every detail of the search, Rick found himself on edge. Enough was enough, he thought once they were on the main deck.
“It looks like you have this under control, Deputy,” Rick said. “I’m going to talk to some of the people around the docks.”
“Sure. Good idea.” The deputy immediately turned away and demanded she be shown the top deck.
As Rick left the boat, he thought about who to talk to first. He scanned the marina, spotted Joe Gray working on his houseboat, and decided to get Joe’s theory about the body drifting with the tides direct from the source. The walk only took a couple of minutes, and after Rick explained why he was there, Joe went over his theory about the tides and their effect on the body’s location.
“So you agree that the window of opportunity for the killer was between six and nine last night?” Rick asked.
“There’s no other explanation. Before then, Carroll was harassing me at the Crooked Mast. By eleven, the tides were approaching their peak and it would have been difficult to keep the body under the pier. And at nine, Baker made a pass through here.”
“You don’t think it’s possible that the body was just out there floating and nobody noticed it?”
“Anything’s possible. But I don’t think it’s very likely. Even at night this place is lit up. Carroll was wearing a light jacket, so his body would have shown up even in the dark. I don’t think Deputy Baker would miss something like that.”
Rick thought about Joe’s conclusions. It all made sense, but he’d learned long ago how pliable theories could be. Only the facts mattered—and those might not be available until after they found the killer.
“By the way, we did a search for a speargun on board The Treasure King and there’s one missing. It looks like whoever killed Captain Carroll stole the weapon, then threw it away after they used it.”
Joe harrumphed and rubbed his throat. “So you think the killer was someone from the boat?”
“That’s the theory as of about fifteen minutes ago. Of course, it is subject to change. It would help if the weapon turned up. I keep expecting to see it floating around in the marina.”
“Not likely. Not all of those float, although there are some that do. It would be a good reason to send down a diver. Your murder weapon might be right down there.” Joe pointed at the water.
“Do you think we could get one of the local divers to do it?”
“Dennis Malone has done some work in the past for the Seaside Cove PD. It’s been a few years, but he’s always looking for opportunities to dive and be paid for it.”
“Good to know,” Rick said.
“Will Shelley?” Rick said. “I think he was one of the ones at the Crooked Mast.”
“I can’t keep them all straight. One thing I can tell you is all these people have unreasonable expectations. They figured they were going to get rich off plundering the contents of the San Manuel. It’s been there for 400 years just waiting for someone to find it. And it could be worth millions.”
“It’s hard to keep that from coloring your expectations no matter who you are. Let’s hope it’s Flynn who finds it first. She’s probably the only one who wants to do the right thing with all that treasure.”
“I agree with you about one thing. Flynn is the best one to bring it up. Let’s hope you and Deputy Baker can find Carroll’s killer. As disagreeable as the man was, he didn’t deserve what he got.”
Rick grimaced. He’d forgotten about Baker. As much as he disliked the idea of going back to look for her, he suspected he couldn’t get away with interviewing too many more people before she had a fit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Alex
SASHA TAKES A bite out of one of Marquetta’s cookies and looks around the park. “This is so boring, Alex. Even if we see something happen, how are we gonna know if it’s important?”
She’s right. We’ve only got a couple hours left. This has been a super big disappointment. “I thought it was gonna be different, Sash.”
“All we’ve seen so far is your dad walk over to Joe Gray’s houseboat and Deputy Baker get a tour of The Treasure King.”
I get it. Ok? Boring. I look over to where Robbie is watching the marina with the pair of binoculars I loaned him. His bench is maybe ten feet from ours, but he’s like lost in another world. He’s happy ‘cause he’s probably checking out the fishing boat that came in right before I gave him the binoculars.
I never thought about how boring it was gonna be to just sit and do nothing. It’s cool being able to spend time with my friends, but we’ve been here for half an hour and my butt hurts already.
Robbie holds up the binoculars and says, “Hey, Alex. The fishing boat guys are done unloading. They’re doing cleanup now. Thanks for loaning me these. This is awesome!”
Sasha rolls her eyes, then looks at me.
“You’re welcome.” I mumble.
“What’s the matter?” Robbie asks. “Are you mad or something?”
“At myself,” I confess. “This was a bad idea. I totally have to come up with another way to find that treasure map.”
“Oh,” Robbie says with a shrug, then looks through the binoculars and starts watching again.
“You totally need to be able to search that boat,” Sasha says.
“But I don’t see how that’s gonna happen. There’s always somebody on it. This is so not gonna work.”
Me and Sasha go back to munching on cookies while Robbie watches the marina. Just as I take my last bite, Robbie calls out.
“Hey, Alex? Your dad’s back. He’s talking to Deputy Baker.”
Sasha picks up her binoculars and looks in the same direction as Robbie. I don’t need any help to see that Robbie’s right. My dad is talking to Deputy Baker, and it doesn’t look like they’re getting along.
“What do you suppose they’re saying?” I ask.
“I dunno, but Deputy Baker sure doesn’t look happy about it. Maybe my mom was wrong about…” Sasha stops and scrunches up her face.
“What did she say?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
“C’mon, Sasha, spill.”
“Okay, but you’re not gonna like it. My mom says that Deputy Baker wants to take your dad away from Marquetta.”
“No way! Why would she want to do that?”
“Because they were like rivals in high school.”
It feels like somebody just hit me in the stomach. Marquetta told me about the prom and how she stole Deputy Baker’s date, but rivals? Could that be true? “I am not gonna let that happen, Sasha. I worked super hard to get them together. They’re like, practically married.”
“I know,” Sasha says. “Maybe my mom’s wrong.”
“She’s totally wrong.” I turn away from Sasha so she can’t see the tears I feel building in my eyes. I trust Marquetta, and I believe in her, but she’s always been so sensitive about her past. Maybe there was more to the story than she told me.
“Maybe she has to go read the water meters,” Robbie says.
Robbie and Sasha laugh, but I’m wondering why Deputy Baker came back to Seaside Cove. It seems kinda weird now. If she wanted a big career in law enforcement why come back here? This is a small town. And now that Chief Cunningham’s appointment is official, there won’t be any changes for a long time. Maybe Sasha’s mom is right.
“Alex? You okay?” Robbie asks.
I blink a few times, then rub my nose and sniffle. “Yeah.”
These guys are my friends, but I don’t want to say anything in front of Sasha ‘cause she might repeat it to her mom. Her mom would tell her friends I’m worried about Marquetta and my dad, and it would get all over town.
“I guess I kinda spaced out. I was thinking about when me and my dad got here and the chief was just a deputy and had to read meters while he was helping my dad solve a murder. We weren’t used to a town where the police had to do other stuff. You could be right, Robbie. Maybe she’s not happy ‘cause she’s gonna get stuck reading water meters while my dad does the police work!”
This time we all laugh. I have to admit, it is kinda funny.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rick
WHEN DEPUTY BAKER’S gaze met Rick’s, she turned and walked in the opposite direction. Even though she was on her cell phone, Rick was positive she couldn’t have missed seeing him.
Obviously, she’d been pacing back and forth for some time and was deep in a conversation. But not even acknowledging his presence? Rick’s exasperation with her grew as he waited for the call to end. He couldn’t understand why she’d been so rude from their first meeting. He’d done nothing, other than try to help. Then again, maybe that was the point. Maybe she couldn’t get past the idea of working with a civilian.
The deputy kept the phone to her ear as she marched to the end of the dock, did an about-face, and walked toward Rick. Between her tight jaw and the severe bun she used to pull back her hair, she had the appearance of someone most annoyed with almost everything. The latest was probably having to work with him. Or maybe it was the phone call?
“If that’s what you want,” the deputy said abruptly. She stabbed the screen and jammed the phone into its holster. “I have to leave. Chief’s orders.” She looked beyond the marina back towards town. “You’re in charge of the interviews,” she said curtly.
“Why?” Rick asked.
“I would think you’d be happy,” Deputy Baker seethed. “You get a chance to work alone.”
“It’s not what I wanted at all. In fact, I was looking forward to working with you. You know, team work makes the dream work.”
The deputy eyed Rick suspiciously. “I thought Marquetta would have told you how awful I am.”
“She said very little other than that you two had a falling out in high school. She’s not the kind of person who would try to make someone out to be a demon behind their back.”
Baker’s cheeks tightened as she regarded Rick. “Maybe I’ve been a little hard on you. I didn’t—still don’t—like the idea of working with a civilian. But from what the chief told me, you really did help him on those previous cases.” She planted both hands on her hips and huffed. “I refuse, however, to work with a child.”
Rick chuckled. “Apparently you’ve also heard
about my daughter. She holds you in quite high regard. To be honest, she’s itching to meet you, and, I must confess, she has ideas on how to find the killer.”
“She’s a child. Just tell her to stay away from my investigation.”
“You don’t know Alex. She’s precocious, loves puzzles, and views restrictions as a challenge to be overcome. I have told her murder is none of her business, grounded her, and even threatened to send her away. Nothing stops her.”
“Well, you can tell her this. If she butts into my investigation, I will lock her up for obstruction of justice.”
And if you lay a hand on my daughter, you will pay a heavy price, thought Rick. He opened his mouth to tell her exactly that, but stopped. Instead, he said. “Let’s hope she doesn’t force the issue. You said you had to go?”
“Interview Jennifer Martin. She’s the one who found the body. We’ll compare notes later since I took her original statement.”
Without another word, Deputy Baker left. Rick watched her stride across the dock, past Jennifer Martin’s bait shop, and to the parking lot. She never looked back once. Whatever bee Baker had up her bonnet, it had to be a big one.
From outward appearances, Jennifer Martin’s store, Ugly Worm Bait and Tackle, was an afterthought—a large shack plunked on top of the docks at the whim of the marina architect. Shortly after his arrival in Seaside Cove, Rick had commented on its dilapidated appearance to Marquetta. She’d told him the shack had been through numerous phases since Seaside Cove’s early days when the town had been a small fishing village.
The first signs of a new life for the ramshackle building had begun several months ago. A steady parade of tradesmen had renovated the interior and painted the exterior an azure blue with white trim. Jennifer did most of her business with the local fishermen at the newly installed service window, which was covered by a bright blue canvas awning with white lettering.
Never having been an entrepreneur prior to inheriting the B&B, Rick had no idea whether Jennifer’s business model of serving both fishermen and tourists would work. If nothing else, he hoped she succeeded because the colorful building, which was no longer an eyesore, was visible from the B&B’s backyard.