Secrets of the Treasure King

by Terry Ambrose

  “Calling my daughter Nancy Drew. The last thing she needs is encouragement.”

  “Gotcha.” Adam kneeled next to the first bag. It was large and black with sides that bulged from an object with sharp edges. “Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

  “I hope those Ugly Worm bags aren’t filled with something that’s been decomposing for a few days.”

  “Me too, buddy.”

  Adam opened the bag, and Rick took a photo of the contents.

  “Just packing material,” Adam said as he reached inside. “And this.” He pulled out a small section of drywall. “That explains the sharp edges. And here’s a label addressed to Jennifer Martin. This is definitely from the Ugly Worm. I’ll tie it up and put it back in the dumpster.”

  The next bag was also from the bait shop. With the exception of the one piece of drywall, they both had similar contents. With those out of the way, Adam turned his attention to the third large bag.

  “I don’t think my predecessor ever went dumpster diving. I should’ve made Baker do this,” Adam said.

  “Now, now. She’s leaving.” Rick paused, then added, “She is still leaving, right?”

  “Haven’t heard anything different.” Adam stretched, then reached down to undo the tie at the top. Here we go.”

  “Wait. Do you want to video this? I have a feeling this is what we’re looking for.”

  “You’re right,” Adam said. “Can you juggle your phone and the lantern?”

  “I think so.” Rick stuffed the light under his arm and then started recording video. “Go.”

  “My name is Chief Adam Cunningham of the Seaside Cove Police Department. Richard Atwood, my consultant, and I have been going through a public trash receptacle at the Seaside Cove Marina. I believe the black plastic bag before me contains evidence collected pertinent to the murder investigation I’m conducting.”

  Adam bent down, removed the twist tie, and scrutinized the contents of the large bag. “There are a number of smaller white plastic bags inside. I’m going to remove the smaller ones and inventory them.”

  He lined up six bags. They looked like little sentries, standing there with the wind fluttering their plastic coverings. Rick’s blood pounded in his temples as he watched Adam work.

  In addition to the miscellaneous trash contained in the first three bags, there were a couple of scratch pad notes written on The Treasure King stationery. When Adam opened the fourth bag, he froze, then looked at Rick. His voice was somber as he spoke.

  “This contains what looks like a bloody tee shirt. It’s a men’s size medium. It also contains a pair of men’s shorts. There are no obvious signs of blood on the shorts, but I’m closing the bag and will do a closer inspection back at the police station under better lighting.”

  Adam sealed the bag with the twist tie, then motioned for Rick to stop the video recording. A gust off the bay sent up a chorus of rustling plastic.

  “I need to go through and catalog everything,” Adam said. “We should do it at the station. I’ll lock this one in the back of the cruiser.”

  “Wait, Adam. We’re standing a hundred feet or so from The Treasure King. If Heather put this in the trash, she must be covering for Gavin. They probably thought it would be gone in the morning. But if they see us and think we’re onto them, maybe we can force their hand. And, if you still want to get all of them together so we can break down some alibis, we need a spectacle.”

  Adam’s cheek quirked up. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked in the direction of the boat. “We’re going to need a few things to avoid contaminating any evidence. I’m calling in Baker.”

  While they waited for the deputy to arrive, Rick and Adam went through the remaining bags from the dumpster. All they found were the usual types of household refuse—food scraps, plastic wrap, used tissues and paper towels—making the question of which boat the bags had come from irrelevant. They’d finished the last bag when Deputy Baker arrived with a tarp, crime scene tape, more lanterns, and index cards to number the items.

  They laid the tarp over the wooden planks of the dock, secured the corners, then began inventorying the contents of the bags. Deputy Baker pulled out the first item, the tee shirt with blood spatter on the front. Rick took pictures to document the process while Adam logged the tee as Exhibit 1. By the time they were done, a small crowd had gathered around them. Most of the passengers from The Treasure King were there.

  While Adam and Deputy Baker packaged up the evidence and their equipment, Rick drifted over to the small crowd. Heather Sanna watched from near the rear, but her fellow crew member, Gavin Mancini, was missing. Also on the missing list was Matthew Redmond. Rick approached the group from The Treasure King. The passengers were talking among themselves.

  “Gentlemen,” Rick said. “We found a bloody T-shirt that had been discarded from the boat. Any of you have an idea who it might belong to?”

  Ed Silverstein took a step forward. In the marina lighting, his skin looked almost pasty white. “We were just discussing that.” He looked over his shoulder at the other men. One by one, they each murmured their agreement. Silverstein spoke in a voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “Mancini’s run off. We all agreed he has to be the one who killed Carroll.”

  Rick eyed the men as a group, then narrowed his focus to Isaac Longstreet, who was fidgeting with his left ear. “You all agreed? As in, you held a trial and found him guilty?”

  Longstreet gave his ear a final tug, then regarded the others. “Kind of.”

  Silverstein shifted from one foot to the other, looking irritated that anyone had questioned his conclusions. His tone made it obvious he felt he needed to reassert himself. “He was in competition with Carroll for her attention.” He cocked his head in Heather’s direction.

  Heather crossed her arms over her chest, then turned on her heel and began a purposeful walk back to The Treasure King. Rick sighed. Grimaced. What was that all about?

  “Wait here. The chief has questions for all of you,” Rick snapped. “And where’s Redmond? Why isn’t he here?”

  “Haven’t seen him,” Silverstein grumbled.

  Rick pushed by the men and hurried after Heather. When they were about halfway back to the boat, he called out. “Ms. Sanna? Would you hold up for a minute?”

  She stopped, turned to face him, and rolled her eyes. “What now?”

  “Where’s your coworker?”

  “How should I know?” She raised her hands in the air, palms up. “If you want, search the boat. Be sure to check his bunk. Maybe he crashed early.”

  “In the market you led me to believe you were having dinner with him. Was that not the case?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, I have no reason to share a meal with any of them. They’re all a bunch of misfits.”

  She glared in the direction of the onlookers, but Rick suspected she was really looking at one man in particular—Ed Silverstein.

  “Were you offended by what Mr. Silverstein said?”

  “Ed is a loudmouthed jerk. Have you checked him out as a suspect?”

  Rick ignored the question. “You haven’t answered me.”

  “No. I wasn’t offended.” She turned away as though she might storm off. Instead, she bit her lip and gazed north. “Just because Gavin is missing doesn’t mean he killed Morris.”

  “Ms. Sanna? Please. Answer my question. When’s the last time you saw Mr. Mancini?”

  “This afternoon.”

  “She’s lying,” Christopher Jenks said as he approached. “Here, look at this. It was taken about an hour ago.”

  He held out his phone. On the screen was an image of Heather and Gavin. They were sitting together in the chairs up on the bridge. In the middle of the image was a large triangular play button. Jenks tapped the button and the video picked up with Gavin speaking.

  “He’s gone. There’s no need to hide anymore.”

  “Gavin, I’ve told you. This is not the right time.”

  “But I
love you, Heather. I want to be with you.”

  “Shut up, Gavin. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Whatever you think we had…” She gestured back-and-forth between them with her fingers. “You were wrong.”

  “But you said…”

  “Stop acting like a lovesick puppy and grow up. If you’ve got fantasies playing in your head, those are your problem, not mine. I’m tired of you and your insecurities.” Heather stood and the video ended.

  Jenks looked expectantly at Rick. What did he think he was going to get? A medal?

  “Thank you, Christopher. I’ll take it from here. Would you go back with the others and wait for me?”

  The expression on the other man’s face fell, and he seemed resigned as he slowly retraced his path to the group. Rick turned his attention to Heather. “Well, Ms. Sanna? It appears you lied to me.”

  She stood with her weight on one leg, the other stretched out, and her arms crossed. “Fine, I had dinner with him. And yes, I slept with the guy a couple of times. Now he thinks we’re a thing and wants to get married.”

  “So where is he?” Rick waited until she turned away and again looked to the north.

  “I told you. I don’t know. As you can see, I blew him off. I can’t help it that he thought we were in some big love affair. Can I go now? I’m freezing my butt off.”

  “You can return to The Treasure King, but Chief Cunningham and I may have more questions for you later.” Rick watched her walk away, then let his gaze follow the shoreline north of the marina. “Of course,” he muttered.

  On his way back to share his suspicions with Adam and Deputy Baker, Rick pulled Jenks aside. “When you were at the lighthouse taking photos the night of the murder, did you see Gavin Mancini?”

  Christopher shook his head and peered at Rick. “No. Why?”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. Why? Did he say he was there?”

  Rick looked over at Adam and Deputy Baker, who were in the process of moving the remaining bags into the back of Baker’s cruiser.. He nodded absently, and said, “Thanks, Christopher.” He hurried over and caught Adam just as they were closing up the rear hatch.

  “We still don’t have a murder weapon,” Adam said. “Tell me you got something and that this little dog-and-pony show was worthwhile.”

  “Mancini’s disappeared. I think he’s gone to the lighthouse.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Deputy Baker grumbled.

  “Are you sure?” Adam asked. “That’s a fair walk from here.”

  “Alex and I were standing in line behind him at the market. He told me he was going there for a picnic and I gave him directions. Just now, Heather kept looking in that direction. If he’s got the speargun with him, he could toss it and we’d never find it.”

  Adam and Deputy Baker exchanged a glance, then looked to the north. The old lighthouse stood atop a jagged cliff, it’s black silhouette in sharp contrast to the reds, pinks, and grays of the sunset.

  “Baker,” Adam said. “Corral this band of misfits and put them on the boat. Then take the evidence back to the station. Lock it in the evidence room. When you’re done, come out to the lighthouse unless you hear from me. If Rick’s right, we might have to set up a search party.”

  “Got it, Chief.” Baker marched off toward the group, who were still huddling on the dock.

  Adam shrugged down into his jacket. “Let’s see if we can find this guy before he tosses our murder weapon.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Rick

  THE DRIVE TOOK only five minutes. Adam parked the cruiser in the empty lot, but left the lights on. As they got out of the vehicle, Rick said, “Alex said they call this place Lover’s Leap.”

  “Kids.” Adam laughed. “I’ll say one thing, that munchkin sure knows how to dramatize things. Nobody actually ever jumped out here. The incident she’s referring to was an accident.” Adam opened the rear hatch and pulled out two lanterns. “Take one of these. Let’s go.”

  Rick fell into step astride Adam. As they walked, they swept the surrounding area with the beams of their lanterns. When they passed the trail marker a short distance beyond the parking lot, Rick spoke in hushed tones. “You mean there were no spurned lovers?”

  Adam stopped, aimed his beam directly ahead, then said, “I fibbed when we were here talking to Christopher Jenks. The fence was actually put in after just one incident. Two kids got too close to the cliff. Back in those days you could go right to the edge and look out. The story goes that a local boy brought his girlfriend out here to propose. He took her to the edge, got down on one knee, and told her he wanted to marry her. She accepted, but when they kissed, the outcropping gave way.”

  An involuntary shiver coursed down Rick’ spine. “Yikes. Let’s go find Mancini.”

  They continued on to where the trail bent to the left and turned back into a stand of trees. Adam aimed his light to the right and lit up a sign not more than ten feet away. It read, Unstable ground. Stay back.

  Adam’s beam swept the area in a wide arc. “Mancini might have chosen the spot over by the lighthouse. The trail is even closer to the cliff.”

  “Let’s go check,” Rick said.

  Their footsteps crunched on the decomposed granite as they followed the trail into the trees. Overhead, silvery clouds glimmered in the sky behind a spiderweb silhouette formed by the branches of alders, cottonwoods, and firs. It was a beautiful sight, yet a lonely one, thought Rick.

  “Did they ever find the bodies?” Rick asked.

  “No.”

  “So this could be another one of those Seaside Cove legends nobody can prove.”

  “You mean like Juan Murrieta’s treasure and the San Manuel?”

  “Exactly. Nobody’s found either of those. Right?”

  Adam stopped, flicked his beam in a wide circle, and frowned. “Thought I heard something. These woods always give me the creeps.” He continued on, speaking as he walked. “The details were reported by a couple of high-school kids. They weren’t supposed to be out here. Nobody knows for sure whether they were telling the truth, but a boy and a girl did disappear.”

  A black spire came into view as they broke into a clearing. Rick flicked his beam toward the top as they approached. “Looks a lot more imposing in the dark.”

  “Yeah,” Adam muttered as he swept the area with his light. The beam caught the figure of a man dressed in jeans and a light windbreaker standing on the trail. “There he is.”

  “I’ll go talk to him while you call Baker for backup.” Rick stepped toward the figure. “Gavin! Stay where you are. I just want to talk. That’s all.”

  “Don’t come any closer!”

  Rick stopped, momentarily stunned. This wasn’t Gavin Mancini. The man was shorter, thinner, and the tips of his hair were blond. It was Matthew Redmond. Rick took a cautious step forward and spoke loud enough to be heard over the sound of crashing surf fifty feet below.

  “Mr. Redmond. Why are you out here?”

  “I’ve got nothing left. That slime Carroll took me for everything I had. He totally deserved what he got.”

  Rick walked slowly toward the fence, still calling out over the sounds of the surf. “Tell me about what he did. It sometimes helps to get these things out.”

  Redmond faced Rick, holding up his hand to shield his eyes from the intense light. “I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work. I quit my job; my wife divorced me; and Carroll took the last of my savings. He duped me into thinking I could make a killing. I wanted to get rid of him so bad.”

  Rick’s heart thudded in his chest. “Are you saying you’re the one who shot Captain Carroll with the speargun, Mr. Redmond?”

  “What? No. I could never kill someone.”

  “Then what are you doing out here?” Rick asked.

  Redmond pointed to his right. “She told me to bring that here and wait for her. She said she’d get me my money back.”

  Rick aimed his beam to the spot where Redmo
nd pointed. His breath caught. A long, skinny cardboard box had been placed next to the fence. “What’s in the box?” Rick asked suspiciously.

  “I have no idea. She told me not to open it.”

  “Adam!” Rick called over his shoulder. “I think you should see this.”

  A second beam of light joined Rick’s. “What’ve you got?” Adam asked as he approached. “Is that our missing speargun?”

  “Speargun? What?” Redmond stammered.

  “I thought you should open it,” Rick said.

  “Get your video camera going.” Adam did another video introduction, then slit open the top, which had been taped together. When he opened the box, his jaw dropped. “What the heck?”

  “Is it the speargun?” Rick asked.

  “Not exactly,” Adam said. He reached into the box and pulled out a roll of toilet paper. “What kind of game are you playing, Mr. Redmond? You pack this with toilet paper and then you carry it out here? You’re looking an awful lot like an accomplice to murder.”

  “No! It was all Heather.”

  “I need details or I’m taking you in right now.”

  “The night we docked in Seaside Cove she came to me and asked if I could get everyone to the Crooked Mast.” Redmond’s breathing quickened and he squinted at Rick against the light. “Honest. I didn’t know what she intended to do. You’re not going to charge me, are you? I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  “You’d better,” grumbled Adam.

  Rick took a more consoling tone. “I’m sure that if we all work together we can set this right.”

  “You think so?” Redmond asked, hope evident in his tone.

  “I’m sure of it.” Rick tried to sound positive despite the knowledge that Redmond’s fate was still very much up in the air. “Let’s go.” Rick extended his hand. Stepped forward. When Redmond held out his, Rick took it.

  Adam immediately grabbed Redmond’s other arm, then secured his hands behind his back. “Matthew Redmond, I’m taking you in as a material witness in the death of Captain Morris Carroll.”

  “You’re arresting me?” Redmond wailed. “After I promised to cooperate?”