Captain Finn Treasure Mysteries: Books 1 - 3: Short Sea Stories of Murder and Shipwreck Treasure

by Liz Dodwell

  Anyway, this is why every now and then an object will appear on the black market, and Finn was “feeling out” Russ and RJ to see if they knew anything about the coin.

  “Where did you hear that?” Russ asked.

  “You know how it is, Russ. The treasure-hunting community is pretty small and word spreads faster than a slippery sailfish. Supposedly, it was a Mexico Mint cob.”

  At that moment, Viviana stood. “If you guys are going to talk business, I have work to do in the kitchen.”

  “I’ll give you a hand.”

  “Thanks, Phill, but I can manage.”

  I insisted, and picked up the dirty glasses and followed her into the house. There wasn’t a lot of cleaning up but I like to do my part, so I dried and polished the glassware and made idle chitchat as Viviana washed.

  There was a small photo on a shelf above the sink: a younger Russ and Viviana with two small children, a boy and a girl.

  “Oh, you have a daughter,” I said. “Is she also in Florida?”

  Viviana hesitated. “She is in Miami.”

  “That must work well. You’re not far from either of your kids. You must get to see a lot of them.”

  There was no reply, and I was astonished and disconcerted when I looked at Viviana and saw tears seeping from her eyes.

  “Are you OK? Did I say something?”

  She bit her lip. “No. No, I… Irina is not well. I find it hard to talk….”

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

  Viviana grabbed my arm. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. You go back and join the guys. I just need a few minutes.”

  Lamely I mumbled more apologies and backed away. I suck at emotional scenes and the coward in me was more than thankful to do as asked. Quietly, I inserted myself back into the conversation on the porch, but the evening was winding down and soon Finn and I said our goodnights and went to the little apartment. We didn’t see Viviana again.

  “Did you learn anything?” I asked.

  “Russ and I had a general chat about 1715 fleet coins. He said he hasn’t come across anything since he was at the museum. They had a couple of gold cobs on display but he seems to think I know more about this than he does anyway.”

  “He’s right about that, I’m sure. There’s hardly anyone who knows more than you do.” People came to Finn all the time for his opinion on shipwreck coins and treasure. He’d even been a featured expert on TV a couple of times. Heck, I was living with a celebrity… sort of.

  “I put my foot in it a bit with Viviana.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I asked about their daughter and she started crying, said she was ill. Do you know anything about it?”

  “Actually, I do.” Finn looked thoughtful. “The girl has Down syndrome.”

  “Oh, how sad.”

  “Not necessarily. She was a lovely and well-loved child who became a relatively high-functioning adult. She had a job and her own apartment. Russ was really proud of her but, now that I think about it, he hasn’t mentioned her in a long time.”

  “Perhaps something has happened. How old is she?”

  “Mid-20s, I should say. A lot younger than RJ. She was an unexpected, though happy, surprise.”

  “Well, this day has been a bit of a downer. I managed to upset our host and we’re getting nowhere with the gold doubloon. It’s time I headed to bed. See you in the morning.”

  The only reply I got was a grunt and the click of the TV turning on. Finn would spend half the night lying awake and mulling over things with the television droning in the background. He did some of his best brainstorming that way. Seriously, I didn’t think it was worth it. We had no personal interest in the case, unless old Guppie was in touch with Finn from the grave. And nobody was paying for our services. Finn would never let it go, though. That gold coin could be a clue to a wealth of treasure, and when it came to treasure, Finn was a sea dog with a bone.

  FOUR

  When I got up the next morning I found Finn asleep on the couch. Our little apartment had a small kitchenette, so I stumbled that way and put the coffee on. When it was done I poured a cup, black and strong, and set it on the little table beside Finn then headed for the bathroom.

  After I’d showered and dressed I found the coffee’s aroma had done its trick. A bleary-eyed Finn was awake. I grabbed myself a cup of coffee. “What’s on the agenda for the day?”

  “Where’s that card Batista gave us? I’d like to get down on the reef site, take a look around.”

  “You think you’re likely to find anything of help?”

  “Probably not, but we shouldn’t leave any urn unturned, as they say.”

  “Finn, why are we doing this? We could be out working the fleet site and maybe find something and make some money. Instead, we’re investigating a crime that’s nothing to do with us.”

  Finn gave me a hard look. “If nothing else we owe it to Guppie. He deserves better than to have his memorial screwed up.”

  “Actually, I think Guppie would have got a kick out of it.”

  “That’s true, but he would also chase that gold coin until he found it. And let’s not forget, a man has been murdered. That’s not something I can easily walk away from.”

  I sighed. Like I said, a sea dog with a bone.

  Later that morning we met Batista down at the dock in Palm Beach. He been more than happy for Finn to take a look at the reef site, and had arranged a police boat to take us out there. I was surprised when he got in the boat with us.

  “You going to dive?”

  “I’m not going to miss an opportunity to learn something from an old master like Finn.”

  Okay then. I’d been undecided about diving. Underwater is not my natural element but I didn’t want to seem like chicken shit in front of my dream man, and I was kind of curious about the memorial reef itself. So about an hour later I stripped to my swimsuit, wondering if Batista was noticing that I was actually in pretty good shape. Finn, as usual, was in shorts and a T-shirt. We’d brought our own gear, and when the three of us were ready, over the side we went, leaving two county cops in charge of the boat.

  Swimming around the replica pillars and buildings was quite surreal. I could totally imagine Port Royal as it must’ve been in its pirate heyday. There was even a tavern with a whiskey bottle memorial laying inside. The plaque on the bottle read “Whiskey, a very special dog.” Cute.

  I’d been engrossed in my meanderings but now looked up to see where Finn and Batista had got to. Out of the blue something shot past me, hitting my arm as it went by then bouncing off one of the pillars. I was so startled my brain didn’t register anything ‘til a sudden burning pain brought my attention back to my arm. There was blood - my blood. Instinctively I opened my mouth and screamed. The mouthpiece fell out and I panicked. Before I knew it I was swallowing water, lots of water and beginning to feel dizzy. Something was coming towards me fast. Oh God. It was a shark - in a white T-shirt. It got hold of me; I thrashed around frantically, and that was the last thing I knew.

  FIVE

  Waking up in a hospital bed is like an uncertain dream. It took a minute before the fog cleared and I realized where I was and what had happened. In a chair by the window Finn was sitting, head on chest, softly snoring.

  “Finn.” Nothing.

  I tried a little louder. “Finn.”

  His head jerked up. “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?” And he came to the side of the bed.

  “Okay, I guess. How long have I been here?”

  “Just overnight. Your wound is not too bad but you swallowed a lot of water. Do you remember any of it?”

  “Yeah. I was attacked by a shark wearing a white T-shirt.”

  Finn’s eyes rolled skyward. “That shark was me, and you were fighting like hell while I was trying to save you.”

  “Oh. Thanks,” I said softly.

  “It’s our detective friend you should be thanking. He got you to the surface a lot faster than I ever could and immediately
started rapid breathing. And you were lucky we had a fast boat and oxygen. We came straight into Jupiter, an ambulance was waiting at the dock and brought you to the medical center.”

  “Batista gave me the kiss of life?” Finn looked heavenward. “My dream man kissed me and I didn’t even know it. Life can be so unfair.”

  “Do you want to know what happened or not?”

  “Sorry. Go on.”

  “You were shot with a harpoon. It sliced through some muscle in your upper arm; it’s gonna hurt like a bitch for a few days but is certainly nothing life-threatening. Batista saw the shooter from a distance– a big man, broad and muscular - but he took off with a small underwater scooter so there was no way to catch him. And I guess the detective figured your need was greater anyway.”

  “Huh! So I was nearly killed for nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say nothing, and I wouldn’t say you were nearly killed. That was a warning.”

  I snorted, but decided to let the subject drop there.

  “Where did the flowers come from?”

  “That giant arrangement is from Russ and Viviana. The small one is from your detective.”

  “Batista sent me flowers? What a sweetheart.” I smiled happily. “By the way, when am I getting out of here?”

  “As soon as the doctor clears you this afternoon, then we’re going to the marina where Rick Marchand kept his boat. Apparently, that’s where he was killed.”

  “Is Batista meeting us there?”

  Finn gave me one of those “enough already” looks.

  “Alrighty then,” I said.

  The boat was on Dock B; a pretty new 25 foot Stingray cabin cruiser – nice. It was still taped off as a crime scene but Batista had sent word to the cop on guard that it was okay to let us on. Obviously he wasn’t planning to show up himself. Bummer. We poked around for a while but other than a little blood there really was nothing to see.

  “Another dead-end,” I said. “Maybe it’s time to head home. I miss Shrimp.” Shrimp is our boat cat, a cute little calico that we rescued. She got her name because that’s the only thing she’ll respond to, shrimp being her favorite food and all.

  “Sit down,” Finn said. “Let’s go over a few things.”

  We plopped down inside the boat where the cop wouldn’t hear us and I waited for Finn to start.

  “Okay, we have a gold doubloon but we can’t be sure it’s a fleet coin. We have the body of an ordinary, hard-working guy, who got his head blown in and the coin shoved down his throat. According to Batista there are no signs of a fight, so it seems he was taken unawares. He was then shoved overboard – there’s a little blood on the gunwale – either dropped into a small boat or into the water, and then taken out to the reef memorial site. There the body was dumped and tied down. It wouldn’t have taken any strength to kill him, but it would’ve required some effort to get him out to the reef.”

  “Somebody must not have done a good job of tying the corpse if it floated after only a couple of days.”

  “Only one leg was tied. The knot was professional but it looks like the killer was interrupted. Could have been anything from a shark to nearby fishermen. At any rate, this tells us the killer either knows the waters or knows how to navigate. We also know he’s a diver and a big man, and he knows how to use a fishing harpoon. Now here is where I start to speculate.

  “Forget the gold coin for now. The only person who knew we were going to the reef site with Batista was Russ. I checked with the detective and he assured me he didn’t mention our names to anyone.”

  “I don’t like where this is going.”

  “Neither do I, Phill. Russ could easily have told his wife and son where we were going. RJ is a big guy with diving and boating skills, and I’m pretty sure he knows how to use a harpoon.”

  “What earthly reason could RJ have for killing an insurance agent?”

  “That’s what we have to look into. Maybe they knew each other. RJ would know about cob coins. He might even have found one. I can think of a lot of possible scenarios, but we need the truth.”

  I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So what do we do now?”

  “Find out more about the Kearns family.”

  “You want me to do some digging?”

  “No. Someone is willing to go to some pretty dangerous lengths to keep this thing quiet. I’m going to contact Sonny to see if he can trace where the gold doubloon came from, and have Bert research the Kearns. You and I are going to act like we’ve given up.”

  “You’re not going to start treasure hunting again with Russ are you? I’m not at all comfortable about us being out in the wide waters with a potential killer.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll say we’re staying a couple more days to rearrange Guppie’s memorial and then we’ll be going back to Mud Bug. That should give the killer some breathing room.”

  I should explain, “Sonny” Scrivens is an international coin dealer. He’s been “Sonny” for more than 70 years. You’d think he might have dropped the juvenile nickname by now in favor of his real name, but I’m not sure he knows what it is any more. Certainly, no-one else does. Anyway, he’s semi-retired these days. He and Finn go back a long way and Sonny specializes in Spanish coins. Though his business has always been pretty legit, you can’t be in the coin community for 60 years without developing contacts in all directions, if you know what I mean. So, if anyone can track the doubloon back, it’s Sonny.

  Bert is Elbert Lex Van Nifterik, multimillionaire, owner of Mud Bug Island and computer genius. We helped him out not so long ago, and in return he allows us free berth at his island paradise. And, while I know my way around a computer, I’m a complete bonehead compared to Bert.

  While Finn made his calls, I poked around the Stingray. She was probably $70,000 to $80,000 of boat by my reckoning. I wondered if the insurance business was really that good.

  “We’re done here.” Finn brought me out of my reveries. “Let’s pick up some grub and take it back to the apartment. You don’t look so good right now.”

  “I’m fine.” I was lying: my arm hurt like hell and I was dead tired. In truth, I was ready to pop a couple of pain pills and crash. So we picked up egg rolls and ants climbing trees – one of my favorite spicy pork dishes over bean thread noodles – and later, I was the one who fell asleep on the couch.

  SIX

  Between the pills, and perhaps delayed shock, I slept really late. It was nearly 10 when I woke. Finn had thrown a blanket over me, my head was throbbing and someone had pulled woolly socks over my teeth in the night. At least, that’s sort of what it felt like. I needed water. Actually, I needed water and more pain pills.

  Finn was nowhere in sight, and I felt too lousy to really care, so I staggered into the shower and thanked God and the Kearns for hot water and a massaging showerhead. Of course, I’d forgotten I was supposed to keep the dressing on my arm dry. Crap.

  I was trying to find something dry to cover my wound when Finn came back carrying chocolate croissants and fruit salad. That man knows me well. You could paint me pink and put me in a pig pen if you dangled chocolate croissant in front of me. Uh oh. Was Finn buttering me up for something? You never quite knew with him.

  Turns out he was just being nice.

  “I got your favorite,” he said, “and there’s coffee made.”

  “Already had some.” I was busy stuffing my face with food.

  “Well, when you’re done with that, we got some information back from Bert. I left it open on the laptop; you should read it.”

  After I’d devoured three croissants I ate a little fruit, just to keep my diet balanced, you know, then read through Bert’s notes about the Kearns. Bert had uncovered a missing person’s report about their daughter, Irina. She’d been found within a day, but there was no detail about what happened or where she was. He’d also found a birth certificate for a child by Irina. No father was listed.

  “So Irina went missing then had a baby. I get why Vivian
a doesn’t like to talk about it but it has nothing to do with Marchand or the gold doubloon. Unless Marchand abducted her and I can think of no earthly reason why he’d do that. I don’t see that this moves us any further forward.”

  “I’m not sure it does, either.”

  I could tell Finn was frustrated. The clues we had seemed to be all over the map, with nothing to join them. He was probably feeling cooped up, too. He just wasn’t an indoor type of guy.

  “Let’s get out of here. You’ll think better in the open air.”

  “Good idea. We can drive down to the marina again, where Marchand’s boat is; ask around in case anybody saw anything.”

  “Haven’t the police already done that?”

  “Sure, but you never know.”

  Finn decided to take Route A1A along the coast to the Palm Beach area. It would take us twice as long but it was a really pretty drive down through Hobe Sound and Juno Beach, and we were in no hurry. It was one of those days we live for in Florida. An unseen hand had painted hazy streaks of white across a blue sky, then colored the tropical landscape an impossible green, and textured the water as if particles of light were suspended in it. We put down the top on our old yellow Saab and enjoyed the moment.

  “You know, even if we could afford a Cadillac I think I’d keep Old Yeller.” I patted her dashboard affectionately. She was a 1998 Saab 900 S that Finn had found for $500. At that time, she had been a dingy green with a fair bit of rust and a few other problems. We’d taken her to our buddy, Jafet Quintana, in Sarasota. He dives with us when we’re over that way and is brilliant with anything mechanical. It just so happened that he had some yellow auto paint and the price was right – free. Hence, Old Yeller. And she was proving to be a faithful friend.

  Two carefree hours after leaving Fort Pierce we arrived at the marina and parked. We headed for Dock B. The yellow crime scene tape was still on it but there was no police guard. Finn stared hard at the boat while I let my gaze wander ‘til my eyes were riveted on something on the next dock over.