Beached_A Mer Cavallo Mystery Read online

  She turned a quarter turn, and swam a body length, and turned again.

  Warning signs usually preceded storms. Wispy mare's tails high in the sky. A freshening wind. Confused seas. More than once, she'd seen Leroy peer into the unknown and chomp his straw. "Smell that? There's foul weather brewing."

  Captains of the 1733 shipwrecks had surely read the signs, too. They'd known before they embarked that hurricane season was upon them. They had felt the freshening wind. But Philip needed his gold. And so they'd sailed.

  A ping startled her and her breath caught. She swept the detector over the same spot, zeroing in on the target. The tone steadied. Could this be it? She held the detector off to the side and fanned her hand above the spot, swishing the loose sand away. An eternity passed before the water cleared.

  Nothing.

  She cleared away more sand and swung the detector back over the shallow indentation. The needle jumped in time to the tone.

  This could be it. Her pulse beat in her ears, trapped under the headphones. For the first time it seemed real. She was a treasure hunter. Up until now, the search had all been academic. But this...in a moment, she could be staring at a piece of history. Holding a coin. Or a nail. Or perhaps a golden chain a passenger had fashioned to avoid paying taxes on his wealth.

  She pressed her eyes closed. They had to recover a coin. A 1733 portrait dollar minted in Mexico City, to be precise. Anything else could be from the debris trail of the El Infante.

  And she wanted to be the one to find it.

  Even underwater, her face warmed. But it was true. She wanted to be the one who found irrefutable evidence of the galleon. Not to claim a portion of the loot, or even to save Oscar. She wanted to find the Thirteenth Galleon to prove she was right.

  She put aside the detector and redoubled her efforts to clear the sand. At last she uncovered a jut of metal. Her hopes dissipated with the silt. A grid. Too uniform to be historical. She yanked the corner and pulled free a broken lobster pot.

  Served her right. The ocean held generations of lost and cast-off items. She was far more likely to recover trash than a single coin. Plus, it shouldn't matter who found the galleon, her hypothesis would still be validated.

  It shouldn't matter, but it did.

  Picking up the metal detector, she snugged it against her forearm again. Bubbles vented past her face and raced upward, expanding as they neared the surface before they finally burst.

  She had work to do.

  Phoenix had already started down another row by the time Mer arrived at the end of her own. She jogged over. They weren't pulling magnetometers, but they were still mowing the lawn.

  By the end of the dive, Mer had recovered two more lobster traps, one reel, a broken dive knife, several cans, a lawn chair frame, and a cellphone, but nothing to suggest that a treasure galleon had sunk in the area nearly three hundred years prior.

  They ascended together, stopping at fifteen feet for a safety stop to allow their bodies to shake off some of the nitrogen they had absorbed during the dive.

  Buoyancy was a skill that new divers struggled with, and they constantly filled and emptied their BCs with air. Experienced divers rarely touched their inflator hose and could alter their position in the water through breath control.

  Mer rolled onto her back and removed the regulator from her mouth. The outline of the boat above them barely blurred. Puffing out her cheeks, she released an explosive puh. The bubble ring formed a pewter crown that shimmered until it disappeared in the brightness of the sun slanting through the water.

  She righted herself and checked the remaining time on her dive computer. Phoenix hovered, her legs crossed like a genie in her bottle. The final seconds counted down and Mer signaled for Phoenix to go up first. When she was safely on board, Mer swam to the ladder, took off her fins, and climbed into the boat for the second time that day.

  "Guess what I found?" Phoenix said as soon as Mer stripped off her mask.

  "A coin?" She couldn't keep the excitement from her voice. Not being the first to find a portrait dollar didn't sting as much as she thought it would.

  "Ha! I would have banged on my tank for that, and we'd still be down there." Phoenix looped the bungee cord over the tank valve. "Musket ball."

  Mer secured her own gear. "Significance?"

  Skipper spit a sunflower hull into his cup. "We're practically on top of the El Infante. A musket ball don't mean a thing when you have a debris trail half a mile long."

  "Are we going back down?" Mer asked.

  "Not unless you want your alter-ego to spend the night on Skipper's boat." Phoenix toweled her hair. "They can't come in until we do."

  She glanced at her watch, although the slant of the sun on the horizon told her everything she needed to know. This late in the year, the sun set about 5:30.

  There'd be no more dives today.

  31

  Mer smoothed her hand across the front of her dress. Sheer and billowy, it looked more like a negligee than a bathing suit cover-up. Bijoux must have loved picking it out. She piled her hair on top of her head, smashed a broad-brimmed hat over the mass, and swapped out her Oakleys for a pair of oversized glamour sunglasses. Lastly, she slid her feet into a pair of espadrilles.

  She felt ridiculous.

  Phoenix entered the V-berth and whistled. "No one's going to mistake you for a professor." She handed Mer a large straw tote. "I'll take your backpack. Don't want to spoil your new look."

  "For the record, I don't like my new look."

  "You'd turn a lot of heads in South Beach."

  Mer thinned her lips. "That changes absolutely nothing."

  Skipper stuck his head into the V-berth. "I didn't sign up for no night shift."

  "Guess that's my cue." Mer shoved her crew gear into the tote and passed Phoenix the backpack. "Just leave it upstairs, I'll collect it when I get to be me again."

  "Channel your inner Kardashian, you'll be fine."

  Mer slung the tote over her shoulder. "What's a kardashian?"

  "Seriously? Never mind. Catch you tomorrow."

  Mer adjusted her glasses and headed for the shop. The wedged espadrilles were better than stilettos, but she still held the handrail on the stairs for balance.

  Inside, a Christmas tree covered in dried sea stars and sand dollars crowded the door. The tinny tones of a steel band hammering out a version of "Jingle Bells" followed her as she walked toward the dive classroom.

  Detective Talbot stood in the front of the room, leaning casually against the lectern and speaking with Deputy Mercurio, who sat on the front table, her legs swinging. His eyes widened as Mer walked into the classroom, and he quickly diverted his attention to the report he held in his hand.

  Mer shut the door with her foot and ripped off her hat. "Did it work? Did they take the bait?"

  "Never saw a soul," Gina answered. She still wore the Aquarius dive shirt, although she'd taken off her ball cap.

  Mer tossed the straw tote onto the closest table and it landed with a muted thud. "That's disappointing." Mer folded the oversized sunglasses. "For all we know, they could have followed us."

  Talbot and Gina exchanged glances, but Talbot spoke, "Did you see anyone today?"

  Mer kicked off the espadrilles. "We were trolling a pretty popular area. A couple of fishing charters, a pleasure craft or two. No one that seemed to pay us any undue attention."

  "Good," Talbot said.

  The air conditioning in the shop cut through the sheer fabric of the cover-up. Mer pulled her T-shirt and shorts out of the tote and placed them on the table. "Same plan for tomorrow?"

  Gina picked up her hat and inspected the brim. "How'd the scuba entry go?"

  Mer stepped into her shorts and fastened them under the cover-up. "Well, it wasn't a total yard sale." She drew the fabric over her head. "But I lost my snorkel and there's a distinct possibility I knocked a filling loose."

  "Holy crap!" Gina jumped off the table.

  Mer spun around, clutc
hing the cover-up to her chest. "What?"

  Both Talbot and Gina stared at the bruise on Mer's side.

  She dropped her arm to block their view of the yellow-tinged purples, feeling naked despite the bikini top. "It looks worse than it feels."

  Gina slapped Talbot in the chest. "You knew it was this bad?"

  Talbot cleared his throat. "Dr. Cavallo is quite capable of determining what she wants, or is willing to do."

  Mer willed her heart rate to return to normal. "Thank you." She shoved her arms into her T-shirt and drew it over her head. "But no one's answered my question. What's tomorrow's game plan?"

  Talbot rolled up the report he held in his hand. "You'll be doing the same thing."

  "That makes it sound as if someone else won't be," she said.

  Gina grabbed the cover-up. "You ever think of becoming a cop?"

  Mer shook her head. "I don't like getting shot at."

  "We try to avoid it, too." She grinned at Mer and said to Talbot, "Turn around."

  He did and Gina stripped to her one-piece bathing suit and donned the cover-up. She slid her ballistic vest into the tote sideways and covered it with a towel.

  "Okay." The deputy twisted her hair into a high ponytail and tucked it under the broad brimmed hat. She glanced at her watch. "Better get going."

  Mer handed her the sunglasses and sandals. "See you tomorrow?"

  "I'll be there." Gina slipped her feet into the wedged shoes, put on the glasses, and left.

  Jimmy Buffet took over from the steel band and sang about cheeseburgers in paradise. Mer's stomach growled.

  "Hungry?" Talbot asked.

  "A somewhat regular occurrence, I'm afraid." She claimed the spot on the table that Gina had vacated and sat cross-legged with her back against the wall.

  "Category Three serves a mean burger." He paused. "We can debrief over dinner."

  A burger sounded great and it'd be good to accomplish two tasks at once—but duty called. "I'm still on the clock. Now that I'm Mer again, I've only got a few minutes before I need to help put the boats to bed."

  "Right, of course." He unrolled the report. "I can't share a lot, but I thought you needed to know. Cole's disappeared."

  She straightened into alertness. "Deputy Cole?"

  "I'll know more after tomorrow. He put in for emergency leave—his mother's health."

  She relaxed. That wasn't nefarious, that was a man responding to the realities and responsibilities of life. "I hope it's not serious."

  "She's dead."

  "That's horrible. Dead?"

  "As a doornail."

  The detective's delivery was without inflection, and despite her dislike of Deputy Cole, Talbot's flippancy struck her as grossly improper. "You're being quite cavalier."

  "His mother passed away four years ago, so I'm a bit suspicious about the emergency aspect."

  "Oh." She slumped against the wall. "There's more, isn't there?"

  "Yes." He rerolled the report and sat on the table next to her. "Because of the coin, I did a bit of digging."

  Mer's hunger disappeared.

  "Cole's parents divorced when he was thirteen," he said. "A month later, his mother remarried. Had another child two months after that."

  The math raised more than eyebrows.

  Talbot continued, "Cole has a half-brother."

  She knew by the expression on his face that she wasn't going to like the answer, but she asked anyway. "What was his mother's name?" she whispered.

  "Agnes Chase."

  She made the connection immediately.

  "Winslet's mother."

  * * *

  The familial relationship of Deputy Cole and Winslet Chase gnawed at Mer as she helped wash down the boats for the night. The implications of the bond followed her home. They perched on her shoulder as she grilled a cheese sandwich and drank a glass of milk.

  And they woke her up at one o'clock in the morning.

  Who knew what information had passed between the two men and how long they'd been communicating. From the moment she and Leroy had pulled the smuggled bale onto the LunaSea, Cole had known the status of the coin—when it was believed lost, when she'd recovered it.

  No wonder he'd been uncooperative when her home was burglarized. He'd probably stood watch while Bart and Oscar ransacked the place. Talbot's unexpected arrival could have been problematic for him. Accusing her of being a drug dealer was a nice touch.

  Cole had also been on perimeter patrol the night of the gala, the same night Oscar and Bart conveniently escaped detection. And Deputy Cole "just happened" to interview Winslet and then let him go.

  The scariest prospect of the men's relationship was what it meant to the treasure operation. Could Cole have read all the police reports that Talbot had filed? She suspected so. Which meant the operation was compromised.

  The thought drove her from bed. She pulled on a lightweight hoodie and shorts and wandered outside. Out of habit, she glanced over at Selkie's house. Her anger had dulled into something else. Something she'd spent the last two days trying to define. Something she didn't want to think about. Not now.

  The grass was damp under her bare feet and for the first time this season, the temperature was predicted to drop into the sixties. UGGs weather for the natives. But she had to admit, wearing shorts in December did not suck.

  Two days shy of full, the gibbous moon would set soon, but the fading reflection lit the underside of gathering clouds.

  The grass gave way to sand and Mer perched on one of the boulders that lined the water's edge and stared out to sea.

  The Thirteenth Galleon hid somewhere in those depths. Cole, Bart, Oscar, and Winston hid somewhere else. She was the sole person exposed in this dangerous game of hide-and-seek.

  And it made her feel oddly alive.

  Maybe Selkie was right. Scars were battle badges. Proof of resilience and perseverance. She traced her fingers along the puckered skin on her thigh. She was a survivor.

  It didn't lessen her fear. Frankly, she didn't want it to. Selkie was right about another thing. Fear kept her safe. When her gut clenched and the hair on the back of her neck stood up, higher reasoning just got in the way. Fear was primal. And it was her friend.

  Tomorrow, she would resume the search for the Thirteenth Galleon. She would do what she could to mitigate the risks, but she would not back down.

  She had to find a coin and replace the one stolen from evidence. Turn it over and save Oscar.

  A large wave crashed against the rocks and misted her face with salt.

  The whereabouts of the stolen coin remained a mystery. Cole's disappearance certainly didn't bolster his assertion of innocence. The coin's value made it an attractive target, but selling the portrait dollar would be risky. The evidence custodian had access, too—but unlike Cole, that employee hadn't fled on a fabricated pretense. Nor, presumably, did that person have connections to a well-known treasure hunter.

  The clues snapped into place. It was so obvious.

  She slid from the rock and retraced her steps to her apartment. At her touch, the home screen on her telephone glowed and she disconnected it from the charging cord. A twinge of guilt made her hesitate, but she pushed it aside and dialed Talbot's number.

  His sleepy voice answered after the first ring.

  "They aren't in cahoots," she said without preamble.

  "Dr. Cavallo?" He cleared his throat.

  "Yes."

  She heard rustling through the phone as if he was struggling to sit up in bed. "Are you okay?"

  "Of course I am."

  "Okay, because normally when I get a call in the middle of the night, someone is either headed to the hospital or the morgue."

  "Cole and Winslet Chase. They're not colluding. They're in opposition."

  "You know it's one-thirty in the morning, right?"

  "Winslet thinks I have the coin—or at the very least that I can recover it."

  "And that you'll be seeing Deputy Mercurio in what, six hours
?"

  Her frustration mounted. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

  He yawned loudly. "By all means. Please. Convince me that Chase and Cole aren't in..."

  "Cahoots," Mer finished for him.

  "Technical term?"

  She pushed open the sliding door and stood framed in the doorway. "It's a perfectly serviceable word, and quite frankly, given your profession, I'm surprised you're not more familiar—"

  "I'm quite aware of its definition."

  "Then, why on earth—"

  "I'm hanging up now."

  "Winslet Chase doesn't know where the coin is. He thinks I can get it." The words poured out in a rush that she hoped would forestall him from disconnecting. She continued to speak into the ensuing silence. "Since Cole stole the coin, that means not all the information is being shared between the brothers."

  "You're assuming Cole stole the coin."

  At least he was still listening. "Well, of course he did."

  "And you know this how?"

  "Abductive reasoning," she said.

  "I'm sure I'm going to regret this, but what?"

  "Occam's Razor." She pulled the door closed behind her. "When dealing with multiple hypothesis, go with the explanation with the fewest assumptions."

  "Kiss."

  That wasn't a word she expected to hear from Detective Talbot. "Excuse me?"

  "The kiss principle. Keep it simple, stupid—K-I-S-S."

  "I'll stick to calling it abductive reasoning."

  "I suspected as much. Now, please, for the love of Shakespeare, get to the point."

  "I didn't steal the coin. That's a fact. It's also a fact that both the evidence custodian and Cole had means and opportunity to take the coin. I'll even grant you that they both could have been driven to steal it for financial gain."

  "But?" he prompted.

  "Cole has a much better motive. Revenge."

  Talbot shifted and the rustle of bed sheets was unexpectedly intimate.

  "That presupposes he was wronged," Talbot pointed out.

  "Imagine being a teenager and discovering that your mother doesn't love your father any longer. Then to make matters worse, you find out that she's already replaced him with another man."