3 Treasure Under Finny's Nose

by Dana Mentink

  The morning air was chilly, but the fog that huddled along the ground was scant. It would burn off by early afternoon. June really was a good time to come to Finny, she thought as she headed through town. After the cool of morning, the afternoon would no doubt shape up to be lovely. A glorious scent of cinnamon from the Buns Up Bakery signaled the start of Al’s morning preparations. She waved a hello to Luis Puzan as he cleaned the windows of his grocery store. A light shone in the top floor of the Finny Hotel.

  “I wonder if Ethan is up doing some work on his script?” It was a good place for creativity. The bougainvillea was vibrant against the peeling white paint of the old inn. In the distance, patrons could see the wild Pacific, wind tossed and shadowed by the enormous beds of kelp that undulated under the surface. The building was slightly ramshackle, but the view couldn’t be beat.

  She scooped Rutherford out of the fountain in the center of town square. Even close to two years later she couldn’t forget the day she and Alva pulled a slippery body from that bubbling water. The nausea returned with a vengeance. She took several deep breaths and sniffed the orange peel Flo Hodges insisted would drive away the worst morning sickness.

  A cheerful bicycle bell announced the arrival of her erstwhile guardian. Alva coasted to a perilous stop, weaving his way in and out of birds, dinging his bicycle bell to startle them out of the way with very little effect. “Morning, sweet cheeks. Monk told me to check every day and see if you done ate your vitamins.” He took a battered notebook and a pencil stub out of his jacket pocket.

  “Yes, Alva, I did take my vitamins, and so far I haven’t thrown them up.”

  He scribbled a note. “Saturday. Seven o’clock. Took pills. No throw up. Got it.” The pencil stuck out at a jaunty angle after he put it behind his ear. “Where are we going today?”

  She tucked the flyaway hair that was riddled with ever more gray strands behind her ears. “I thought I’d take the birds for a walk down to the beach before rehearsal. I saw a strange light in the water last night. I can’t get it out of my mind.”

  His white eyebrows shot up. “Strange? You figure maybe it’s a sea monster or something? You know I saw that Loch Ness creature swimmin’ in Tookie Newsome’s trout pond last spring. I betcha he relocated to the ocean on account of he needed more leg room.”

  Ruth suppressed a giggle. “Could be. Tookie’s pond is a bit small for a sea monster. Did you finish your route?” Alva was probably the oldest newspaper delivery boy in the country, but he did his job with meticulous care.

  “Sure. I got up extra early so’s I could report for bird walking duty.” He opened the tool box and handed her some Milk Duds.

  She patted his arm. Ignoring the fact that her waist was expanding with every passing minute, she opened the package.

  A tiny, black-haired woman with an ankle cast hobbled over, her arms full of grocery bags.

  Ruth’s eyes narrowed. “Good morning, Maude. I understand I’ve got you to thank for being roped into this acting job.”

  Maude shot a poisonous look at Alva before giving Ruth her full attention. “Well, I would have been happy to take on the role myself, but they said the cast was a problem. I really can’t see why they couldn’t shoot from the waist up. Of course, if somebody hadn’t left their inflatable raft on the steps of the Dr. Soloski’s office, I never would have broken my foot in the first place.”

  Alva crossed his arms. “How many times do I gotta say it? I told you that tweren’t my raft. I dunno how it got there. You can’t pin that on me.”

  Alva and Maude had a long-standing feud that began when she accused Alva of stomping on her primroses while he delivered the newspaper. Though Maude tried everything, even videotaping, to catch Alva in the act, she had never found proof of intentional wrongdoing.

  The wind whipped Maude’s hair into a wild tangle. “Well, you were there for a cleaning, weren’t you? Even though you don’t have any real teeth left.”

  “I do so have teeth, lots of ’em, the real kind and the plastic kind. Fer yer information, Doc says I gotta have a cavity filled in my back mortar.”

  “That’s molar, you idiot.” Maude was distracted by the crinkle of Ruth’s candy bag. “What are you doing eating candy at this hour?” Her glance shot to Alva. “Did you give her that?”

  He straightened up. “It just so happens, I’m her nanny. It’s my job.”

  “You’re not a nanny, you’re a nincompoop. A woman in her condition, especially at her age, should not be eating candy.”

  Alva folded his arms. “She’s gonna have anything she wants while the bun is in the oven. Monk said so. I’m keeping a report for him. I’m in charge.”

  Ruth noticed the flush mounting across the woman’s cheeks. She hastened to intervene. “Maude, what are all the bags for?”

  “I’m making boxed lunches for the first tour group.”

  “What tour group?”

  “I’ve sold twelve tickets to the Women’s Literary League of Half Moon Bay. They’re coming to visit the film site. You can meet them later. I’m providing lunch and a comprehensive informational tour. I’ve got another group lined up, too. A few more weeks of this and we might be able to buy that copy machine for F.L.O.P.”

  F.L.O.P. was the Finny Ladies Organization for Preparedness. With Maude at the helm, they were prepared for anything, from quakes to quarantines. “You’re giving tours of the film site? Did you run this by the director?”

  “Oh, please. He doesn’t dictate what goes on in Finny. He might be inspired to greater artistic heights, having a real audience there.” She shifted the bags and leaned closer, peering at Ruth’s face. “Why don’t you ask the crew about some stage makeup? You look all waxy and there are some sun spots on your cheeks that could stand to be concealed. Do you have your lines memorized yet?”

  Ruth moved her waxy, spotted face away from Maude. “Not yet. I’m working on it.”

  Alva wrote in his notebook.

  “What are you doing?” Maude demanded.

  “I’m adding to my report. Saturday. Seven thirty. Heading to the beach. Interrupted by old bat with a sack full of groceries.”

  Maude’s lips parted in fury.

  “Uh, we’ve really got to go walk the birds before rehearsal.” Ruth grabbed Alva’s arm. “Come on, let’s hurry. Bye now.” She moved off as fast as her thickened middle would allow. They headed down slope to the beach.

  The morning chill held the fragrance of cypress and cedar. Gravel crunched underfoot as they walked, the birds milling in a noisy crowd around them. She felt a sudden onslaught of self-pity. “Alva, do you think I look waxy?”

  He looked closely at her face. “Nah. You’re a real looker, Ruth. Your face is all plump and shiny. The best women are like doughnuts, you know, round and glazed.”

  They lapsed into silence as Ruth tried to digest Alva’s wisdom. Round and glazed. Neither sounded particularly attractive. She was overwhelmed by a pang of loneliness. Not just for Monk. She desperately missed her friend Dimple and Dimple’s daughter, Cootchie. Cootchie had been a part of Ruth’s soul since she had stepped in to raise her when Dimple’s lover was killed. At times, when Ruth pleaded with God to help her be a good mother to her unborn child, He sent her a tender memory of Cootchie. It was as if He said, “You love Cootchie, and you’ll love this child, too.”

  Another voice spoke up, with different words. You loved Bryce with every ounce of your being, and he won’t give you the time of day. And look what happened to Cootchie, kidnapped while in your care. Now she’s living with her real grandma in Arizona.

  Ruth silenced the thoughts with a strengthening prayer. She might be waxy, round, and glazed, but she still had enough strength to pray.

  They made it down to the rugged stretch of beach, the wind fighting them along the way. A crooked line of rocks dotted the gravelly sand and joined up to form a black cliff in the distance.

  The birds swarmed back and forth, playing tag with the waves. They kept away from the few
able-bodied birds that poked in the sand. It made her sad that her birds knew instinctively that they were not part of that wild flock anymore. She wondered if they felt a pang when they saw their uninjured brothers fly away on graceful wings. Did they realize they were forever earthbound?

  She walked carefully around the slick boulders, keeping an eye on Franklin. He was her delicate bird, after losing an eye and a foot to a cat. The vet had fashioned him a little plastic tube that slipped on his leg to protect his stump and help with balance. He despised having the contraption put on, but it helped him keep up or at least out of the way of the others.

  Looking back, she saw Alva with his plastic shovel, digging for treasure. The image brought back the words of Isabel Ortiz. As she watched the gray waves scour the sand, she wondered what it had been like for the servant woman to cling to the wreckage and watch the people die all around her. All those people and their possessions, lost to the arms of an angry ocean.

  Franklin hobbled ahead and disappeared around yet another jagged rock.

  “Don’t go too far,” Ruth scolded. “I’m in no position to attempt a water rescue.”

  She edged around the obstruction.

  Franklin poked his slender beak in a pile of slippery black kelp.

  Ruth took another glance at the oddly shaped mound of seaweed.

  Her mouth went dry.

  “Alva,” she called in a shaky voice. “Can you come here for a second?”

  He trotted over, still holding onto the bucket. “Good news. I found a can opener. Ain’t that handy? You just never know when you’re gonna need a can opener. It don’t seem hardly rusted at all. Wonder why someone threw it away?”

  She pointed. “Take a look over there, Alva. Is that what I think it is?”

  The old man squinted, mashing a fist into his eyes before he peered again. “Well, would you look at that. It ain’t no sea monster.” He patted his pockets.

  Ruth fought hard against the bile that rose in her throat. It took all her strength of will to contain the scream that coalesced inside her. After a moment, she got her vocal cords to cooperate. “Alva, I think you better call the police.”

  “Who, me? I ain’t got a phone, sweet cheeks.” He found the pencil and notebook. “I gotta add this to my report.” He licked the pencil point and began to write with relish. “Saturday. Seven fifty-five. We found ourselves a body.”

  Chapter Three

  Jack Denny tried again to get out of the police car, and again he stopped with his hand on the door. There must be some paperwork to be done, an arrest report or neighbor complaint that needed to be addressed, that would take him away from this location. He stared down at the cell phone clipped to his belt. It remained stubbornly silent. The irony.

  “Man, Jack,” he mumbled to his stubbled chin in the rearview mirror, “you are losing it, fella.” That was only partially true. He’d already lost it the moment he’d laid eyes on Bobby, right before she’d flattened an obnoxious assailant twice her size. She had been gone from Finny for two months but had returned to run her uncle Monk’s business while he was away tending to his father.

  Yes, Bobby was back, and Jack was alternately terrified and elated.

  He stood outside Monk’s Coffee and Catering with sweating palms and his stomach in knots. It was ridiculous. He could deal with homicides and mobsters, so why did this woman make his heart hop around like a wild rabbit? Jack took a gulp of air and headed toward the shop. He made it almost to the front door before he stopped again.

  Maybe Bobby had met someone. She had been away long enough. She was an attractive, educated, intriguing woman, and a park ranger to boot. Maybe she’d met some outdoorsy type who wasn’t afraid to take on a relationship, a man who didn’t fear losing everything. The thought sent a stab of ice through his gut.

  The windows were dim. Bobby must not be opening up the shop today. With a surge of relief, Jack reached for his keys to head back to the station.

  “Are you admiring Uncle Monk’s new paint?”

  He whirled around and dropped the keys.

  Bobby looked at him with her head cocked, black eyes sparkling under a fringe of bangs. She hardly came up to his chin, but her eyes had such power and strength.

  “I, uh, no, not really, no.” He picked up the keys and felt a flood of heat to his face. “I heard you were back.”

  “Word travels fast in Finny. I was taking out the trash and I saw your car. Do you want to come in for some coffee?”

  He sighed. “I would love to.”

  They walked into the shop. Bobby prepared the coffee and filled heavy mugs. The two settled into battered chairs by the window. In the distance, the ocean performed acrobatics under a delicate layer of fog. Jack sipped the strong brew and tried to calm his pattering heart. “When did you get in?”

  “Just this morning. I haven’t even seen Aunt Ruth yet. Uncle Monk asked me to keep the coffee and muffin business open and take catering orders. He’s hoping to be back next week. It killed him that he had to go.”

  “It’s great that you could help out. Ruth has her hands full right now. Maude’s already got her doing some photo documentary thing and an acting job.” He cleared his throat. It was time to ask the question that kept him awake at night. “Have you decided on a job?”

  “I’ve been looking at some positions in Arizona, and one in California, plus the spot that’s up for grabs in Utah. They all have their good points, but I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

  “I see.” Jack’s thoughts ran wild. Pick the one in California. Stay here, close to me. Please. He wasn’t sure which scared him more, the thought of her leaving or the thought of her staying.

  She put down her mug. “So how have you been? How’s Paul?”

  “He’s great. The doctor is really pleased with his progress.”

  “Is he talking more then?”

  “Not as much as he did when you were around.”

  Paul had been selectively mute since he saw his mother die suddenly when he was two. Now, at age five, he was just starting to string words together. Paul and Bobby spent hours building Lego spaceships, and Jack spent hours watching them, afraid to break the spell. “He misses Cootchie, too. We’re all hoping she comes back this summer.”

  The conversation died away. He found himself watching her, staring at her as if he was trying to memorize every detail of her face. When the silence became awkward, he cleared his throat. “Nate told me to ask you how to get a Barbie shoe out of his pencil sharpener.”

  She laughed, high and musical. “Did the triplets get him again?”

  He nodded. “I keep telling him not to fall asleep in the recliner. Cunning little stinkers. You’d think a cop wouldn’t be so easy to ambush, but he sleeps like the dead.”

  “Well, I can’t help with the Barbie thing, I never played with them. I was more of a Tinkertoy kind of gal.”

  He put down his empty cup and his fingers brushed her arm. Without thinking, he covered her hand with his. “I missed you.”

  She squeezed his hand before pulling away to gently straighten the collar of his plaid shirt.

  His breath caught at the feel of her soft touch on his skin. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and never let her go.

  She opened her mouth to speak when the chirp of his phone interrupted.

  Suppressing a groan, he answered it. Bobby took their mugs to the kitchen while he talked. After a minute he hung up. “You are not going to believe this, but Ruth found a body on the beach.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh no. Who is it? Is she okay?”

  “I don’t know, but maybe you’d better come along with me. She may need support.”

  “I got your back, Detective.”

  He should be so lucky.

  Jack drove code three down the bumpy trail to the beach. Bobby didn’t seem to mind the jostling. As a matter of fact, she looked as energized as he felt. Cold air rushed in through the open windows, and her cheeks pinked under her swirling
cap of short black hair.

  Alva met them at the top of the bluff. His eyes were enormous in his shrunken face. “Right down there, Detective. Howdy, Miss Walker. You come to check out the body? I been keeping the folks back. I sent Roxie away, but that busybody Ellen Foots is here with Dr. Soloski. I told ’em to keep off on account of they could smudge the evidence or something, but you can’t tell Ellen nothing. She’s as bad as Maude. You may just hafta arrest her for construction of justice or something.”

  Jack nodded. “Thanks, Alva. Let’s go have a look.”

  They made their way down the windy path to the beach. Ruth sat on a boulder, amidst a swarm of seagulls. Ellen stood next to her, her six-foot-four frame towering over a slender man who completed the trio.

  Officer Nathan Katz knelt next to a slick heap several yards away, taking pictures. He looked up and nodded. Jack and Bobby hastened over to the group.

  Ruth looked up, her face the color of plaster. “Hello, Jack.” When she saw Bobby, tears began to roll down her face. “Bobby, I’m so glad you’re here.” She jammed a tissue under her nose. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I’m unraveling like a loose hem. It’s just so awful. A body, another one.”

  “It’s okay, Aunt Ruth.” Bobby hugged her tightly. “You’re having a bad morning. Cry all you want. No one will blame you a bit.”

  “Well, Detective,” Ellen Foots boomed. “What is going to become of our little town? Another body. It hasn’t even been four months since the Fog Festival murder. I think it’s connected to the film crew. That’s what happens when you let new people in.” She turned wide eyes on the man next to her. “Oh, not you, of course, Gene. We are so lucky to have a dentist here.” She squeezed his arm.

  The sandy-haired man winced under the pressure of Ellen’s assertive gesture. “Detective, I’m relieved you’re here. I took a look to see if there was any need for resuscitation, but there, er, wasn’t.”

  Jack thought the poor guy looked as green around the gills as Ruth, but that might be attributed to the attention of the ferocious librarian. “Thanks, Doctor. I’ll need to talk to you both in a few minutes.” He put a hand on Ruth’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”