3 Treasure Under Finny's Nose

by Dana Mentink

  Sandra looked up from the chili pot. She blushed and replaced the lid. “Oh, sorry. I hope you don’t mind. It’s been awhile since I smelled a good home-cooked chili. My dad makes a mean pot, but I haven’t been home in a few years.”

  “Where is home?”

  “Montana. He moved us up there after my mom took off.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad. About your mother, I mean.”

  She shrugged and took the binder from Ruth. “It happens. I was only three so I don’t remember her much. My brother was ten so it really threw him for a loop. He’s dead now. Car wreck.”

  Ruth saw grief in the woman’s face. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me, too. He was a great big brother.” Sandra turned to go. “I’d better go. Nice talking to you, Mrs. Budge.”

  “Call me Ruth. I’ll save you some chili when it’s done.”

  “That would be super.” Sandra gazed into her face for a long moment. “You’re going to be a good mother, I’ll bet.”

  Ruth felt a warmth in her cheeks. “It’s what I’m praying for.”

  Just before midnight Ruth wandered into the kitchen, which still smelled of chili in spite of leaving the windows open for several hours. Though she had eaten two bowls earlier, the smell now made her stomach quiver. She held her breath and poured a glass of milk. It surprised her to find Indigo Orson’s journal on the sideboard with a note.

  Mom, Sandra saw me in town and asked me to return this to you. You were asleep when I got home, so I put it here. I ate more of the chili for a snack. It is good stuff. Bryce.

  Smiling, she sat on the sofa to sip her milk and thumb through the photocopied journal pages. There were no changes that she could detect. Then she checked the front inside flap.

  “I take that back. There is one change,” she muttered to herself.

  The cryptic numbered note was gone.

  Chapter Nine

  Jack waited until ten thirty in the morning to go to the library. He knew Ellen Foots attended a Thursday People and Paws meeting at the high school gym on Fridays at that time so he figured he was safe from the prying giantess.

  He made his way to the nonfiction section and hunted until he found it. Beginning Scuba. Perfect. Three hundred fifty pages of details that would open up a whole new undersea world or condemn him to a watery grave. As he went to the front desk, he wondered why anyone would choose to strap on a bottle of air and sink themselves on purpose. It was just an unnatural thing to do. Plenty of people did it, however, he thought with a grimace, including Ethan Ping, who he’d heard was escorting Bobby on another dive that very afternoon. He slapped his library card down on the front desk more forcefully than he intended.

  Ellen emerged from the back, her hair poking out from a headband that struggled to hold it all in.

  His heart sank a notch. “Ellen. I thought you were at your People and Paws meeting.”

  “Had to cancel. Maude had a dental emergency.” Her heavy brows furrowed. “At least, that’s what she says. I think she’s just trying to get her claws into Dr. Soloski. She’s on him like pudding skin.”

  The guy must feel like the last hunk of meat at a tiger convention. “That’s too bad.”

  Ellen scanned the bar code. “You’re going to learn how to scuba dive?”

  “Uh, no. Just a little background for the investigation.”

  Her face grew thoughtful for a moment and then resolved into a scowl. “You know, I’m going over there right now to check on Maude. If she’s got a cracked crown, I’m Nefertiti.”

  He hid a smile as he took the book.

  An hour later the book remained on the front seat of his car and Maude was in his office. She still wore the paper bib from the dentist visit.

  “It’s stalking, I’m telling you. Or invasion of privacy. Imagine, bursting in on a patient’s dental exam. Why, poor Dr. Soloski could have slipped and put his hook through my lip or something.”

  We couldn’t be that lucky. “But it all ended well, didn’t it? Dr. Soloski was able to fix your crown after all, wasn’t he?”

  “Crown? Oh, it wasn’t cracked after all. Silly of me.”

  Jack looked at Maude’s tight bun and her squared shoulders. The woman didn’t have a silly molecule in her spindly body. He reined in an exasperated sigh. “I’m not going to arrest Ellen, Maude, so is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Maude’s cheeks colored. “Stalkers. Bodies washing up on beaches. People slinking around at night, and what does the Finny police department do about it? Nothing. Not a pinky lifted to help out the citizens of this town. Shocking. I tell you it’s shocking.”

  Jack sifted through the rambling. “Who’s slinking around at night?”

  “Not that you’d be interested at all, but there’s been a boat out the last two nights. Late. Around two o’clock in the morning. My insomnia has been troubling me so I happen to notice them. No one has legitimate business out on the water at that hour, now do they?”

  “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know. My binoculars weren’t strong enough, but the boat looked like Roxie’s. Whoever it was had to be up to no good.” Maude’s black eyes widened under her pencil-drawn brows. “I know. I bet it was Ellen. She was probably dumping a body over the side.”

  Jack looked at her. “Whose body would she be dumping exactly?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You’re the police. Aren’t you supposed to figure things like that out? You did go to investigator school, didn’t you? I know she’s got a motive somewhere in her shady past.”

  Nate poked his head in. “Hey, Maude. There’s a group of women roaming the town looking for you. They say they’re ready for their visit to the movie site.”

  Maude shot out of the chair so fast she knocked it over. “Oh my. Is it that time already? Business is hopping. I’ve got another tour group to lead. Excuse me, gentlemen.”

  Nate nodded. “You might want to take off the bib first.”

  She sniffed and swept out of the room, her cast thumping against the floor in a rapid staccato.

  Jack slumped in relief. “Thanks for the rescue. I’m promoting you to the upstairs office.”

  Nate uprighted the chair and settled in. “Great. If we should ever build an upstairs, I’ll remind you of that. Louella called.”

  His heart skipped a bit as it always did when Paul’s babysitter called. “Is everything okay?”

  “You bet. She said to remind you the butterfly tea party is this afternoon at the preschool and the pleasure of your attendance is required.”

  He felt a twinge of guilt because he had not remembered what the twelve thirty entry in his PDA was for. “Right. Butterfly tea. I’m on it.”

  “Do you have to bring your own butterflies?”

  “Funny. You shouldn’t be handing out grief here. I remember you making an Easter bonnet when Janet couldn’t make it to the triplet’s Sunday school party.”

  “It was a fine looking bonnet.”

  “Can’t argue with that. I particularly liked the way you drew handcuffs on the side. What do you hear about Reggie?”

  “He’s still dead.”

  “Uh-huh. And?”

  Nate pulled his mustache. “And he participated in some questionable treasure hunting.”

  “What kind?”

  “The kind when you salvage artifacts off a historical wreck and sell them for profit.”

  Jack sat up straighter. “A historical wreck?”

  “Mmhmm. Worked for a man last name of Skylar. Ring any bells?”

  “My bells are ringing. Did he have an arrest record for this hunting?”

  “Nope. Turns out maritime law is a bit foggy. According to the Abandoned Ship Act, the government owns all shipwrecks in state waters out to three miles on the Atlantic and Pacific coasts. The particular wreck in question was slightly over that distance so Skylar hired a crew to pick it clean. There wasn’t much there worth salvaging, but they got themselves on the Coast Guard watch list.”

  “
Strange coincidence that a man of the same name is funding this little voyage through history, right off our humble coast.”

  “Isn’t it, though? Think the Triton was carrying any good cargo? Maybe there was something buried under all that coal.”

  “Might be interesting to find out.”

  Nate checked his watch. “Eleven thirty, boss. When do you have to report for butterfly duty?”

  “Soon, but I’ve got something to do first.”

  Jack walked partway up the steep trail, stopping behind the gnarled cypress. Down below he could see them making their slow exit from the water. Bobby’s figure was slight and smaller than Ethan’s, the only way he could tell the two wet-suited people apart. On the beach they began to strip off their gear. He couldn’t make out their words, but Bobby’s peal of laughter came through loud and clear.

  His stomach muscles clenched when Ethan held Bobby’s arm while she removed her flippers. There had to be some reason this guy should be in jail. He’d make sure to find out what it was.

  Ethan shouldered his gear and, with a wave, headed away toward town. Bobby pulled off her wet suit. She sat on the sand in her one-piece bathing suit, gazing out at the ocean. Jack watched her black hair dance in the breeze, and he unconsciously took a step forward, wishing he could join her on the warm beach. He thought better of it and leaned back. The rocky ground under his feet gave way, and he tumbled down the slope.

  The sun was warm on his face. Fingers stroked his cheek, coaxing his eyes into opening. He blinked.

  Bobby’s eyes were wide, anxious. “Are you all right?”

  He blinked again. “You smell nice.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “No, I don’t. I smell like seaweed.”

  He was relieved to find no trace of anger on her face from their last meeting. “No, you smell like a great cup of coffee.”

  She laughed. “Okay. I know your nose is working. Did you hurt anything else?”

  He shifted his limbs. Aside from dozens of pain pricks, all the parts seemed functional. He sat up and waited for the sparks to stop dancing in his head.

  Bobby looked into his eyes. “Pupils look normal, but I’d better call an ambulance anyway.”

  He grabbed her wrist as she started to go. “No. I’m okay. Just, just stay here for a minute.”

  She settled back next to him. “Do you want to tell me why you were spying on me?”

  “Spying? I wasn’t spying. I was out for a walk, and I saw you down there with College Boy.”

  “His name is Ethan, and I don’t buy that for a minute.”

  Jack bit back a sarcastic remark. He didn’t want to make an idiot of himself again.

  She gently brushed the gravel bits out of his hair and ran soft fingers along his head. The feel of her wrapped his insides in a flood of warmth.

  He cleared his throat. “Did you enjoy your dive?”

  “Sure.” She continued to watch his face. “I love diving. Beautiful kelp beds out there.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been considering trying it out.”

  “Trying what out?”

  “Diving.”

  “You?” She laughed. “That’s a good one.”

  He sat up straighter. “What’s so funny about that?”

  “Nothing. Diving is great. You’ll love it, but don’t go alone.”

  “Does Ethan dive alone?”

  “I don’t think so. Why? Oh, I know. You think he’s up to no good, right?”

  “You said it, I didn’t.”

  She stood, brushing sand from her legs. “Let’s not have another argument here, shall we? You’re not going to use me to dig up dirt on Ethan. He’s a nice guy, Jack.”

  “Then why is he in partnership with a modern-day pirate?”

  “What?”

  “The guy funding his quote unquote research is a man who steals treasure from shipwrecks that belong to the state.”

  “Hard way to make a living.” Her eyes narrowed. “Besides, there’s one problem with your pat theory.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The Triton carried a giant boatload of coal. Not coins, jewelry, or even silver. It was a cargo ship with very few civilian passengers. So there isn’t anything on that boat except maybe a few trinkets of interest to historians.”

  He looked out at the waves. “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “Let’s get real here. Your case is weak and you know it. Ethan has nothing to gain from that wreck except historical information, which is exactly what he said he was after in the first place.”

  Jack sniffed and looked away. “My gut tells me he’s not just here for the history.”

  “Sometimes people really are what they seem to be.” She picked up her air tanks and wet suit. “I’m gonna go now. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He heaved himself from the ground and stood upright before a wave of dizziness made him stagger. Bobby dropped her gear and grabbed him. “Absolutely, huh?” She tucked a shoulder under his arm and helped him walk.

  Jack leaned on her. “Why are you helping? I thought you were mad at me.”

  “I am mad at you. And you know why I’m helping.”

  “I do?”

  She stopped and sighed deeply. Her fingers wound around his neck, and she kissed him full on the mouth. “Because I love you, you idiot.”

  The kiss ended too soon. He was momentarily overwhelmed with joy, dizzy and not from the fall. She loved him. He should open his mouth and tell her how he felt. He should. He should.

  She waited a fraction of a second longer and then dropped her gaze to the sand. “That’s what I thought. Come on. Let’s get you back to your car.”

  They reached the parking lot, and he brushed off his clothes, feeling her disappointment, heavy as his own. “Bobby—”

  She shook her head. “Don’t say a word. You’d better go home and take a shower.”

  “I wish I could, but I’m late for a party.”

  “What kind of party?”

  “A butterfly tea party. We’re making tissue flowers.”

  Though her face still wore the signs of sadness, Bobby tilted her face to the sun and laughed.

  Paul wrinkled his nose in concentration as he folded the tissue into pleats. He poofed the delicate yellow paper and a smile lit his face as he held it up for his father. “See? It’s a flower.”

  “Nice, buddy. Great job.” Jack felt the curious glances from the room full of moms. He was scratched and bruised from his fall. The muscles in his back ached. The classroom was filled with mothers and children, expertly making tissue flower bouquets and pasting minute plastic butterflies on them.

  “Now you.” Paul slid the pipe cleaners and a handful of tissue at his father.

  “Oh, Dad’s not so good at this kind of thing. Why don’t you make some more? Yours are super.”

  His face fell. “You’re supposed to do it.”

  Jack couldn’t stand that look for another second. “Well, I’ll give it a try. Let’s see, how did you fold it?” As he fiddled with the wads of tissue, Jack thought about Lacey. She would have made perfect flowers. But she’s not here, he thought angrily, she’s dead, so I’m stuck making tissue flowers that look like someone chewed them and spit them out.

  The paper would not cooperate under his clumsy fingers. He produced a sad, crumpled mass, like a blossom trodden under the weight of many feet.

  Paul looked at it. “That doesn’t look good, Daddy.”

  I’m not good, Paul. I’m an idiot and a coward to boot. Why hadn’t he told Bobby he loved her? He could feel love in every pore of his body, but he hadn’t said the words to anyone besides Paul since Lacey died. He loved Lacey. And he loved Bobby, but he continued to let her down. No wonder she was scuba diving with other guys. “Sorry, son. I’ll try again.”

  Someone took the pipe cleaner and tissue from his hands and slid into the chair next to him. Bobby folded the paper into the perfect tissue bloom. She smiled. “There you go, Paul. Isn’
t that the best flower you ever saw?”

  “Oh yeah,” the boy yelled. “That’s great, Bobby.”

  She nodded. “Yes, it is. Get me a butterfly and more tissue, and we’ll finish this bouquet.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Ours will be the best one at this party.”

  With a giggle, Paul leaped out of the chair to fetch more supplies.

  Jack looked at her. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “I am mad at you. You’re a jealous cretin who has no business telling me who I can and cannot see. And you are also a dismal failure at arts and crafts.” She flipped her bobbed hair out of her face. “I, on the other hand, made six thousand tissue flowers for a Cinco de Mayo float so I’m a professional. I figured Paul could use a hand.”

  Jack looked into her black eyes and saw love shining there, love that he didn’t deserve. “He sure could.” And so could I.

  Chapter Ten

  God has sent me a soul even more wretched than I was the day I washed up on this shore. He’s a Chinese boy, name of Hui, which means splendor, I have since discovered. I found him one day, hidden under a broken wagon. I wouldn’t have noticed him at all if he hadn’t sneezed.

  His mother died of fever when he was born, and his father came to California to work the gold fields. Of course, being Chinese, they were forced to work the claims that had already been stripped clean. Hui was one of a group of fifty Chinese men and boys that came to Gold Country only to find themselves banned from the most current diggings. Gradually they dispersed, looking for meager leftovers from already bare land. The fortunate ones with some money to front were able to open laundries and restaurants and the occasional store in town.

  Hui and his father were not so lucky. They camped in a cave halfway up the side of the mountain until some white men caught Hui’s father panning in a forbidden place. They beat him to death. Hui buried him as best he could and survived by snitching food from the campsites at night. They caught him once, and he has a bruised face and a broken finger to show for his narrow escape. I am reminded that these men remain more animal than human sometimes.