Skeleton Sea

by Dwiggins, Toni

  Two shadows.

  One was most certainly the Breaker.

  The other was another boat.

  CHAPTER 27

  We stood dripping aboard the Breaker, facing the boat parked alongside.

  It was twice the length of Tolliver’s boat, a sleek cruiser with a jutting flybridge atop the cabin area that gave it the look of a hunting shark. The hull was painted carbon black. The name was in silver, letters steeply slanted forward as if bracing into the wind. It was called Destiny.

  I could not have imagined a more fitting boat for Oscar Flynn.

  Flynn himself leaned on the flybridge rail, massive forearms crossed, looking down upon us. He was bare-headed and his scalp glistened through his buzz-cut. He wore aviator shades.

  Flynn was not alone.

  I could not have imagined a more surprising crew member on the stern deck down below—Jake Keasling. Jake too wore aviator shades and leaned coolly on the railing but there was no question which guy was top dog. Green-haired Captain Kayak was looking out of place.

  “Howdy Oscar,” Tolliver said. “Howdy Jake.”

  The two men aboard the Destiny nodded.

  “Give us a moment.”

  They nodded again and waited in silence while we removed our tanks and heavy gear. Faith James stacked the gear on the racks and then returned to the jump seat, swiveling it to face the Destiny.

  I wondered what words had been exchanged between the two boats before we surfaced. I knew what I would have said. Something along the lines of fancy meeting you here. You been following us?

  I wanted to strip off my wetsuit and let the sun warm my skin but I did not want to strip down to my swimsuit in front of Oscar Flynn and Jake Keasling.

  Walter and Tolliver seemingly felt the same way.

  We lined up like neoprene seals along the starboard bench seat looking across the water to the big black boat.

  Tolliver resumed the communication. “What are you doing here?”

  Yes, I thought, that’ll do.

  When Flynn didn’t answer, Jake spoke up. “We’re eco-warriors.”

  Walter snorted.

  Flynn’s face was stony.

  Tolliver said, “Cut the crap, Jake. What are you doing here?”

  Jake pointed to his T-shirt.

  Both Jake and Flynn wore the green T-shirts that they’d worn two days ago on the beach outside our lab. Marine Mammal Research & Rescue.

  I said, “Haven’t seen a sea lion all day.”

  Flynn shot me a look—his eyes were hidden by the shades but his mouth thinned in that stony face—a look like a warning shot from boat to boat.

  After another moment waiting for Flynn to speak, Jake picked up a long pole with a scoop on the end and balanced it like a fishing rod over the rail above the teak dive platform. “We're algae collectors! Certified members of the Phytoplankton Monitoring Group of the Marine Mammal Research and Rescue Center. When the algae goes bad and messes up the sea life, who you gonna call? Me ‘n Oscar. Today anyway. You need somebody tomorrow, I’m renting kayaks, so go to the next names on the list. We get assigned our gigs and our partners. I mean, there is a certain lovely blonde I would have preferred to go sailing with but alas she doesn’t own a boat, and so I got slotted with Oscar here. Hot boat, though, right? I’m sure Oscar would have preferred that lovely blonde but he ended up with me. I mean, a volunteer is a volunteer and we show up when and where we’re told. Like today. Today, my friends, we are eco-warriors.” Jake tipped his head to look directly at Faith. “You wanna sign up?”

  She said, “Screw off, Jake.”

  Jake saluted.

  Flynn said, “We're here on business.”

  Tolliver said, “Actually, a marine scientist by the name of Violet Russell told us you consulted with her on the subject.”

  “So?” Flynn said.

  “So now you're here to sample this particular bloom?”

  Flynn looked across the water to the spongy red mat that sat over the ailing world down below. “What else?”

  “How about some other bloom? This isn’t the only one out here. It’s the season.”

  “You state the obvious.”

  “Well here’s an obvious for you, Oscar. It’s damned coincidental that you just happened to come upon this bloom. While we’re here.”

  “Somebody reported this bloom to our group a few days ago. This is the first day the weather’s been good for collection. We’re not supposed to go out in unfavorable conditions. My boat can handle rough stuff but when I’m representing the Center I go by their rules.”

  I wondered. Oscar Flynn seemed a guy who chafed under anybody's rules.

  Walter spoke. “Still.” He rubbed his chin, the way he does when he’s considering the plausibility of a theory. “I must agree with Doug’s word choice. Coincidental.”

  Jake set down his sampling pole and leaned over his rail and tipped his head to look up at Flynn. “Yo Oscar! We gonna do the job we came to do or we just gonna hang around shooting the shit with these dudes and dudettes?”

  If I could see through Jake’s bad-boy persona I wondered what I would find. I didn’t have the benefit of Tolliver’s long view, watching the little blonde boy grow up into a goof-off, into a green-haired faux eco-warrior, but I sure did share Tolliver’s conjecture that Jake’s persona might cover an uglier core, somebody capable of murdering a rival over squid-fishing. Then again, maybe Jake was simply a goof-off. What you see is what you get.

  Flynn ignored Jake.

  And now I wondered how Oscar Flynn—this self-proclaimed genius with the world-class lab and the startling rapport with sick animals—felt about ending up with Jake Keasling as a partner. Flynn had ignored Jake during the sea lion rescue back on the beach. He appeared to be striving right now to ignore Jake, as if Jake were an inconvenient stowaway.

  It struck me that Oscar Flynn and Jake Keasling were overworking the odd-couple angle.

  An odd couple, I thought, who both had connections to the source of the toxin that bioaccumulated in the anchovies that poisoned the diver Joao Silva.

  Walter stopped rubbing his chin in speculation and asked, bluntly, “Why are you here right now? Let me restate the obvious, Mr. Flynn. It’s a big ocean. There are other algal blooms. And yet you show up here, now. We could calculate the probabilities, if you like. Otherwise, let me point out that our radar indicated a boat following us on the way here. At a distance, perhaps hanging back in indecision. Was that the Destiny? And if so, what prompted you to finally join us?”

  Flynn scowled. “It’s Doctor Flynn.”

  “Pardon me, Doctor Flynn, of course, double PhD.” Walter smiled. “Here’s my theory. You wanted to know what we’re doing here. Why we came. What we found. You weren’t certain how to proceed but your curiosity finally prevailed.”

  Jake was attached to his rail, still watching Flynn.

  Flynn snapped, “If I wanted to sneak up on you I would have used my radar jamming. I came openly. I'm here on business. I don't care why you're here.”

  Tolliver said, “Well that’s damned odd. Simple human curiosity would make just about anybody ask why we’re here. Haven’t you seen the crowd that gathers when the cops show up at a scene? This is a cop boat, Oscar. You really trying to tell me you’re not curious?”

  “I don’t associate with the kind of people who gawk at crime scenes.”

  I would have laughed at the pomposity of that but Oscar Flynn was just not laughable. He made me wary, like a large predatory animal encountered in the wild makes me wary.

  Jake let go of his railing. He turned to us, fiddling with his aviator shades, resetting them. “Well hell, I gawk. I figure you’re here about Robbie going missing at sea. Since we’re at sea.”

  Flynn gave a little jerk. He stared at Jake, stared at us.

  Tolliver turned to Faith. “They ask you anything about our mission when they first arrived?”

  Faith nodded at the dive flag, which still flew. “They asked who w
as diving.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “I said Seal Team Six.”

  Tolliver chuckled.

  Jake managed a grin. “And then I said, I may not be a Seal but I am a manly kayaker and I asked if she wanted to grab a beer when we all get back to shore.”

  Bad-boy Jake hitting on the female, I wondered, or Jake trying desperately for casual?

  Flynn spoke. “I asked if we would be interfering with official business if we conducted our business while divers were in the water.”

  “And I told them to stand off,” Faith said. “And I told Jake to screw off.”

  Jake put his hand over his heart and shook his head. But his attention quickly shifted back to Tolliver. “So, uh, given that you’re not Seal Team Six, we got a detective and two geologists diving out here and so I’m going to jump to the conclusion that you were doing your evidence stuff and that made you think Robbie the little shit came, uh, here.”

  Flynn watched us, tapping his fingers on the railing, the impatient captain on his flybridge.

  Tolliver raked his hair, which had dried in the sun and the breeze and now sprang up into spikes. “Yup, we’re working the Donie case. That’s what we’re doing out here.”

  Jake leaned over the rail and looked down into the water. “Find him?”

  I could not resist looking down, as well. Deep blue, and the leading edge of the healthy kelp forest. There was nothing else to see, no indication that this was the watery grave of Robbie Donie. If it was, we hadn't even found anything like a shoe that might have belonged to him.

  Tolliver said, “No Jake, we didn’t find him. That surprise you?”

  Jake laughed.

  “What we did find, though,” Tolliver said, “was an underwater setup with a bunch of instruments. Some kind of monitoring setup, it looked like.”

  Jake looked up at Flynn.

  Flynn looked at his big silver wristwatch.

  Tolliver said, “It had one of those gizmos that sends signals to a vessel overhead. Wireless, even—pretty slick. You know slick technology, Oscar. Hell, you've got radar jamming? Anyway, what do you call that kind of gizmo?”

  “Acoustic modem,” Flynn said. “It's standard technology.”

  “Well then, it occurs to me that this setup might belong to your group. Your Phytoplankton Monitoring Group, if I've got the name right.”

  “Right name. Wrong assumption.”

  “So you folks take samples from the surface but you don't monitor the conditions underneath?”

  “That's right.”

  “So if I were to come aboard your vessel I wouldn't be finding an acoustic modem transmitter....receiver? Other end of the phone line?”

  “If you come aboard my vessel you'd better come armed with a search warrant.”

  “Something to hide, Oscar?”

  “Something to guard. My right to privacy.”

  “That's your right.” Tolliver shrugged. “So I guess I'll check with the ocean-research types, see if I can find who's monitoring down there.”

  “I don't care who you check with. It's not my business. My business is over there.” Flynn pointed toward the algal bloom. “Are you going to keep looking for that fisherman? I need to know because I need to go get my samples and I can’t do that if you dive again.”

  “We’re finished for now, Oscar. You go ahead.” A pause, and then Tolliver added, “But make it quick. I'll be scheduling police department divers to come out here for another look.”

  “When?”

  “Whenever it's convenient.”

  “I need to know the time.” Flynn added, “So I can be sure your divers won't interfere with my work.”

  Tolliver said, with an edge, “Whenever I decide to send them. This afternoon, or tomorrow. Maybe both days. Another day, if need be. I don't go by your schedule, Oscar. You go by mine. Are we clear?”

  Flynn gave a brusque nod.

  Jake spoke up. “Speaking of divers, you hear about that diver?”

  “Which diver is that?” Tolliver asked.

  “Uh, the dude from my sister's cave. The dude who got poisoned.”

  “The last I heard—this morning—Mr. Silva was still unconscious.”

  “Update.” Jake drew a finger across his throat.

  “Aw shit,” Tolliver said. And then, after a moment, “How do you know?”

  “I know a nurse. Asked her to keep me updated, since the man was poisoned on Keasling property. I like to keep track of who croaks.”

  Walter said, “That's a shame.” He looked up at Flynn. “A shame about Mr. Silva. Wouldn't you say?”

  “I didn't know him,” Flynn said. “Why should I care about somebody I never laid eyes on?”

  I had. Laid eyes on him as he was hauled aboard the Sea Spray. Laid eyes on him three days ago on the Keasling beach. It was a shame, although not a surprise that he'd died. He'd certainly been horribly sickened. His mouth frothing. Clutching at his stomach. Still wearing that purple welt on his cheek from the jellyfish sting.

  CHAPTER 28

  I said, “I owe you one.”

  Lanny blinked. “One of what?”

  “A thank you. I started to get seasick this morning, and then I used the fennel seeds you gave me.”

  He said, cautiously, “That’s good.”

  He looked up and down the hallway of the Keasling hacienda and bobbed his head, inviting me into his room. When we were both inside he switched on the light and quietly closed the door. And then he reddened. “Is this good? I can close the door?”

  “Sure.”

  He extended his hand. “Thank you for coming.”

  I thought, he'll regret that, and I regretted taking advantage of this gesture of good will, but I shook his hand with the best of intentions.

  He said, “Do you like my room?”

  “It’s really nice.”

  Lanny’s room was a surprise. I had expected some kind of kitschy nautical theme. A faux porthole. A throw rug with a seashell design. A clock in the shape of a seagull. I had expected, I was ashamed to admit, a childish room. Lanny was not a child. Living at home, sure, in the family hacienda—but then so was big sister Sandy. I wondered what her room looked like. A skull and crossbones Keep Out sign hanging on the wall. An aquarium full of piranha.

  Lanny's room was tidy and pleasant. There was the same planked flooring as in the rest of the house, scuffed and scarred but clean. A big window with a wide oak sash overlooked the sea, silvery in the starlight. The walls were pale blue and hung with posters. One poster was of the Sea Spray, the kind you can get enlarged from a photo. The other poster was of a bluesy-looking rock band with the banner headline Blue Fall in a Special Appearance at the Otter Rock Cafe! There was a simple oak dresser and matching bedside table. There was a framed photo on the dresser of three kids, two boys and a girl with their arms looped around each other’s shoulders—the Keasling siblings. The little Sea Urchins.

  On the bedside table was a digital alarm clock. Beside the clock was another picture frame, the kind of mirror-finish frame you can buy at the drugstore that includes a stock photo. The young woman in this photo had blonde curls and blue eyes and a warm generic smile.

  My heart squeezed.

  Lanny said, “You should sit here.” He directed me to a simple oak chair by the window. He sat on a dark wood chest at the end of his bed. It was the only piece of furniture in the room that appeared to have a history. It was banded in iron, dinged and scratched. I figured it dated back to earlier Keaslings.

  Lanny clasped his hands in his lap. “Now it’s okay to talk.”

  An hour ago, when I had phoned Lanny and asked if we could meet, he’d given me a time and said he would wait for me outside the hacienda.

  I'd phoned him from the Shoreline Motel where Walter and I had spent the afternoon and early evening doing the analysis on the samples we'd gathered on the morning's dive. We'd made a late dinner of take-out curry, and chewed over what we'd found at the site, what it all meant
.

  And then we'd talked floats.

  And then I had proposed my plan. Walter said, you know this is a long shot? I knew. Then he asked me to be kind.

  And then I phoned Lanny.

  At the appointed time I drove to the hacienda on the bluff and parked away from the house, as instructed.

  Lanny, true to his word, had met me outside. He led me inside through a side door, asking me to walk on ‘cat feet’ and whisper because Sandy was in her office and he didn’t want her to hear us. He’d explained, apologetically, that Sandy didn’t like me. I’d assured him that I already knew that.

  We’d had no trouble navigating the cavernous hacienda without being seen.

  And now, facing Lanny in the privacy of his room, I found myself tongue-tied. He looked so eager to please. He wore a white collared long-sleeve shirt, black chino pants, and blue boat shoes. He’d dressed up. Be kind, Walter had told me. I wasn’t certain how to do that, how to raise the question I came to ask, kindly. Hey Lanny, did you steal Joao Silva’s red float and hide it in the dunes and if you did, what are you hiding?

  Before I could frame the question Lanny asked one of his own. “Where did you get seasick?”

  Okay, I thought. That works. I had meant only to thank him for the fennel, to be friendly, but seasick was a workable lead-in. I said, “Walter and I were with Doug Tolliver on his boat. We had some evidence that led us to a site on Cochrane Bank.”

  I had debated giving Lanny that bit of case-related information. I decided that I needed to give something in order to get something.

  He sealed his lips. Not giving anything.

  I gave a little more. “We believe Robbie Donie anchored there, at some point.”

  Lanny’s clasped hands tightened. “Did you find Robbie?”

  Same question your brother asked, I thought. I said, “No.”

  Lanny broke into a smile. “Oh, that’s good.”

  “Is it?”

  “That means Robbie’s not dead down there.”

  “All it means,” I said, striving for a kindly tone, “is that we didn’t find his body.”

  Lanny’s smile died.