by Janni Nell
So, this was the information I had: a) Queenie claimed Black Fergus had stolen the treasure; b) The mers claimed it had been stolen by pirates on a ship that flew the skull and crossbones; c) Wikipedia claimed Black Fergus didn’t fly the skull and crossbones.
Someone was lying. Was it Queenie? Or Sophie Renard, who had translated for the mers? Or Wikipedia? Probably not Wikipedia, since I’d checked and confirmed their information on other sites. That left Queenie or Sophie. Who had the most to gain by lying to me? A dead pirate’s woman, who had spent years of her life breaking the law? Or a very much alive café owner who could translate Mer? Maybe neither of them. Maybe I’d misunderstood the information Sophie had given me about the flag. I decided to call her.
It was only nine in the evening, but she sounded tired. “Allegra, how are you? I am sorry the peace talk went wrong. So sorry Oak fired you.” Was she gloating? Nah, her tone was definitely sympathetic.
“Oak rehired me,” I said.
“That is wonderful news.” She seemed genuinely happy for me. “But you have not called me for the chat. What information do you want?”
“You remember the first time you talked to the mers, when they told you pirates had stolen the dowry…?”
“Non, non, they did not mention pirates. They said humans on a ship that flew the skull and crossbones. Naturally we assumed it was a pirate ship.”
“You’re sure the flag was the skull and crossbones? Not a dagger dripping blood?”
“Of course. If the mers had mentioned a dagger, I would have told you the ship belonged to Black Fergus. He was renowned for his unusual flag.”
So Queenie had been lying about Black Fergus stealing the treasure. Now why would she lie? Because Dick had stolen the treasure?
After ending the call to Sophie, I went in search of Queenie again. This time I was determined to make her tell me the truth, but she was no longer on the beach. I yelled out to her, promising more gin, but she didn’t reply. Perhaps she’d wandered inland and passed out again, but there was little chance of finding her in the darkness.
This whole case sucked pond water. If I didn’t solve it, my 99.5 percent success rating would be nothing more than a beautiful memory. I swore and kicked sand.
“Why are you attacking the beach?” Casper appeared not six feet away from me.
I glared at him. “Do you have to appear like that? I’ve told you before to give me some warning.”
“Yes, we agreed on a whistle, but you didn’t hear me. You were too busy rearranging the beach.”
I kicked some more sand. “I’ve got a right to be pissed off. Queenie’s disappeared, my toe’s not itching, and you won’t tell me what’s going on between you and Sophie.”
“I did tell you.” His mouth twitched. “It’s not my problem you were too drunk to remember.”
“It’s your problem you won’t repeat what you said.”
“Oh, I’ll repeat it…”
“Go on then.”
“…in my own good time.”
I sighed and leaned against a rock. “So why are you here? Just to tease me about Sophie, and reprimand me for kicking the beach?”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t have interrupted your tantrum. You were doing so well without me.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve done well without you. I’m getting a lot of practice.”
“I thought you’d forgiven me for turning up late to rescue you from the goblins.”
“Don’t kid yourself.”
“How about this? You work on forgiving me for that and I’ll try to forgive you for not paying attention when I told you about Sophie. Is it a deal?”
“If I forgive you, will you tell me what’s going on between you and Sophie?”
“Only if your forgiveness is genuine.”
So I wasn’t going to learn the truth anytime soon because I was pretty sure I wasn’t genuinely ready to forgive him. It was right about then that my phone rang. Dylan had been discharged from the hospital. In fact, his yacht was anchored off Lu’arna Island.
“Want to come aboard?” he invited.
I covered the mouthpiece and told Casper it was Dylan. “He wants me aboard his yacht. Now.”
“Don’t go.”
“Why? Will you miss me?” I uncovered the mouthpiece. Shooting Casper a triumphant glance, I said, “See you soon, Dylan.”
Casper shook his head as though I was making the biggest mistake of my life.
* * *
Cruising around Lu’arna at night was predictably beautiful, but despite Dylan’s obvious charms I couldn’t help thinking I’d rather be aboard Heavenly.
“Champagne? offered Dylan.
“No,” I said, vowing to cut my alcohol intake. “I’ll have a soda.”
Dylan lifted an eyebrow, but I didn’t explain. “One soda coming up.” He poured a red wine for himself.
“Should you be drinking after a concussion?” I asked. He still had a plaster on his head that covered stitches and a big lump.
“One won’t hurt. If I pass out, call Marie.” He grinned as though he was invincible. I wished I shared his confidence. He went on, “There’s something I want to ask you. You know that woman we saw on the beach—the one that looked so much like the old music hall star?”
“Queenie Pearl, yeah.”
“What if she—the woman on the beach—wasn’t a modern-day woman at all? What if she was Queenie’s ghost?”
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
“I’ve never seen one before, but—do you think I’m crazy?” He looked lost and confused and way out of his comfort zone.
I took pity on him. “Remember I told you I was an investigator? Well, that’s not the whole truth. I specialize in investigating the paranormal.”
He brightened immediately. “Then you can’t possibly think I’m crazy. I guess you’ve seen a lot of ghosts.”
“Yeah.” And plenty of other things he didn’t need to know about. “Can you keep a secret?” When he nodded, I said, “Those cannibals on Tikini Island aren’t human. They’re a type of goblin.”
“No shit.” His astonishment was endearing. I’d got so used to Casper being one step ahead of me that having a guy one step behind was a rare treat. Dylan took a moment to think things over. “Did you know Queenie was a ghost when you spoke to her on the beach?”
“Sorry I lied, but I wasn’t sure how you felt about the paranormal. A lot of people can’t handle it. A lot of people prefer to call me a fake than admit there are things that go bump in the night.”
“Not me,” he said. “I think you’re unique.”
Hmm. Unique could be good or bad. Much as I’d have liked to, I didn’t fish for a compliment by asking him to explain.
He got me another soda and refilled his wineglass. When he sat down his thigh brushed mine. He rested a finger beneath my chin, hinting at a kiss to come and giving me a chance to pull away. I didn’t. His lips were gentle and undemanding. I relaxed, leaning into him but stopping short of wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Too soon?” he asked. “Or is there someone else? That blond guy at the marina?”
“No, he’s just my business partner.”
“Great,” said Dylan. “I’m glad you’re not involved with him. I don’t like cheaters.”
“Excuse me?”
“I saw him with that woman who runs the café. They looked like…well, you don’t need to hear it from me.”
“Oh, I know they’re involved,” I answered breezily. “But it’s not serious.”
“It looked pretty serious to me. He was all over her. I’m sorry, forget I said that. I know you have feelings for Casper.”
“Really, I don’t,” but my stomach churned uncomfortably. Casper wouldn’t lie, but he h
adn’t told me the truth about him and Sophie either. I had assumed their relationship was innocent. Maybe my assumption was wrong. Or maybe Dylan was lying. Evie had said he wanted me. Enough to lie about Casper and Sophie? I was so confused I didn’t know what to say. “Dylan, I…”
“Don’t.” He put a finger to my lips. “Let’s begin again. Tell me about the life of a paranormal investigator. Where do you work mostly? Europe, I bet. All those haunted castles.”
“Actually I work all over the world, but you’re right. A lot of it is in Europe.”
“Must be a pleasant change to visit the South Pacific. Very strange that a ghost from nineteenth-century London is haunting Lu’arna Island. Do you think she’s looking for her man? That pirate what’s-his-name?”
“Dick Finch.”
“That’s the one.” Suddenly he grinned. “Is there buried treasure on Lu’arna? Is that why Oak Forrest hired you?” He went on before I could answer. “Typical billionaire. Rich as Croesus and he still wants more.”
“What else do you know about Oak Forrest?”
“Only what everyone else around here knows. Marie and Luc filled me in on all the local gossip within hours of my arrival, including the owners of all the private islands and their reputed wealth. Is he a good employer?”
“When he isn’t firing me.”
He smiled. “I’d love to hear about the case, but I understand if you can’t tell me. Didn’t you say you’d signed a confidentiality agreement?”
I had said that, but it wasn’t true. I didn’t need to sign anything. It was in my best interests to keep quiet about my clients’ supernatural problems. Otherwise my work would dry up.
Dylan prompted, “So you can’t discuss the thrill of searching for buried treasure?”
“What buried treasure?”
“Okay, I get it.” He stopped asking difficult questions about my job. “Can I see you again?”
Gee, and I’d thought the questions about my job were difficult. I struggled to decide whether I should encourage him.
“I’m not sure when I’ll have time. Depends how the case goes.”
“No pressure,” said Dylan. “Ball’s in your court. Call me, but only if you really want to.” He gave me his number.
Chapter Twelve
I was jolted awake in the early hours of the morning by the sound of Queenie butchering lyrics from The Pirates of Penzance.
“‘For I am a pirate maid,’” she sang, using my balcony as a stage.
“‘Hurrah for the pirate maid
“Oh it is, it is so great to get laid
“When you’re a pirate maid.’”
“If you got laid,” I said, joining her on the balcony, “technically you wouldn’t be a maid.”
“’Aven’t been a maid since I was twelve, ducks. But that’s by the by. Get your arse moving. Someone wants to talk to you.”
“Who?”
Queenie made a clicking sound with her tongue and I recognized the Mer language.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Coral. She wants to talk to you.”
Coral, the mermaid who’d given me the pink pearl—and hadn’t that turned out well. I didn’t really want to meet her again, but the chance that she might have important information had me throwing on clothes and grabbing my flashlight. As I walked with Queenie to Sunrise Beach, I longed to ask why she’d lied about Black Fergus stealing the treasure, but I kept my mouth shut. Didn’t want to piss her off until I’d learned what Coral had to tell me.
The mermaid lay in the shallows. She shielded her eyes from my flashlight, but not before I saw her anxious expression. She began to click and squeak so fast, Queenie had to tell her to slow down.
“I have come to beg a favor,” Coral said through Queenie. “Perhaps I’m foolish to trust someone I hardly know, but you returned my mate’s body so there must be some good in your heart. Please come with me. I want to show you something.”
I shone my flashlight in Queenie’s face. “Do you know what she wants to show me?”
“Haven’t got a clue, ducks. But you’d better get that bloody light out of me eyes right quick or I’ll deck you.” When I moved the light out of her eyes, she said, “So, you coming with Coral or wot?”
“Yeah,” I said, unwilling to ignore anything that might help me solve the case.
“Better get your clothes off. Unless you don’t mind them getting wet.” Queenie had already stripped down to her chemise and drawers. I did likewise. As we entered the water, she boasted, “Dick taught me to swim in these very waters. Them was ’appy days.”
Coral beckoned us to follow her and we began to swim along the coast.
The ocean was calm, which was just as well because we swam for miles. Stupid, really, when I could’ve walked to the rocky point and met Coral there. By the time we’d swum all the way my arms were aching.
Coral gave a few clicks and squeaks, which Queenie translated as, “You have to go underwater here.”
“Without my flashlight?” I’d left it on the beach unaware I’d be required to dive into black water.
Queenie said, “Coral will guide you. Put your arms around her waist. Don’t forget to take a deep breath.” She gave a low chuckle. “You’re not scared, are you?”
If I’d been on land, I’d have stiffened my spine and squared my shoulders. Since I was treading water and fighting muscle fatigue, I just locked my arms around Coral’s waist and hoped for the best. We plunged beneath the surface. Water flooded my ears and nose, muting sound, killing my sense of smell. We zipped along like the Loch Ness Monster dodging the paparazzi. Once or twice I opened my eyes, but I couldn’t see a thing. Too soon my lungs started complaining about the lack of air. How long was this going to take? Coral might be able to hold her breath for half an hour, but did she know I couldn’t? Just as my lungs reached the bursting point, she took a sharp turn. Seconds later we shot to the surface. I gulped air. Mmm. Yum. Queenie’s head popped up too. Unlike me she wasn’t overdosing on air. Duh—ghosts didn’t have to breathe.
Treading water, I took in our new surroundings. We were in a cave. Most of the space was taken up by water, but a wide ledge ringed this place, high and dry. Above us tiny spots of light speckled the roof like green stars. Some kind of tropical glowworm? Whatever, Coral hadn’t brought me here for the light show. She’d brought me here to see the bodies. They lay on the dry ledge. Mers, male and female, old and young. Each body, except for the face, was covered with strips of seaweed like a shroud. Beside each head, near the crown, was a pile of pink pearls. Some piles contained many pearls, others only one or two.
I turned to Queenie, who was treading water beside me. “This can’t be the mer burial ground. There aren’t enough bodies.”
“Right you are, ducks. These poor souls have only just turned their toes up. They stay here until the relatives have paid their last respects then they’re taken to the final resting place. Don’t ask me where that is. It’s a closely guarded secret.”
While we were talking, Coral swam to the ledge, hauled herself out of the water and sat beside one of the bodies. Queenie and I followed. Soon we were standing on the ledge beside the body of the mer who’d been in Oak’s deep freeze. Coral smoothed the hair off her mate’s pale forehead. Careful not to disturb the pearls near his head, she bent to kiss his blue lips.
I leaned toward Queenie and whispered, “Why does he only have two pearls?”
“It’s a tradition for members of the deceased’s family to visit the body and pay their respects. The first time they come, they leave a pearl.”
“Guess they’re not a close family.”
“Not true, ducks. They’re very close. You ’ave to be when there are only two of you left. All the others ’ave been killed in the war.”
Be
side the body Coral stifled a sob. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Through Queenie she said, “Our son has sworn to fight the Tikini-kai.”
“I’ve seen him,” I said, thinking of the youngest mer pallbearer. “He has one shell in his hair, right?”
Coral smiled through her tears. “He’s a fine young merman with a promising future. Soon he’ll wed his betrothed and our family will grow again.”
“Cause for celebration,” I said.
But Queenie shook her head. “He’s got himself into a dangerous situation. Coral wants your ’elp, but she’s not sure she can trust you.”
I turned to Coral and put my hand over my heart. Expressions flitted across her face like a slide show. Anxiety. Mistrust. Hope. And finally resignation. If she wanted my help, she had no choice but to put her son’s life in my hands.
She bowed her head and began clicking softly. Queenie spoke over her. “A great storm is coming. As usual the Tikini-kai will keep watch for ships approaching their reef. The mers plan to steal a boat and make sure it is wrecked. When the Tikini-kai attempt salvage, the mers will attack. My son will be there. He is all I have left. I can’t bear to lose him. Please, you must find the stolen treasure and return it before the storm comes.”
“Hey, I’m trying, but it’s not easy when people are lying to me.” I shot a glance at Queenie, who looked guilty. Coral interrupted with some high-pitched squeaks. Queenie said, “She’s asking if you’ll save ’er son.”
“I’m not sure I can do that without your help, Queenie. I know Black Fergus didn’t steal the dowry and the Star of Light. If you know what happened to them, even if they were sold long ago, tell me. Not for my sake, for Coral’s.” I waited, hoping Queenie’s better nature would surface, but it didn’t. Fighting to keep my temper, I said, “Tell Coral I’m doing everything I can to find the treasures. But I doubt it’ll do any good. Her son is toast.” I knew that was cruel, but I was trying to shame Queenie into telling me what she knew. I seriously doubted she’d translate that last part to Coral, and I was probably right because the mermaid clasped my hand and clicked softly. I didn’t need Queenie to tell me she was saying thank you.
