A Watery Death (A Missing Pieces Mystery Book 7)

by Joyce Lavene

  But the whole enterprise was anchored by the impressive replica of the Spanish treasure ship that went down in a fierce storm in 1720 with all hands lost. The people of Duck—known as Bankers—had lived off its spoils for years. Not all the treasure had been retrieved, even though hundreds of people, through present day treasure hunters, had searched for it.

  “Hi, Dae!” Barney Thompson’s daughter, Celia, worked at the ticket office. “What brings you down here?”

  “Is Captain Lucky on the ship? He left his car keys at my shop this morning.” I knew how that was going to sound before I said it, but I had to explain why I wanted to see him.

  Celia’s deep brown eyes grew wide in her round face. “You and Captain Lucky? What happened to Kevin Brickman?”

  “Captain Lucky and I aren’t dating,” I explained. “It was just a fluke. He was at Missing Pieces and dropped his keys. I want to return them before he needs them.”

  “I can’t believe you’d abandon Kevin. Weren’t you guys going to get married?”

  There was no pretty way out of this. “We are getting married, Celia. Right after Trudy and Tim. Captain Lucky was at the shop. That’s all.”

  “Really?” She lowered her voice suggestively—as if I hadn’t said anything. “So you’re just fooling around with Captain Lucky, right? I never pictured him as the type to settle down. You’re right to have him as your boy-toy. Kevin is handsome and stable, even if he is a little old.”

  Celia was eighteen, just out of high school. At that age, Kevin approaching forty looked ancient. Me too, probably.

  “So is it all right if I take Captain Lucky’s keys out to him?” I tried to get the conversation back to my original question.

  “Oh, sure. There isn’t another tour until four. You should be able to catch the courier going out there with supplies and hitch a ride. See you later, Dae. I hope you’re inviting me to your wedding. And don’t worry about Kevin. He won’t hear anything about Captain Lucky from me.”

  “Thanks, Celia.” But I didn’t believe a word of it. At least everyone would only be talking about me and Kevin, not about Captain Lucky’s need to get out of town for a few days.

  She was right about the courier. He was on a golf cart and pulling a wagon with sides behind him. The cart was full of liquor boxes and the driver explained that their order at the local ABC liquor store had been shorted.

  “I don’t want to be at sea with a bunch of people losing money and no alcohol,” he joked.

  He said his name was Jet. He wasn’t from Duck but was there for the summer to work. He was a handsome young man with bronze shoulders barely covered in a tight, white tank top.

  “I like this area, even though it’s small.” He looked out at the horizon where the sky was clear. “I can’t imagine living here. My friend who invited me down for the summer grew up in Duck. I don’t know if he plans on staying now that he’s out of school.”

  “I suppose if you like big towns, this would be disappointing,” I agreed as we went quickly down the pier to approach the boarding ramp that led up to the ship. “Who’s your friend who grew up here?”

  “Dale Fargo. You know him?” Jet smiled at me, one hand on the wheel.

  “Sure. His mother is the fire chief. I remember Dale.”

  He backed the cart up to the ramp, a plain word for an elaborate, wide, entry that went to the Andalusia II. It was decorated with pirate paraphernalia, which had seemed odd to me on the replica of a Spanish treasure ship. The Spanish hated the pirates as much as anyone else. But the pirate theme—including Captain Lucky’s outfit—was prevalent onboard.

  The gambling company that had built the ship probably found the pirate look more interesting and didn’t care about the history.

  I helped Jet with a few of the liquor boxes. He called for other crew members to help with the rest. The first mate, an interesting man wearing 17th century Spanish garb, greeted me as I went onboard.

  “Mayor O’Donnell.” The handsome first mate did a sweeping bow in front of me with his feathered hat in hand. He wasn’t as charismatic as Captain Lucky, which was probably why he was first mate.

  “Mr. Lynch.” I shook his hand. Carl Lynch was a new member of our community. He’d moved to Duck expressly to be on the ship. “It’s good to see you.”

  He kissed my hand, his dark head hovering over my arm for several minutes, making the other crew members walk around us as they moved boxes of liquor to the bar area.

  “To what do we owe this pleasure? Will you be sailing with us, ma’am?”

  “No. I came to see Captain Lucky. They told me he was here.”

  “Of course. Come right this way.” He tucked my arm into his and smiled. “May I offer you refreshment?”

  “I’m kind of in a hurry, thanks. The captain’s quarters are this way, if I remember correctly. I can go by myself. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

  His very dark eyes were wide in his chocolate-colored face. “Better things to do than to escort my lady mayor to the captain? I think not. Allow me to show you there.”

  I didn’t argue with him. It was interesting watching all the activity that went on before the ship was set to sail. Dozens of crew members were making sure all the brass-plated rails were shining. A pirate ship, or a Spanish galleon, never received this kind of attention in real life.

  “We’ve ordered new slot machines, if you’d care to take a look below deck,” he invited. “They have a pirate theme, and pay off in replicated gold doubloons.”

  “Thanks, no. Maybe some other time.”

  “You’ll find our menu has improved as well. We’re offering more than just seafood now for dinner, and we have a live band every night. We have Tom Mason and the Blue Buccaneers tonight. I’ll bet you love them, right?”

  “I do enjoy their music. I’ve never seen them in person.”

  He jumped on my revelation and gave me a free supper tour pass.

  “I hope you’ll take advantage of it.”

  “Thank you.” I put the pass in my pocket. We were right in front of the captain’s large quarters at the other end of the hundred-foot ship. “I’ll knock, if that’s okay.”

  “Oh, no. Allow me.”

  Mr. Lynch rapped smartly at the beautiful inlaid doors that opened into the cabin. There was no response at first. He knocked again, but still no answer.

  One of the crew arrived with a case of brandy on his shoulder. “This is for the captain, Mr. Lynch, if you and the lady wouldn’t mind moving out of the way.”

  The crew member rudely barged between us and pushed open the double doors. We prepared to follow him into the cabin, until we heard a stifled scream and the box of brandy fell to the heavily-carpeted floor.

  “Madre de Dios!” Mr. Lynch turned to stare at the elegant cabin. “What happened here?”

  Chapter Three

  The captain’s stateroom was large, occupying one full end of the ship. Captain Lucky was expected to entertain special guests lavishly in this space. It was meant to impress.

  Heavy, wood-paneled walls were accented by brilliant tapestries and paintings. Brightly colored Tiffany lamps hung from the ceiling, also occupying a space on a wide oak desk and on an intimate dining table with four red velvet-covered chairs.

  There was no other room onboard that was more opulent than this one. Everything here was handcrafted and richly appointed. It was meant for a man of power and influence.

  In this case, it had been created for Captain Lucky, the first skipper of the Andalusia II. And he was there, sprawled in his usual tight leather, a final look of pain and fear on his handsome face.

  “What should we do?” The crew member picked up the box of brandy with trembling hands. “Shall I fetch the ship’s surgeon?”

  “I don’t think the surgeon can help Captain Lucky now.” Mr. Lynch moved quickly to the bed and touched a hand to the captain’s throat. “As I thought—he’s dead.”

  “We should call Chief Michaels,” I advised. “They’l
l want to send someone out here.”

  “But what’s all this stuff?” the crew member asked. “This wasn’t here when I came in yesterday.”

  Mr. Lynch stroked a hand across what looked like seaweed, dragging some down. It hung from the lights and the tapestries, and was spread across every surface. “I don’t know.”

  I was so stricken seeing Captain Lucky that I hadn’t realized until that moment that the thick carpet underfoot was soaked with water. As my feet sank into it, it made a squishing sound. “The whole room is wet.”

  “This is crazy.” The crew member backed toward the door. “How did it get this way? Is the ship sinking?”

  “Don’t be daft, man,” Mr. Lynch practiced his brand of historical speech. “Of course the ship isn’t sinking. Check the window. Maybe it’s broken and water came in.”

  “I’m not checking anything, man.” The terrified crew member sprinted out the door, shouting that Captain Lucky was dead.

  “Get back here!” Mr. Lynch yelled. His booted feet squished into the brilliant red carpet as he ran after the man.

  That left me alone in the room. I called Chief Michaels and briefly explained the situation. He told me to stay where I was and not let anyone touch anything.

  “Don’t forget you’re a sworn part-time police officer, Dae,” he said. “I expect you to maintain the crime scene.”

  I agreed to do what I could, even though I wanted to run after Mr. Lynch and the startled crew member. It was awful seeing Captain Lucky that way. I hadn’t known him well, but I liked him. What had happened to him? My heart pounded as I turned away.

  But I knew from being the granddaughter of a sheriff that these first moments were all important. Obviously Captain Lucky didn’t drown in this room, despite the trouble someone had gone to, festooning seaweed everywhere and wetting everything down.

  With shaking hands, I took a piece of seaweed from a table and put it into a disposable plastic glass from the galley area. All I could feel from it was the sea where it had grown. I bent to touch the carpet and put my finger to my tongue—there was sea water in the carpet. The big windows were closed, but someone could have shut them after the room was doused.

  There were other pieces of sea life in the room. It wasn’t seaweed or anything I’d ever seen before. It reminded me of a jelly fish more than anything else. I didn’t touch it.

  There were also orange and blue scales.

  There was seaweed around Captain Lucky’s neck too but no bruising. He probably hadn’t been strangled. Not that the seaweed was strong enough to strangle him.

  Instead, there was a thin line of blood on the side of his head. Maybe someone had hit him and he’d fallen into the water.

  But why pose him this way?

  Someone had wanted him to be found. Otherwise they would have left him in the water to be dragged out to sea.

  I shuddered at the idea and walked away from him again. I wasn’t brave enough to touch him and possibly get the whole story. While I was curious and felt bad for him, I was also terrified what I’d see.

  The ship’s surgeon, a doctor from Manteo, was the next one in the room. He ran in, saw me standing next to the bed, and jumped a full foot off the wet floor.

  “What are you doing in here, Mayor O’Donnell?” Doctor Gary Clark asked in a suspicious tone.

  “I’m here on behalf of the town of Duck,” I told him with as much authority as I could muster considering my knees were shaking. “Chief Michaels is on his way. The crime scene isn’t to be disturbed.”

  “Well, I’m the doctor on hand, and I’m going to examine this man to make sure he’s dead, if that’s all right?”

  “I’m sure someone professional should do that.”

  “Thank you.”

  I wasn’t sure why he’d adopted that annoyed attitude with me. Maybe he was embarrassed at being caught off-guard when he came into the room. The only time I’d met him was at a party for the ship’s launch. We’d barely exchanged ten words.

  Dr. Clark put his hand against Captain Lucky’s throat and then looked into his eyes.

  “I believe the Captain has drowned,” he said. “I realize I’m not giving the official opinion. That will be up to the medical examiner. But he has all the signs of a drowning victim.”

  “I know it’s wet in here, Dr. Clark, but not that wet. And he has a mark on his head.”

  “Obviously someone drowned him and then put him here.” He shrugged. “We should get a sheet or something to cover him. It’s disrespectful for him to be laid out this way.”

  Not sure what to say about that—this was my first official act at a crime scene—I got a sheet from the linen cupboard inside the walk-in closet. Even here, the sheets, towels, and all the clothing were soaking wet, dripping to the floor. I decided a wet sheet was better than none and took it out with me.

  “This is wet.” Dr. Clark offered to help me spread the sheet over the captain.

  “Everything is soaked,” I told him. “It’s like this end of the ship was submerged.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” he criticized. “I’m sure there’s a more rational explanation for it.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” We finished covering Captain Lucky, and it really hit me that he was dead. Someone had taken his life. Maybe someone from Duck.

  I couldn’t stay in the room for another moment. I ushered Dr. Clark out and sat on a bench on deck after closing the doors behind me. That was where Chief Michaels found me about twenty minutes later. Tim Mabry, my old school friend and the man who was going to marry Trudy, was with him.

  “You look weird,” Tim said.

  “You’d look weird too if you’d been in there.” I nodded to the stateroom. Tim had always been like a brother to me, though there had been a few odd moments when we’d thought there might be something else between us. That had been a long time ago.

  “Let’s get this over with.” Chief Michaels took a deep breath. “You know, I liked it better when we only had one or two of these every few years. Maybe we were better off not wanting Duck to grow.”

  “Stay here,” Tim instructed me. “We’ll be right out.”

  He didn’t have to tell me to stay out of the stateroom. I picked up my phone and called Gramps. He was slightly upset because he had to reschedule his charter, but he was more upset about Captain Lucky.

  “Should I close up?” he asked.

  “No. Now that Chief Michaels is here, I’m sure I’ll be back soon. Thanks, Gramps.”

  “Do you want me to call Kevin to come get you? He’s not that far from where you are.”

  “I’ll be fine. He’s got a delivery and who knows what else going on. I’ll talk to Chief Michaels and tell him what I know, and then I’ll be back. It’s okay.”

  Tim and Chief Michaels came out of the stateroom a few minutes later. Their faces were grim.

  “Call Sheriff Riley,” Chief Michaels told Tim. “Get everyone who works on this ship together so we can question them. And see if you can get a few part-time officers in to help with this.”

  The Town of Duck only had a police chief and two full-time officers. Basically this was all we needed for most of the year.

  But we had a hundred part-time officers—including me, Kevin, and Gramps for emergencies. Our part-time officers were only paid a monthly stipend. It was the same with our fire department. Even then some folks complained about the stipend, but we all knew it was worth it for times like this when we needed the extra bodies.

  “And you, young lady.” Chief Michaels cornered me as Tim walked a few yards away to use his cell phone. “How did you know when to happen on these circumstances? I swear sometimes I think you must be part bloodhound.”

  Not sure if I should take that comparison as a compliment or not, I nodded. “Believe me, I’d rather be at Missing Pieces than here. Things happen.”

  He sat next to me on the bench, and we watched the frantic activity on the elaborate deck as men high above us checked the beautiful gold a
nd red sails for the evening cruise which wouldn’t take place because of Captain Lucky’s death. They had surely heard the crewman’s bellowing but had continued with their work.

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning, Dae, and tell me everything—even the weird things that I’d rather not hear.”

  So I started with Captain Lucky’s visit to the shop and his need for money to leave town. Telling Chief Michaels the truth was different than holding back with Celia for Captain Lucky’s sake. I felt bad for the captain, since everyone would know his dirty laundry and he’d have no chance to explain or make it right, but this was a murder investigation and I was the granddaughter of the former sheriff.

  By the time I’d finished my story, Sheriff Tuck Riley was there listening too, his hand resting on the holstered gun at his side. Officer Scott Randall was also there to help Tim round up and question the crew of the ship. Chris Slayton, Duck’s town manager, had come to offer his services as a part-time officer. With him was Cailey Fargo, the fire chief.

  Duck might be small in size, but our residents all had big hearts.

  When I was done, I wiped the tears from my eyes and asked Chief Michaels if I could leave. “Gramps is holding down the fort at Missing Pieces. I need to get back.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Send him over here instead. We’ll probably need his help too.”

  “Wait one minute, Dae,” Sheriff Riley said.

  The sheriff was a large, tall man with suspicious brown eyes and blond hair cut in a flat top. He had broad shoulders and a wide chest. I noticed that he’d lost a few pounds recently—probably because he was dating police Chief Heidi Palo from Corolla and wanted to look better. I was glad for both of them.

  He walked with me away from the stateroom to a secluded corner of the deck.