The Scuba Club

by Rene Fomby

  “Well for starters, as it turns out, you may have more than just one little murder on your hands.”

  46

  Salon

  When Gavin and Andy finally finished up and he had her forward the report to his private Gmail account, he hung up the phone and motioned for Espinosa to take a seat.

  “What did you find out from the report?” Espinosa asked, a worried look plastered across his face. Slowly, Gavin spelled out the contents of the coroner’s report, everything coming back perfectly normal except for that one intriguing tidbit at the end. When he was finished, Espinosa chewed on his lower lip for almost a minute before finally speaking.

  “Okay, I think we can both agree that the arrest is on hold until we can get this sorted out,” Espinosa said. “Uh, I’m assuming we can’t just ask them about this, that would be like throwing gasoline on a fire, you never know where that might take you. So I guess our next step is to somehow address the issue of the DNA.”

  Gavin nodded, glancing toward the two stairwells to make sure their conversation was not being overheard by the five people sitting down below. All five now suspects, once again. “I think we can get Billie’s DNA from his drug arrest. They routinely take DNA samples in all felony cases up in Texas, so they should have it on file. And Sally’s is irrelevant, of course. That leaves the rest of the gang. I suppose we need to haul them all upstairs together and figure out a way to get a sample from each of them, then work out how in the world we’re going to send the samples off to a lab in the middle of this storm to get tested.”

  Espinosa shot him a quizzical look. “All five of them?”

  “Yeah, we don’t need to be broadcasting what we’re looking for. Not that it makes all that much of a difference at this point, but we can take the samples and then just toss them in the trash if we don’t need them, you know?”

  Espinosa nodded and pulled a phone out of his pocket. “Let me place a quick call to see if we can get swabs put onboard the harbor pilot’s boat before it leaves the shore. As to the rest, my understanding is that the last ferry is leaving later today for Playa del Carmen. I can send a man to hand carry the samples to the police in Cancun, where they should have a machine that can do the analysis. Not the best equipment, but more than adequate for what we need here. If necessary, we can always get new samples to test using better equipment after we make our arrests.”

  “Good thinking. With any luck, we can have our answers in place by tomorrow morning.”

  Gavin left Espinosa to make the call, then picked up the last of his beer and, swishing the final remains around in the bottom of the bottle, thought better of it and took it into the galley to pour the last dregs down the sink. Andy’s news might represent a real breakthrough in the case, and he needed his wits about him in order to sort through all the competing angles. He had a feeling there was something he was missing in all of it, some elusive connection that could tie the whole case together and account for all of the evidence, but if that nexus truly existed it was doing a great job staying just outside of his mental radar.

  47

  Salon

  Once again they lined up the five suspects on the cream leather couch in the salon, only this time Billie and Sally were missing from the equation, safely ensconced at the moment in a small hospital on the island. The harbor pilot was still about ten minutes out, but Espinosa wanted everything set in place in advance to make the handoff of pilot and DNA samples as quick and painless as possible.

  The sun had already set, but that was a scientific fact that had little real impact on what else was going on just outside. Gavin had poked his head out the back door, and just as quickly yanked it back. Even with the bimini cover over the aft cockpit, the air was so thick with rain it might have just as easily been like sticking his head underwater, and the seaworthiness of the little catamaran was now being sorely tested. Down in the pontoon cabins the massive swells were manifesting themselves in an almost entirely vertical direction, up and down, up and down, as if the cabins were connected to a giant teeter-totter, driven by a frenetic toddler. Which, in a way, they were. Up in the main salon, however, the wave motion also contained a prominent horizontal component, and the effect it was having on all of their stomachs left Gavin all too well aware that this little meeting needed to be both short and sweet, before the half-bottle of beer that was sloshing around in his midsection decided to revisit the light of day. Or, to put it in simpler terms, he was dangerously close to barfing his guts out. And a quick glance around the room showed he had plenty of company.

  Swallowing hard to keep the contents of his stomach in place, Gavin pulled up a chair in front of the couch and sat down. Espinosa joined him, their chairs swaying ever so slightly beneath them.

  Gavin cleared his throat, his eyes drilling into each of the five suspects in turn. Finally he opened his notepad to the page where he had earlier sketched out what he was about to say.

  “I’m happy to tell you that I think we’re coming to the finish line in this investigation, and as you know we have a pilot inbound to help motor this boat to shore. Detective Espinosa has informed me that he’s arranged housing for all of us on the island until this storm blows over and we can all get flights home.” He noted the relieved look arising on every face, with the singular exception of Trevor Johnson. “That being said, there is one last little detail Detective Espinosa needs to tick off before he can officially put an end to this inquiry.” He nodded to Espinosa to continue.

  “Thank you, Agent Larson. And that’s right, the very last item on my checklist is to get a DNA swab from each of you. As you all know, DNA evidence is now the gold standard for any investigation, and that might turn out to be useful down the road, if for some reason the investigation is ever reopened. So I am asking all of you to volunteer a sample, if you don’t mind. Since this is an official murder investigation, I actually have full authority to compel you to provide a sample if I need to, but I’d prefer for all of you to give it to us voluntarily. Any problems with that?”

  All five shook their heads, with only Trevor hesitating for just a moment before he joined them. The sound of a large motor wafted into the cabin from outside, barely audible over the drumming of the waves, the howling of the wind and the incessant booming coming from the thunder and lightning all around them. Gavin jumped up to supervise the docking maneuver, although it wasn’t at all clear to him what contribution he could possibly make, other than slide the back door open when the pilot came on board.

  In a matter of minutes the pilot dove into the cabin, already drenched with rain after being exposed for but a few short seconds. He had a small satchel with him that he handed immediately to Detective Espinosa. Inside was a DNA collection kit, plus five separate evidence vials. Espinosa unpacked the DNA kit and quickly swabbed the inside cheeks of all five suspects, marking the samples with care and returning the kit to the satchel. A sailor who had come on board with the pilot grabbed the satchel, and with a smart salute he carried it back outside to the boat that was waiting behind the catamaran, all hands eager to return to shore.

  “Thank you,” Espinosa said to the five as the back door slid closed and a relative quiet descended over the cabin. “It shouldn’t take long for the pilot to get us all safely tied up inside the harbor, but I would recommend that all of you spend the passage in your cabins down below. I think you’ll agree it’s slightly more comfortable down there than up here.”

  “Only slightly, but yeah,” Tara agreed, grabbing Brett’s hand and heading immediately for the stairs. Jillian and Casey followed, and Trevor turned toward his own cabin, but only after sharing a long, pregnant look with Espinosa.

  When the five suspects were finally tucked down below and the pilot had busied himself firing up the motors and pulling up the anchors, Espinosa plopped down hard on the couch and indicated for Gavin to join him.

  “So now we wait?” Espinosa asked. “Or do we move forward with the arrest as soon as we’re onshore?”


  Gavin flipped through his notes before answering. “I—I don’t know. We still have two huge outstanding issues here, two pieces of evidence each of which, by themselves, are big enough to sink the Titanic. And we’re not actually in any hurry, here, given the fact that none of us can leave the island until this storm is over. So I would think we should hold off just a bit until we get those final answers. It’s still a little early to jump the gun on all this, and I would hate to be embarrassed by having something come out after the fact that implicates someone other than Johnson.”

  Espinosa’s eyes were watching the pilot making preparations to get underway even as his own face turned sour. “Do you really think any of this is going to change in any material way? I mean, look at what we already know. Johnson had the opportunity, the means and the motive. He was also clearly the man who tossed you overboard, as everyone else had a solid alibi. So the only thing you have to counter all of that is Katy Mulcahey’s completely legal transfer of what to her was an inconsequential amount of money, plus her unfiled petition for divorce, is that right?”

  “Well, two petitions. Plus—”

  “But can you come up with any scenario where money secretly stashed in an offshore account or Katy’s secret plans to finally cut ties with Trevor Johnson could possibly motivate anyone other than Trevor Johnson to devise, scheme and finally execute such a complex plot to kill his wife?”

  “No, but—”

  “And isn’t it true that the detailed plot to kill Katy Mulcahey required Johnson to arrange for the purchase of a multi-million-dollar yacht and even then arrange for the entire group to join him and his wife on a highly risky night dive in the face of a mounting storm? Steps that were well beyond the capabilities of any of the other members of this group?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say the yacht was critical to—”

  “Nevertheless, Trevor was the sole person orchestrating the details of the outing, and he was the only person who could guarantee that conditions were perfect to ambush Katy Mulcahey, kill her and then toss her body off the underwater cliff. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Gavin thought hard about his answer, trying desperately to come up with any possible way to refute Espinosa’s logic, his conclusions. And failing.

  “Okay, you’ve made your point. I would still prefer to wait until we have all the answers in front of us before committing to a final resolution of this investigation, but it’s your home turf, so ultimately it’s your decision.”

  “Thank you. Obviously, it won’t do us any good to jump the gun before we get back on dry land, but I intend to take him into custody just as soon as we’re off this damned boat. That doesn’t mean you can’t add in more ancillary evidence that might pop up in the case at some later date. But I need to wrap up this little side show as soon as possible and move on. We’ve spent enough time on it already.”

  “Fair enough.” Gavin tipped his head in the direction of the pilot, who had engaged both throttles and was spinning the helm, turning the catamaran toward the island. “And it looks like we’re finally on our way. So I guess Trevor Johnson has now reached the end of his rope on this one.”

  Espinosa smiled for the first time that day. “A most excellent choice of words, Agent Larson. Although as far as I know, hanging has been outlawed for some time down here in Mexico. Unfortunately, I might add. And I would think, after what Johnson did to you earlier today, you’d probably agree with that sentiment.”

  Gavin’s own mouth was pressed into a thin white line as he answered. “I’m not really a capital punishment kind of guy, but I get your point. Trevor Johnson put his interest in his pocketbook and his penis above the life of his young wife and the mother of a young child. So, yeah, whatever justice you’ve got planned for Johnson, I think he deserves each and every single thing you do to him this side of death. We can’t bring Katy Mulcahey back to life, but we can make sure her husband never again harms another person. And I suppose that’s the very best justice we can possibly hope to accomplish at this point.”

  48

  Cozumel Harbor

  The short trip to the island took much longer than Gavin would have liked, and the pilot didn’t seem at all happy at the end when he had to step outside into the storm to guide the hulking catamaran into the harbor, but soon the boat was tied down hard and fast and a gangplank was lashed in place to let them all leave the boat, running as fast as they could down the pier to the shelter of the harbormaster’s small hut.

  Espinosa had arranged for everyone to be moved up to second floor rooms in a hotel along the shore, picking rooms on the leeward side of the hotel to provide some form of limited protection from the driving wind and rain. Even if the hurricane strengthened to a Category 4 or 5, it was highly unlikely to threaten the westward-facing part of the hotel. But if that situation ever changed, he already had a backup plan in place to move them to a large rental home buried deep within the residential part of town. With all of the usual tourist traffic having bailed on spending a tropical vacation in the middle of a tropical storm, vacancies weren’t really a problem at this point.

  Gavin had left his toiletries and other belongings on board the catamaran, but the hotel had plenty of replacements in stock to take care of him for a day or so, and across the street was a large department and grocery store that offered replacements for everything else. Luckily the credit cards in his wallet were impervious to water, so braving the quick dash across the empty street for clean underwear and a shirt was far more enticing to him than risking another unplanned dunk in the water.

  After everyone got settled into their rooms, they all wandered downstairs just in time to see Trevor Johnson being handcuffed and marched out of the lobby to a waiting police cruiser, with Espinosa leading the way. A few minutes later Espinosa returned, and pointed out an empty spot at the hotel bar, where he quickly ordered two beers and two shots of tequila for himself and Gavin.

  “Have a seat, my friend,” Espinosa offered, pulling out a barstool for his fellow agent. “We have much to celebrate, you and me. A major murder case wrapped up and in the bag, and tomorrow or the next day we both get to fly home to our señoritas, no? Plus all the cold beer we can drink tonight, at least as long as they can keep the generators running.”

  “You mean the power’s already out?” Gavin asked with alarm, noting all the electric lights and other obvious sources of power consumption blazing away all around them.

  “No, we’re fine for now, but most of the island’s power lines are above ground, stretched out on rickety poles, so all it usually takes is for one tree to get yanked out of the ground and, boom, we’re all left in the dark. So I guess that means, enjoy the cold cervezas while you can.”

  Gavin nodded, accepting a shot of tequila Espinosa handed him and tossing it back with a flourish, then chasing it with a lick of salt and a squeeze of fresh lime. He felt the effects almost immediately, a buzzing lightness in his head, not exactly a bad feeling but one that warned him to hunt down some chips and salsa before things got any worse.

  When he returned to the bar with the chips, he saw that Espinosa had already ordered up a second round of tequila, and he promised himself to take it easy. Even if he had nothing better to do, at least until the next morning, he had no intention of waking up at dawn to a pounding headache and a mouth that tasted and felt like an army had been marching through it all night. Of course, if Andy had been there to share the moment with him instead of a Mexican federal agent he barely knew, he might have been willing to give the party more of an effort.

  With that thought he pulled out his personal cell phone and checked the reception. Now that they were back on land the signal had improved substantially. His power was pretty low, so he asked the bartender for a charger and plugged it in, vowing to give Andy another call before he turned in for the night.

  “Any word on the storm?” Gavin finally asked as he tossed down the second shot of tequila and waved off a third round.


  “The current projections show the hurricane swinging off to the north toward Houston or New Orleans. We’re going to catch just the very edge of the storm, only slightly worse than what we’re seeing out there right now.”

  “But either Houston or New Orleans is going to get slammed once again,” Gavin pointed out. “Those folks just can’t seem to catch a break.”

  Espinosa shook his head ruefully. “Part of what comes from building your home in the middle of hurricane alley, I suppose. But hey, better them than me, at least at the moment. Now that we have our murderer in custody, I can’t wait to jump on board the first plane out of here. I don’t even care that much where it’s ultimately headed. Just so long as it’s not here.”

  “I hear ya,” Gavin agreed, picking up his beer for a second and then setting it back down. “But I still have a lingering uneasy feeling about this case, a feeling that there’s something we’re both overlooking in all this. Something big, maybe so big we’re missing the forest for all the trees, you know?”

  “And that’s why the criminal justice system no longer relies on hunches, my friend. We just collect all the evidence we can, and let the cards fall where they may.”

  But we haven’t collected all the evidence yet, now have we? There are still some serious little aces and face cards left on the table. Gavin considered that as he reached over and helped himself to another long, cold swig of beer.

  49

  Hotel Room – Wednesday Morning

  Gavin pulled on a plain white polo shirt one of Espinosa’s men had purchased for him at the department store across the street, along with fresh underwear and several pairs of socks. After a long, hot refreshing shower, it felt good to be clean for a change. And, even better, it felt good to be dry. And not on a boat.