by Lee, Rachel
She gave a choked laugh. “A liberated male?”
“Just an independent one.”
Shirley gave them an eleven-thirty appointment. They stopped at a small place on Stock Island to eat, then drove to her office. As they were climbing out of the car, a man with an iguana on his shoulder came out of Shirley’s and climbed onto a moped. He zipped away, the iguana looking content.
“God, I love this place,” Callie said. “Where else would you see that?” And for the first time that morning, she genuinely felt like smiling.
The feeling went away, though, as soon as they were in Shirley’s office. She had never been there except under the worst of circumstances. Shirley didn’t even have to say a word before butterflies were churning in Callie’s stomach.
As soon as she and Chase were introduced, Sylvia looked at Callie. “You understand I can’t discuss the case with Mr. Mattingly present?”
“Why not?”
“Because it would violate attorney-client privilege. Also, anything I say in front of Mr. Mattingly would become a proper subject for questioning in a trial or deposition.”
Callie nodded, understanding.
“I don’t want to question you about the case,” Chase said. “What I need to do is run a hypothetical by you and see if you think it might be useful.”
Shirley steepled her hands and nodded. “Fair enough. I can listen.”
“All right. Two months ago I was hired by Vantage Maritime insurance company to do a commercial salvage dive on a boat called The Happy Maggie. My area of expertise is vessel damage, and I was supposed to determine why she sank.”
“She must have been an expensive boat.”
“Actually, she was carrying ten million dollars in uncut diamonds.”
Shirley’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s a good reason to check it out, all right”.
As clearly as he could, he sketched his initial doubts when he learned the Island Dream had been found so close to where The Maggie had sunk, and how his suspicions had grown when he learned that two divers had gone out on the Island Dream on that last voyage, divers who hadn’t been reported missing.
“There could be reasons for that,” Shirley pointed out. “Some of them wouldn’t be very helpful to Jeff. But you’re right, the divers are missing, and someone by now should be looking for them if they didn’t get home safely.”
“You’d think so.”
“And I’ll grant you, the proximity to the sunken boat is intriguing. Especially with that much money involved.”
“Exactly.”
“But I need more than that, Mr. Mattingly.”
“I know. Let me continue. I was injured on the dive I took and was unable to verify The Maggie’s damage. The other diver, Bill Evers, gave a report on the damage that doesn’t at all match what the boat’s owner claimed happened. He also said the diamonds weren’t there.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw the insurance company report on the dive just a few days ago.”
“But you didn’t see the damage yourself?” She began to look doubtful, and Callie felt her stomach twist into a knot. Regardless of whether Chase made this dive, she had to make Shirley see the importance of this information.
“Shirley,” she said, “don’t you see? The prosecutor is going to claim that Jeff and Eric killed those men to get their boat. And everyone who knows Jeff knows how much he wanted a sportfisherman. It’s been all he’s talked about for years.”
Shirley nodded. “I understand that Callie. Believe me. They’ve got motive and opportunity, and a circumstantial case that could be enough for a conviction. But I need something more than what Mr. Mattingly has given me so far if I’m going to pull their theory apart. Think about it. These waters are full of shipwrecks, some of them with millions of dollars in gold on them. People dive out there all the time looking for those wrecks. I can’t simply get up before a jury and make a general argument that the missing divers were some kind of treasure hunters, and I can’t link it to this boat Mr. Mattingly’s talking about unless I have some specific proof that there was already hanky-panky surrounding the sunken boat. What’s more, Mr. Mattingly just told me the diamonds weren’t on the boat. Now how’s that going to sound?”
Callie nodded reluctantly, her stomach sinking. “I still think ten million dollars in diamonds makes a better motivation than pirating a boat. And Chase thinks the diamonds were still there. Or that the divers believed they were still there.”
“I need more than suspicions here.”
Chase spoke. “Let me continue.”
Shirley reached for a pencil and began tapping the eraser against the desk top. “Go on.”
“Bill said the diamonds weren’t on the boat. He also said the damage to the boat didn’t match the owner’s description of what happened. So Maritime is preparing to file a complaint of insurance fraud against the owner.”
“I can see why. But I gather you don’t think that’s what happened?”
“I’m beginning to seriously doubt it. In the first place, I think those two divers who went out on the Island Dream were looking for the diamonds. The wife of one of the Dream’s owners said these guys wanted to do a deep dive. They went out beyond the reefs to deeper waters near the edge of the continental shelf.”
Shirley nodded and rapped her pencil even more rapidly. “Interesting. Most people who dive around here want to do the reefs or nearby wrecks. Usually less than thirty feet, from what I hear.”
“Exactly. Anyway, there’s a private investigator looking for these divers right now.”
“Good. He’ll probably be more serious about it than local authorities. What else?”
“The diver who went down with me, the one who made the report to the insurance company, was found dead a few days ago. Shot in the back of the head.”
Shirley’s pencil was beating a rapid-fire tattoo. “Give me just a little more.”
“The little more is that I’m proposing to dive to the wreck again. What if I find that the report was falsified?”
For an instant Shirley was perfectly still. Then she leaned forward, looking intently at Chase. “Prove that, and I think I’ll have enough to make the state attorney reconsider these charges. If your friend lied about the damage, then there’s a good chance he lied about the diamonds. What other reason could there be to falsify the report?”
Looking satisfied, Shirley sat back. “Bring me the evidence, Mr. Mattingly, and I’ll knock the pins out from under the state’s theory of the case.”
Callie was elated most of the way home. Chase listened to her bubble, a smile creasing his face. She was absolutely certain now that Jeff was going to get off. But by the time they reached the last stretch of road, past the salt marsh, doubts began to creep in.
“Knocking holes in the state’s theory doesn’t mean a jury would believe ours,” she said in a voice gone tight. “What if Shirley can’t get him to drop the charges?”
Chase turned a startled glance on her. “There’s this thing called reasonable doubt, Calypso.”
“I know all about that. I also know that if folks believe the state’s theory, they’re going to convict Jeff and Eric. Besides,” she said, and her voice grew tighter still, “even if Jeff gets off, people are going to believe he’s guilty. You know that. I know that. The only way to give Jeff back his life is to find out who really did kill those men. We’ve got to find those divers.”
“I’ll call Bruderson’s lawyer and find out what’s happening with the private detective. But, honey, the important thing right now is to get Jeff off. It’s a lot easier to do it before a trial. Then we’ll have all the time we need to find out where those divers are.”
She nodded and managed to give him a wan smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just crashing from the euphoria, I guess. Things are certainly looking better than they did two days ago, and I’ve got to focus on that.”
But it wasn’t easy for her, Chase knew. She’d suffered some serious blows at the h
ands of life. Calypso Carlson wasn’t a pessimist, but she knew that bad things, inconceivable things, could and did happen. She was a realist
“One thing at a time,” he said finally, the only consolation he could offer.
“You’re right” She turned on the seat and looked at him. “Are you sure you couldn’t have someone else do this dive? I mean, I know you have to make a deep dive. I know how much you need to. But—I don’t know why, but I’m real nervous about you going back down to that wreck. What if—what if somebody has a reason to prevent you from doing it?”
“Tell you what. We won’t let anybody else know I’m doing it, okay?”
After a moment she nodded. “Okay. That makes me feel better.” She gave a little laugh. “I know it’s stupid but… Chase, I keep feeling as if this black cloud is out there somewhere, and it’s getting closer.”
He could hardly argue with her about that. Black clouds had a habit of moving into her life.
They stopped first at his house so he could pick up some clothes and check his answering machine. There was one message, from Bruderson’s lawyer, Peter Barton. “We’ve hired the private investigative agency, Mr. Mattingly. They’re on the job. Mr. Bruderson wants to know when you plan to dive. Give me a call, please.”
Chase looked at Callie. “It ought to be all right to let him know.”
She hesitated. “But if they mention it to someone else…”
“Okay. I’ll just pretend I didn’t get the message.” He wiped the tape and reset the machine, feeling uncomfortable about not answering the call. “But we did make a deal with them, Callie. I don’t want to push it too far or they might yank the investigators.”
“Finding those divers is as important to Bruderson as it is to us,” she argued. “After all, he could be facing criminal charges himself, on the insurance fraud thing.”
“He could also start wondering if we’ve sent him on a wild-goose chase for reasons of our own if we don’t cooperate.”
“He’ll call again first.”
Chase let it go. This wasn’t his usual mode of doing business, but then he’d never dealt with murder before.
When they reached the Carlson house, they found Jeff already there, painting the side of the house.
“What happened to Sara?” Callie asked him.
“She had to go to work.” He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. “I feel like a slug not having a job. But I suppose you’ll have a fit if I go fishing tomorrow.”
Chase watched Callie, saw the hesitation and the tightening of her face. But then she said, “No, if that’s what you want to do, fine. I wouldn’t mind eating some fresh tarpon for dinner. Or even some mahimahi.” She looked at Chase.
Jeff looked at her. “Hey, are you sure you’ll be okay with me going fishing?”
Callie nodded. “Sure. It’s what you do.” Then she went into the house.
Jeff looked at Chase. “Is she okay?”
Chase shrugged a shoulder. “It varies according to what point on the curve you catch her. She’s been way up and way down today.”
“She must have a fever. She never lets me go fishing that easily.”
“Maybe she’s having a change of heart.”
“Did you say something to her?”
“Actually, I think she’s been saying things to herself.” Uncomfortable discussing Callie with Jeff, and figuring that Callie would tell her brother what she wanted him to know, Chase changed the subject. “Listen, I want to make a deep dive. Can we use the Lily?”
“You’re going down to the wreck, huh? Well, yeah, we can take the Lily, but wouldn’t you be better off with a dive boat? Or something with a decompression chamber?”
“I can’t afford a decompression chamber. And I don’t want to rent a boat. I don’t want anybody to know I’m doing this.”
Jeff nodded slowly. “I can handle that. But if anything happens to you, Callie is going to have my hide.”
“You’ve got it backwards, Jeff. If anything happens to you, Callie is going to have my hide.”
The man and youth exchanged looks of complete understanding.
“When do you want to go?” Jeff asked.
“Tomorrow.”
Jeff came into the house a little while later. Callie was in the kitchen making a useless stab at cleaning the refrigerator. “Where’s Chase?” she asked.
“He went to get his air tanks filled. Said he’ll be back this evening.”
“Shit.”
The word was so unexpected from Callie that Jeff’s jaw dropped an inch. “What’s wrong?”
She slammed the refrigerator door and threw the washrag into the sink. “What’s wrong? Only that he’s planning to make a dive down to nearly two hundred feet all by himself, and that he’s probably planning on doing it soon. Like tomorrow.”
“That’s what he said. But, sis, it’s not to two hundred feet.”
“No, only to a hundred and eighty-eight feet! Like that makes a big difference.”
“Well, actually it does. See, if he goes down on heliox— which he should at that depth—and he really were going over two hundred feet, the likelihood of HPNS increases dramatically.”
Callie gaped at him. “What are you talking about?”
“High pressure nervous syndrome. It was in the diving books Chase gave me. Yeah, going down below two hundred feet can sometimes be really dangerous on heliox. That’s why they’re testing hydrogen-air mixes…”
“Jeff.” She interrupted him almost gently. “Jeff, I’m really thrilled you’re learning all this, but I’d be very grateful if you wouldn’t give me anything else to worry about.”
“But that’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s using the safest air mixture and going to a safe depth on it. Heliox doesn’t cause nitrogen narcosis, and it’s a whole lot less likely to cause the bends.”
Callie’s head lifted. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah. Because helium doesn’t dissolve as easily in the blood.”
“But then he shouldn’t have gotten the bends on his last dive.”
“Not exactly. In the first place, he probably had nitrogen in him when he went down. The only way to avoid that is by saturating with helium first, and I don’t think he probably did that for such a short dive. Then, as fast as he came up, even oxygen could cause the bends.”
“And if he wasn’t on helium at all?”
“Then he was in a world of trouble, sis. He’s lucky he didn’t die. But that’s not the point. The point is, this dive is going to be as safe as a dive can possibly be. And if you want my opinion, from what I’ve been reading, I don’t think Chase was on heliox on his last dive.”
“That’s what he suspects.”
“I’m not surprised. From everything he told me went wrong, I’d bet somebody slipped him the wrong air mixture.”
Callie’s felt a fist grab her heart. She touched her brother’s arm. “Jeff… Jeff, we can’t let anybody at all know he’s going to make this dive, okay? If somebody would do that to him once…”
Jeff nodded. “I know, Callie. Believe me, I know.”
“Don’t even tell Sara. Please. If word were to get into the wrong ear, I hate to think.”
Jeff covered her hand with his own and squeezed. “Not a word anywhere, sis. I promise. I told Sara I was going fishing tomorrow, and I’m not going to tell her anything else. And what’s more, when Chase gets back with those tanks, somebody is gonna watch them every minute.”
That made Callie feel a little better, but when Chase still hadn’t returned by seven that evening, she found herself on tenterhooks worrying that something serious had happened to him.
“God, I hate this.” she finally said in a burst of utter frustration. Jeff looked up from the diving manual he was studying. They sat in the living room as the summer evening darkened with the threat of thunderstorms.
“What?” he asked.
“Worrying! I get so sick of worrying.”
“You do a lot of that,
sis.” He put his book down on the battered coffee table. “You need to get a little more fatalistic.”
“My problem is that I’m too fatalistic. I think everything is going to turn out bad.”
“No, your problem is worrying when there’s nothing at all you can do.”
“That’s the definition of worry.”
He almost laughed. She could see it in the way his blue eyes started gleaming, and she felt a brief surge of happiness that her brother was still able to smile and laugh despite the current mess. She’d nearly forgotten how herself.
“Look, he had to go all the way to Miami, I think. That takes time, and it’s Friday besides. You know what the traffic gets like on weekends with so many people fleeing the city to the Keys.”
“But how long could it take to fill a couple of air tanks?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s raining up that way. Maybe he got caught in rush hour. Just relax, Callie. He’ll get here.”
“I want him back before it gets dark. You know, I keep thinking about those people playing those pranks on him. There’s something so… sinister about that. About the kind of mind that would do something like that.”
“Actually, I think the kind of mind that would do something like that is pretty stupid. It starts to get too easy to get caught.”
“Trying to convince someone they’re crazy is sinister.’
Jeff put up a hand. “Okay. It’s sinister. But it’s a far cry from actually trying to kill him. It’s stupid, next to putting the wrong mix in his tanks before that dive.”
“And what about his gun being stolen? That really puts me on edge.”
“Maybe the guy who’s flinging seaweed around just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t get shot while he was doing it.”
“Maybe. But what if they did it so they could make it look like Chase committed a crime?”
“Kinda hard to do now that the gun’s reported missing.”
Callie shook her head. “No, it’s not. Because Chase is the only one who said the gun is gone. No one else can prove that. So if somebody commits a crime with that gun, Chase could well be in serious trouble.”
“Man, you have a devious mind. Maybe you should have gone to law school.”
