Too Much Stuff lam-5

by Don Bruns

  My arm aches, and I am feverish. I fear that the rotting corpses will spread disease. There is already some talk of burning them in a mass funeral pyre. I pray that I will not succumb to an early death and be one of those whose ashes are cast to the wind.

  I am burying this letter in a metal box and you alone have the location of that box. Please, pray for me, but if I do not return you will have the yellow treasure to do with what you will.

  Longitude: 80° 37? 40? W Latitude: 24° 55? 30.72? E

  “And that’s it.”

  No one spoke for at least a minute. We were busy absorbing what we’d heard. Finally Mrs. T. broke the silence.

  “Matthew Kriegel was protecting the company assets. I was a little worried that I was going to find out he’d basically stolen the gold.”

  “Kind of like we’re going to do?” James had to smart off.

  “We’ve gone over this before, Mr. Lessor. There is no railroad company. In fact, there really wasn’t one after the hurricane. It went belly up.”

  I didn’t mention that the gold would have helped their financial situation.

  “He didn’t trust anyone.” Em stood up and walked over to the balcony door, breathing deeply. “Can you picture that? The stench of dead bodies everywhere, this poor guy with his arm broken, feverish. Who knows what was going through his mind? None of these people had ever witnessed this kind of devastation before.”

  “What’s important is that we’ve got two places where he may have hidden the gold. We’ve got a serious treasure hunt.” James had a grin plastered on his face.

  I surveyed the assembled party and we all had a smile. Except Em. After reading about the death and destruction, we’d found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Now all we had to do was dig it up.

  Who was it that said, “Nothing is as easy as it seems?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  “I think he had it shipped out to the rocks.” James was speculating.

  We sipped more mai tais at the poolside bar and stared out at the water. Up until now, the idea of actually finding forty-four million dollars’ worth of gold was somewhat of a pipe dream. I thought it was possible, but I had no idea how it would feel.

  Now, I could taste it. Feel it. Dream it in 3D. I was convinced that Kriegel had made this fortune accessible. And that meant that James and I and Em would be rich.

  I’d checked it out at the dive shop. It was very doable. “I can dive it.”

  “Skip, this is risky.” Em seemed concerned.

  “Cheeca Rocks, Em. They have a supervised dive site out there. I can veer off and check out the territory.”

  I’d taken a course at Samuel and Davidson University (Sam and Dave U) and learned the basics of diving. I mean I was certified, but with limited experience. But how tough could this be? Cheeca Rocks was a regular site, and was only fifteen to twenty feet deep at its deepest point. No big deal. In fact, for an experienced diver it would be almost claustrophobic. I was far from an experienced diver.

  “Pard, your diving experience, this is awesome.”

  James had majored in parties and sex. I was close behind, but in this case I’d taken a class that actually made a difference. Should have called it Treasure Hunting 101.

  “It does make more sense to check the dive site first. We can’t just start digging at Cheeca Lodge. I mean, they may call the sheriff.” It was obvious James wanted no more run-ins with the law.

  I unfolded a map I’d picked up at Holiday Isle’s dive shop.

  “It’s here.” I pointed to the spot off the shore.

  24° 54? 245? N and 080° 36? 885? W.

  “But if it’s a popular spot, wouldn’t someone have found the cases by now?” Em always saw the other side.

  The same thought had run through my head. Thousands of tourists had visited the spot, snorkeling, scuba diving, and if the crates had been left out there, someone would have found them years ago.

  “What kind of camouflage would they have?” James asked.

  “Coral.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s a lot of camouflage. I would guess you could accumulate several feet of coral in seventy-five years.”

  “Accumulate? So it would grow over the cases?”

  I’d read about some of Mel Fisher’s treasures that had been encrusted with coral. It was hard to make out the items at all. Only because he knew the location of the ships that he investigated did he find a lot of the valuable pieces.

  “If Kriegel swore the guys who hid the gold to silence, there would be no reason for anyone to suspect that a treasure was just offshore.”

  “So there would be no way of detecting any gold?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know much about metal detectors, but I would guess there are some devices that can find gold. Especially if there’s that much down there. Ten crates should set a detector off, I would think.”

  I was still skeptical. Ten crates of gold? Boated out to the rocks? It was a little too much to hope for.

  Mrs. T. came down the steps.

  “I cannot impress enough on you that we need to be very quiet about this. Even when you’re talking among yourselves. If there’s a chance that our property still exists, I don’t want anyone getting wind of our expedition.”

  “We aren’t going to say anything to-”

  “Mr. Lessor. You admitted to telling your employer where you were going.”

  He quieted down.

  “Mr. Moore, you not only told your lady friend where you were, but you invited her to join us.”

  She was right. Neither of us kept a secret very well.

  “If we are to keep this project to ourselves, then you will have to measure every word you speak.”

  “What’s the project?” Bobbie walked over, eyeing our empty drinks.

  James looked at Mrs. T. and rolled his eyes.

  “Just a little history thing we’re working on,” Em said.

  Bobbie pointed at the empty drink glasses, then motioned toward the male bartender, busily mixing a drink on the other side.

  “Did Scotty get you?”

  Without missing a beat James looked her in the eyes and said, “Nobody gets us Bobbie. That’s the problem.”

  She looked puzzled as she walked away to wait on a heavy-set older couple. Probably in their late thirties.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  “So you’re lookin’ for coins?”

  The wizened old man looked like he was straight out of central casting. He had fine white hair tied back in a ponytail, and his brown leathery skin threatening to crack at the creases. A short shoot of hair stuck out from his chin; a beard that had never really taken off.

  “Yeah. Coins.” James nodded.

  “Lots of people find coins. I swear there’s still millions of dollars to be had, right offen these shores.”

  “You think?”

  I frowned at James. Don’t be a smart-ass. The idea was not to draw any attention to our mission.

  “Yes, sir.” His voice was high pitched, and I decided he reminded me of old Ben Gunn from Treasure Island. Gunn was the pirate they left behind on the island to guard the treasure. A crazy old loon.

  “From Gasparilla to Bowlegs, them pirates were a burying bunch of thugs. And if it weren’t the pirates, then it were them wreckers who’d scavenge all sorts of riches off them distressed ships that ran up on the rocks.” His eyes were wide open and his animated speech told me that he had a passion for the stories. “And they buried their treasures. ’Twas the only way to keep ’em safe.”

  “We think there are coins off the coast, maybe a quarter of a mile. So, we wanted to know if you’ve got a metal detector that works under water.”

  He stroked his stubby beard, and stared at the two of us. “We’ll get to that in a minute.”

  Em and Mrs. T. were back at the resort. Four of us descending on a small one-man shop like this seemed a little much to take.

  “Now you’ll be needin’
a small boat.”

  He stepped around the worn plank-wood counter and motioned for us to follow. We went through the main room with an air compressor and tanks to a dark backroom that smelled of grease, gasoline, and oil. He pulled on a rope, and a garage door opened onto some old gray wooden docks and the bright blue Florida sky.

  What had once been white paint peeled from the old boards and several of the docks leaned as if pushed by a giant wave or wind. I was reminded what waves and wind can do in the Keys.

  Five small boats floated in the water as we walked out onto the rotting wood. A seagull lazily lifted off a post and landed on a dock forty feet away. The old man stepped up to a bobbing dinghy, big enough for four people and a couple of extra tanks and that was about it.

  “Said you just needed maybe a quarter of a mile, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This would do the trick.”

  James gave it a suspect glance. “It doesn’t leak, does it?”

  “Leak?” He almost shrieked the word. “Good Lord, son, I personally check each boat when it comes in.”

  James bit his tongue and kept quiet.

  Sun beat down on the bleached wood and I inhaled the odor of rotting seaweed and washed up marine life. I hadn’t been diving since college, and most of the training took place in a safe pool. This was going to be an experience.

  “Now, you boys can obviously go somewhere else, but you’re gonna pay a lot more. I’ll make ya a really good offer. We’ll do this boat-nothin’ fancy you understand-then we’ll rent you the mask, the tank, and all the divin’ gear and then you want a metal detector, am I right?”

  “And you rent those too?”

  “Well, I have one here. I’ll let you rent it, although I can’t speak to its ability.”

  “Never tried it?” I asked.

  “No. You see, I found it. Sort of.”

  “Found it?”

  “Came back in one of my boats. Must have belonged to this guy who rented the boat. I had to hire a kid to take me to the boat, ’cause the diver left it about a mile out.”

  “I don’t understand. Somebody rented a boat from you, then just left the boat and the metal detector a mile offshore?”

  “Didn’t exactly just leave it. This guy ran out of oxygen and died out there.”

  “Oh, shit.” I turned to James. “Do not say anything about that to Em. Or anybody. You got that? She’ll freak.”

  “Trust me, pard, I got it.”

  “So, you got yourself a boat, diving gear, and the dead guy’s metal detector.”

  “How much?”

  “How long?”

  “Half a day.” I figured we weren’t going to dig it up and bring it home the first trip out. We just needed to see if there were crates of gold. Then we could make our plans on how to haul it out. One thing at a time.

  “Three hundred fifty dollars. Payable in advance on account of-”

  “Yeah,” James said, “you pretty much told us. On account of-”

  We’d decided on the next morning. Go out at seven thirty before the scheduled dives and plan on coming in between ten thirty and one in the afternoon.

  “James, you’re driving the boat, right?”

  “I am.”

  “Em, you’re kind of the lookout. If things get strange, if someone shows up who looks like there might be trouble, you’re going to figure out how to get rid of them.”

  “And if I can’t?”

  “I don’t have the answer, but for God’s sake don’t leave me down there by myself.”

  We sat in Mrs. T.’s room, sharing a pepperoni and mushroom pizza from Boardwalk Pizza. When James heard that Boardwalk Pizza was right in front of the sheriff’s office, he almost refused to eat it. But the pizza was pretty good, and again, the lady was paying.

  “My question is this.” Mrs. T. sipped from a can of caffeine-free diet Pepsi. “How are you going to know if there’s gold down there? We’ve already discussed the fact that it may be overgrown with coral. Lots of coral and seaweed. So even if you’re lucky enough to actually find the spot, how will you be able to tell through the coral and everything else?”

  I had the answer.

  “Skeeter has a JW Fishers Pulse eight K metal detector.”

  “Skeeter?”

  “Skeeter,” said James.

  “And just what exactly is a Fisher Pulse thing?” She threw her hands up, obviously confused. I understood.

  James grabbed at the last piece of pepperoni and mushroom.

  “We looked it up on the Internet.”

  “And?”

  “And, it’s a gold detector equipped for use underwater as well as on land. It can find gold and silver six feet from where it detects the metal. So if there were six feet of coral or silt or whatever, this baby should find it. It’s got an underwater earphone that I can listen to and it’s weighted so it will stay in one spot and not drift around in the water. I think we lucked out on this one.”

  She appeared to be significantly impressed. “So this expedition is an additional three hundred fifty dollars, right?”

  “Gotta spend it to make it.” James smiled.

  “I want to say that you boys, and you too, Emily, you have shown me a great deal of ingenuity. I was skeptical at first, but you’ve found the letter, you made arrangements to have it put back together, and now you’re set for the dive tomorrow.” She smiled, a smug look on her face. “Emily, despite my initial concern, I think you were an excellent addition to the team.”

  James glared at Mrs. T.

  I would have felt a whole lot better if the event had been set with a more high-profile dive shop, but the consensus was that using this little hole-in-the-wall guy, it would remain more secret. The fewer people who knew about it, the better.

  “So it’s all set. Tomorrow morning you’ll make the dive and we’ll see what we can find.” Mrs. T. stood up and basically herded us out the door.

  The three of us walked down the stairs to the beach, hearing the loud laughs and music coming from Holiday Isle and Rumrunners.

  “You’re supposed to dive with someone else.” Em eased into a lounge chair, looking across the water at the world famous tiki hut bar. “I’ve read enough to know that it’s stupid to dive alone.”

  “Buddy diving would be the safest thing to do,” I had to agree, “but hey, no one here dives, Em. Besides, it’s two feet to twenty feet. Hardly a depth that I should have a problem with.” Considering I hadn’t dived in three years, any depth could cause a problem. But my macho instinct had kicked in.

  My instructor used to dive solo. However, I will always remember her instructions. “Wait until you’ve had at least a hundred dives before you try it. And even then, remember that when you’re solo, no one has your back. No one.”

  “Pard, I know this may be a stretch, but we’ve already told Skeeter that you’re going down to look for coins. No big deal about that, right?”

  “It’s our cover, James. That’s what we decided.”

  “Right. So what if we tell that cover story to someone else?”

  Em gave him a disapproving glance. “Who else do you want to tell? We could take out an ad in the local paper-”

  “Just a thought, folks. I know a diver who can be suited up and ready first thing in the morning. And as long as we don’t tell this diver the real reason we’re going down-”

  “James, this isn’t a good idea.”

  He nodded. “Oh, and it’s a good idea to send you down there by yourself. Especially after the story Skeeter told us about-” he stopped, a chagrined look on his face. “I’m sorry, Skip.”

  “What story? What did this Skeeter tell you?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Tell me.” Em’s signature stone-cold instruction.

  With that tone of voice, I had to. Damn James. Can’t keep his mouth shut.

  “Some guy died on Skeeter’s watch because he ran out of oxygen.”

  She stood up and grabbed my hand. “You shouldn
’t be out there by yourself. A million things could happen. You need backup. I hate to admit it, but James is right, Skip.”

  I hate to admit that James was right? This was not a good sign.

  Wait until you’ve had a hundred dives before you try solo. A hundred? Hell, I’d had about ten open-water dives. Ninety to go.

  “So who’s this backup?” I couldn’t wait for James to tell me.

  “Amy. She decided to hang out with me for a couple more days.”

  “Oh, come on, your married girlfriend?”

  “That’s the one, Skip. And she’s way more experienced than you are.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Clear your regulator. Clear your partially flooded mask. Breathe without your mask. Swap the air supply from your partner. All the rules that went through my head. What had I signed on for?

  Why would anyone in their right mind want to escape the earth’s plentiful supply of oxygen and dive deep beneath the ocean for a brief glimpse of what lies below? Knowing that their breathing supply was sorely limited. Knowing that with a couple of short, quick breaths, they could die.

  I pulled on my bathing suit and watched Em out of the corner of my eye.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready,” she said.

  “Em, that’s a thong, for God’s sake.”

  Her tan thighs, butt, abs and everything else were well defined and the brief suit showed it all off.

  “Skip, stop it. It’s not a thong.”

  “No. You look-you look fabulous.” I remembered how she looked last night without any of this brief cover-up, but that was a private moment. This was on display for James and anyone else who cared to look.

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s just that James and-”

  “Oh, for crying out loud. This is what I brought, and this is what I’m wearing.”

  “For that reason only?”

  She turned and shot an angry glance over her shoulder as she adjusted her breasts in the thin material of her bikini.

  “And just what does that mean?”