Captain Finn Treasure Mysteries: Books 1 - 3: Short Sea Stories of Murder and Shipwreck Treasure

by Liz Dodwell

  “What will happen now?”

  “As best I know, Viviana will be held pending a grand jury. If she pleads guilty there won’t be a trial.”

  I was frustrated. “But she didn’t actually kill Marchand.”

  “She orchestrated everything that happened. What Mathiasen did to her daughter was terrible but the Marchand family deserve your sympathy as well. And Viviana’s actions nearly got you killed. I can never forgive that.”

  Awww. Finn’s words made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

  “Do you think they’ll find the hit man?”

  “He’s probably already back in Colombia, and I don’t see Viviana giving him up anyway.”

  “And the gold doubloon? Why shove the coin down the corpse’s throat?”

  “Mathiasen used the coin to lure Irina in. Viviana wanted him to choke on his deed.”

  It was all dreadfully depressing.

  Finn patted me on the back. “Here’s something that will cheer you up. I saw your dream detective.”

  I perked up and raised questioning eyes. I’d been keeping an eye out for him but he was obviously too busy with the Kearns to bother with me.

  “He asked if you had anyone special in your life.”

  “He did?” My heart was doing a little bouncy dance. “What did you say?”

  “I told him droves of men were after you.”

  I slapped Finn on the arm and scowled.

  “Don’t panic,” he grinned. “I said he’d have to go to Timbuktu and back to find a better woman. So he’s going to give you a call.”

  “Yessss!” I threw my arms around him. “You’re the best.”

  TEN

  I love that moment when the sun first appears over the horizon, staining the clouds several shades of gold on a backdrop of bright blue sky. The first sounds of awakening were resonating through Mud Bug as I sat on Time Voyager’s deck, coffee in hand and Shrimp on my lap. The sordid case of the gold doubloon was largely behind us and I was relishing a sense of cleanliness and renewal as the sun’s brightness found me. Then I heard my name being called.

  “Phill.” There was Bert coming down the walkway, waving his tablet over his head.

  “There’s something you need to see.”

  “Come aboard, Bert. Coffee’s ready.”

  I scooted Shrimp off my lap and went to get another cup. By the time I came back Bert had opened up the tablet to an article in the New York Post. In addition to being a financial genius and creator of video games, Bert was a speed reader and would zip through several major news sites every morning.

  The article headline read: Man Accused of Racketeering and Extortion Found Dead. I began to skim through. “Holy cow!”

  “You don’t say. Where’s Finn? He’ll want to know about this.”

  “I saw them head off for a dawn walk.”

  At that moment I saw Finn with Moe, coming around the far side of the harbor. Moe was spending a week with us. Well, not exactly with me. Bert had been kind enough to offer Finn the use of the new guesthouse, so I’d had Time Voyager to myself – and Shrimp, of course.

  I stood and waved wildly. “Hey, you two. Hurry over!”

  They picked up their pace and as soon as they were on board I handed the tablet to Finn. “Read!”

  He did, while Moe peered over his shoulder.

  Police are looking into the death of Hemming Mathiasen, whose body was found floating in the Hudson River in the New York Harbor area. Mr. Mathiasen was well-known to police. Detective Delfina Ronchi stated that Mathiasen had a history of criminal activity, and was currently under investigation for extortion. She declined to say anything further.

  Staff at the Porque Bar and Grill told this reporter that Mathiasen was drinking there earlier in the evening with a couple of men. The bartender, who would only give his name as Luis, stated he thought the men might be Colombian. The two men have not come forward since Mathiasen’s body was recovered. There is no further information on whether this was a crime or an accident.

  “Perhaps Viviana had the last word after all.” Moe raised her eyes.

  Finn made no comment and I gave him a suspicious eye. “You didn’t happen to know anything about this?”

  In return he gave a “who me?” look. I was about to start grumbling when Moe broke in. “I think this deserves a new cocktail. Phill, what say you and I get creative and come up with something for this evening?”

  “On it,” I said. “I’m thinking Licor 43 and cognac. A touch of chocolate bitters might work well with it, too. And let’s call it a Gold Doubloon.”

  Finn rolled his eyes.

  “What? What’s wrong with that?” I flung my arms outward in a questioning gesture.

  “Gold Doubloon? Couldn’t you call it something else? That seems a little tacky.”

  “Well, it is gold in color.”

  With a sigh, Finn said, “Alrighty, then.”

  The end

  The Captain Finn treasure mystery books are an ongoing series. Keep reading for an excerpt from The Game’s a Foot.

  Captain Finn Treasure Mysteries:

  The Mystery of the One-Armed Man

  Black Bart is Dead

  The Gold Doubloon Mystery

  The Game’s a Foot

  You know, you can be among the first to hear about my new book releases and special deals when you join my email list at my website here: http://lizdodwell.com

  Author’s Notes

  Phew! Another Captain Finn mystery solved. I hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as I enjoy writing them. If you do – well, even if you don’t - please consider leaving a review wherever you purchased this book. As an independent author it’s not easy to compete out there, and your feedback will help me know what you like.

  I’d also love to get to know you on my facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/LizDodwellAuthor. Join me there and tell your thoughts and ideas. I check there every day and answer all questions – honest!

  OK, treasure hunters, what about the 1715 Spanish Plate Treasure Fleet, you ask. Well, it was July 30/31, 1715 when a savage hurricane tore the fleet apart off the east coast of Florida as it sailed northward on the way back to Spain. The ships were driven on to jagged reefs where they broke apart like matchsticks, and hundreds perished. The galleons were loaded with precious cargoes of tobacco, spices, jewelry, gold and lots and lots of silver. That’s where the Plate Fleet name comes from – plata, Spanish for silver. It was a terrible blow for King Philip V of Spain; nearly bankrupted him. Salvage efforts were begun and more than 5,000,000 pieces of eight were recovered. Then, for nearly 250 years the wrecks were forgotten. Now, modern-day treasure hunters search the sea bed for the fortune that is yet to be found.

  Now I need to thank some people, without whose help the Captain Finn series wouldn’t exist. First is treasure hunter and friend extraordinaire, Captain Carl Fismer. Not only does he provide inspiration, he makes sure I don’t make any glaring mistakes when it comes to shipwrecks and treasure. You should check his site if you want to know more about a real-life treasure hunter and treasure hunting. Find Carl here: http://www.carlfismer.com.

  Much gratitude to Dominic Ottaviano, my multi-tasking assistant; to Tracy Nowell, a truly lovely lady and invaluable helper; and my husband, Alex Markovich, as always, for constant support and faith in my abilities.

  Lastly, and most importantly, a huge thank-you to you, my readers. Without you, there is nothing.

  The Game’s a Foot

  Time Voyager swayed with the rhythm of the water as we lay at anchor on the Boneyard site in the Gulf of Mexico. On deck, Grace and Michael Bumbry had stripped off their dive gear and settled into a couple of chairs. They were happy, which meant Finn and I were happy.

  The Bumbrys were occasional sponsors of our shipwreck treasure hunting expeditions. The quid pro quo for that was a share in potential finds, and the chance to come diving with us. Grace and Michael were active members of NABS, The National Association of Black Scuba Divers an
d were keen amateur historians of slavery. As such, they had opted for a week at the site where Finn believed we might find evidence of a slave ship.

  We hadn’t uncovered any major finds, but Michael did turn up a piece of pewter that Finn surmised was the handle of a spoon. That got everyone’s adrenalin going because it told us we were likely on the right track. And from Finn’s and my point of view, it also meant we could be assured of the Bumbry’s continued support.

  This was the family’s last night. Oh, did I mention Joshua? He’s their eleven year-old son; a quiet, serious boy, but smart as they come. He’d earned his Junior Open Waters Divers certification just a couple of months earlier, so had been under with his parents and had collected a whole mess of fossils. The Boneyard site gets its name because the area is replete with fossilized bones, teeth and shells. In his horde Joshua had megalodon teeth, – that’s an extinct shark that grew to 60 feet, Yikes! – whale ear bones, rib bones and vertebrae. These were all from the Pleistocene epoch, dating back 12,000 to 2,500,000 years ago. And if you think I sound as if I know what I’m talking about, I actually haven’t a clue. I’m just passing on the information I got from young Joshua.

  So, back to the story. Finn was sort of holding court with treasure tales, though both Grace and Michael were giving him a run for his money. No wonder Joshua was so quiet, he probably couldn’t get a word in edgeways. Finn was in the midst of describing the procedure a constipated pirate might have to endure back in the 1600 and 1700s. “They’d shoot anything from alcohol to tobacco or even gunpowder up there.”

  “That must have been pretty explosive,” Michael grinned.

  In turn his wife quipped, “Thank goodness those remedies have all been flushed down the drain.”

  Everyone groaned, including Jafet Quintana and Enos Donnell, who regularly crewed with us when we worked the Boneyard. They were all waiting for me to bring out the pre-dinner cocktails – except Joshua, of course. He was busy with his fossils.

  I’d come up with a special creation to observe this final evening: a mix of toasted almond liqueur, dark rum, a little almond milk; shaken and served up with a dash of spicy cayenne. In light of the conversation I decided right there and then I was going to name the drink a Clap of Thunder.

  “Here we go!” I carried the cocktails out on a tray and handed them around. Grace was now showing Finn the video she’d been taking all week. She had funny clips of us talking pirate-speak, serious clips of how we set up a search grid, and lots of underwater scenes. I left them to it. On board my role was chief cook and bottle washer and I needed to get back in the galley and start prepping dinner.

  Joshua was still examining his fossils.

  “What are you going to do with them all?” I asked.

  “Weeell. I need to finish identifying them all first. Like this one.” He held up a large squarish fossil. “I think this might be a whale vertebra. And this one…” about the size of a fat finger, “could be a deer antler.”

  “How would that get out here?”

  “I’m not sure.” His frown created parentheses between his eyebrows. “It’s a puzzle.”

  “One I’m sure you’ll solve,” I said, thinking how he sounded so much older than his years.

  He nodded sagely before continuing, “Then I’ll take them in to school to show the other kids.”

  I was about to respond when there was a shriek from the deck. I dashed out, thinking the worst, only to find everyone bunched around Grace with her video-cam. “Phill,” she yelled excitedly at me, “we’ve found it, or at least we’ve found something. Come see.”

  I peered over her shoulder at the screen. “Finn says they could be elephant tusks.”

  It took me a few moments to focus in on what she was pointing at, then I saw it. The outline of four curved objects lying together like spoons in a drawer under a heavy layer of sediment.

  “Don’t get too excited yet,” Finn cautioned. “They could be mammoth tusks, though that’s unlikely with the way they’re lying. Or it could be a trick of the ocean bed. And we need to figure out where they are first.”

  I raised questioning eyebrows.

  “I don’t know exactly where I was when I filmed this,” Grace said. “According to the time stamp, it was on day three.”

  “Well, shi….” Oops, I was supposed to be watching my language around Joshua. “Well, surely that’s not an insurmountable problem?” I was getting caught up in the excitement. This could be huge.

  Someone tugged at my arm. I looked down to see my young friend. His eyes were wide and soundlessly he beckoned with a wave of his fingers for me to follow. At the side of the deck he pointed across the water. “There’s something out there, Phill. See? That pink thing?”

  I followed the line of his arm with my eyes. There was something; a piece of pink flotsam, though it was impossible to say at this distance what it was. My first inclination was to dismiss it, but then I looked at Joshua. “What do you think it is?” he asked. What the hell. The grown-ups were having their excitement, why not let Joshua have his. At least for a few minutes.

  “The current is bringing it towards us. You go and get the landing net; the telescoping one.” He looked at me blankly. “The one that extends.” With a brief nod of understanding, he dashed off and was soon back with the net. I let it out to its full 18 feet and we both stood, expectantly, as the object bobbed slowly closer.

  Several minutes later I was stretching out trying to snag the flotsam. I still couldn’t tell what it was and I just couldn’t quite reach it either. If I didn’t do something quickly it was going to bob right on by. I snatched some line, tied it round my waist and then to the gunwale rail. Allowing the line to hold some of my weight I was able to gain a few extra inches; enough to tease the object into the net. Then I steadily pulled it in.

  It was just a sneaker. A neon pink, child’s size air sneaker. Those things will float forever.

  “I’m sorry, buddy.” I held the net out to him. He didn’t look nearly as disappointed as me, but picked the shoe up and studied it intently. Funny kid. Fossils one minute, yucky sneakers the next. I turned away to get back to my culinary duties.

  “Phill.”

  I swung back to face him. “Yeah?”

  “There’s a foot in it.”

  Liz Dodwell was told so many times that she really knew how to spin a yarn, she finally decided to put that talent to good use. Taking inspiration from her good friend and real-life treasure hunter, Captain Carl Fismer, she created the Captain Finn Treasure Mystery series.

  For several years Liz worked with the Captain, operating his website and arranging talks and treasure exhibitions. “I would dive when I got the chance, but only on a hookah,” she says. “I never found anything of real importance, but just knowing I was getting even a microscopic glimpse of history and adventure was truly exciting.”

  Fueled by an occasional cup of grog, Liz writes from the home she shares with husband Alex and a crew of rescued dogs and cats. For a change of pace she pens stories in cozy mystery and romantic suspense. For relaxation she likes to yodel. (Just kidding)