Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 02 - A Deadly Bargain, Plan C

by Gina Cresse

  “It’ll be yours tomorrow. I’ll give you seventy-five.”

  I spotted the glimmer of a twinkle in Clancy’s eye. He gazed at me with new-found admiration. I think my wheeler-dealer spirit surprised him.

  “I’d be a fool to sell it, not knowing what’s inside. Could be full of gold.”

  “Could be, but then again, like you say, could be empty. Then who’d be the fool—the one who turned down cold hard cash for a worthless trunk?”

  Clancy grinned. “Fine. It’s yours, if you can come up with a hundred bucks, cash. Don’t want no paper work with this one.”

  I stepped closer to the trunk and inspected the rusty lock. “I’ll give you eighty-five. That’s my top offer. What do you say?”

  “Cash?”

  “Cash.”

  “Deal.”

  “Great!” I pulled my wallet from my purse and sorted through the cash. “You have change?”

  “Got change in the office. Olive’ll get it for you.”

  “Olive?”

  “My wife. She takes care of the business details. She’ll have change.”

  I followed Clancy up the dock to the run-down shack he called an office. The whether-beaten exterior hadn’t seen a paintbrush in years. The faded letters on the sign over the door were barely visible. A half-dozen nets hung, haphazardly, from rusty nails and hooks arbitrarily placed in the walls. A cool breeze picked up the scent of sea air and decaying seaweed and carried it to my nose.

  Inside, the office was not in much better condition. The green indoor-outdoor carpet was worn through, exposing spots of wooden flooring beneath. What I could see of the walls, under dozens of posters and old photos of men standing next to big fish hanging by their tails, needed paint just as badly as the exterior.

  I followed Clancy through a doorway into a smaller office. A woman sat at a desk piled high with stacks of papers, notebooks, two-dozen pencils, four empty coffee cups, miscellaneous boat parts, two fishing reels, and an out-of-place computer monitor, glaring a gray window with a big red warning symbol in the middle of the screen. She had her back to us and wasn’t aware of our presence. Texaco lay on a blanket next to her desk, watching her gawk at the computer screen.

  “It says the application has performed an illegal function and will be shut down, Texaco. What do you suppose that means?” the woman said.

  Texaco stared blankly at her, looking just as confused as his mistress.

  “It also says that if this problem persists, I should contact the vendor. Who the heck is the vendor? We got the darn thing from a garage sale, for heaven’s sake.”

  I smiled at the sight of a grown woman explaining her computer woes to a golden retriever.

  A moment later, her tone changed, and her voice was firm. “Texaco! Did you do that? What has he been feeding you? You go outside. Oh my, that’s awful. Go on! Outside!” she ordered, pointing her finger at the door.

  Clancy came to the dog’s defense. “Come on, Olive. You know he can’t help it. Don’t be so hard on him.”

  Olive turned, surprised to see visitors in her office. “Have you been feeding him sardines again?” she demanded.

  Clancy laughed and shook his head. “No, I ain’t been feedin’ him anything but his regular dog food. His name’s Texaco ‘cause he’s got more gas than Standard Oil. You know that, Olive. Always has.”

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing and approached the computer monitor. “You should probably reboot,” I suggested.

  “Reboot?” Olive asked.

  “Yes. You know. Boot it up,” I explained.

  “I’d like to boot it—right out the door and off the dock!” Olive complained.

  “Now, come on, Olive. You know we’ve gotta get into the nineties if we want to keep our business on the leading edge,” Clancy reminded her.

  “You mean bleeding edge, don’t you? I’m ready to tear my hair out over this over-rated electronic abacus.”

  “Never mind that. You got some change for this little gal? I think we just need fifteen.”

  “Yeah, I think so. What’d she buy?” Olive pulled some bills from a cash box.

  “Sold her a trunk.”

  She handed Clancy the cash. “Here. Let me just write up a receipt.”

  “No receipt,” Clancy instructed.

  “No receipt? Darn you Clancy. Why do you force me to suffer with this crazy contraption of a computer so our business can be run all proper-like, then you go and do this under the table stuff. You’re gonna make an old woman out of me!”

  “You are an old woman, Olive.”

  Clancy winked and handed me the change. “There you go. It’s all yours.”

  “Great. Give me a hand getting it off the boat?” I asked.

  “Nope,” Clancy replied.

  At first, I thought he was kidding, but the lack of a smile on his face told me I was mistaken. “What?”

  “Nope,” he repeated. “You hard of hearing?”

  “What if it’s too heavy?” I asked.

  “I’ve got a bad back. Can’t do any heavy lifting.”

  “Is there someone else around who can help?” I pleaded.

  “Probably, but I don’t want anyone getting hurt on my property. Law suits, you know.”

  My shoulders slumped. “Fine. Maybe it’s not too heavy. I’ll go check it out.”

  Clancy followed me back to the boat and smirked as I climbed over the rail and attempted to pull the trunk out from under the bench. I heaved and strained to slide it a few inches.

  “I’ll never be able to lift this. How am I going to get it home?” I asked.

  “Maybe you should open it and take it out piecemeal,” he suggested.

  “Okay. You have the key?”

  “Don’t know. There’s a few keys on a ring hanging in the cabin. Maybe one of them’ll open it.”

  “Good. Let’s give it a try,” I said, slightly cheerier.

  Clancy stood and smiled at me, but didn’t move.

  I smiled back at him. “Can I have them?”

  “Fifteen dollars if we find the key that works.”

  “Fifteen dollars!”

  “Yep.”

  He flashed a grin at me that I’d seen all too often from overly-aggressive competitors at auctions. I pulled my wallet from my purse again.

  “You’re not a marine salvager, you’re a pirate.” I handed him the fifteen dollars.

  “No, ma’am. I’m a businessman.” He retrieved a ring of keys from a hook inside the cabin.

  At that moment, I figured he knew exactly what was in the trunk. I bet he’d opened it the first day he brought it in. This would probably be my hundred-dollar-lesson for the day—or month.

  “Thanks,” I grumbled. I snatched the keys from his big, rough, weathered hand.

  “Oh, now don’t be mad. You probably got a real good deal,” he assured me.

  “I’m sure.”

  I tried several of the keys in the lock. Finally, I slid the right key in the rusty old lock and turned it. Click. I slipped the lock out of the latch and searched for a place to set it down.

  Clancy held out his hand and offered to take it from me. I opened my purse and dropped it inside. “This is mine. I bought and paid for it,” I reminded him.

  “Just the one key. I’ll want the others back.”

  Chapter Four

  It took two trips to transfer the bright-red sea anchor, a pair of binoculars, a large ring of miscellaneous keys with a tag that read “spares,” and an aluminum scuba tank to my dinghy. Clancy offered to carry the binoculars and the keys for me. I thanked him for his generous offer, but insisted on carrying everything myself. I wouldn’t want him to hurt his back. He was as ornery and cantankerous as they come, but I couldn’t help but like him.

  I waved good-bye to Clancy, Olive, and Tex as I motored my dinghy back to the Plan C. The harbor traffic had subsided considerably since my arrival this morning, and I managed to make my way, unscathed, out of Long Beach Harbor. I turned up the stereo
, turned on the auto-pilot, and stretched out in a deck chair with a bottle of water and my new binoculars. I secured my big floppy sun hat with a stampede string, rubbed some moisturizer on my bare legs and arms, and breathed in the tropical scent of coconut. The smell reminded me of my journey through the Virgin Islands last year. I closed my eyes and recalled the warm, clear blue waters of the Caribbean.

  What a change my life had taken since I’d left my job at San Tel. A brief memory flashed through my mind—a nightmare, actually. I remembered putting on my navy-blue skirt and blazer that morning. I fussed with my make-up and hair and hurried out of the house, forgetting my lunch on the counter. When I walked through the front doors, I sensed an eerie doom. Maggie announced my arrival to a group of managers who were standing outside my office. Their eyes gazed upon me like a room full of starving men, and me with only a pack of breath mints. My heart sank as I studied their faces. The database had gone down. It was costing the telecommunication company millions. I worked around the clock for days to get the thing back up. I had every tech-support person in the country on the phone trying to figure out what was wrong. Every thirty minutes, someone from upper management called to remind me every hour we were down cost the company a figure slightly more than I paid for my house.

  I blinked my eyes and forced the memory out of my head. Everything was different now. I’d changed my life. I’d left that world behind. Now, the only things I had to worry about were whether to head north, south, or west, when I raised my sails—and those darn roses—how could I forget the roses. I put that out of my mind, too.

  I changed my tune about Clancy knowing the contents of the trunk before he sold it to me. The sea anchor alone was worth at least seven or eight hundred dollars. The binoculars were also very expensive. I wasn’t sure of the value of the scuba tank, but I’d wanted to pick one up for myself anyway, so I figured I’d keep it. All in all, I’d made a good deal.

  The sun just kissed the surface of the Pacific as I glided into my slip in the San Diego marina I call home. I tied off my lines, hooked up my umbilical cord to Mother Electricity and settled in for the night.

  I picked up my cell phone and dialed Jason’s number. “Hey, it’s me. What’re you doin’?”

  “Fixing snacks for tonight’s poker game,” he replied, his mouth full of something I probably didn’t want a description of.

  “I’m afraid to ask. What are you making?” I inquired.

  “Let’s see. I’ve got nachos with extra hot jalapeño cheese, corn dogs, Cheetos, and potato chips. Oh, and I’ve got a pork rind and pepperoni pizza in the oven—my own creation.”

  I cringed. “You have any idea what that kind of food is doing to your body?”

  “Yeah. It makes the corners of my mouth turn up—it’s called a smile. You ought to try it sometime.”

  “I’ll stick to my fruits and vegetables, thank you very much. Hey, you up for some diving Saturday?” I asked.

  “Where?”

  “I was thinking we’d go out to Catalina—to the park.”

  “Yeah. I heard they just sunk a fifty-footer out there. Could be a fun wreck to dive.”

  “Great. Let’s leave here about six. That too early?”

  “Six is fine. Want me to pick up a tank for you? I’ve got to stop and have mine filled.”

  “No, thanks. I picked one up today in Long Beach. I’ll take it down to the dive shop tomorrow and have it serviced.”

  “Okay. Gotta go. Someone’s at the door. See you Saturday.”

  A vision of a pizza topped with pork rind flashed through my head. “Only if you survive tonight’s artery challenge.”

  I hung up the phone, smiled, and shook my head. I could just picture the sprawl on Jason’s kitchen counter—open bags of every kind of snack chip he could fit into a shopping cart, a dozen bottles of the very cheapest soda money could buy, a Crockpot full of little Vienna sausages swimming in barbecue sauce, and a great big bowl full of M&M’s—peanut—because as he explained to me once, peanuts are good for you.

  Jason is one of my oldest and dearest friends. I’ve tried to alter his eating habits, if for nothing else, to extend his life so I won’t be left friendless in my old age. He tolerates my nagging but ignores my nutrition suggestions completely. I guess it’s only fair. I refuse to go on any more blind dates he tries to set me up with. His idea of my “Mr. Right” is someone who doesn’t burp too loud and can score over three million points on the pinball machine down at the Sand and Surf Bowling Alley.

  Saturday’s trip to Catalina was spectacular. A school of wild porpoises swam along with us for a while and thrilled me with their graceful beauty. Periodically, I’d spot a flying fish glide along the surface, then suddenly dive into the water. I remembered the first time I’d ever seen a flying fish, I thought it was a bird and I worried when it dove in the water and didn’t resurface. When I saw three more do the same thing, I thought they must be the stupidest birds in the world.

  The state park off of Catalina Island offered a popular spot for diving. The area was protected, so the sea life tended to be more sociable than usual. There were several wrecks to add interest to the dives.

  I dropped the sails. “This looks like a good spot.”

  “I’ll get the anchor,” Jason offered. “You’re sort of quiet today. What’s up?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Don’t give me that ‘Oh, nothing’ business. I’ve known you too long. Something’s eating at you,” he said.

  “Well, there might be something on my mind. You probably don’t want to hear about it.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and jumped up from his seat. “Okay. Let’s gear up, then.”

  “What? You’re giving up, just like that?” I whined.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to pressure you.”

  “I didn’t say I don’t want to talk about it. I said you probably don’t want to hear about it. I want to talk about it. I need to talk about it.”

  Jason sat back down. “Then talk, girl. I’m all ears.”

  “It’s about Craig.”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “Jason! Please. This is important.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. Go ahead. Where is the ol’ Craig-meister, anyway?”

  “He’s in New York for a few days—a medical convention.”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  “Did you see those roses on my table?”

  “Yeah. From him?”

  I nodded. “Here, read the note,” I said as I handed him the card that came with the flowers.

  Jason pulled the delicate card from the envelope and opened it. “Marry me? He wants to get married?”

  “What am I gonna do?”

  “You’re asking me? I’m not sure I see the problem here. I thought you were crazy about this guy.”

  “I am. But marriage? What if it doesn’t work out? What if he wants me to change? What if—“

  “What if a meteor hits the earth tomorrow and we all burn up in a puff of smoke?”

  I snatched the card back from him. “What should I do?”

  “Oh, no. I’m not going there. This is your deal, Dev. If I tell you to marry him and he turns out to be a jerk, then I’ll be the scum who gave you bad advice. If I tell you to blow him off, then you’ll always wonder what might have been. You can’t honestly expect me to tell you what to do, can you?”

  “No. You’re right. I just needed to talk to someone about it. I’m so darn independent. I just don’t know if I can deal with the commitment and the compromises. My life is so simple right now. I don’t want to mess it up.”

  “You’ll make the right decision. You always land on your feet. Now, let’s get to the more important matter of the day. You ready?”

  We suited up. Jason helped me on with my tank.

  “Where’d you say you picked this up?” he asked.

  “It was in a trunk I bought over in Long Beach. I had Pad
dy’s Dive Shop top it off. It’s full.”

  “Good. Hey, what’d you bring for lunch?”

  “We’ll have a nice green salad with a raspberry vinaigrette and soy burgers. You’ll like it.”

  “What? No hotdogs?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve got tofu dogs. You want those instead?”

  “Jeez! I knew I should’ve brought leftover pizza.”

  I smirked at him and stuffed his mouthpiece in his face. “Just be quiet, Jason Walters, or there’ll be no food for you at all!”

  I adjusted the mouthpiece between my lips, pulled my mask down over my face and jumped into the warm Pacific water. Jason followed my lead.

  Five minutes into the dive, I began to feel lightheaded. I wondered if the thought of Jason’s pork rind pizza had gotten the better of me. I felt a little queasy. I stopped and touched Jason on the shoulder. He looked at me, questioning. I held my hand to my stomach, then to my head. He shrugged his shoulders and held his arms out, not understanding my signals. I pointed up to the surface with my thumb and began ascending. I figured he would either follow or not, but I had to get to the surface before I passed out.

  Luckily, we weren’t very deep. As soon as my head bobbed out of the water, I spit out my mouthpiece and gasped for fresh air. Confused, I frantically searched for the Plan C. Jason surfaced seconds later, a few feet away.

  “What’s the matter? You okay?” he asked.

  “No. I think I’m sick. Came on really sudden.”

  “Can you make it to the boat?”

  “I think so. Where is it?”

  “Over here. Come on.”

  Jason helped me up the ladder and onto the deck. I dropped the heavy tank off my back and collapsed in a cushioned deck chair. Jason rushed to the galley and brought me a bottle of water.

  “Here. Feel any better?” he asked, handing me the water.

  “A little. I can’t figure what brought it on. I felt fine when we started out.”

  Jason eyed the bright-yellow scuba tank I’d dropped haphazardly on the deck. “You say you had Paddy’s shop fill that tank?”

  “Yeah. Why?” I replied.