by Junie Coffey
THIS MONUMENT MARKS THE LOCATION WHERE IT IS BELIEVED CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS STOOD WHEN HE PASSED THROUGH THESE ISLANDS IN 1492. AT THAT TIME, THESE ISLANDS HAD A POPULATION OF ABOUT 1,000 NATIVE PEOPLE, WHO LIVED IN SETTLEMENTS ALONG THE SHORE AND FISHED THE WATERS YOU SEE BEFORE YOU.
At the base of the monument, there was a piece of paper beneath a large piece of dry white brain coral. The edges of the paper rose and fell in the breeze. Beside it was a small terra-cotta flowerpot full of gold coins.
“I guess we just help ourselves,” said Pansy.
Danish pocketed a coin. Pansy lifted the brain coral with both hands, and Nina pulled out the sheet of paper and read it aloud.
“A bark on a barque.”
“Hmm,” said Pansy, looking at Danish.
“Interesting choice for a community event involving interaction with tourists and sensitive teenage girls,” said Danish, looking at Pansy.
“What do you mean?” asked Nina.
“You’ll see,” said Danish.
“Alice and Kiki wouldn’t have chosen him, would they?” Pansy asked Danish.
“Who?” said Nina.
“There’s an old guy named Rusty who lives with his dog, also named Rusty, on a sailboat behind The Pirate’s Wake bar. Rusty and Rusty. A bark on a barque,” said Danish. “In other words, a dog and a grouch on a boat. They let Rusty use the bathrooms in the bar and get water from the tap, and they give him a hot meal now and then. He’s a bit of a loner.”
“I’ve always thought he was a bit sweet on Agatha Roker, Alice’s aunt,” said Pansy. “Maybe that’s how he got roped into participating in the treasure hunt,” she said. “Although I don’t think she’s ever given him anything that could be considered encouragement. Just a Christmas basket every year and invitations to the church picnic. Agatha runs a tight ship, but she walks the talk. She’s very big on doing the Christian thing, reaching out to the unfortunates in the community.”
“I guess it’s back to Coconut Cove,” said Danish. They stood enjoying the view for a moment, then trooped back down the spine of the hilly point to the cart. They cruised back to Coconut Cove at the cart’s maximum speed of fifteen miles an hour, watching a couple of carloads of treasure hunters blow by them in both directions, hooting and waving their arms out of open windows. Pansy sighed. Her dreams of victory were fading.
They reached the outskirts of the village and turned off the main road toward The Pirate’s Wake. They walked into the dark interior, and Danish bought a couple of cans of cola from the bartender and ordered a burger to go. It was the same man they’d spoken to the last time.
Nina was pretty sure the customer sitting at the bar was the same man, sitting in the same seat, that they’d seen the other day. She glanced over at the pool table, where two men played a slow, lazy game. They, too, were the same men who’d been playing two days ago.
“OK. Let’s do this,” said Danish when the burger was ready. He grabbed the cans of cola with one hand and the burger with the other and headed out onto the covered patio and down to the rickety wharf. Nina and Pansy followed.
There was a rough-looking vessel tied up snugly to the dock. Empty fuel cans and tangled piles of thick rope littered the deck. On a small patch of deck where the clutter had been pushed back, a faded lawn chair sat next to an upturned plastic bucket with a cola can sitting on it. The boat’s paint was flaking and faded all over, but Nina could make out the name The Painted Lady on the stern.
“Yo! Rusty, man! I’ve brought you some cold colas and a burger. Have you got a stash of gold coins in there to trade for them?” shouted Danish as he strode onto the narrow wharf. It swayed beneath his weight. Nina and Pansy followed tentatively. A dog emerged from the dark hole of the boat cabin, wagging his tail. Pansy rummaged through her bag and brought out some string cheese. She stepped forward, peeling back the cellophane, and threw it onto the deck of the boat.
“There you go, Rusty. Good boy!” said Pansy. The dog gobbled it up eagerly.
A slight, disheveled man with long, gray hair pulled back in a ponytail and a beard and mustache to match emerged from the cabin of the boat. His face was almost completely obscured by his facial hair, his bushy eyebrows, and the peak of his greasy ball cap, which advertised a brand of motor oil.
“Well, if it isn’t the human rainbow and her pet unicorn,” he growled. “I should have known you two would be mixed up in this fiasco. Who’s the new girl?”
“Hello, Rusty. How are you today?” said Pansy in her singsongy, soothing-small-children voice. “This is Nina Spark. She just moved to Pineapple Cay from New York City.”
Rusty ran his eyes slowly over Nina from her shoes to her sun hat and back again. “Uh-huh,” he said when he was done. “Well, here is a word of advice for you, missy. I’d stay clear of these two, if I were you. Cherry Kool-Aid here and Bozo the Clown. She’s on something, and so is he.”
“Here, Rusty. These are for you, man,” said Danish, passing him the cans of cola and the burger. Rusty took them without comment and placed them carefully on top of the plastic bucket. He disappeared inside the cabin while they stood there uncertainly, wondering if he was coming back. He reemerged with the gold coin in his hand and held it out to Danish, who stuffed it into his pocket.
“There you go. Now skedaddle,” said Rusty, reaching down to stroke his dog, who sat quietly next to him, wagging his tail.
“So, Rusty, have you seen a guy with a pink suitcase around here lately?” asked Danish.
“Again with the pink suitcase!” said Rusty irritably. “Like I told Agatha’s brother, the copper, when he came snooping around here the other day: Richie Rich was here about a week ago, cluttering up my dock with his boat and his bloody suitcase, trying to make small talk about sports and the weather. He gave me twenty bucks and said, ‘We’ve never met,’ like Robert De Niro or some goddamn thing, then lit out of here in the dark, heading south. It’s getting to be like Grand Central station down here. I’ve had enough. And I told the copper to tell Agatha that this fiasco here pays off that Christmas basket, too, and to bugger off and leave me in peace for a while. Not to bugger off, but the rest of it.”
He lowered himself gingerly into the lawn chair. “Now it’s time for our nap, so get out of here. People have been bugging me all afternoon, and I’m tired of talking. If I’d known how much work this would be, I’d have said no, even though it was Agatha’s niece who asked me.”
“So, a lot of people have been to see you already?” asked Pansy.
“That’s what I said,” said Rusty.
“About how many?” asked Danish.
“Too many!” said Rusty. “A bunch of teenage girls who giggled the whole goddamn time. Wave after wave of bloody tourists. Old man Dixon and his whole goddamn family. Now you with all your questions. Now listen up, I’m only going to say this once!” He read haltingly from a piece of paper he held close to his face. “‘Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long ago precisely—having little or no money in my purse and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.’ Adios. Have a nice life.” He grabbed the burger and a cola off the bucket and heaved himself out of the lawn chair, and Rusty and Rusty disappeared below deck.
“Those are the opening lines of Moby-Dick by Herman Melville,” said Danish. “Whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses . . . whenever . . . it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball,” he recited.
Nina stared at him.
“I stayed with my grandparents a lot when I was a kid,” said Danish. “That was my granddad’s favorite book. He read it to us at least ten times. He gave me my own copy when I got the job on the cruise ship. I read it again every once in a w
hile. He lived his whole life in Colorado. I don’t think he ever saw the ocean.”
“Well, good for you, Danish!” said Pansy.
“So, back to the library, I guess,” said Nina. They piled into the golf cart and cruised back into town. The ladies’ auxiliary was busy decorating the town square with bunting and balloons for the evening’s festivities, while the band did its sound check.
Mrs. Smith was still at her desk in the library. She stood when they entered and gave them a mischievous smile but said nothing. Nina went quickly up and down the shelves.
“Melville. Melville. Here it is. Three copies.”
She handed one each to Pansy and Danish, and they all riffled through the pages and shook the books out upside down. No coins fell out. They looked at Mrs. Smith. She smiled again and shrugged, palms up.
“I thought librarians were supposed to be helpful,” said Danish.
“I’m not supposed to say anything,” she said. “Sorry.”
They went back outside and sat on the stone wall in the sunshine.
“OK, so it’s not in the library,” said Pansy. “It’s something about sailing and the ‘watery part of the world.’ Something offshore, in the cays, maybe. Lots of people sail there. Or maybe it’s the wreck site where they found the Morning Glory.”
“Maybe,” said Nina. “Or maybe the clue is the whale in Moby-Dick . . . That story that Ted told us at the Savages’ dinner party the other night. About his friend who had reassembled a whale skeleton on a beach in the Diamond Cays National Park. Where did he say it was?”
“It’s on Turtle Cay,” said Pansy. “That’s pretty far from here. At least a half hour by boat.”
“Alice and Kiki wouldn’t send people to the wreck site,” said Danish. “The cut between Lizard and Wreath Cays is wide-open and rough. That’s part of the reason why it took so long for someone to find the Morning Glory. And where could you stash a fake gold coin on the open water? Unless someone sat there in a boat all day, which seems unlikely.”
“So, should we try Turtle Cay, then?” said Nina. “I’d like to see it, anyway. I don’t think we’re in any danger of winning, so a little sightseeing couldn’t hurt. We’ll still finish the hunt and show up for the closing barbecue Alice has planned. What do you think?”
“Sounds good,” said Pansy.
“Yeah,” said Danish, “but if we aren’t in a hurry, how about refueling at The Redoubt before we go? I could use a burger. I skipped brunch, and it’s going to take a couple of hours to get there and back. We’ve got to get the boat from Joe in town anyway.”
Nina and Pansy agreed. They drove back into town.
The Redoubt was busy, but not overflowing, and they chose a booth in the cool interior. Most of the action on this sunny Sunday afternoon was out on the deck overlooking the water.
“You three haven’t given up, have you?” asked Veronica when she came over to their table to take their order.
“No, just a pit stop,” said Pansy. She and Nina asked for iced tea. Danish got his burger and a beer. When he had demolished both and a second beer, he said, “Excuse me for a few minutes, ladies. Some of the guys are out on the deck, and I think I’ll go say hello.”
Nina and Pansy chatted about house-paint colors for a few minutes. Danish came back with another glass of beer in his hand and slid into the booth beside Nina.
“Hey, look who just came in,” he said. Nina and Pansy looked toward the door. Barry Bassett peacock-walked up to the bar and stood with his foot on the rungs of a stool, surveying the room. Before Barry saw the three of them, a waitress came over to take his order. As she went through the swinging doors to the kitchen, he turned toward the bar and hoisted himself up onto the stool.
“Look who else is here,” said Danish urgently. It was the two guys from the black SUV they’d seen yesterday. The men strolled up to the bar and sat on either side of Barry. They were big, burly guys with shaved heads, both wearing neatly pressed golf shirts and Bermuda shorts.
“Is that what the Russian mob is wearing these days?” Pansy asked.
“For guys who live in Miami, they’re pretty pasty-looking,” said Danish.
Barry looked casually from one to the other. They talked for a few minutes. Calmly, but seriously, Nina thought. Then the two burly men stood, nodded at Barry, and headed for the door. No smiles or handshakes. They were not friends. The SUV guys swept the room with their eyes as they walked to the door. One of the men looked Nina straight in the eye and held her gaze for a moment. She looked down quickly.
“Look! Barry boy is getting right on the horn to someone,” said Danish excitedly. Nina looked up.
They watched Barry pull his cell phone out of his back pocket and answer it. He turned sideways on his stool and hunched forward as he listened to whoever was on the line. His brow knitted, and he reached behind the bar and grabbed a notepad and pen. He scribbled something and hung up, slipping the phone back into his pocket and tearing the page off the notepad. He stuffed it into his shirt pocket as he hurried out the door.
“Rookie mistake,” said Danish as he sprang out of his seat and strode quickly across the room. He grabbed the notepad off the bar and came back to the booth. Nina and Pansy looked at him quizzically.
“Pansy, I know you’ve got a pencil in that gigantic purse. Cough it up, por favor,” he said.
“It’s not really a purse, but yes I do,” answered Pansy, rooting through her voluminous satchel and pulling out a yellow rubber-tipped pencil.
“What are you doing, Danish?” asked Nina. He was rubbing the lead of the pencil rapidly but lightly across the notepad. When the whole page was blackened, he studied his handiwork, then held it up for both of them to see. There was a series of numbers visible in white on the notepad, where Barry’s pen had pressed down on the sheet of paper beneath the one he’d written on.
“Ta-da!” he said. “The subject of old Barry’s serious convo and the reason for his sudden departure. Something to do with Tiffany, I bet. Unless he’s making a date with Cynthia, but I think she left. Mrs. Davis was sort of blue when I delivered her mail on Friday because her daughter had gone back to Dallas. I slipped one of my secret-admirer cards into her mail to cheer her up. I always keep a few on hand. Anyway, Barry would have a smile on his face if he was going to rendezvous with Cynthia. He didn’t look happy. He looked mad.”
“Yes, he did,” said Nina. “So what do these numbers mean?” They studied the paper. Nina wrote the series of numbers and markings on a clean sheet of paper.
“I’m pretty sure these are geographical coordinates. Longitude and latitude,” she said. “See, the little circles. Degree symbols. He must be headed to this location. Maybe he’s found out where Tiffany is, or he’s going to take her there and kill her. I don’t know.”
“If that was a gun I delivered to him Friday, she could be in danger,” said Danish.
“Maybe we should tell Blue,” said Pansy.
“I really don’t think I could do that again,” said Nina. “He already thinks we’re idiots. What would we say? That Barry scribbled some numbers on a piece of paper, and Danish delivered a heavy box to him on Friday? I can just imagine what he’d say. If we find anything concrete, we’ll tell the police.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Pansy.
“Quick, Danish, does Veronica keep nautical charts here?” asked Nina.
“I have the charts for the cays in my bag,” said Pansy, rummaging in it again. “We bought them for boat trips, and I thought we might need them for the treasure hunt since Alice said we’d need a boat today.” She pulled out a chart book with a coil binding and laid it on the table. Nina turned the pages quickly, looking for the coordinates Barry had written on the notepad.
“Here it is,” she said, flipping the book around for them to see. “Love Cay. Halfway between here and Turtle Cay, inside the park boundaries. It’s tiny.”
“I’ve never even heard of it, let alone been there. Have you, Danish?” asked Pan
sy.
“Nope. We can at least check it out on our way to Turtle Cay. Let’s go. I’ll go get the keys to the boat from Joe. Barry doesn’t keep his boat at the marina, so he’ll have to go home first. Maybe we can beat him there.” He started to stand up, then sat down again quickly.
“Sorry, ladies. I’m afraid I accidentally got somewhat hammered. I can’t drive the boat. Maybe I could give Ted a call and see if he’s around to take us down there.”
“Listen, Danish. Get the keys to the boat and meet us at the wharf in five minutes. We don’t need Ted to chauffeur us. I’m from Maine. I can drive a damn boat,” said Nina. She quickly tucked some money under her iced-tea glass, and they hurried outside.
“Look!” said Pansy. “Barry is still here.” He was coming out of the grocery store with a jug of water and a sagging plastic bag. He threw them into the backseat of his convertible and walked quickly around to the driver’s seat. They hung back behind the cover of a leafy shrub as he sped past them. He was definitely in a hurry. Danish took off walking in the direction of Joe’s rentals down by the marina while Nina and Pansy hustled across the street.
“Pansy, could you go get a few jugs of water? I need to get some supplies at the hardware store,” said Nina. She glanced up and down the sidewalk.
“Hey!” she half shouted, grabbing Pansy’s arm. “There are those guys again!” Halfway down the block, the two strangers in dark shades were getting into their shiny black SUV with its main-island license plates. Nina and Pansy watched as they backed out of their parking space and headed north on the road that ran past Nina’s house. But there was no time to investigate if there was any chance of them reaching Love Cay before Barry. Nina turned her back on the disappearing SUV, and she and Pansy jogged away to do their errands. In the hardware store, Nina spun around in the aisle, wondering what they might need. She grabbed a coil of rope, a roll of duct tape, and some protein bars made for backpackers, just in case, and paid Harold for it all in a rush.
