“No! Please, you can’t! I—I didn’t have anything to do with whatever happened to Trip! I swear I didn’t know it was the same board. I just—” The mayor’s mouth hung open as he looked frantically from us to the door. I stepped in front of it, crossing my arms and puffing out my chest in case he was thinking about making an early exit.
“You just what?” Frank demanded. “Tell us what you know about the attack now, or we tell the public our theory tomorrow.”
“Well, I didn’t know the attack on Trip was a hoax. I mean, not a hundred percent for sure.” He paused and wiped his brow before continuing. “But I did perhaps notice that the timing of it all seemed a bit odd. And I may have assumed it possibly was a hoax. And it’s possible I may not have told anyone about my suspicions, and just played along with the whole shark attack thing anyway.”
Boothby shrugged and gave a little chuckle while Frank and I looked on in stunned silence. Had the town’s own mayor really just confessed to knowing that Dr. Edwards’s disappearance had been staged from the start?
11 CUT LOOSE
FRANK
YOU FIGURED OUT THE ATTACK was a hoax and went along with it anyway?” I shouted, not entirely sure I’d heard Boothby correctly the first time.
“It seemed like a reasonable idea at the time,” he muttered.
“Letting the real reason for Trip’s disappearance go uninvestigated seemed reasonable?” Joe shouted even louder than I had.
“I can see how that might not look like the wisest decision in retrospect, but I didn’t know for certain.” Boothby averted his eyes and busied himself tidying up the end table next to the couch. “Why, it would have been irresponsible of me to jump to conclusions—”
“And I don’t know for certain that you hiding the truth about Dr. Edwards will sink your political career when the rest of Lookout finds out,” I said, cutting him off. “But I can make a pretty good guess that this will be your last term in office if you don’t spill every one of your ‘conclusions’ to us right now.”
“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands as he settled onto the edge of the couch. “I knew there was funny business going on, but it’s not like I’m the one who did it. And everyone saw that one shark, so sharks were swimming around scaring people, even if they weren’t technically eating them.”
I eyed Boothby as he talked. The way he told it, he hadn’t known that the “shark” everyone saw was a fake.
“Why rock the boat?” he continued. “I mean, it’s terrible if something happened to Trip, but I’m the kind of positive thinker who likes to lift my community up in times of trouble. It would be wasteful not to make the best of such an opportunity. Reduce, reuse, recycle—that’s what I always say! At least this way something good came from the whole thing, right?”
“You think abandoning Trip and using a lie to scare people into supporting the slaughter of innocent sharks is ‘something good’?” I snarled. “I’d sure hate to see how you define something bad.”
“Well, it was good for me, and I can’t serve the public if I’m not reelected, so it’s all for the greater good.”
Boothby tried to go back to straightening the lamp on the end table, but Joe grabbed it away from him.
“Do you really believe this baloney, or is it just what you tell yourself to feel better about pulling fast ones on the people who vote for you?”
“The only voter he cares about is himself,” I answered before Boothby had a chance. “You knowingly aided and abetted a criminal plot because it took the heat off your other scandals and benefited you politically.”
“That’s not true!” Boothby started, but cut himself off when he saw Joe and me glaring. He grabbed the lamp back from Joe before continuing. “Okay, fine. Maybe it’s partially true, but that’s not the only reason. I’m not a bad guy. I don’t want anybody to get hurt, not even the sharks. Not really. I just don’t want me to get hurt more. And they threatened to blackmail me if I said anything about the break-in.”
Now we were getting somewhere.
“Who is ‘they’?” I asked.
Boothby shrugged. “Whoever stole Chuck’s board from me. The note said Bruce something or other, but I’m sure the name was fake.”
“Quint,” Joe said, catching the mayor off guard.
“You know the guy?” His voice quavered a little, and he hugged the lamp tight to his chest.
The “honorable” mayor had proven himself untrustworthy to the max, and he still hadn’t fully convinced me the real blackmailer wasn’t him. But he did seem genuinely surprised—and afraid. He also didn’t seem to know that the dorsal fin everyone saw was a fake. Did that mean Mayor Boothby was another unwitting accomplice like Shaggy?
“You’re not the only one who got a letter,” I said, curious to see whether he’d reveal anything more.
“Is that why you mentioned Shaggy before?” Boothby asked, setting the lamp back down on the end table. “I can’t see him orchestrating something like this himself, and that guy really does have the worst luck. What did they make him do?”
I exchanged a glance with Joe. I was starting to suspect Boothby was on the level with us about being a pawn in the blackmailer’s schemes. One thing I’d noticed about Mayor Boothby: he wasn’t so much a convincing liar as an enthusiastic one. Some people are so great at deception, you never notice anything amiss. Boothby wasn’t one of them. He sold his lies with bombastic stories and a knack for reading a crowd and knowing what they wanted to hear. It’s a lot easier for people to believe a lie if it confirms something they’re already worried about—like sharks making them unsafe. The guy was a showman. Subtle wasn’t his style.
“You know that shark everyone saw swimming around?” I said. “It was a Shaggy shark.”
“A who-what?” the mayor asked.
“It was Shaggy wearing a fake fin,” Joe clarified.
Boothby looked impressed. “Wow, this Quint character is good. I need to hire him to be my campaign manager.”
I growled. Joe picked up the lamp.
“Sorry, kidding!” The mayor held up his hands defensively. “What did they have on Shaggy, anyway?”
“Poker secrets,” Joe said, putting the lamp back down. “Kinda like the ones I figure they had on you.”
“Who, me? Nooooo. I don’t have any secrets,” Boothby said as he readjusted the lamp. “The note this Bruce left me was more of like a general threat, you know? A don’t-do-this-or-else kind of thing.” He wagged his finger, before sitting up straighter. “How are we going to bring this criminal to justice? That’s what I want to know! In fact, I’m thinking of making it a cornerstone of my campaign. No one pulls a scam like this on my town and gets away with it!”
“Sorry, Mr. Mayor. Distraction is a tactic that’s not going to work on us,” I said. “Spill it. Whatever the blackmailer had on you could help us figure out their identity.”
“Well, you see, it’s rather sensitive. Nothing worth mentioning, really. But it is the kind of thing I’d rather not have getting out to the general voting populace, if you know what I mean.”
Joe looked up at the ceiling and started counting on his fingers. “Let’s see. Lying, withholding evidence, obstruction of justice, maybe accessory to kidnapping…”
Boothby let out a little whimper.
“We’re not here to take you down, but we will if you get in the way of us finding out who the blackmailer is,” I said.
“So if I tell you, you’ll keep it our little secret?” Boothby asked hopefully.
“We’ll consider keeping it between us as long as it doesn’t endanger anyone on Lookout Key and you agree to tell us anything and everything that might help get Trip back home safely,” Joe replied.
“And if you call off your anti-shark initiative first thing in the morning,” I added.
“But I staked my whole reelection campaign on that initiative!” Boothby protested. “I can’t reverse course now. People will think I’m a flip-flopper.”
“So, what
do you think I should wear to tomorrow’s press conference, Frank?” asked Joe. “I brought a pretty snazzy Hawaiian shirt I think would look good on camera.”
“I don’t know, Joe, but I think I’m going to wear my new flip-flops,” I replied.
“Fine. I get the point,” Boothby muttered. “It’s probably for the best. I didn’t know how I was going to pay for all those bounties, anyway.”
The wind picked up and heavy rain started pounding down on the houseboat’s roof as Boothby began his confession. The current had picked up too; the boat was swaying noticeably under our feet.
“I thought about going to the police, I really did, but the thief took more than just the paddleboard. I may have had some documents that I perhaps shouldn’t have had, and if anyone else were to see them, well, it might prove a little problematic with this investigation bugaboo I’ve been dealing with. Not that there’s anything to investigate! The whole thing’s a baseless smear campaign, of course. Everyone knows I’m the most innocent mayor Lookout has ever had. But for appearances’ sake, it’s probably best that no one finds out I had those documents. Ever.”
“And these totally insignificant documents that could sink your career were…?” I prodded.
“The thing is, technically I was supposed to get rid of ownership holdings in any local businesses with matters before the town council so there wouldn’t be any conflict of interest with my job as mayor. And I did, really! Sold it all! Total transparency here! But then I was on a real hot streak at the poker club one night—I was really cleaning Maxwell’s clock. It’s not my fault he ran out of cash and started betting stock in the development corporation he’d formed for his new resort.”
“You owned a piece of the development at the center of the town council’s biggest vote at the same time you were being investigated for a conflict-of-interest corruption scandal?” Joe asked. “You’ve got nerve. I’ll give you that.”
“It’s not like the stock’s even worth anything,” Boothby said, then paused. “Well, not unless the resort gets built. Then it could be worth a lot. Not that I would ever let that affect my objectivity when it comes to the development’s approval. No one’s more objective than me!”
“That’s the problem with conflicts of interest, Mayor—even if you don’t use them to your advantage, they can still be used against you,” I said. “By accepting that stock, you made yourself vulnerable to manipulation and got yourself blackmailed into being an accessory to a crime. And I think you may have just told us the blackmailer’s purpose, too.”
“I think we could have our motive, bro,” Joe said, coming to the same conclusion I had. “That company’s value depends on one person: Councilwoman Dr. E. Ella Edwards. With her blocking the development, the project is worth bubkes. But if she were to, say, oh, get attacked by a shark and go missing? A lot of people could make a lot of money.”
“Not just the stockholders, either,” I reminded him. “A lot of regular citizens expected to profit off Mangrove Palace.”
“But how many regular citizens knew Mayor Objectivity here secretly owned stock in the development so that they could blackmail him?” Joe pointed out.
The houseboat dipped under my feet as I gave the question some thought. “We’re back at the same dead end we hit with Shaggy. Whoever is behind all this has to be a Chuck’s Poker Club insider, but which one?”
“I can name one club member who knew you had that stock,” Joe said, turning back to the mayor. Boothby stared at him blankly. “The dude who gave it to you. Maxwell.”
“Huh,” the mayor muttered.
“And Maxwell’s savvy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ran through his cash and started losing stock on purpose. The more business leaders who had something to gain financially from Mangrove Palace’s success, the more allies he’d have in his fight to get the development approved.”
Joe nodded. “And the more ammunition he’d have to manipulate them.”
“I did clean up with some pretty weak hands a couple weeks back,” the mayor said, mulling over the prospect that he’d been allowed to win, then shaking it off just as quickly. “I prefer to think it was my intimidating self-confidence and preternatural gift for bluffing.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you’re the town’s only bluff artist. Maxwell talked a good game about supporting the decision to postpone the vote when we confronted him. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s the Lookout resident with the biggest stake in the development’s approval. He benefits the most from Trip’s disappearance.”
“There are two prerequisites for our suspect,” I said. “Access to the blackmail intel and a strong motive to want Trip out of the picture. Maxwell has them both.”
Boothby was about to say something when the houseboat lurched violently to the side, sending him tumbling out of his seat. I barely managed to keep my footing, while Joe grabbed on to the end table to stop himself from falling. Boothby’s lamp didn’t fare as well. It dropped to the floor with a crash.
“Sorry!” Joe said.
“Talk about a shaky foundation!” I yelped as the boat dipped again. “Is it supposed to do this?”
Boothby ran over to the window and yanked up the blinds. He gasped.
“What’s wrong?” Joe yelled, but the mayor appeared too shocked to reply.
We found out why when we ran to the window to see what had him so flustered.
It seemed we had a more immediate problem than identifying the blackmailer. The houseboat was being swept out to sea!
12 BEACON OF DOOM
JOE
YOU’D BETTER TURN THE ENGINE on and get us back to the dock quick before we smash on something,” I yelled at the mayor as the lights from shore grew smaller and smaller.
“It doesn’t work!” Boothby yelped.
“Drop the anchor, then!” Frank shouted.
“I don’t have one!”
“Then you’d better radio for help. Fast!” I shouted.
“The thief smashed the radio!”
“Uh-oh,” Frank and I said in unison, tumbling across the floor as the houseboat crested a swell and dropped us not very gently on the other side.
“I’m calling 9-1-1!” I whipped out my phone and… watched the little “searching for service” icon spin in helpless circles. “Or not! There’s no signal!”
“We just have the one cell tower nearby, and sometimes we lose service in bad weather,” Boothby informed us. “It’s one of the main issues I ran on last election.”
“Um, then why isn’t it working?” Frank asked.
“I’m a very busy man, and the town’s had other, er, priorities—” He shrieked as the houseboat suddenly tilted dangerously to starboard.
“I’m not a big fan of your priorities,” I yelled. “How do you live on a houseboat and not have an anchor?”
“I had two, but the thief cut them loose when they trashed my place. The boat was moored to the dock with rope. Those knots were secure. I double-checked them myself, and I’m the best knot-tier on Lookout.”
“Yeah, just like you’re the most innocent and objective politician,” I cracked.
“No, really. I was an Eagle Scout. I still have my knot-tying badge.” He pointed proudly to a sash full of merit badge patches hanging on the wall next to an antique grappling hook.
“Huh. There it is,” Frank said.
“There’s no way those knots could have come undone by themselves,” Boothby insisted.
That left only one other possibility.
“Someone cut us loose,” I growled.
Frank ran to the other side of the boat and yanked up the curtains just in time for us to see the boat narrowly miss smashing against a buoy. “Well, we’d better get un-loose fast or we’re going to be in real trouble.”
“How much realer can trouble get?” the mayor squeaked. “What do you think this is, a leisure cruise?”
I shrugged. “On the bright side, in our experience, sabotage is a good sign an investigation
is on the right track.”
“I don’t want to be on the right track!” the mayor wailed.
“You said the engine doesn’t work. Did the thief disable that, too?” I asked. I definitely wasn’t a boat mechanic, but I had some experience tinkering around with motors. “Maybe it’s something we can fix.”
“The engine disabled itself a long time ago,” Boothby answered, sinking my already flimsy plan. “This old tub is a lot more house than boat. She hasn’t been seaworthy for years.”
“Worthy or not, she’s on the sea now,” Frank said, looking out the window as the current carried us toward the peninsula south of the marina.
The eerie silhouette of Alligator Lighthouse was just barely visible through the pouring rain. I stared at the darkened little window atop the rickety structure, where an iconic beacon light should have been shining.
“Maybe if your mayoral priorities included renovating historical landmarks, there might have been someone in that lighthouse to spot us and send help.”
“Humph. Everybody’s a political pundit these days.” Boothby crossed his arms and scowled.
His expression changed to fear a second later. “We’re headed toward the lighthouse?” He leaped up and joined us by the window, then yelped. “We’re doomed! The current’s carrying us straight toward the reef!”
He scrambled to a bin by the door, pulled out a pair of life vests, and frantically started putting one on.
“Good thinking, Mayor,” I said, holding out my hand. “Hopefully we won’t need them, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
“I only have two,” he snapped, clutching the second one to his chest.
“Joe and I can share one,” Frank said.
“But what if I need a backup?” Boothby clutched the other vest even tighter.
“Bad mayor!” I glared at him. “For a second there, I thought you were looking out for someone other than yourself.”
He looked guiltily at his slippers but didn’t loosen his grip on the extra life vest. I did a quick scan of the cabin. Even if there had been enough vests to go around, they were still a last resort. We needed some kind of plan to keep the houseboat on the water and us out of it.
A Treacherous Tide Page 8
