Death By Sunken Treasure (A Hayden Kent Mystery Book 2) (10 page)

Seventeen

The door of the shack closed behind us with a flimsy thunk, followed by the sound of a deadbolt shooting home. Excited at the new information, I grabbed Mallory’s arm as we walked to her car. “What do you think?”

“Not much. It’s coincidental. With seas that rough, the sheriff’s office would call the rental agency about the boat.”

Her response deflated me. Our thoughts followed the same path, but hers took a different fork in the road. Our conclusions were completely different. I struggled to recall Janice’s words. All I remembered for sure was she said that there had been two boats and bubbles. I opened the passenger door and slid in. Was the sixteen-footer on the site that night a rental? I wanted to call and ask her for a copy of the sheriff’s call report. Find out how many sets of bubbles the deputy saw under the water. She’d said she didn’t think there was a report, but maybe one was written after. Mike’s death could have made the two boats on a permitted treasure site significant enough to file a later report. I pulled my cell phone from the little pouch I wore at my waist and punched in Janice’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. Janice must be on the water out of range of cell tower service. I left a message asking for a callback and disconnected.

Mallory shot a sideways look in my direction.

“I wanted some information about the boat the sheriff’s office reported,” I explained. Even to me, my smile felt weak. Mallory’s instincts were probably right. The boat rental was nothing more than a coincidence. Of course, it followed that if Rutger had been a Navy SEAL, he dove.

“Janice said no report. But Mal, Mike disappeared on Friday. Nobody would miss Rutger at the hotel, especially on a Friday during the heart of lobster season. That’s a big night at the Sea Farer Resort.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard they have the best Cook Your Catch in town. Tourists from all up and down the Keys come bearing fish and lobster. Too pricey for us lowly locals though.”

I answered with a smile. These days nearly every place was.

Familiar sights passed by the car window. Tourists were easy to spot. They wore shorts. A bunch went into the little grocery next door to the Lazy Lizard. Ruth said she noticed Kristin in there having a breakdown at the checkout lane. Was Rutger with her to give her support? I made a mental survey of the people gathered in our office last Thursday. It seemed like a lifetime ago. I didn’t remember seeing anyone who resembled the man in the rental boat.

Up ahead I spotted the sea siren figurehead over The Petard.

“Want a drink?” I jerked my chin in the direction of the upcoming bar. The parking area surrounding the place appeared empty. Might be a good time to ask some questions.

The Prius swerved slightly right as Mallory followed the direction of my nod. She shook her head. “Got to be in court Tuesday. Doing document management for a drug case. I need to make sure I’m ready.”

The set of her jaw told me she meant it.

“Did you know Kristin at all?”

Mallory chuckled. “Where did that come from? No.”

“Just saying. As close as Dana and I are, I never met her. Ruth knew her.”

I shifted in my seat, unable to find a comfortable spot, and unsure where this topic of conversation was going even if I had brought it up.

A stray thought pecked at the edge of my thoughts. Something about Kristin. I made a mental grab and missed it.

Mallory slowed the car as she turned into my street. She held her silence until she stopped in my driveway. Shifting the car into park and leaving it running, she swiveled in her seat to face me. “What’s her motive? Think about that.”

Trust Mallory to cut to the chase in any conversation. What did Kristin have to gain? I needed to learn more about her. Seemed to me, she stood to lose more. She got a share of the settlement in her divorce agreement. If the appeal overturned the case, what happened to the money she got?

“It’s hard to say, Mal. There has to be a payoff though. This is more vendetta than virtue.” I shelved the thought for Tuesday. Grant would have an idea.

I pulled the door handle toward me. A gust of wind swirled into the car as I opened the door. Mallory and I shivered in unison. “Thanks for driving, Mal. You’re probably right about the boat.”

I trudged up the walkway to my house. Tiger Cat sat in the kitchen window, his tail beating back and forth. I missed his weekend lunchtime feeding. It was a special ritual between us that occurred only on my days off. My dead-end thought processes robbed me of my appetite. Instead, I put a tea bag into a cup, poured in a little half and half, filled it with water, and put it in the microwave.

The double chime from my phone alerted me to a text.

Janice: “No addl info. 2 boats. Bubbles below.”

Sometimes I hated texts. Abbreviated words and answers. I shook my phone and said, “Not enough information.” 

I texted back to ask her for the name of the reporting deputy. I figured I could call him and ask if he omitted something in the report that didn’t seem important.

The answer that came back surprised me.

Deputy Barton. My old friend and nemesis.

“Wonder who she ticked off?” I smiled at my own words. Great, talking to myself again. I glanced around for Tiger, hoping to fake him as an audience.

A series of beeps announced the readiness of my tea. I grabbed a couple of cookies from the jar on my counter and took the cup from the microwave, intending to sit at the kitchen table and try to plot a new course for my investigation. Instead, I elbowed the side door open and went onto the deck to sit in the cool air. Tiger Cat followed me, as he always did. The limits of his freedom extended to the backyard and no farther. He respected that.

I dialed Dana’s number, hoping to bring the conversation around to Kristin.

Voicemail. I didn’t bother to leave a message. The missed call would show on her caller ID.

I lifted the cup of now cool tea to my lips and thought about calling Ruth. The salvage claim. I smacked my forehead. Ruth told me Kristin filed for half the salvage claim the day Mike died. If her boyfriend…The cup dropped from my fingers and broke, the shards scattering everywhere.

My thoughts, as splintered as the cup, toppled into each other.

Mike’s ex-boss, and Kristin’s current hook-up, was an ex-SEAL. He had the skills to dive deep and the knowledge to kill. He also rented a boat the day Mike died. Janice’s text about two boats and bubbles. One set of bubbles or two?

I wanted to be sure.

I dialed the sheriff’s office and asked for Deputy Barton. My lousy luck held. She was off until Tuesday. I considered asking for her supervisor. If it were still Lt. Landsdown, I’d have better luck trying to get information out of a clam. I thanked the woman and hung up.

Something still didn’t add up. What made Kristin think she had a right to half the salvage claim? Grant said preserving her rights. I didn’t buy it. What rights? They were divorced. I scooped up Tiger and ran to my office.

My luck changed. For once I found what I needed.

The Marital Settlement Agreement gave Kristin half of everything Mike owned up to the date of the agreement. That made sense.

The agreement also required him to leave her as named beneficiary of the life insurance policy held for him by his former firm. The requirement to have her named as a beneficiary was a common one, that his former employer sponsored the policy made no sense. Why would his former firm keep making payments on a life insurance policy? Those benefits expired when an employee left.

The settlement with his boss would answer my questions.

Those were confidential. I didn’t know if Grant had a copy. I didn’t.

Later in the agreement I came on a provision that required Mike to replace the policy with a million-dollar policy with Kristin as beneficiary if he lost the one under the firm benefits. That made sense.

My pen beat out a healthy tattoo on the desktop. It was Sunday, and I couldn’t find a single person to answer any of my questions until Tuesday, after the Martin Luther King holiday. I forced myself to relax and think. I gazed out the window into the backyard and let my focus soften. When I looked back at my desk, the first thing I saw was my notebook and my note about the salvage claim.

A thrill shot through me from head to toe. That was it. Sunday or no, I could get information. Devon and Jake would be knowledgeable about the salvage claim. Devon was the original marine archeologist. Jake, his stepfather, an investor and the original permit holder. And they would know Kristin. Devon and Mike had been friends forever, so had Jake and Mike. Whatever happened among them was recent. I needed to speak with them both.

Eighteen

Holiday weekend or not, The Petard was definitely open on Sunday. I didn’t allow myself to speculate whether either of the people I wanted to speak with would be working. Instead, I headed for my car. A parking space in full view of the traffic of U.S. 1 rewarded my headlong flight to the bar. No way was I risking another tire purchase this week.

Again the darkness inside blinded me when I pulled open the front door. After a few beats, my eyes adjusted. Devon, a black apron tied around his waist, stood behind the bar. Mentally I chalked up a second line of victory on my luck calendar.

A quick glance showed me that the bar, like the parking lot, was mostly empty. That explained why Devon seemed to be working alone. A couple of men I recognized as charter fishing captains occupied one table. Two of the barstools held patrons engrossed in a basketball game. I cringed slightly as the sound of sneakers squeaking on the basketball court wafted across the room. I slid onto a barstool on the other end of the bar from the game and waited while Devon finished polishing a glass. He came down to my end of the bar and gave me a questioning look. My savoir faire deserted me. What was I doing in a bar at one in the afternoon?

I cast a frantic glance down the bar. The men drank beers. I wrinkled my nose at the thought and said, “White wine?”

Devon held his ground. “Are you sure?”

My eyes crossed in response. At least I didn’t order a Perrier and water as I had the first time I went to a bar alone in college. To salvage the situation, and my dignity, I nodded firmly and added, “Chardonnay.”

He went to the far end of the bar, opened a refrigerator, and poured a glass. He came back and with the ease of an expert, slid the glass on a coaster in front of me. “It’s drinkable.” His light brown eyes crinkled into a smile. “It’s my own stash.” He picked up a bar rag and began to wipe down the counter next to me. “Surprised to see you here again after the last time.”

I took an experimental sip of the wine. “Very drinkable.” Given my lack of food and the early hour, I knew I’d better be careful or I would be walking home. “Figured I should give the place a second chance. It’s so close.”

Devon’s expression told me he didn’t buy my line. I cast about for a way to open the conversation and couldn’t come up with much. Perhaps two lucky strikes were all I got today. Devon went down to the other end of the bar to refill the basketball fans’ empty mugs. I expected him to stay put, but instead, he came right back. I decided on a direct approach.

“Why are…”

“I wanted…”

Our separate voices created a harmony of confusion. We both laughed, and he swept out his arm in a courtly gesture. “You first.”

I took another sip to buy time and try to phrase my question. When I put the glass on the bar top, I continued to hold the stem like a lifeline. “You and Mike were school friends, and you must have stayed in touch over the years.” I risked a quick glance into those caramel eyes. I had his attention. “What do you know about his ex-wife? Why is she here?” There, I said it. I let out a puff of breath I didn’t realize I’d held.

He straightened and picked up a glass that he proceeded to polish. “I met her. Never thought they were good together. Wasn’t surprised she dumped him when he needed her.” His mouth twisted into an unattractive scowl. He put the glass down with the others on the rack under the bar. “I figured she was here to make his life hell. Must have succeeded too. Had to be some reason he did what he did.” He held the glass to the light and studied it a moment. “You work for the estate’s attorneys, right?”

How the heck did he know that?
“Yes, my boss is the nominated personal representative.”

“Then you know about the insurance policy. The new one, I mean.”

I picked up my wineglass then put it down again untouched. “May I have some water?” Was this the million-dollar policy replacement?

He shot me a penetrating gaze, and nodded. Then he picked up the just-polished glass and a soda gun and filled the glass. “You okay?”

I nodded while I sipped the water. “What insurance?” I met his gaze head on.

“Like key man insurance, a separate policy for each of us three owners. Only instead of paying out to the company, we have the company paying the insurance for our survivors.” His lips curled in a slight grin. “They should get some compensation for all the hours we’ve spent getting this place up and running. It’s a common benefit.” He paused. “It surprised me when he called the agent and changed the second beneficiary to Kristin.”

“Second? Who was first?” Did this mean he still had another million-dollar policy floating around? I needed to know. Mike’s assets were too close to the financial threshold that would make it necessary to file federal estate tax return for this estate.

Devon turned a color that could only be described as puce. “I don’t think I should discuss that.”

Another thought struck me. “Did Mike’s policy get rolled over from someplace?”

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. I took that to mean he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, say. Either way, he kept his mouth shut.

This time when Devon went to take care of the other customers in the bar, I didn’t expect him back. I mulled over the information he provided while I alternated sips of wine and water. I drained the wineglass and caught his attention for a refill. He came back with a fresh glass, this time filled almost to the rim. I arched an eyebrow in question.

“Told you, it’s my private stash. I pour it for my friends only.”

The wine relaxed me enough to risk giving away a little information to hopefully get some. “I understand things weren’t good among you, Jake, and Mike at the end. Nothing specific. Some scuttlebutt.”

His eyes met mine. The heat in my cheeks rose. A glance in the bar mirror confirmed my blush. I was way out of line and not even fishing well.

He leaned in so close his minty breath washed over my face. His voice turned frosty. “I don’t know what you heard. Maybe because Mike and I took the salvage permit away from Jake. Mike and I were fine.” His hand came down flat and slapped the bar top.

Surprise made me jerk away. That was completely different to the story I’d heard. As far as I knew, Mike took the salvage contract away from both of them. Mike hired a new archaeologist to satisfy the state requirements and fired Devon. I struggled to remember a name and came up blank.

He straightened his arms, pushed himself upright, and faced the other end of the bar. Then he spun on his heel, nearly tripping on the holes in the bar floor pad beneath his feet. “Jake cut Mike where it hurt. That’s the truth. Mike cut back. It would have all worked out in the end.” The muscle in his jaw pulsed a few times. “Sorry, I guess I’m still jittery about his death. Especially with all the rumors flying.”

“What rumors?”

He ignored me and continued, “Not many here liked him, but it’s because of him Jake and I have the bar. I couldn’t believe Jake made that play for Dana, then dumped her after Mike made us partners.”

Jake and Dana? No way.

I thought back over everything I knew about Dana’s social life looking for any clue to the relationship. 

Dana dated an accountant from Summerland Key. It had been going on for a while, a couple of years at least. Was Devon saying that Jake and Dana had been an item before that? My bullshit meter screamed an alarm, but I couldn’t figure out how to put it into words without alienating Devon.

I searched Devon’s face, willing him to say something that would convince me his words were true. The wine decided. “When was this?”

I kept my voice low, almost a whisper. I figured it gave him an out. Let him ignore me if he didn’t want to answer.

Instead he met my gaze. “The affair? Years ago.”

My face told him I didn’t believe him.

“Seriously, years ago. It started around the time of Mike’s injury. Jake broke the affair off after Mike bought the bar and signed us both on as partners. We were supposed to run the place. He had the bucks to get it up and running right. Jake made a couple of half-hearted attempts to get her back, but it never worked. Guess she felt like he’d used her. Or maybe it was because Mike and Jake were always so close. Jake got drunk one night a couple of weeks ago. Called Mike a rich prig and told him about the affair.” Devon blushed bright red.

My bullshit meter never let me down. I grabbed him before he could take off down the far end of the bar. His hand felt rough under mine. A workman’s hand, not the hand of an academic. Maybe marine archeology was more physical than I thought. “Is there more to the story?”

Devon stared at me. “Yeah. Jake told Mike he hit on Dana to ensure the investment, and Dana offered to help him if she got a cut.”

It made sense now that Mike would take revenge on Dana too. He believed she betrayed him. Why didn’t he just ask Dana? Or maybe he did, and that’s why they were estranged. A little voice in my head took the thought a step further. Maybe Mike’s drug problems muddled his thinking enough to make him believe the story.

Devon’s shoulders slumped. His face became a mask of bitterness. “Guess I’ll always feel like Jake was partly responsible for his death.” He rubbed an imaginary spot on the bar. “Or maybe it was the way the cops asked the questions that made me feel that way.”

I let out a long, slow breath. If Jake knew Mike had cut him out of the salvage lease, would he do more than punish Mike with an old and long-over affair? Right now didn’t seem like the best time to ask when I could talk to Jake. I figured it was better to just stop by another time. “You believe it was suicide?”

His eyes took on a faraway look. “What else? Mike was a natural diver. He even made sure to fill his own tanks. Didn’t trust anyone else to do it right. Hell, just to be sure no dive shop would touch his tanks he refused to mark them, except with a code. There’s no way equipment failure killed him. Even diving alone at that depth.”