The Devil's Triangle (4 page)

‘No problem, sir. I’ll do it right away.’

After Callum had taken the shell out and locked it in the boat, the atmosphere in the living area remained awkward for a while. Sam and Niamh tried to make light of their father’s strange reaction, but the incident left an uncomfortable feeling in the room that was difficult to dispel.

‘What was that all about?’ Callum asked Sam a bit later when they had slipped back outside to the poolside. ‘Your dad really freaked out when he saw the conch.’

‘Conk,’ Sam replied.

‘Sorry?’

‘It’s pronounced
con-k
, not con-ch.’

‘That could cause some interesting misunderstandings,’ Callum observed. ‘Oh, my! That’s a big conk you’ve got there.’

They both laughed.

‘So why did your dad flip? And what did he mean by “Tell that to the Queen?”’

‘Well, Dad’s always been a bit superstitious and according to local folklore, it’s bad luck to bring a conch shell into your home. There’s a story he heard from the local historian down in the library at Key West about the Queen that he’s told us a few times, but it’s been a while since I’ve heard it. It supposedly happened before we were born, back in about 91, I think. The Queen visited the Dry Tortugas – they’re a group of islands off the end of the main line of inhabited Keys. Believe it or not, the nearest thing to royalty here in the Keys is the position of Queen Conch . . .’

‘You’re havin’ a laugh! Queen Conk!’

‘No,’ Sam said, shaking his head. ‘Dead serious. Ask Niamh if you like. She probably remembers more about this stuff than me. Anyway, from what I remember, the reigning Queen Conch met Queen Elizabeth at the Dry Tortugas and presented her with a conch shell. Within about a year of the Queen’s return to the UK, a whole load of bad stuff happened.’ Sam closed his eyes as he recalled the list of misfortunes and ticked them off on his fingers. ‘First Prince Andrew and Fergie separated in early 92,’ he began, ‘Then the next month Princess Anne and Mark got divorced. A couple of months later, the tell-all book about Diana was published and then, to top it all, Windsor Castle burned down.’

‘Really? But the castle’s still there! I saw it from the M4 only a few weeks ago.’

‘Yeah. Well, I guess they must have rebuilt it. Apparently, it was a local joke in the Keys that Queen Conch’s gift caused all the bad luck. Some of the locals were more than a bit serious.’

When they went back inside after their dip, Callum sat and wrote a postcard to his parents. Chuckling, he waved Sam over to look at what he had written.

‘You can’t send that!’ Sam exclaimed, his eyes widening as he read the card.

‘It’s a joke, Sam. Lighten up!’

‘I know it’s a joke, but what will your mum and dad do?’

‘They won’t do anything,’ Callum laughed. ‘They know what I’m like. I’m always fooling around. Don’t worry, I’ll send them another one in a couple of days spelling it out as a joke if you like.’

‘Yeah you’d better,’ Sam said. ‘For goodness’ sake don’t let my dad see it though. You saw what he was like about the shell. He’d really do his nut if he saw this!’

There was a haunted look in Matthew Cutler’s eyes that afternoon. Sam recognised it immediately, as he had seen it all too often during past trips. To his frustration, the next morning his dad went off on his own for much of the day, leaving the three teenagers to their own devices. It was the beginning of a familiar pattern. Just when Sam had begun to think this holiday was going to be different, his father appeared to be slipping back into the old routine that had soured Sam’s feelings towards coming here.

Sam found it hard to understand why his dad could not let his missing wife go and move on with his life. For Sam, losing his mum had been a terrible thing. He still vividly remembered how upset he had felt immediately after she had disappeared. But that was nine years ago. Over time his pain had dulled and life had swept him along too fast to allow him to get caught in the same emotional eddy as his father. He still felt sad, but he had learned to live with the feeling. At least this year there hadn’t been the added insult of a childminder, Sam thought.

Several days passed and the three teenagers saw less and less of Mr Cutler. He left most mornings after breakfast and did not return until after sunset. Sometimes he took the boat. Sometimes he took the car. Every time he went alone.

Even given his father’s recent behaviour, Sam was surprised when he was woken by the sound of the hire car backing out on to the gravel driveway. Despite the bright sunshine outside, the blinds kept the room quite dark. He squinted at the luminous display of the alarm clock through blurry, sleep-filled eyes. It read 07:30.

‘Where’s he going at this time in the morning?’ he groaned.

‘What’s that?’ Callum mumbled from the other side of the room.

‘It’s Dad,’ Sam said, pulling back the light duvet and rolling over to sit on the side of the bed. ‘He’s going out on his own again. Just before we went to bed last night he promised to take you and me out to chase some big game fish this morning, but it looks like he’s forgotten all about it. Knowing Dad, by the time he gets back, it’ll be too late and the weather will be closing in!’

‘Shame,’ Callum agreed sleepily. ‘Still, we can always chill out by the pool.’

‘That’s the problem,’ Sam grumbled, padding across to the window in his boxers and tweaking one of the slats of the blind aside with a finger. He was just in time to catch a glimpse of the SUV driving out on to the road. ‘When Dad gets like this, chilling out by the pool is all we
can
do. I wish he would let this Triangle mystery thing go. It’s all a load of superstitious nonsense anyway.’

Callum mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over, pulling the duvet up over his head. Sam decided to leave him to sleep. Stepping lightly out into the kitchen, he opened the fridge and pulled out the gallon container that was two-thirds full of Tropicana orange juice. Armed with this and a tall glass from the cupboard, he headed out to the poolside. Even at this time in the morning it was warmer outside than it was in the air-conditioned environment of the house.

Sam downed the first glass of orange juice in one long draft, delighting in the icy-cold wetness of it. That was one of the biggest problems with the air conditioning, he thought – waking up with a dry mouth and throat. Taking a deep breath, he poured another.

Not in the slightest bit self-conscious about sitting outside in his boxers, Sam watched as a boat cruised past along the canal. He recognised the owner immediately. It was Mr Mitchell, the ex-US Air Force colonel who owned the villa two doors down. Mr Mitchell gave a jaunty wave, which Sam returned. Inside, though, Sam could not quell the pang of jealousy he felt on seeing the sport fishing rods set up at the back of the passing boat.

It was the sight of Mr Mitchell’s rods that triggered Sam’s sudden decision. Downing his second glass of orange juice, he got to his feet with a new sense of purpose.

‘I’m not going to let Dad ruin this holiday,’ he vowed under his breath. ‘I’m going fishing today whether he’s here or not.’

Half an hour later, Sam had topped up the boat’s fuel tanks with the spare jerrycans of petrol from the back of the garage. He checked the bilge as he had seen his father do many times and gathered the fishing rods and lures, stowing them neatly inside the boat. Sam knew his dad kept the ignition keys for the boat in his bedside cabinet. Getting them would be easy.

To his surprise, Sam felt an intense wave of guilt heat his gut as he entered his father’s room. Matthew Cutler had never been a particularly private person. Indeed, his bedroom door had been left wide open today. Surely that was an invitation to enter? So why was it Sam felt an overwhelming urge to creep across to the bedside cabinet like a cat burglar?

Sam didn’t notice he was holding his breath until he opened the top drawer of the cabinet and saw the keys to the boat exactly where they normally were. A thrill of excitement ran through him as he picked them up. This was going to be so much fun.

His father had let him drive the boat plenty of times in recent years, but always under supervision. He knew his way around the waters in the immediate vicinity of Summerland Key well, and having a satellite navigation system onboard meant that it would be hard to get lost even if they did go further afield. All Sam had to do was tell the navigation system to take him home and follow the line that appeared on the screen. It was hardly rocket science.

‘Sam?’

Sam jumped. Even though he recognised Niamh’s voice instantly, his reaction was instinctive.

‘What are you doing in Dad’s room?’

‘Just getting the keys to the boat,’ Sam said, trying to make it sound as casual as he could. ‘You going to come fishing with us?’

‘I thought Dad went out this morning,’ she said, her brows drawing together in a thoughtful frown.

‘Yeah, well, I’m not going to just sit around and wait for Dad any more. You know what he’s like. He probably won’t come back till this evening now, and I don’t want to hang about here all day again.’

‘Why don’t you take the bikes along to the beach and go snorkelling then?’ Niamh suggested. ‘Dad’ll be furious if he finds out you’ve been out in the boat.’

‘Well, don’t tell him then. There’s no reason for him to find out, is there? I can drive it as well as he can. You know that. And it’s not like I’m going to take it far, Niamh. Just beyond the reef, to have a chance at catching something bigger than a snapper.’

‘And Callum’s going along with this?’ Niamh asked. ‘I thought he had more sense.’

‘He doesn’t know yet,’ Sam admitted. ‘But he’ll be cool with it.’

‘Please don’t do it, Sam. Dad’s bound to catch you and then there’ll be hell to pay.’

‘What’s he going to do? Restrict me to the house? Big deal! He’s pretty much done that already. Maybe if he does find out, it’ll be a wake-up call for him. Maybe he’ll finally realise that we’re growing up and bored with hanging around here all the time.’

‘In your dreams, Sam,’ Niamh said. ‘If Dad wants to find a punishment that’ll hit where it hurts, he will. Don’t be a fool. Go snorkelling or jump on a bus to Key West if you have to. Anything.’

‘I’m
going
fishing,’ Sam said. Then, in a louder voice, he called,
‘Cal?
Are you dressed yet? Come on. We’re going out fishing on the boat.’

‘Is your dad back already?’ Callum asked, emerging from the bedroom in shorts and flip-flops. ‘That was quick.’

‘No. We’re going without him.’

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’

‘See!’ Niamh said. ‘I told you Callum would have more sense.’

‘Don’t listen to her, Cal. She’s bein’ a wuss. We don’t need to go far. Just far enough to get into big game water. I don’t want to hang around here all day . . . again!’

‘Well, if you think it’ll be OK.’

‘Of course it will.’

‘Of course it won’t!’

Niamh and Sam contradicted each other at the same time, leaving Callum looking from one to the other, clearly unsure of who to listen to. Loyalty to his friend won.

‘Am I alright dressed like this?’ he asked.

Niamh looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she said and stomped off into the kitchen.

‘Don’t worry about her, Cal,’ Sam said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘I’d grab a T-shirt, shades and a pair of deck shoes or trainers. If we catch anything big, you won’t want to be barefoot.’

‘Fair enough. I’ll be back in a minute.’

‘Meet me at the boat,’ Sam directed. ‘I’ll get the engines running. The fish are waiting for us. I can hear them calling.’

CHAPTER FOUR

The throaty growl of the engines sent a warm rush of adrenalin racing through Sam’s stomach. It had taken longer than he had expected before he felt sure he was ready to go, but they still had plenty of time before his dad was likely to return. He eased the throttles forward and swung the boat away from the mooring and out into the canal. He had driven the boat from here to the ocean many times, but doing it without his father’s watchful eyes looking over his shoulder was a whole new experience.

Niamh was standing by the mooring post. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest and her eyebrows were drawn together in a worried frown. Sam was rather surprised that she didn’t shout at him as he steered the boat out into the centre of the waterway. It was unlike her to miss a chance at having the final word.

‘You do know what you’re doing, don’t you?’ Callum asked, looking back at Niamh. His expression and voice mirrored her concern.

‘Of course I do. Relax. We’ve got life jackets on. Everything’s cool. We won’t go far.’

‘Yeah. Fair enough then.’

Callum didn’t sound totally convinced, but he did sit back and start looking around at the view as they cruised gently out of the canal into the open water beyond. Across the bay they could see the houses and canals of Cudjoe Key tucked among the lush greenery. Sam turned the boat in a gentle arc to the left and opened the throttles further. The boat surged forward, the prow gently lifting as the power bit. Within seconds, they were skipping across the wavelets at speed leaving a frothing white ‘V’ behind them as they raced south and east towards the deeper water.