Cracked to Death (18 page)

Chapter 30

 

Savannah stumbled into her house and plopped down directly onto the couch. Rooney decided she needed to be welcomed with a full body press and sloppy kisses as insurance.

“Rooney, please.” She gave him a halfhearted shove, but it was a great joy to have him so excited to see her.

Her confidence in her ability to act as a consultant for Detective Parker had surged after Lindsey had revealed that he had told her about their prior successes as investigators. His regard was important to her. If she didn't act ethically in this investigation, he would close that door forever. That was something she wasn't willing to give up.

Savannah, Edward, and Jacob, who had held Suzy tightly, had all been expertly cross-examined by Lindsey on every point in the investigation. Savannah felt confident in Lindsey's ability to defend Amanda in court, if it came down to that. They had agreed, again, that the best solution would be to clear Amanda before her defense attorney's skills were needed.

“Rooney, this heat saps the will out of me. You've been inside this air-conditioned bungalow, all cool and comfortable. I've been in and out of the car all day.” She cuddled his gray head and scratched behind his droopy ears and finally said the words he was waiting for. “Do you want to go outside?”

He leaped up and turned around in a happy circle, dancing. Savannah smiled and grabbed his leash. She was halfway into their normal thirty-minute walk when she remembered she should have called the twins to ask about Amanda's mother. Her cell was inside the house, in her backpack.

“Okay, Rooney. You've succeeded in distracting me once again. Remind me to make sure I call Rachel and Faith.”

Rooney looked up at her and cocked his head to the side.

“Of course you will.”

As soon as she had fed and watered Rooney, she sat at the kitchen table, called the main hospital number, and asked for Mrs. Blake's room.

“Hello. This is Mrs. Blake's room. Faith Rosenberg speaking.”

“This is Savannah. How's Mrs. Blake?”

“Hi, Savannah. I'm so glad you asked us to stay with her. She woke up about thirty minutes ago and had a panic attack. The nurses settled her down, but her breathing is now a bit worse. They've increased the oxygen level, but there's no change.”

“Good grief. This keeps getting worse and worse. Can you stay awhile longer?”

“You just try to make us leave. This lady needs someone to watch over her every minute. Leave this to us. We'll let you know when there's a change, good or bad.”

Savannah placed the receiver back on the wall-mounted phone and walked back into the living room. The old-fashioned message machine on the main phone blinked a numeral two, indicating two voice messages were waiting. She pressed the
PLAY
button.

“Savannah, this is Julie Wedlake calling. We've been exploring the sites Jacob identified this morning. I know we should have waited for you, but it turns out our new cameras are so powerful that we no longer need to wait for low tide. Anyway, the even better news is—”

The message stopped. Savannah rolled her eyes. It served her right for not replacing her dad's phone with one that included digital message recording. His still used a cassette tape. She pressed the message
PLAY
button again.

“Savannah, your machine cut me off. Anyway, reviewing the recordings, we've found two areas of bottom disturbance that might be what you're looking for. I've sent you a short video of them. If you want to be with us when we go back out to dive, give us a call. If so, we're launching at about four. Wear a swimsuit under casual clothes. It will be hot.”

Savannah dialed Edward's cell. He picked up immediately.

“Paul and Julie have found two possible sites with their ROV. They want to know if we want to be with them when they dive there before it gets dark today. Do you want to go?”

“Absolutely! Come by the condo and pick me up. I'll be ready.”

* * *

Savannah and Edward pulled into Julie and Paul's long driveway, got out, and then helped them load up their small dive boat with water, beer, and diving gear. They had a long dock that stretched out to water deep enough to launch a boat even during low tide.

After the fifth load, Edward questioned Paul. “Will there be enough room for passengers? This is a lot of stuff.”

Paul smiled. “Yep, we tend to overpack the boat, just in case. Even though the boat is small, there should be enough room for the four of us. We're going to become close friends or new enemies.” He laughed. “We won't be going fast, though. This is a lot of weight.”

“How far are we going?” Savannah handed a picnic basket down to Julie, who magically found room for it.

“The areas of disturbance are at the second and third sites Jacob identified. Unfortunately, neither one is very close, so it will be about a twenty-minute ride. We'll be having a picnic supper after our first dive. If that one is a bust, then we'll check out the second.”

By the time everything was loaded and they launched, they were all hot and had worked up a sweat. But the breeze of the moving boat cooled them down quickly. Julie passed beers around, and they gulped them down. Talking over the noise of the engine entailed a pattern of shouting something, followed by saying, “What did you say?” which ultimately forced them to travel in silence until Paul cut back the engine and dropped the anchor.

“This is the first site we found on the ROV camera. It's definitely an anomaly on the bottom of the bay, as it's not a natural disturbance. Biological bottom effects don't normally have sharp, regular edges, but we couldn't tell what caused this. Anyway, we'll know in a few minutes.” Paul looked at Julie. “Do you want to take this one or wait for the second dive, if we need to go there?”

“Go ahead, dear. This might be as far as we have to go today.” She smiled and began pulling various bits of gear out.

It was certainly a precarious process to get Paul outfitted with his scuba gear in such a confined space. They appeared to be used to the space crunch, and in no time Paul was over the side, with a bright yellow line attached to him.

With the boat still, the heat attacked them. Not a breath of air stirred to keep the swelter at bay. They watched Julie dole out the yellow line more and more, and then it stopped. They watched the bubbles on the water, mostly because there was nothing else to watch. The bubbles moved in a ten-foot radius and started another ten-foot circle when the bubbles stayed stationary.

Three sharp tugs on the yellow line was the signal for Julie to begin hauling it in to support Paul's return. In a few minutes, he was at the surface, and then he handed most of his gear to her while he removed it at the side of the boat.

“It was nothing. It looks like someone decided to clean out their garage and dump the contents here. Mostly old motors, car parts, a lawn mower, and other garden tools. It was done years ago, I think, because it was a push mower, and everything is covered in a thick layer of barnacles.”

Julie helped him into the boat. He didn't bother drying off.

“Thanks, honey. Let's have our picnic supper, and then we'll push off to the second site.”

They devoured the contents of the picnic basket, then weighed anchor. Several miles northward, Paul dropped anchor again in a wide channel of the Intracoastal Waterway. He helped Julie put on her diving gear, and this time he belayed the yellow line. The heat found them again, their only company as they watched Julie's bubbles make circular searches on the bottom.

In the warm shimmer of the sea, Savannah ran through her list of worries. She was afraid they might not find anything on this expedition. What would happen if she couldn't clear Amanda? Would Amanda's mother fade away without seeing her daughter again?

The bubbles stopped moving, and everyone tensed to await whatever would be next. Savannah gasped when the bubbles stopped completely.

“What's wrong! Is she in trouble?”

“Hang on a second,” Paul answered calmly. “She's holding her breath for a second. She does it when she finds something.”

A large group of bubbles broke the surface, quickly followed by three tugs on the yellow line. Savannah and Edward looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Savannah showed Edward her crossed fingers on both hands.

Julie broke the surface and removed her scuba mask. “We found it. There's a whole load of blue bottles down there.” Then she paddled her way to the boat. “I pulled one out of the bottom for you. It's in my dive bag.”

By the time she had handed her gear to Paul and had awkwardly made it into the boat, Savannah thought she would burst from wanting to handle the bottle. Finally, Julie removed the bottle and gave it over.

Nearly dropping it, Savannah removed the loose debris with her fingers and cleaned off the bottom of the bottle. After confirming her suspicions with a magnifying glass, she looked at Edward.

“This is a duplicate. We've found the dump site for the fake bottles.”

Chapter 31

 

Savannah dropped Edward back at Queen's Head before returning to the hospital. He walked in and waved to his assistant manager and best bartender, Nicole Borawski.

“Good. Another update. I love following your detective adventures. Did you have any luck?” She grinned and tucked a pen behind her ear. Her good looks and her wicked smart sense of humor were major reasons why his new pub was becoming an area favorite.

“I don't think so, but it's hard to tell. We found a pile of fake bottles that had been dumped in one of Jacob's prospective treasure sites.” Edward slipped in behind the counter. “Not sure how it helps or hurts the investigation.”

“Have faith. You guys always find the bad guy.”

“Well, I feel like we're spinning our wheels on this one. This is not the way to get Amanda out of the frame for Martin's murder.”

“There was a guy here earlier. He was talking about bottles. Blue bottles, right?” said Nicole.

“Yes, they're called Bristol blue, from the type of cobalt used in their manufacture. The earliest version of that type of glass was first recorded in the late eighteenth century. These bottles were made in about seventeen eighty and could be part of José Gaspar's buried treasure. Who was talking about it?”

“He isn't a regular, but he's been here a few times. He drinks Guinness—unusual at this time of year. Most people switch to something a bit lighter for the dog days of summer, but not him.”

“Talked about blue bottles? Was he a sandy-haired guy who looks like he's spent a lot of time outdoors?”

“Not very helpful. You've just described half the male population here in St. Petersburg.” She laughed. “I'm not too observant about what men look like. What they drink? That's a different story. Remembering their drinks is how I get good tips.”

“Was he with anyone?” Edward asked.

“Yes. His friend drank Jack Daniel's and Coke with a twist of lime. Yeah, that sounds right. He called Guinness guy Captain.”

“I know him. He's Captain Collins. We've been trying to find him to get some information about Martin's diving activities. This could be important. What did he say?”

“He was saying he was in here last week, celebrating a new salvage site that appeared to be associated with Gaspar the Pirate. He said they had the specific blue bottles to prove it. I don't think he meant to say so much. He shut up after that and left right after he slammed his drink.”

“Which way did he go? Did you see what kind of car he drove?” Edward quizzed.

“Hang on. I was handling the bar by myself, you know.”

“Sorry. I know, but this is pretty serious. Amanda is still downtown, being questioned by who knows who for who knows what.”

“I know. But I can still tell you only what I saw. Calm down.”

Edward took several deep, slow breaths. “You're right. Did he happen to say he was going somewhere?”

“No, but he kept checking his watch. He must have had an appointment somewhere else.”

“There are tons of places around here. But if I don't search, we don't have a chance at all. I need to tell Savannah. Thanks, Nicole.” He kissed her on the cheek and left the pub.

He dialed Savannah from the parking lot. “Love, a bit of luck. Captain Collins stopped by the pub earlier and appeared to have an appointment. He told Nicole he had found some blue bottles that were dated from Gaspar the Pirate days. I'm going to try to find him.”

“That's a great lead. Let me know if you track him down.”

Edward rode his Indian motorcycle toward downtown and dropped in at the Amsterdam on the off chance that Captain Collins was repeating his stops from the celebratory bar crawl. Across the traffic circle and down a side street, he found the Captain's beat-up truck with the monster boat hitch mounted on the back.

He parked the Indian and considered the options. Captain Collins could be in the Amsterdam, the Burg, or the Flying Pig. All three bars were on the same street, half a block apart. All were well within reasonable walking distance of the truck and boat. If he selected the wrong one, chances were good Captain Collins would slip away. Nervously twirling his keys, he headed for the Amsterdam first. It was so small, probably less than five hundred square feet. It would take him only a second to ascertain if Captain Collins was there.

It did take only a second, even accounting for the vast difference between outside sunshine and inside darkness, to determine that Captain Collins wasn't there. He checked the Flying Pig next, since although it was larger, you could scan the entire bar in one glance. Not there, either.

Ferg's was an institution in St. Petersburg. It had opened in the late eighties and had grown in fits and starts from a small café with a bar into a three-stories-tall spread over an entire city block. If Captain Collins was there, there would be no quick way to find him.

Luck can favor the virtuous
, thought Edward.
I need to have faith I will find him.

He scanned the outside areas and then headed up a flight to one of the sports-focused rooms. There on a bar stool, with a full pint of beer in front of him, was Captain Collins, staring at one of the television screens with a raised fist and yelling, “The referee is blind. Throw
him
out of the game.” He was sitting with a group of weather-beaten men who, Edward assumed, were pals in the salvage business.

Edward sat a few tables away. Far enough away not to be noticed, but close enough to hear their conversation. A waitress came by, and Edward ordered a Harp Lager. He settled in to spy on the captain.

Most of the group's conversation concerned a soccer game between the Tampa Bay Rowdies and the Atlanta Silverbacks that was being played in Atlanta. Although primarily a rugby fan, Edward had to admit that the game was being expertly played. The fans seemed to be as passionate, but there weren't as many yobs as he had encountered back home in the UK. He still wasn't ready to embrace the sport over here.

During a break in the action, Captain Collins told his companions, “Don't forget. We need to get everything we can before word gets out.”

Several of them nodded their heads.

“We know. Meet at five at your place. We'll be there,” one of them said.

“You bet you will. If you don't show, no share in the treasure. It's final. No excuses, no negotiation. If you're not at my place at five in the morning, you're out your share, no matter how much you helped up to this point. Understood?”

They all raised their drinks and looked at each other one by one.

Edward signaled his waitress for the bill and quietly left Ferg's without being noticed by Captain Collins. He rode back down Central Avenue to Queen's Head and called Savannah's cell.

“I found Captain Collins at Ferg's, and I basically overheard him say he's taking his salvage crew out to retrieve more bottles tomorrow morning at five.”

“He's running the salvage for the bottles?”

“Apparently. I think it's suspicious. Don't you?”

Savannah paused a few seconds. “I think we have to check it out. We would kick ourselves if we didn't run down everything we can think of.”

“I'm afraid we've already thought of everything.”

“If he killed Martin, there must be something we can find to help clear Amanda. Something.”

“I feel the same.”

“So, he'll be gone for several hours at least.”

“Yeah, but we don't have a boat.”

“We don't need a boat to look around his house trailer. Evidence that he's Martin's killer won't be in the gulf. It will be somewhere near Captain Collins. We've had a look around his warehouse. Now we need to search his home.”

“Right. Knock me up at five, and we'll go have a look around.”

Savannah looked puzzled. “Knock you up?”

“Sorry. I mean, stop by here at five.” He shook his head slowly.