Death By Blue Water (A Hayden Kent Mystery Book 1) (17 page)

Thirty

Mallory draped a towel over Hayden’s shoulders. The hiss of nitrox escaping from her second tank, accompanied by Cappy’s cursing, formed the backdrop to her thoughts. She huddled on the deck of the little boat, her bottom resting in the salt spray wash. Her arms tightly wound around her knees, hugging them to her chest. She grabbed the ends of the towel with her fingertips and tried to pull it around her entire body.

Hayden couldn’t stop trembling. The words motive, means, and opportunity circled her thoughts like a runaway mantra. Means and opportunity were easy. A new tech trying to straighten a fold in the o-ring or tuck some excess rubber back in. That explanation made more sense than attempted murder. Who else had access to her tanks? It had to be an accident. Motive stumped her.

“Cappy, you don’t have any alcohol on this boat do you?” Mallory asked. “I think she’s going into shock. She looks so disoriented.”

“I don’t. Wrap her up in more towels. I want to see if someone tampered with the second tank before I pull the line and take us back. If it is, I’m going right to Seahorse. I don’t know what kind of prank this is, but you can darn well bet I’ll find out. Somebody’s going to be out of a job before today is over.”

“What if it wasn’t someone at Seahorse?”

“Who then? You don’t think I did it. I set her tanks up. If you two had canceled and someone else booked who had nitrox certification, I might have just rented out Hayden’s tanks. I’ve done it before, she doesn’t mind.” The man’s shoulders bunched. He lifted one arm and massaged the back of his neck. “Hayden knows what she’s doing underwater. She’ll handle an emergency. Any other diver but her…” His voice trailed off.

“I’d have lost them and we’d be doing a recovery now.” He balled a hand into a fist and slammed it against his other palm. “Did that once, I’m not looking to do it again.”

The hissing stopped while Cappy was talking. He leaned over the tank, inspecting it closely. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “Same marks here.” He gave the valve a twist with the wrench and freed it from the cylinder. Pulling the o-ring from the valve stem, he turned it in his hands.

“Look at this,” he said and thrust the rubber circle at Hayden. “It’s got cut marks, even worse than the one you came up with. This would have gone before you got on the wreck. Either Seahorse has a bunch of defective equipment or they have a tech doing hydros that shouldn’t be near a scuba tank.”

Hayden looked blindly at the rubber ring in his palm. She tried to answer but her mouth wouldn’t open. She felt cold, so cold. Both tanks. There was no question. Someone wanted her dead. Raising her hand, she tried to push her wet hair back off her face. She succeeded in poking herself in the eye. Wordlessly, she looked up at her dive captain.

Something in her eyes must have frightened him. “I’m going in to unhook. Stay with her, Mal. I’m calling Seahorse on the way back. I want them to see her this way.”

“Call for the paramedics to meet us at the dock instead.” Mallory said. Hayden heard the underlying steel in her voice. “I’ve never seen anyone look this way before. We can deal with Seahorse another time. The tanks aren’t going to change.”

The motion of the boat riding the waves rammed Hayden into the tanks behind her. She barely felt the impact. The bits and pieces of her thoughts fell into place. Hayden shook her head back and forth.

Summoning all of her strength she croaked, “Not paramedics, Coast Guard,” and dropped her head to her knees. Pulling convulsively at the ends of the towel she tried to clear her mind and order her thoughts.

“You want us to call the Coast Guard?” Mallory’s eyebrows shot to her hairline.

Shaking her head to indicate no, Hayden tried again, “Coast Guard was on the boat. Cappy said the Coast Guard stopped him today. He had my tanks then. Were they set up? Did they inspect them?”

Cappy heard the last remark as he climbed up the ladder to the deck. Dripping, he coiled and stowed the line he’d tied to the buoy before the dive. “Are you saying the Coast Guard is trying to shut me down? By killing someone on my boat?” Disbelief filled his face. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

He squatted in front of her and searched her face. “There’s no way the Coast Guard could know your tanks were on board. Even if they did...” He straightened up and went to the console. His hand worked the shift lever with more force than was necessary, and he turned the key in the ignition. The boat fired. He raised his voice over the roar of the engine, “Why would they want to harm you, or anyone for that matter? Some crappy tech did this. Some idiot who didn’t know his job.” He screwed his face into a grimace. Then he eased the throttle forward and the boat gained speed.

Plucking his cell phone from the cradle on the console, Cappy punched in some numbers. “Liz, who the heck did Hayden’s tanks? She dang near died because of your service technician. Both o-rings had cuts and both tanks had scrape marks like someone tried to jimmy a knife into the valve. Like maybe some idiot technician tried to make sure the valve was seated.” He twisted the wheel to correct his course and avoid a sandbar.

The brilliant white column of the Bonefish Tower condominium got smaller behind them. Hayden cringed. Cappy’s course meant they’d go under the Seven Mile Bridge. Memories of her father teaching her diving safety hit her in the solar plexus. Cappy’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“I picked them up myself. There’s no mistake. The valve blew on the Humboldt. At depth. Anyone else would have drowned. Who did her tanks? Who did you hire?” The color drained from the man’s face. “You. You did them? What did you do to them?” He punched the off button on the phone with such force that it flew from his hand and landed on the deck beside Mallory. She picked it up and dried it off.

“Liz says it’s not her fault. She accused me of abandoning your tanks. I left them on the dock for about ten minutes when I went to the Circle K and picked up some rooty beer.” Cappy spoke over his shoulder to Hayden and Mallory. “I guess someone could have gotten to them then.”

Mallory sat next to her friend on the deck, holding her in her arms. Hayden still trembled uncontrollably despite all the towels Mallory had wrapped around her. “Liz knew we were diving today. I told her when I dropped off my tanks.”

She looked at the tanks on the deck. Hayden’s two bore her name in indelible purple marker. Cappy’s two had his name. “Why do you think the Coast Guard was after you? They tampered with Hayden’s tanks.”

Cappy’s eyes grew round.

“Take me through this morning,” Mallory said. “Don’t leave anything out.”

“I picked up the tanks today—”

“When?” Mallory interrupted.

“Around eleven. After you guys were there, I guess. I left them on the dock for a few minutes, loaded them, and then took the boat out.”

“Where did you go?”

“Out to Barbara’s and back.” He named a popular inside reef. “The engine was misfiring, I wanted to throttle it up and see what happened.”

“Then what?”

“Came back and waited for you two to be here at one. We went out and you know the rest. I don’t figure it.”

Hayden struggled to lift her head from her knees. “When did Liz do the service?” She was relieved to hear that her voice sounded stronger. She still couldn’t stop shaking.

“Two days ago. She said her regular technician didn’t show up and she wanted to get your tanks done because of how often you use ’em. She’d heard you weren’t working. She figured you’d want ’em earlier than promised.” A muscle in Cappy’s jaw twitched. He throttled the boat back to idle. His fist slammed the wheel. “Dang—two days ago. That’s gotta be it.” He spun the wheel around and headed back over his own wake. “They sat in the back of the shop. That whole area is open during the day. Anybody could’ve seen them. Lots of times no one is back there. Anyone could’ve tampered with them. Who?” He pushed the throttle as far as it would go. The little boat flew over the rollers.

Hayden turned her face against her knees and shivered.

Bonefish Towers was in sight when the Monroe County Sheriff’s office boat caught up with the Chris Craft. Cappy hadn’t noticed the patrol boat approaching off his starboard quarter until it activated the blue lights and siren.

“Pull up. Prepare for boarding.” A voice announced over a loudhailer.

“Oh, God,” Hayden moaned. She’d just begun to feel a little better. She peeked up over the gunnel from her place on the deck. Detective Landsdown looked out of place. He stood in the prow of the boat, loud hailer in his hand dressed in what looked like a pair of camel colored suit trousers and tan boating shoes. A finger of fear curled in her stomach. The water was definitely not his beat. She looked at Mallory, her eyes begging for reassurance.

“That’s the man who questioned me. At least it looks a lot like him.” Her teeth worried her lower lip. “Cappy,” she said, turning her head toward the pilot’s cabin, “you should throw me overboard. Or deny me permission to board ever again.”

Giving her a quick smile he responded, “Don’t tempt me. It’s not the first time I wanted to toss you over. You swim too good. It’d never work.”

The boat tossed on the rollers as it came to an unanchored halt. The patrol boat pulled up alongside. Detective Landsdown tossed a line to Cappy and handed off Cappy’s return line to the sergeant at the wheel. He stepped from the gunnel of the patrol boat to the smaller Chris Craft with the ease of long practice.

Knowing this was somehow about her, Hayden struggled unsuccessfully to get to her feet. Great, she thought, this is how they’re going to arrest me. One small problem...I’m not sure why or what for. They can’t believe I killed a man I didn’t know.

Landsdown held out a hand to help steady her. He held her as close to arm’s length as the tiny boat would allow and appeared to study her face. “Seasick?”

“No.” Cappy’s ruddy cheeks grew even redder. “She just nearly died. She came up from the Humboldt sucking on the free-flow from her regulator when the o-ring on her valve exploded.” Cappy moved next to Hayden and threw a comforting arm over her shoulders. “I want to get her home. Is something wrong?”

Landsdown and Cappy stared at each other.

The tension and the silence grew with each passing second.

After what seemed like an hour, Landsdown broke the stalemate. “An anonymous male caller said there’d been a fatality on the Humboldt again. The ‘again’ was his word, not mine.” Landsdown took a small step away from Hayden. In control of the situation, he dropped his arms to his side. “Said your boat was the one tied to the buoy.”

“Did you get a name and location?” Mallory asked.

“Caller disconnected before the locater software kicked in. Dispatch called back. Got a no such number intercept.” He cocked his head to the side and studied Hayden, his stare taking in her disheveled state. “Looks like they were nearly right though.”

Cappy looked at Hayden. She read the question in his eyes and answered with a nearly imperceptible nod of her head. “Her tanks were tampered with. We’re trying to figure out when and by whom.”

Landsdown motioned to his sergeant who handed him a pair of latex gloves. He pointed to a pair of tanks secured to the boat with bungee cords. “Those tanks?”

Cappy nodded.

“Do you mind if we take them?” he asked Hayden.

Conflicting thoughts collided in her brain. She remembered that the last time she used these particular tanks, she found Richard. Could he know? Why did he really want them?

“Maybe we can get some evidence off them.” His tone was soft.

She studied his face. A quick flare of anger shot through her when she thought she saw pity in his eyes. Almost immediately, anger gave way to resignation. If she looked half as bad as she felt, she deserved pity. Besides, he could subpoena the tanks any time he wanted. She nodded her consent.

Landsdown pulled on the gloves and handed the tanks, one at a time, to the waiting sergeant. He concentrated on stripping off the gloves, as he said, “Ms. Kent, we’d like you to come in again and answer a few more questions.”

Hayden felt her resolve stiffen. She stood straighter and waited until he met her gaze. Mallory’s bare foot kicked out at her shin. Landsdown smiled as if he’d seen it too. Mallory made a show of grabbing on to the aluminum Bimini top support faking a near fall. Ignoring her friend’s warning, she took her courage in both hands and asked, “Questions, or are you planning an interrogation?”

“Hayd,” Mallory broke in.

Hayden waved her hand to silence her friend. “Well?”

“Nothing like that. Word is you’ve been conducting your own investigation. You may have information we need.” He jabbed his finger in the direction of her tanks, now securely fastened in tank holders on his boat. “Considering what happened today, you may know more than you realize.”

“Such as?”

“Get checked out by a doctor.” He evaded the question. “Make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.”

He moved to the Chris Craft’s starboard gunnel, unwound his line from the cleat, and leapt the gunnels again back to the patrol boat. Once the detective was safe on board, the sergeant returned Cappy’s line, freeing the two boats. Hayden’s eyes caught Landsdown’s speculative gaze.

“What do you know about human smuggling?” he asked.

Thirty-One

Hayden handed Mallory the car keys when the boat docked. By tacit agreement, neither of the women spoke during the trip home.

Mallory pulled up in front of Hayden’s house and parked in her driveway. “Let me get you inside and pour you a glass of wine.”

Concern was apparent on her friend’s face.

Looking through the windshield at her house, Hayden spied Tiger Cat in the front window.

“Thanks Mallory, that would be great, but all I want is a hot bath and I see the man in my life is waiting.”

“Tough, he’ll have to share you. I’m not letting you go in there alone. If you want a bath, fine. Take one. I’ll drink the wine. Do I want red or white?” She laughed and jumped down past the running board. “I love driving this thing. If I thought the world could handle both of us driving gas-guzzlers, I’d buy one in a heartbeat. ’Course I’d be hard pressed to find one with gate doors in this kind of condition.”

Hayden smiled and felt the salt crack on her face. Her stomach was unsettled. She wasn’t sure if it was from the events of the day or the salt water she’d swallowed trying to breathe from the free flowing regulator. She knew Mallory meant well, but tonight she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. The passenger door swung open and Mallory put out her hand for Hayden to grasp.

“What, you’re not going to sweep me off my feet and into my house? What if I can’t manage the stairs?”

Mallory answered her with a roll of her eyes. In truth, Hayden wondered if she’d be able to make it much past her own front door.

Mallory unlocked the door and deactivated the alarm. “Oh, you have a zone out. Looks like fourteen. Isn’t that the little bathroom?” Mallory walked over to Hayden’s kitchen cabinet and took out two wine glasses as she spoke. Moving to the area between the pantry cupboard and the refrigerator, she opened the wine cooler and withdrew a bottle of red wine. Hayden had remodeled the kitchen last year and put in a wine cooler as part of the decor.

“Mallory, really, I don’t…”

“Yes, you do, you just don’t know it yet. I’ll look after the alarm too. There’s no call on voicemail so the alarm company didn’t call. I’ll replace the battery. That’s all it is.” She handed Hayden a glass of wine. “Wait, let me cut up some cheese and get some crackers.”

“Yes, Mommy.” Hayden said meekly. The wine tasted good. She scooped up Tiger Cat from his perch on the front window. Stroking the animal, she felt the tension leave her body and a deep tiredness take its place.

“Mallory,” she called out, “I’m going to take that bath now, and then I think I’m going to—”

The incessant beeping of the alarm interrupted her. Rising, she put her code in twice and pressed off. The alarm stopped beeping and the zone alarm cleared. “You’ve got it Mal, the zone cleared.” She left her wine glass on the end table and went to run a bath.

Hayden felt relaxed after her soak. Dressed in cotton pajama shorts and a matching tank top decorated with cats, she decided to join Mallory and finish her wine.

“Hey, if you can’t take the hint to go home, might as well get me happy,” Hayden joked.

“Well, ain’t you just the cat’s pajamas.” Holding her glass to the light Mallory asked, “What do you think he meant about human smuggling?”

“I have no idea. We need to call Janice. She needs to know about the sunken boat. Maybe she can get some identification off it, find out if it’s the same boat.” She tipped the glass to her lips, enjoying the taste of the wine as it ran down her throat. In her mind’s eye, she replayed the scene on the boat. The only experience she had with human smuggling was reading about it in the paper.

She rolled the stem of the wine glass in her fingers. “Do you think he was talking about Richard? Maybe that’s why he was the black sheep. Maybe he was a smuggler.”

Something was wrong. The scenario didn’t have the feeling of truth. What was she missing? The boat’s hours. Of course. They were too low. Smuggling meant Cuba at worst or the Bahamas at best. The hours would have piled up. She put her wine glass on the end table and lay her head against the pillow back.

“If he was, he wasn’t using his boat. Not with the kind of hours he was supposed to have on it. I wonder if you can fake that.” She leaned forward and looked at Mallory. “Besides, smugglers use go-fasts, boats like Donzis and Cigarettes and God knows what all else. Even with twin Varados, the Mako would be a sow in the water compared to the others. No, using the Mako would be an invitation to arrest.”

“Maybe, maybe not. He could pick them up at sea from the go-fasts and bring them in closer to shore. It’s wet foot, dry foot.” Mallory referred to law that allowed Cuban refugees to stay in the United States if they reached dry land while Cubans intercepted at sea were returned to Cuba. “The Mako’s quieter than those diesel babies with the big engines. He could get closer to shore. Give the refugees a better shot. His wife is Cuban. Cuban born from what she said. Maybe she provided the contacts.”

The two women looked at each other. “Nah,” they said in unison.

“I can’t see Elena acting as a go between,” Hayden said. “She seemed innocent.”

“You know what, Hayd?” Mallory stretched out on the recliner and turned on the massage feature. “The worst always do seem innocent.” Mallory’s voice vibrated with the chair.

“Okay, girlfriend, go home, I’ve had my bath. Now I’m into hitting the rack with my honey boy here.” She held up Tiger Cat, who mewed his objections.

Hayden thought sleep would overtake her as soon as she closed her eyes. Instead, she couldn’t turn off the events of the day. She tossed and turned so much that Tiger Cat abandoned her. She sighed deeply, rolled over and finally slept. She was underwater again, her valve had exploded and all of the nitrox flowed out of her tank while she watched. She saw the bubbles leaving the tank and her own face with her cheeks puffed out trying to hold her breath. Something no well-trained scuba diver would ever do. She felt herself floating in the crystal blue water. Watching goliath groupers swim past her. They waved their fins at her and she swam alongside, breathing oxygen from the water as easily as they did.

Two other swimmers came at her, hand in hand and seemingly lovers. She waved and waited for them to catch up. As they got closer, she realized they had no features. Their eyes were blank and their noses gone. Their faces blurred from the loss of flesh. The woman had a bracelet on her wrist, the charm bracelet Hayden found on her dive. The man was Richard, and he was pulling the anchor he’d been wrapped in by the chain.

Hayden sat bolt upright in bed. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat. She got up, adjusted the air conditioner, double-checked the alarm and took a quick shower. By the time she got back to bed the clock showed three in the morning.

Hayden punched up her pillows, preparing for a long, wakeful night. She fell asleep before her head hit the pillow.

The sound of sirens and a ringing phone penetrated her sleep. She swam to consciousness from the depths of her dreams. Unwillingly she pried her eyes open. Bolting out of bed, she realized the sirens were her burglar alarm.

Someone was breaking in.

She picked up the bedside phone. It was dead. The electricity to the house must be off. She raced for the kitchen vowing she would have a jack put in the bedroom for a dedicated landline.

A hand reached out and grabbed her arm.

A second hand clamped over her nose and mouth, cutting off her scream.