Moonfin (9 page)

Janet, a silver-haired waitress with bright eyes and round, rosy cheeks, popped over.

“Howdy, kids, what would you like this evening? Make it greasy and snappy.”

“I'll take a burger, fries, and a vanilla milkshake,” said Jeff. “Oh—and clam chowder in a bread bowl.”

Kai looked appalled.

“Is that
all
for you?”

“What? We'll need energy for the night ahead.”

“You're not running a marathon.” She ordered a basket of onion rings. Lizzy ordered her favorite: the fish-n-chips in a cup, stuffed to the brim.

“I don't see Captain Quinn,” whispered Lizzy, looking around the packed restaurant.

“Don't worry,” said Jeff, “he and his crew always come in at five-thirty on the dot after a full day of fishing. The captain doesn't usually go for the long hauls like the others.”

“Does your daddy know you're eating in the enemy camp? You seem to know a lot about who comes in here,” Kai needled.

“He's okay with it. He wants me to figure out what Bubba puts in his frying batter—says it tastes like flaky heaven.”

“Hush! Here comes crazy Bill. Don't look up.”

They scrunched down in their booth, trying hard to look small and unnoticeable, but it didn't work. Bill leaned over their table anyway and blasted them with fusty breath.

“Hustle and bustle, muster some muscle,” he coughed loudly in their faces.

“Hello, Mr. Walden,” they all said in unison.

Lizzy felt sorry for poor Bill Walden. He was branded the town crackpot, and no one knew where he came from or who his family was. There was a rumor that he came from the far northern territories to do some seasonal fishing and while out on an expedition lost all his fishing mates in a freak accident. The Coast Guard found him, the sole survivor, floating on a buoy, babbling on about how they were all eaten. He'd never spoken a sane word since. Now he lived up at the lighthouse all by himself.

Crazy Bill grasped the edge of the table, nearly tipping it over, and cast them feverish looks.

“The bell, a break, it's not too late,” he croaked.

“Er—how are you doing, Mr. Walden?” Lizzy asked kindly.

“I think, I thought, and then I forgot,” he replied woefully and in perfect beat.

Kai giggled and got a swift elbow in her side from Lizzy. Usually Bill would say a few cryptic phrases and move on. They tried to be respectful, but the things he said always made them want to laugh in spite of themselves. This time he looked right at Lizzy and said, “The mark, the deep, secrets to keep.”

She sat quietly in shock while Kai and Jeff tried to maintain control of their contorting faces.

He repeated the same phrase, face red with frustration: “
The mark, the deep, secrets to keep.
” Then he scratched his arm seemingly befuddled.

Jeff and Kai were about to burst. Lizzy sat quietly rubbing her right hand, casting them both disapproving looks. Was he talking about her birthmark? This was the second time today someone seemed to notice it.

He set a wrinkled hand on the table and gazed out the window into the harbor. He seemed to be straining to recall something—to say something, but he couldn't find the words. They waited, frozen with anticipation, worried that
something
he strained out might smell awful.

At last, he gave up and shook a finger in their faces. “You hustle and bustle, muster some muscle,” he burped out, flashing a toothless grin. And then he moved off to a corner and started talking to the pie case.

“Where does he come up with that stuff?” Jeff laughed hysterically. “It's awesome!”

“I don't know,” said Kai, “but isn't Mai Poina Lighthouse three miles from town? He hardly ever comes this close to people. Oh, look—”

Quinn Malloy sauntered past them and sat down in a booth across the aisle. His slickers were wet and grimy from the day's work, his wool sweater smelled of fish guts mingled with pipe smoke. He pulled off his tartan cap and tossed it on the laminate table, raking back greasy wisps of copper-red hair with a swipe of his hand. All three kids hustled and bustled out of their booth and squished into his, which didn't seem to make him too happy.

“Hello, kids, what can I do for you?” He scowled, perusing the menu without looking at them. “And make it quick, I'm starving.”

“Don't you have the menu memorized? You eat here every day,” said Jeff matter-of-factly.

Kai nudged him. “Don't make him mad,” she hissed.

“Don't want to miss any changes. Besides, the pictures are nice,” he said curtly. “Don't
you
all have something better to do than watch me order my dinner?”

Lizzy gulped. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Brandon used to work on Captain Quinn's fishing boat in the summers and they were good friends. She didn't want to dredge up painful memories for either of them. Maybe she should just stick to asking questions about the aquarium. Then again, he might know something about the day Brandon went missing, and this could be her only chance to find out.

“Right. We'll come to the point then. Have you ever discovered anything
strange
about the aquarium—or Otter Island? Brandon—” Lizzy choked to a halt.

Captain Quinn scowled deeper, making them squirm.

“Lizzy's brother disappeared somewhere around the island four years ago, except no one seems to know where,” Kai finished quickly.

Janet brought over an iced tea and set it in front of Captain Quinn.

“Here ya go, you crazy coot. You kids want your food brought over here?”

“
No
—they're not staying,” he said quickly, tearing open a sugar packet. He didn't want a grilling by three nosy kids along with his supper tonight. “What's this about, anyway?” Thinking about Otter Island was sure to give him indigestion, or worse, no appetite at all.

“We need to know. Please, Captain Quinn, if you know anything, I would appreciate it if you could tell us,” pleaded Lizzy.

He exhaled, eyes softening. He'd played that day over and over again in his mind, reliving every detail, every word. Sure, he had his own questions, doubts about the reports and all. Maybe even a cover up going on.

Grunting, taking a swig of tea, he said, “All we know is the Coast Guard reported your brother's boat was blown out to sea toward that island—”

He hesitated, frowning.

“—the thing that it didn't say was if he was on it or not.”

“What do you mean … not on the Sundancer?”

“No bodies were ever found. There's a real chance he got off the boat near the island, or I am sorry to say it, was thrown off before it headed out to sea and went down. They found pieces of the mast and some ship's supplies, but no sign of the crew or the vessel itself. It's a mystery no one has ever been able to solve.”

“That doesn't make any sense—
how
would he have been thrown off his boat?”

“I couldn't tell you exactly …”

He fell silent, recalling the events of the other day at Otter Island and the near sinking of his own vessel.

“Something out there just isn't right.”

Kai told him about their plan to visit the aquarium that night and asked him if he knew about any secret underground tunnels.

“Shhh, Kai! Don't go broadcasting it,” snapped Jeff.

“We need an ally. Besides, he might be able to give us some help,” she defended.

Janet brought over Captain Quinn's usual bowl of clam chowder with saltines and set it down in front of him. He sat back against the booth, feeling weary. The memory of having to tell Robert and Linda Grape their son was lost at sea still haunted him. A fisherman getting thrown from his boat wasn't new, but Brandon was the hardest loss yet.

“Now you kids don't go snooping around that place,” he rasped harshly.

Lizzy could see he was upset, but she couldn't let it go. “Is there anything else?
Anything
at all?” she pressed him.

Captain Quinn slurped down a few spoonfuls of his chowder, thinking about it. He didn't want her in any danger, but if she was going to go poking around either way …

“There is one thing …” he said slowly.

Lizzy, Jeff, and Kai leaned in closer.

“After the research labs had been built as part of the college, years before the aquarium was even thought of, Dr. Krell had truckloads of granite brought in and placed at the base of the cliff. We all thought it was strange. Now we call it Deadman's Reef, but it wasn't always that way.”

“Why is that strange?” asked Jeff. “The side of that cliff is full of loose sand—probably only wanted to make it stable for the lab.”

His blue eyes gleamed as he remembered. “That's what he told the local newspaper. But your dad, Lizzy, thought otherwise. He believed Krell was trying to keep people away from that stretch of the beach for some reason—more likely he was trying to hide something.”

Lizzy's eyes grew to two enormous green saucers.

“Hide what?”

He shrugged and said, “Couldn't tell ya. Brandon had been doing some work for Krell to earn a little money for college, and after he had disappeared, we set out one night to investigate … thought maybe we'd find some clues that might lead to his whereabouts, but we didn't find anything out of the ordinary. We never said anything 'cuz there was no way to prove any wrongdoing. That cliff's a fortress and a dangerous one at that.”

“Well now, that would be worth exploring,” said Lizzy, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

Captain Quinn stirred the chunky clams and vegetables around in his bowl while memories of his friend stirred in his mind. It seemed so long ago. They always suspected something wasn't right, but one thing was for sure, Robert Grape wouldn't want his daughter near Dr. Krell—he never trusted him after Brandon disappeared.

“You kids get going and let me eat my dinner in peace now,” he said, suddenly agitated.

The three children piled back into their booth and ate their meal, all the while making secret plans about where they should start their exploration and how to go about it in the night ahead. Lizzy said they should run home and put on their swimsuits—that it was going to be plenty wet where they were going. Jeff said to grab snorkel gear (“Got some new underwater gadgets to try out!”).

Bill mulled around the candy machines, whispering mysteries to the gumballs and gesticulating to a stack of plates sitting on a nearby counter. Captain Quinn watched him with interest and compassion, wondering if he had said too much about Krell and that fateful day the Sundancer was lost. He ate his soup in silence, not enjoying a single bite.

Chapter 8
THE DISAPPEARING FACE

N
o one spoke for a long time. Shadowy spears of rock cascaded into the sea like giant fossilized dinosaur tails frozen in place. Lizzy, Jeff, and Kai tread carefully around the rocks, as if fearing the spiky tails might rouse and swipe them off their feet. The hot, orange sun hung large and heavy in the evening sky.

Kai broke the silence with one of her intrepid surf stories, which started with a sea lion knocking her from her board and inevitably ending with: “This looks familiar! I've beached up in these coves several times …” yet again.

Lizzy started to give Kai the third degree on surfing out here so close to the rocks but thought better of it. Telling Kai not to surf would be like telling her not to breathe. It was
impossible
. She took another strategy.

“But have you ever noticed anything strange when you
risked
your life surfing here?” she needled.

“Nope. Just that rascally sea lion,” Kai tittered, ignoring Lizzy's meaning.

Jeff was anxious to get moving before nightfall. “Let's climb toward the first inlet and see if we can find anything—and be careful, these rocks look painful.”

“Yes they are,” said Kai knowingly.

They climbed and clambered their way through the spears of stone, getting nowhere, and with every cove bringing loads more rock strata into view. The tide was going out a bit and it helped them to manage the crags better, but the going was slow and blisters were starting to form on their tired feet.

“We could be here all night,” Lizzy said glumly. The endless stacks of gray were bleak and depressing, and on top of that, her big toe started to bleed with all the slips and falls.

“Maybe we should hike up the cliff to the lab and find a way in from there,” said Jeff, looking upward. “These rocks are giving me a pounding headache anyway.”

“No, Lizzy's dad seemed convinced of a way in from down here, not up top,” said Kai. “Then how about water recon? We could swim out to the Thumb and take a look from there—it

will give us the best vantage point,” said Lizzy.

“Looks safe—the tide is far enough out,” agreed Jeff.

They pulled on their snorkel gear and made the short jaunt out to Thumb Rock—named for the funny way it jutted out of the water and curved toward the north, like a giant trying to hitchhike his way out of the ocean. Not far away sat a double-stone stack that looked suspiciously like a tipped up nose with nostrils. This was rumored to be the giant's “head” the surfers affectionately called Clyde, after colliding into him many times over.