Berried to the Hilt (17 page)

I let the ropes
drop and Molly gunned the motor, hurling the little boat toward the small entrance. We were at the narrowest part, just before the opening, when a rogue wave pushed us sideways, right into the wall. Molly swore and swung the rudder around, but there was a cracking, grating sound as the side of the boat scraped against the rough rocks. Then she gunned it again and we shot out of the cove into bright daylight, right ahead of another breaker.

I’d never been so thankful to see the sun before.

“That was a close one!” Matilda said, inspecting the side of the boat for damage.

“How bad is it?” Molly asked.

“It’s caved in a little,” Matilda said, “but it should hold. You’ll probably want to replace some of the wood before you take her out again.”

I looked down at the jagged hole in the side of the boat, and thought what a shame it was that Eli wasn’t on the island; he’d get her fixed up in no time. The hole was high up, so water only sloshed in when there was a wave, but there was enough water accumulating in the bottom of the boat that I reached for the bailing bucket. The recycled bleach bottle bottom was sitting on top of a plastic lid that looked just like the lids on the tubs I’d seen in Molly’s bathroom.

“What are these for?” I asked, picking up a lid and showing it to Molly.

“Oh, that’s just a lid to the tubs we keep the artifacts in,” she said after a quick glance.

“But the tubs in the
Ira B
were bigger than this,” I said, watching her closely.

She shrugged. “Maybe it’s left over from the last researchers. We have to share the boats, unfortunately—and people leave all kinds of things behind. There are a couple of lockers down there that people forget to clean out. Once I found a huge dried squid someone had left below decks. It reeked like you would not believe!”

“I’ll bet the smell lasted for weeks,” Matilda said, wrinkling her nose.

“It did,” she said. “Sometimes I still think I smell it. Kind of put me off calamari.”

I set the lid down and began bailing, still not convinced it was a leftover from a previous user. “Do you ever dive from the dinghy?” I asked.

Her eyes darted to me; I sensed the question made her uncomfortable. “Why would I dive from the dinghy when I have the
Ira B
?” she asked. “Many times, we don’t even have the dinghy with us; we only towed it along because we figured the dock would be too short for the
Ira B
to tie up.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just wondering.”

“You could, though, couldn’t you?” asked Matilda.

“I guess so,” she said. “But I never have.” Her eyes didn’t meet mine; they were focused instead on the water in front of us. Another skiff was headed toward us: John. I waved to him, and he hailed me back. His teeth shone white as he smiled.

“He was coming out to find us, wasn’t he?” said Molly, who was less concerned than I was by the water level in the bottom of the boat.

“Looks like it,” I said, emptying another jug of water over the side.

“You two are a wonderful couple,” Matilda said, smiling at me. “Have you picked a date yet?”

“We’re thinking February,” I said.

“Your sister in California might have a hard time making it out here if the roads are bad,” Matilda said.

“Exactly,” I said, and winked at her.

“You make it out okay?” John called over the thrum of the motors.

“More or less,” I yelled back, brandishing the bailing bucket.

“Find anything?”

“Just some initials carved into the wall,” I called back. “Did you remember the cake?”

“I’m just headed back to do it now,” he said, looking a bit sheepish.

He’d forgotten, in other words. Matilda and I exchanged a knowing glance. “Thanks,” I called to him. “See you shortly!”

He waved, then turned
Mooncatcher
back toward the inn.

“It’s like you’re married already,” said Matilda.

I laughed.

Fortunately, the dinghy made it back to the inn without springing any more leaks, and I climbed out onto the dock, thankful to be back on land, then reached back to help Matilda out of the boat. “What are you going to do about that hole?” I asked Molly, who was inspecting it with a frown.

“It doesn’t look too bad. I’ll nail some wood over it for now,” she said.

“We’ve got scrap wood in John’s workshop if you need it,” I said. “Why don’t I send him down to help you find some that will work?”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling. “That would be great.”

As I walked back up to the inn with Matilda, I glanced back at Molly, who was watching us as we climbed the path. She shaded her eyes from the sun, and the sunlight glanced off the face of her watch.

There was something she didn’t want us to know. And I was sure it was connected with that plastic lid—and the strange equipment I’d seen in her room.

_____

It took fifteen minutes for me to get Matilda on her way home. John was down at the dock with Molly, helping her nail a patch on the hole in the dinghy. I hurried to the front desk and grabbed the skeleton key, then took the stairs two at a time. I wanted one more look at Molly’s bathroom.

The “Do Not Disturb” sign no longer hung on the door—curious, I thought. I quickly slipped the key into the lock and stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind me.

The stack of books still lay scattered on the desk, and I did a quick scan of the room, looking for anything unusual. Everything appeared as I had last seen it. I crossed the room to the bathroom—and that’s where I found my surprise.

All of the equipment I had seen just a few days ago was gone.

I rocked back on my heels, confused. Where was the car battery, the jugs of liquid, the tubs?

Then I remembered the lid on the bottom of the dinghy. It hadn’t been left by a previous researcher; it had been left by her as she moved her equipment. But where had she moved it to? The
Ira B
?

I quickly checked the closet, just to be sure, and even looked under the bed. The lift bag was gone from her suitcase, and everything appeared to be in order. Then I hurried out into the hallway, locked the door, and headed out to join John and Molly at the dock.

John had just finished hammering a chunk of plywood into the hull of the boat, and stood up as I jogged down to where the dinghy was tied up.

“Looks like you got that fixed up,” I said.

“Thanks,” Molly said, smiling up at him. “I should probably go and see how Carl is progressing.”

“Mind if we come along?” I asked. “I’d love to show John the bell you brought up.”

“I heard you managed to pull it up,” John said.

“The lift bags finally came in,” she said. “It was touch and go with the currents, but we got it up safely.”

“Carl is chipping away to see if he can find the name,” I said. “You really should see it.”

“It sounds amazing,” he said. “Why don’t we follow you over in
Mooncatcher
.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling up at John. “Thanks a million for your help, by the way. Hard to bail and steer the boat at the same time.”

I joined John in
Mooncatcher
, and together we motored over to the R/V. We both followed Molly up to the wheel room, where Carl was still chipping away at the bell.

“Any luck so far?” Molly asked.

“I got a T,” he said, his voice excited.

John peered over his shoulder. “You’re right—I can see it there. That’s amazing!”

“I can’t make out the letter next to it—hoping it isn’t too corroded to read.”

“All we need is a letter or two more, and we should be able to ID it,” Molly said.

“I just hope we find it in time,” Carl murmured.

“Um … I hate to ask, but can I use the head?” I asked.

“Sure,” Molly said. “It’s right there,” she said, pointing toward a door at the front of the wheelhouse.

“Thanks,” I said, disappointed. I was hoping for an excuse to nose around the boat. I was dying to know if she’d moved the equipment to one of the storage cabinets.

Carl was still chipping miniscule piece after miniscule piece when I stepped out of the head a few minutes later. John was peering into the tubs of water. “What are these?” he asked.

“Those are concretions,” Molly said, and I took advantage of the distraction to saunter out of the back of the wheelhouse and head down the short flight of steps to the belly of the boat. I was determined to find out where Molly had stashed all of the equipment.

Below decks it was dim, and smelled like motor oil, gasoline, and fish. The wall beside me was lined with a row of what looked like storage lockers. I opened the first one and peeked inside; it was stuffed with life jackets. The second was filled with ropes, and the third housed something that reminded me of an old desktop computer.

“That’s a salinometer,” said Molly quietly.

I jumped at the sound of her voice, and turned to look at her. She was framed in the doorway, blocking out most of the light. “We wondered where you’d gone. Can I help you find something?”

“I was just looking around,” I said, closing the locker behind me. There was one more to open; I was dying to look inside. I glanced at Molly, then decided to go for it. “What’s in here?” I asked, pulling the latch and opening the door. A red cylinder rolled out, squashing my toes. I yelped in pain and stepped back.

“A fire extinguisher,” she said, moving forward to pick up the offending cylinder and stow it back into the locker. She closed the door firmly and looked at me. “Shall we go back up?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said.

“After you,” she said.

“Thanks,” I muttered, and hurried back up the steps and into the wheelhouse.

John and Carl didn’t appear to have noticed my absence. Both were peering at the ship’s bell.

“I think it may be an L,” John said.

“I just can’t tell … could also be an I, or an E.”

“Or maybe even an N,” John said, peering at it. “It’s so hard to tell!”

“I hate to drag you away from the bell,” I said, “but we really should be getting back.”

“Thanks for letting us come and see what you’ve been working on,” said John, stepping away from the bell and putting his arm around my waist. “Let us know if you figure it out, okay?”

“Of course,” said Carl, looking happy for the first time since I’d met him. He was sure he would have an identification soon. I just hoped he got it in time.

“Thanks for your help with the boat,” Molly said to John.

“Any time,” he said, and after a few more pleasantries, we left the
Ira B
and took
Mooncatcher
back to the inn.

“She’s hiding something,” I announced to John as we walked back up the path to the inn.

“Who? Molly?”

“Yes,” I said. “Remember all that paraphernalia I saw in her room? It’s gone.”

“So that’s what you were looking for on the boat,” he said.

I grinned. “You
did
notice I was gone. Molly did, too. She came to find me.”

“Did you find anything?”

“I found plenty of places to store the equipment—she didn’t move it off the boat for lack of storage space—but it wasn’t there.”

“Then where do you think she put it?” John asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “And the other question is—
why
did she move it out of her room?”

John cocked an eyebrow at me. “Maybe because she knew the innkeeper was nosy?”

I thought of the “Do Not Disturb” sign I’d knocked off her door. “It’s a possibility,” I confessed. “I found one of the lids in the dinghy. She must have loaded it up to move it.” I thought about it. “Maybe she was the one who attacked me the other night. That would explain why she left the lid behind; it was dark.”

“Whatever she’s doing, she doesn’t seem to want Carl to know about it.”

“She must be doing something to the wreck she’s not supposed to.”