Dead in the Water (28 page)

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37

The text, like all
text messages was brief, but telling.

“Get here now. L is driving me crazy.”

Terrel had driven Lena to her next open water swim. Unlike so many of them that had her up at 5:00 a.m. in the morning for a two hour drive, this swim was only 30 minutes away. Keller Cove was located through the tunnel at Point Richmond, one of the first exits off the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge. I was up when they left. While she fluttered around the house throwing swim suits, goggles and towels into a bag, I made myself a cup of coffee, picked up the morning paper and went back to bed. A quiet serene morning was what I hoped for.

But Terrel’s text had something else in mind for me. So I threw on my sweats, dumped the coffee in a to-go cup and headed out in the early morning once again to an open water swim. Who would be doing the swim evaluation? Would it be Bill? How awkward?

Oh well, I’m a big girl. As I drove across the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge, I could see a slash of brilliant morning sun below the lumbering grey fog in the distance. While the sky was still overcast, there was a good chance that the sun would be out before the swim started.

Once through the Point Richmond tunnel, I started to look for a place to park along the road. I was late and parking was not going to be easy. I drove past Terrel’s black Charger and pulled into a spot about a ten minute walk from the beach.

The sidewalk skirted a cliff, high above the beach area. As I looked down, I could see the swimmers bundled up. Out in the water, the East Bay Regional Park lifeguards looked like two-inch high action figures, setting out huge yellow and orange inflatable buoys. The shiny buoys popped out dramatically against the deep grey sky and the surprisingly flat grayish green water of San Francisco Bay.

Down on the beach, Terrel and Lena were sitting off to one side, watching the timers check their equipment. Terrel walked over as he saw me approaching.

“She is out of control. I keep telling her to maintain the situation, be calm. But she’s not hearing a thing.”

“She’s nervous. It all goes away once the swim is over. What time is the start?”

“About 10 minutes from now. They just went through the starting instructions.”

Terrel looked at me. I knew what he was about to say.

“Don’t you dare leave.”

He turned away and looked up at the sky.

“Here’s the problem…”

I cut him off.

“Please stay, even if she is a pain in the ass, right now.”

As if on cue, Lena came over to us, threw off her swim parka and said, “I can’t find my goggles. Oh my God, I left my earplugs in the car.”

With that she was gone, running back to her swim bag, digging into it until she found the goggles. We watched as she jogged back to the water and walked in up to her knees. The announcer said that her wave would start in three minutes.

“Don’t like these. Can’t see anything,” she said, as she jogged back past us again to her swim bag. She threw her dark goggles on the sand and dug around in her bag until she found the clear ones.

“Better. Much better,” she said, as she passed us for the fourth time. She made it back to the edge of the beach as the timer gave the one minute signal. There was a countdown from 10 seconds to zero and the swimmers ran into the water, splashing and cheering until it was deep enough to swim.

“She likes this?” asked Terrel, looking after the swimmers disappearing around a point of land.

“Yeah, she does. She’ll be back to her normal obnoxious self once she runs across the finish line.”

The sun had come out and the beach was warming up quickly. I looked around. Off to one side was Jackie. Her arm was still in a cast and so was one leg. She was quietly sitting by herself. Menton’s daughter Daisy stood by the food table cutting up bagels. The gangly Nick was missing. So was the booth for RazzleD.

I walked over to the finish arch with Terrel. We stood about ten feet from the water’s edge watching the long line of swimmers now spread out in the distance.

“Hey, Trish, hear you’re unemployed,” said the owner of the timing company glancing up from his laptop at the finish line.

“Guess so.”

“Don’t know if you’re interested, but we’re expanding. We have more events to time than we have staff. I want to set up and train another crew.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’d like to talk to you about working for us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He reached into his pocket, hunting around for a business card.

“Call me, maybe midweek, after I get these results finalized.”

He handed me his card.

“Thanks. I will.”

Terrel looked over and shook his head.

“Seriously, you want to sit out on a beach with a computer and then deal with swimmers like Lena who complain about the results? Why don’t you find something that you really like? Go work for the San Francisco Giants.”

“Just how would I get a job like that?”

“You’ll figure that part out,” he said.

I patted him on the arm and started up for the walkway to the street. I made a slight detour aiming for a large green trashcan that was close to the food table.

“Hey, Daisy,” I said.

She glared at me and then stabbed one of the bagels in front of her.

“What happened to Nick?” I asked.

“He’s not in school anymore, because of you. You’re a snitch,” she said, turning her back to me.

“He was doing things he shouldn’t have been doing.”

With that, I reached into my backpack, grabbed all of my cards relating to the Waddell death, tossed them into trash and walked away. No need for these anymore.

Standing at the top of the hill, I saw the swimmers rounding the first buoy and heading down the longest leg toward the Chevron pier. Even from a distance, I could make out Lena’s lopsided, but effective stroke. By the finish arch where Terrel was still standing, I noticed a tall man with a clipboard. Was he the event director or maybe he was the evaluator? It really wasn’t my concern anymore. I climbed into my car, switched on the radio and headed for home.