Death By Sunken Treasure (A Hayden Kent Mystery Book 2) (3 page)

I spit out my regulator and pulled my mask down around my neck to ask him for help. His face changed in an instant and he jumped over the stern transom to the tiny swim platform next to the motor. He almost fell in when he grabbed the straps of my buoyancy compensator vest and pulled me out by sheer force.

“Do I look that awful?”

“Girl, you are blue around the mouth. What were you thinking?” He interrupted himself by waving his hand in front of his face. “Never mind. Let’s get you warm. Then I can tell you how angry I am.”

I smiled through trembling lips at his words. He might be angry, but I’d escaped a lecture and the worst of his wrath.

“What happened down there?”

“I’m not sure, Cappy. There’s definitely a wreck. Easy to spot by the cannon and some timbers.”

“You are a sand dweller. Always going as deep as you can on any dive. Otherwise I would blame narcosis.”

I was glad he stood behind me to help me out of my gear, unable to see the blush heating my cheeks. My thumb caught in my buoyancy compensator pocket as he lifted it off me.

“Wait.” I plunged my hand into the BC pocket and pulled out the two pebbles I found near the search line. I opened my hand and gazed at the find. Free of my gear, I turned to face the dive captain. Together we stared at my palm.

Two coins, partially encrusted with coral, winked up at me. My breath caught in my throat. These Spanish coins hadn’t seen the light of day in three hundred years or more.

“Doubloons,” we said in unison.

Four

The doubloons burned a hole in my trouser pocket as I drove from Marathon to my office in Islamorada the next morning. A few more Keys and bridges and I would be at my office. I wanted Grant to lock my treasure find in the office safe.

I pulled into the lot at the Victorian house that served as our office, drove my car to the rear of the property and parked next to Grant’s cherry red Jag. Grant’s car at this hour of the morning meant something was going on. I hoped his early arrival wasn’t brought on by my absence yesterday. I inserted my key and swung the door open. The welcome smell of freshly-brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen through the lobby.

“Kent.” Grant’s voice rang out from his office even before the door shut behind me. I tried to gauge his mood from his tone. He sounded calm, and he’d called me by my last name. Always a good thing.

“Coffee’s on. Grab a cup and come in here.”

I shot a glance at my office on my way to the kitchen. Only one file sat in the middle of my desk. That didn’t portend a bad day. I wanted to scoot in and see what might lie on my chair, but I saw Grant’s face reflected in the mirror across from his office. He watched me too.

“Nothing’s on your chair, Hayden. Just get your coffee.”

I rolled my eyes in response.

“I saw that.” His laughter followed me down the hall.

I popped the top on a new cream container, poured a generous amount into my mug and filled the cup to the brim with my favorite coffee from Maine, Backdraft Roast from the Carrabassett Valley. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I imagined Grant’s reaction to my find. “Need a refill?” I shouted down the hall, fighting back a giggle. Sometimes we seemed like a couple. In reality, we had been coworkers for years and friends for longer than that. Ever since I almost lost my life to a renegade Coast Guard lieutenant, the relationship had started to change subtly. I liked the changes.

A smile played at my lips. I took a sip for cover. He met my eyes as soon as I tapped a foot against his office door to announce my presence.

“Cat swallow the canary?” he asked.

Smiling openly now, I shook my head. No way was I going to tell him I liked our budding relationship. That was a conversation for outside the office. “Nope,” I said. “Mallory owns the bird. My critter is a cat, remember?”

He shook his head in response to my non sequitur. “Why do I ever think I’ll get a straight answer out of you?”

I sat down and put my mug on the corner of his desk. “What’s up?” I jiggled my legs back and forth like a child. I almost blurted out my find, but our working relationship dictated he speak first.

His grey green eyes darkened at my question. “We’ve got to file Mike Terry’s will today. I want to get the probate rolling.” He paused and straightened some papers on his desk. “How did the dive go yesterday? Did you learn anything?”

The silence stretched between us. I took the opportunity to order my thoughts.

“Nothing much. As we expected, there was nothing underwater indicating how Mike died. Except for a grouper, a moray eel, and the remains of a very old wreck, nothing much was down there.” I pushed my hand into my pocket and fingered the doubloons. Part of me couldn’t wait to pull them out and slap them on the desk. Another part of me wanted to keep them. I knew the treasure belonged to the estate. But that didn’t stop me from craving the sensation the raw gold brought. What would it be like to have a treasure chest full of gold coins? The thought affected me more than I wanted to admit.

A muscle danced in Grant’s jaw. I wondered if it indicated interest or disappointment. “Are you kidding me?”

That wasn’t what I expected to hear. “About what?” I kept my fingers on the doubloons.

He got up and paced the floor. “Remains of a wreck. They searched the area for how many years and you tell me there are easily identifiable remains lying on the ocean floor?” He spun around in mid-stride and returned to prop himself on the edge of the desk.

I remembered that Mike had told us he broke ties with his two partners and cut them out of the salvage portion of the treasure hunt within the last month. I gave a low whistle and pulled the gold from my pocket. “That ain’t all that was in easy view. I’ve got some estate assets right here.”

His eyes bulged as I lifted my hand with the coins. For the first time I realized just how dangerous Mike’s actions had been. The coins were impossible to look at without desire. How would Mike’s ousted partners handle losing the chunks of gold?

Grant blew a little puff of air, lifting the brown hair that flopped over his forehead. “You just happened to find these lying around?”

“They were a little distance from the wreck debris. Uncovered by the sand dredges, most likely.” I referred to the large air pumps that pull the contents of the bottom up like a vacuum cleaner and release it into a sieve on the surface, where the treasure spotters can check for loot. I thought for a moment. “The wreck isn’t too obvious yet, just a vertical chunk of wood and some smaller ones poking up from the sand.” I developed the thought further. “Mike was the main diver. The archeologist would have seen the coins and gems in the muck coming up from the sea floor. Only the diver on the bottom may have seen the ship’s remains.”

“Take it a step further, Hayden.”

The fog cleared in my brain. How had I missed this? “So Mike was the only one who knew they uncovered more than a debris field.” My left foot rose to rub the back of my right calf. “And he pulled the permit out from under his partners at the last minute.”
A perfect setup for a revenge killing. I itched to get my hands on the police report, but it was way too soon. I grabbed a sticky note and pen from Grant’s desk and wrote “Deputy Diego.” My job obligated me to investigate further. If I were lucky, the police would keep sharing information.

Grant cocked his head to the side. “None of this occurred to you yesterday underwater?”

I shook my head.

Grant’s eyes widened and he asked, “Narced?” He used the word divers used to describe nitrogen narcosis.

My deep blush answered the question. Nitrogen narcosis was serious. Especially as it only happened at depths greater than one hundred feet. His face softened. “Let’s talk about that some other time.” He fingered the coins on his desk. “I’ll put these in the safe later.”

He unlocked his top desk drawer and swept them in. A heavy knocking on the front door startled both of us. It was nearly seven thirty. Too early for clients. I shot Grant a questioning look. He answered with a nod and I headed for the front door.

I flipped the lock on the door to open. Dana practically fell into my arms. Her face was blotchy and tearstained, and she wore no makeup. She clutched a sheaf of papers in her hand.

Pain and pity in equal parts filled my heart. I gave her a quick hug, and with my arm around her, led her to Grant’s office. Grant’s face was filled with sympathy. He was always at his best with people in pain. Clients and strangers recognized his honest empathy and trusted him immediately. He cut a glance at me, stood, and guided Dana to a seat. Taking the hint, I went to the small kitchen to pour her a cup of coffee. The low murmur of their voices sounded almost musical as I made my way back down the hall. Dana nodded her thanks to me when I put the mug down in front of her. Her restless fingers shredded the edges of the papers still grasped in her hand. She followed my line of sight.

“It’s…I’ve got…I mean…” Her hands trembled so badly that she let go of the papers to grab her mug with both hands.

Grant got up and strode around the desk. He squatted at her side, one comforting hand resting on her shoulder, his eyes searching her face. “Take your time.”

A crooked smile touched her lips. “I need to do this. For Mike. I gave my word.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and she looked up at me. “I wasn’t ready to give these to you before. It made it too real, and we were too busy sharing memories. So here I am today.” She put her mug down, lifted the stack of papers, and held them out to Grant. “Mike’s will. And some other documents I thought might be important.”

Grant and I locked eyes over Dana’s head, both of us communicating SOS to the other. We knew the location of his will. We had it. The papers fell from her hand and scattered over the floor. No one attempted to retrieve them.

“So it’s true. He did make the change.” Tears cut a well-worn path down her cheeks.

“You knew?” I asked her.

A sad nod was her only answer.

A sick feeling stirred in my stomach. She knew her son changed his will. I wondered what else she knew. “How did you find out?”

Grant shot me a look that I ignored.

She squared her shoulders. Before my eyes, she morphed into the strong woman I loved. Sorrow still haunted her eyes, but something else intruded. Her mouth settled into a firm line.

“That he disinherited me? He told me last Thursday night.” Her eyes clouded with tears that didn’t fall. “He was proud of it. I didn’t know I’d hurt him so.”

Dana stood and extended her hand over the desk to Grant. “Thank you for your honesty.” Her throat worked briefly as she broke the contact. Then she turned and drew me into a quick hug. “I needed to hear it from someone else.” She reached out and brushed a lock of hair off my forehead. “It’s the hearing that makes it real. As you say, Hayden, you can fight the devil you know. Now I know it was true, and he actually made the change.”

Shock kept Grant and me glued in place. Neither of us tried to stop Dana when she stood and headed for the door. A soft click announced her departure.

The silence grew between us. Light played over the scattered papers on my boss’s floor. I poked at part of the stack with my toe. Dana came in here a defeated woman. She left with a resolve to move ahead with her life as best she could.

“She’s not ready to be this strong yet.” Grant’s words broke my trance.

“What do you mean?” I squatted and gathered the documents, tapping them into a neat stack. My eyes met his when I placed the paper on his desk.

He ran his index finger over the flamingo fountain pen holder he kept on his desk. Clearing his throat he said, “She’s on an emotional seesaw.” He shot me a quick glance. “She found his body. That will stay with her for the rest of her life.”

“Or it can be a comfort to her,” I said softly. My heart felt its way through the maze of my emotions. Without stopping to think, I continued, “She believes he came home to her in the end. No matter what went on between them. She believes his body ending up on Pigeon Key and her finding him was a homecoming.” Tears bit the back of my eyes. I fought not to shed them. “She doesn’t want his death to be an accident.” I hadn’t shared this with Grant before. Now I wanted to talk it out.

“Why?”

I shrugged. The movement loosened some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. “Because she told me he was different in the last days. Not himself.” My foot sketched a semi-circle on the hardwood floor. “She didn’t say, but I think she was afraid he might have killed himself.” My eyes met Grant’s and I searched his face. “That would be more than she could bear, I think.” I took a deep breath. “Now that we know about the timing of the discovery of treasure and the change in the permit…” The thought needed more development before I played it out with Grant. 

Each of us sat silently with our own thoughts. Nothing we could say about Mike would bring him back. He died tragically. A victim of the sea he loved. My experiences on the dive yesterday only served to point up how vulnerable even the best-trained diver can be. Mike dove a nitrox or mixed gas formula on these dives, both for increased bottom time and to avoid narcosis, but anything could have happened. At one hundred feet, no one can hear you scream.

Five

“Mike found his treasure. I wonder if he would have wanted it if he knew the price.” Grant opened his drawer and took out the doubloons as he spoke. His hand trembled for a second, so fast I wasn’t sure I saw it. “The gold changed him. I’m locking these up before they do more damage.”

He stood, turned his back to me, and walked into the closet that contained our office safe. The clicks announced the combination only he and his law partner knew. The door opened with a wheeze. The soft huff and heavy clunk of the levers sounded moments later when he closed the door and locked it again. When he came out, he carried Mike’s will. I took the document from him and headed for my own office. The buzz of conversation from the now fully-staffed office followed me down the hall.

Did the seeds of Mike’s death lie in his life?

Most of the time I’d been back in the Keys, Mike lived in Virginia. Dana told me he’d been married, worked as an industrial engineer, and been burned in some kind of freak accident on the job. That led to a court case and hefty settlement.

Mike to me was in the background of my friendship with Dana. We had no interaction, although he was a part of her life, it wasn’t a part she shared with me. What did I really know about him? It was time I found out. This was the part of my job I both loved and dreaded. The proximity of the drastic changes to his will to his death created serious questions. Questions that had to be answered as the probate process progressed.

I took a deep breath. I had the skills to unlock the morass of legal paper he left behind. And the skills to ferret out the truth of his death. He died underwater. On my turf. If the police couldn’t solve the mystery, I felt I owed it to Dana to confirm her only child’s cause of death. Besides, it was part of my job.

I stopped at the receptionist’s desk and told her I was leaving for the clerk’s office as soon as I completed the documents to open the estate. Ruth greeted me with a sympathetic smile. “I can’t believe he’s gone.” The older woman shook her head while her fingers flew over her keyboard. She plucked a page from the printer beside her and handed it to me. I read our standard letter for the deposit of a will, already completed for Mike Terry’s estate. She shrugged in response to my questioning look. “You’re close with his mother. I wanted to save you from having to do this.”

Her kindness touched me and I thanked her.

A strange look crossed her lined face. I waited until she decided whether to continue speaking.

The chair creaked when she leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I guess I should tell you. His ex is in town. I met her in the grocery store. Recognized her from when they had a winter house down here.” She rubbed her arms with her hands. “Her ATM card got turned down. She was ranting to the cashier that her ex-husband was worth millions and she couldn’t pay for a candy bar on her alimony settlement. Told the woman he was trying to stop her from getting a fair share.” Her throat worked as she swallowed.

“Thank you for telling me.” I paused to mull over her words. The telling had been hard for Ruth. “I…I’m not sure it means anything, but it’s one heck of a coincidence.” I turned to go back to my office.

“She said she’d see him dead before she let him get away without her share.” Ruth’s voice floated down the hall in my wake.

I pivoted on the toe of my navy high heel and went back to the reception area. Ruth belonged to a fourth-generation Keys family. A true Conch like me. She knew everyone. And where all the skeletons slept.

“When did you see her?” I couldn’t remember Mike’s wife’s first name.

“Friday, lunchtime.” Ruth fanned the corner of the old-fashioned message pad she liked. Her gaze bounced everywhere but at me. “Everyone says stuff like that. I didn’t think anything of it. But now…”

I waited a beat but Ruth didn’t continue. “Well,” I said, “I guess it doesn’t matter. Lousy timing though.” I covered the ground between the hallway and Ruth’s desk and touched the back of her hand in thanks. Her fingers stilled. “If anything else comes to mind, or even if you only want to talk, I’m here.”

A sad smile touched her lips. “Thanks, Hayden. I think you’re right. Lousy timing.”

I sat at my desk to start the opening documents for the estate, wondering if Ruth was holding something back. Next to my keyboard, a pad of “New Estate” forms we used to keep track of open questions stared blankly at me. Decedent’s name, date, and cause of death headed the page. A blank line followed each word. Automatically, I wrote “Michael Terry” on the name line. My pen paused over the date line. Then I filled in Monday’s date. Even without a death certificate, I knew the medical examiner would fill the blank with that date followed by the word “found.”

In the cause of death blank, I wrote “accident.” A series of empty lines filled a quarter of the page under the cause of death. The instructional sentence asked for any unusual circumstance that might affect the cause of death or estate-planning documents. I left the space blank. My mind filled with images of the sea floor around the treasure site. What had gone wrong that day? Instead of filling in the blanks, I grabbed a sticky pad and scribbled “treasure hunter, experienced diver, will change, angry ex.” I pulled the sheet off the pad and stuck in on the blank space. That would have to do until the death certificate was final and we had the police report. Experience told me that the list would grow before I finally filled in the blanks.

My office was a giant rectangle. At one time, the room served as the dining room of the house. Floor-to-ceiling windows graced the north side. Two comfortable wing chairs flanked the windows, one with a hassock. A wide table with a file drawer underneath sat between the chairs. Oftentimes, especially if I worked late or on a Saturday, I worked from a chair rather than my desk. Now I gathered everything pertaining to Mike Terry, including the form pad, and moved to the chair with the hassock. Much as I enjoyed the investigative aspects of my job, my relationship with Dana brought this one too close to home.

The petition for administration needed a preliminary value of assets. The Quicken financial ledger Mike provided listed some of his holdings and his current and future anticipated payment information. Two future one-hundred-thousand-dollar payments of alimony showed up for February of this year and next. The memo reminder column for the final payment read “free at last.” I smiled at the comment. Considering Ruth’s remarks, Mike’s ex may have been in town to try for more alimony. That made sense if she’d somehow learned he found treasure. Or maybe she thought she didn’t get her fair share of his worker’s comp settlement. Rumor had it he’d gotten millions, with an s, from the case.

Dana’s revelation that she knew about the change in Mike’s will played itself over and over in my thoughts. Why did she bring us his old will if she suspected he changed it? I picked up the check register printout and concentrated on the memo column. Goosebumps danced up my arms. He made thousand-dollar cash withdrawals every other week and noted the money was for Dana. As well as I knew her and as much as I loved her, there were parts of her life she kept strictly private. Money was one of them. I made a note to ask Grant to be the bad guy and find out about the payments.

Drafts of the initial estate-opening documents done, I annotated the estate form on the pad to highlight the information still needed. I had an inch of paperwork and, thanks to my detailed review of Mike’s financial information, a fistful of pages of scribbled notes to show for my work. The initial set up always took the longest. I picked up the original will and put together a package to deposit the will in the court. I glanced at the clock. It was almost three. Time enough to get to the Clerk’s office before it closed. I shot Ruth a quick wave as I walked through the lobby, reflecting on how far the paralegal profession had come from its legal secretarial roots.

“I’ll be available on my cell phone,” I called to Ruth before the door shut behind me.

The heat of the day felt welcome after the deep freeze air conditioning of the building. Not a single cloud marred the sky as I turned my car west and headed for the Marathon courthouse. I flipped on the radio and listened to the local country western station, tapping my fingers on the leather-covered steering wheel. Two dive boats motored under the Vaca Cut Bridge, the seats filled with sunburned tourists and rented dive tanks. I wished them calm seas and no current.

My last dive had been a wake-up call for me. The memory of my narcosis embarrassed me. The best thing for me to do would be to get back underwater. I punched the phone button on my steering wheel and called Cappy. A trickle of excitement bubbled in my veins when he answered.

“How’s the schedule for Saturday or Sunday?”

“Just you, Hayden, or are you bringing reinforcements?”

“Not sure yet. I can grab Mal. What’s up?”

“I don’t want you to dive alone until you can remember to be careful.”

His words smarted. “Well, if that’s how you feel.” A frost even I heard tinged my voice. “I’m sure Mallory will come along if I ask her.”

“That’s not what I meant, Hayden.” The frost in his voice matched mine. “Did you check your tanks with the nitrox analyzer before you took them from Seahorse?”

He named my usual dive shop. I remembered that I asked for twenty-eight percent at the last fill. Usually I ask for thirty-two. The lower percentage gave me a bit more margin of safety from oxygen toxicity at the deeper depth. I saw myself chatting with the tech, remembered him handing me the tester gauge. Then the owner, Liz, came into the fill room. I’d left to chat with her and never checked my tank. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Carelessness under water will kill you.

“No,” I whispered. “Why?”

“You dove air. There was no nitrox in your tank. You counted on a margin of safety that didn’t exist. I checked your tank. That’s why I kept it. No wonder you got narced.”

Narced nothing. I could have suffered a case of the bends.
Chastised, I responded, “I’ll bring Mallory.”

The Marathon government center complex housed the courthouse, ME’s office, and sheriff’s office. Sooner or later, every legal professional in the Keys came here. There must be something to karma. Mallory’s car sat parked under the shade of one of the few trees when I drove in. I pulled my vehicle into the space next to hers, grabbed the envelope lying on my passenger seat, and hopped out. I strode through the double glass doors and turned right for the clerk’s office. Mallory stood in line ahead of me.

“Well, well, they let anyone in here, don’t they?” I put on a New Jersey accent learned from television shows to cover my normal Southern drawl.

“I saw you pull up, Kent. And your accent is awful.” Mallory turned as she spoke, her chocolate-colored hair swinging with the motion. “What’s up?”

I waved the envelope in my hand. “Filing a will.”

My work concerned trusts, estates, and probate-oriented cases. Mallory’s office did criminal law. We’d been friends since grade school and best friends since high school. She lived in the Keys long enough to qualify as a freshwater Conch. She rolled her eyes at the distinction, but I couldn’t help it. That was the one prejudice my parents instilled in me. So far I hadn’t been able to lose it.

“Dana’s son?” Mallory’s eyes softened with her question. She knew how close we were.

“Yeah. It’s tough. She came by this morning.”

The clerk interrupted our conversation, confirming Mallory’s request for certified copies. The thunk of the certification stamp accompanied our conversation firming up plans for Saturday’s dive.

Mallory stepped aside and I moved into her place at the counter. I handed the clerk the will and the letter of filing and waited for a confirmation receipt to prove the filing date. Instead of handing me a receipt, the clerk returned from her supervisor’s office with Mike’s will in her hand and an odd look on her face.

“I need you to confirm this is an original document,” she said.

Startled by the question, I responded, “Yes. You can see it’s signed in blue ink, and the pen impressions go through to the other side of the paper.”

She flipped the pages and nodded her head in agreement.

“What’s up?” I hoped a folksy, non-threatening delivery would buy me more information than a simple nod.

She pushed her hand through her blonde hair and tucked a strand behind her ear. With her other hand, she flipped through the stack of papers in a large metal inbox on the corner of the counter. She picked up a document and scanned the words. Satisfied with what she read, she said, “It’s the second original will filed today for this decedent. That seems kind of strange.”

I reached out a hand for the pages she held, but she pivoted to the side and ended up facing the metal box. “Date?” I asked. My heartbeat sped up in anticipation of the reply.

“The same as yours.”