Too Much Stuff (18 page)

“What’s the project?” Bobbie walked over, eyeing our empty drinks.

James looked at Mrs. T. and rolled his eyes.

“Just a little history thing we’re working on,” Em said.

Bobbie pointed at the empty drink glasses, then motioned toward the male bartender, busily mixing a drink on the other side.

“Did Scotty get you?”

Without missing a beat James looked her in the eyes and said, “Nobody gets us Bobbie. That’s the problem.”

She looked puzzled as she walked away to wait on a heavy-set older couple. Probably in their late thirties.

“So you’re lookin’ for coins?”

The wizened old man looked like he was straight out of central casting. He had fine white hair tied back in a ponytail, and his brown leathery skin threatening to crack at the creases. A short shoot of hair stuck out from his chin; a beard that had never really taken off.

“Yeah. Coins.” James nodded.

“Lots of people find coins. I swear there’s still millions of dollars to be had, right offen these shores.”

“You think?”

I frowned at James. Don’t be a smart-ass. The idea was not to draw any attention to our mission.

“Yes, sir.” His voice was high pitched, and I decided he reminded me of old Ben Gunn from
Treasure Island
. Gunn was the pirate they left behind on the island to guard the treasure. A crazy old loon.

“From Gasparilla to Bowlegs, them pirates were a burying bunch of thugs. And if it weren’t the pirates, then it were them wreckers who’d scavenge all sorts of riches off them distressed
ships that ran up on the rocks.” His eyes were wide open and his animated speech told me that he had a passion for the stories. “And they buried their treasures. ’Twas the only way to keep ’em safe.”

“We think there are coins off the coast, maybe a quarter of a mile. So, we wanted to know if you’ve got a metal detector that works under water.”

He stroked his stubby beard, and stared at the two of us. “We’ll get to that in a minute.”

Em and Mrs. T. were back at the resort. Four of us descending on a small one-man shop like this seemed a little much to take.

“Now you’ll be needin’ a small boat.”

He stepped around the worn plank-wood counter and motioned for us to follow. We went through the main room with an air compressor and tanks to a dark backroom that smelled of grease, gasoline, and oil. He pulled on a rope, and a garage door opened onto some old gray wooden docks and the bright blue Florida sky.

What had once been white paint peeled from the old boards and several of the docks leaned as if pushed by a giant wave or wind. I was reminded what waves and wind can do in the Keys.

Five small boats floated in the water as we walked out onto the rotting wood. A seagull lazily lifted off a post and landed on a dock forty feet away. The old man stepped up to a bobbing dinghy, big enough for four people and a couple of extra tanks and that was about it.

“Said you just needed maybe a quarter of a mile, right?”

“Yeah.”

“This would do the trick.”

James gave it a suspect glance. “It doesn’t leak, does it?”

“Leak?” He almost shrieked the word. “Good Lord, son, I personally check each boat when it comes in.”

James bit his tongue and kept quiet.

Sun beat down on the bleached wood and I inhaled the odor of rotting seaweed and washed up marine life. I hadn’t been diving since college, and most of the training took place in a safe pool. This was going to be an experience.

“Now, you boys can obviously go somewhere else, but you’re gonna pay a lot more. I’ll make ya a really good offer. We’ll do this boat—nothin’ fancy you understand—then we’ll rent you the mask, the tank, and all the divin’ gear and then you want a metal detector, am I right?”

“And you rent those too?”

“Well, I have one here. I’ll let you rent it, although I can’t speak to its ability.”

“Never tried it?” I asked.

“No. You see, I found it. Sort of.”

“Found it?”

“Came back in one of my boats. Must have belonged to this guy who rented the boat. I had to hire a kid to take me to the boat, ’cause the diver left it about a mile out.”

“I don’t understand. Somebody rented a boat from you, then just left the boat and the metal detector a mile offshore?”

“Didn’t exactly just leave it. This guy ran out of oxygen and died out there.”

“Oh, shit.” I turned to James. “Do not say anything about that to Em. Or anybody. You got that? She’ll freak.”

“Trust me, pard, I got it.”

“So, you got yourself a boat, diving gear, and the dead guy’s metal detector.”

“How much?”

“How long?”

“Half a day.” I figured we weren’t going to dig it up and bring it home the first trip out. We just needed to see if there were crates of gold. Then we could make our plans on how to haul it out. One thing at a time.

“Three hundred fifty dollars. Payable in advance on account of—”

“Yeah,” James said, “you pretty much told us. On account of—”

We’d decided on the next morning. Go out at seven thirty before the scheduled dives and plan on coming in between ten thirty and one in the afternoon.

“James, you’re driving the boat, right?”

“I am.”

“Em, you’re kind of the lookout. If things get strange, if someone shows up who looks like there might be trouble, you’re going to figure out how to get rid of them.”

“And if I can’t?”

“I don’t have the answer, but for God’s sake don’t leave me down there by myself.”

We sat in Mrs. T.’s room, sharing a pepperoni and mushroom pizza from Boardwalk Pizza. When James heard that Boardwalk Pizza was right in front of the sheriff’s office, he almost refused to eat it. But the pizza was pretty good, and again, the lady was paying.

“My question is this.” Mrs. T. sipped from a can of caffeine-free diet Pepsi. “How are you going to know if there’s gold down there? We’ve already discussed the fact that it may be overgrown with coral. Lots of coral and seaweed. So even if you’re lucky enough to actually find the spot, how will you be able to tell through the coral and everything else?”

I had the answer.

“Skeeter has a JW Fishers Pulse eight K metal detector.”

“Skeeter?”

“Skeeter,” said James.

“And just what exactly is a Fisher Pulse thing?” She threw her hands up, obviously confused. I understood.

James grabbed at the last piece of pepperoni and mushroom.

“We looked it up on the Internet.”

“And?”

“And, it’s a gold detector equipped for use underwater as well as on land. It can find gold and silver six feet from where it detects the metal. So if there were six feet of coral or silt or whatever, this baby should find it. It’s got an underwater earphone that I can listen to and it’s weighted so it will stay in one spot and not drift around in the water. I think we lucked out on this one.”

She appeared to be significantly impressed. “So this expedition is an additional three hundred fifty dollars, right?”

“Gotta spend it to make it.” James smiled.

“I want to say that you boys, and you too, Emily, you have shown me a great deal of ingenuity. I was skeptical at first, but you’ve found the letter, you made arrangements to have it put back together, and now you’re set for the dive tomorrow.” She smiled, a smug look on her face. “Emily, despite my initial concern, I think you were an excellent addition to the team.”

James glared at Mrs. T.

I would have felt a whole lot better if the event had been set with a more high-profile dive shop, but the consensus was that using this little hole-in-the-wall guy, it would remain more secret. The fewer people who knew about it, the better.

“So it’s all set. Tomorrow morning you’ll make the dive and we’ll see what we can find.” Mrs. T. stood up and basically herded us out the door.

The three of us walked down the stairs to the beach, hearing the loud laughs and music coming from Holiday Isle and Rumrunners.

“You’re supposed to dive with someone else.” Em eased into a lounge chair, looking across the water at the world famous tiki hut bar. “I’ve read enough to know that it’s stupid to dive alone.”

“Buddy diving would be the safest thing to do,” I had to
agree, “but hey, no one here dives, Em. Besides, it’s two feet to twenty feet. Hardly a depth that I should have a problem with.” Considering I hadn’t dived in three years, any depth could cause a problem. But my macho instinct had kicked in.

My instructor used to dive solo. However, I will always remember her instructions. “Wait until you’ve had at least a hundred dives before you try it. And even then, remember that when you’re solo, no one has your back. No one.”

“Pard, I know this may be a stretch, but we’ve already told Skeeter that you’re going down to look for coins. No big deal about that, right?”

“It’s our cover, James. That’s what we decided.”

“Right. So what if we tell that cover story to someone else?”

Em gave him a disapproving glance. “Who else do you want to tell? We could take out an ad in the local paper—”

“Just a thought, folks. I know a diver who can be suited up and ready first thing in the morning. And as long as we don’t tell this diver the real reason we’re going down—”

“James, this isn’t a good idea.”

He nodded. “Oh, and it’s a good idea to send you down there by yourself. Especially after the story Skeeter told us about—” he stopped, a chagrined look on his face. “I’m sorry, Skip.”

“What story? What did this Skeeter tell you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me.” Em’s signature stone-cold instruction.

With that tone of voice, I had to. Damn James. Can’t keep his mouth shut.

“Some guy died on Skeeter’s watch because he ran out of oxygen.”

She stood up and grabbed my hand. “You shouldn’t be out there by yourself. A million things could happen. You need backup. I hate to admit it, but James is right, Skip.”

I hate to admit that James was right? This was not a good sign.

Wait until you’ve had a hundred dives before you try solo. A hundred? Hell, I’d had about ten open-water dives. Ninety to go.

“So who’s this backup?” I couldn’t wait for James to tell me.

“Amy. She decided to hang out with me for a couple more days.”

“Oh, come on, your married girlfriend?”

“That’s the one, Skip. And she’s way more experienced than you are.”

Clear your regulator. Clear your partially flooded mask. Breathe without your mask. Swap the air supply from your partner. All the rules that went through my head. What had I signed on for?

Why would anyone in their right mind want to escape the earth’s plentiful supply of oxygen and dive deep beneath the ocean for a brief glimpse of what lies below? Knowing that their breathing supply was sorely limited. Knowing that with a couple of short, quick breaths, they could die.

I pulled on my bathing suit and watched Em out of the corner of my eye.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready,” she said.

“Em, that’s a thong, for God’s sake.”

Her tan thighs, butt, abs and everything else were well defined and the brief suit showed it all off.

“Skip, stop it. It’s not a thong.”

“No. You look—you look fabulous.” I remembered how she looked last night
without
any of this brief cover-up, but that was
a private moment. This was on display for James and anyone else who cared to look.

“Thank you.”

“It’s just that James and—”

“Oh, for crying out loud. This is what I brought, and this is what I’m wearing.”

“For that reason only?”

She turned and shot an angry glance over her shoulder as she adjusted her breasts in the thin material of her bikini.

“And just what does that mean?”

“We have a visitor. I’ve seen her in
her
bikini. Is this by any chance a one-upsmanship?”

“Would you rather I wear a sweat suit?” She turned to me, displaying a very scantily clad perfect torso. “Or do you want a frumpy one-piece that looks like something your mother would have worn?”

I studied her.

“Do you?”

The answer was no. No. No. No. However …

I loved to check out her body. And the fact that there might be a jealousy contest between the two ladies actually excited me. But I had to admit I didn’t like the idea of James seeing all that I was intimate with.

“So, the way Amy looks has nothing to do with—”

She punched me on the arm. Not a light punch by any means. She could have done damage to a pro boxer.

Em wore a cover-up and carried a beach bag as we stepped into the truck. Amy, James, Em, and I. Amy had a cover-up as well. I was anxious to see her outfit revealed.

“Amy, do you have your own mask?” I was renting mine.

“I do,” she said. “I haven’t had that many dives, but enough
that I know I don’t want someone else’s mask and mouthpiece.”

I nodded. That would be a preferable situation. My own mask and mouthpiece. Perfect. However, I never thought this hobby would be more than a college credit course.

James turned the key and the engine roared. A new battery had solved the problem. We pulled out of the parking lot and drove south to Skeeter’s Dive Shop.

“So, Amy—” Em started the conversation with nothing to say. Do you mention the husband? The kid? The guy she came down with? Or the affair with James? It didn’t seem to matter, she was a part of the team. This Amy—no one seemed to know her last name—was my backup. I’d been told that a backup was sometimes useless unless they were good friends. A backup had their own agenda and often was off on that task, rather than watching your back.

As we pulled into the parking lot of Skeeter’s Dive Shop, I thought about that. Maybe I should have just done a solo dive.

I wished to God that I had decided to do that. Then Amy took off the filmy cover-up.

This twenty-three-year-old girl had the figure of a goddess. I must have been staring at her perfect narrow waist and hips and legs to die for.

“Settle down, big boy,” Em whispered in my ear as she shed her cover-up.