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Authors: Beverly Connor

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BOOK: LC 04 - Skeleton Crew
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"Do you ever use a twelve-inch airlift?" asked Lindsay.

"You don't mind broadsiding a person, do you?" said Eva. "The
Coast Guard showed me the piece of airlift that was discovered
near where your two divers were attacked. I don't hide the fact
that I deal in antiquities, but I do it legally. As you know, a twelveinch airlift smashes fragile artifacts. Last month I sold a teacup and
saucer for $2,000. Six months before that I sold a whole set of eigh teenth-century Dutch porcelain for $230,000. Had I used an airlift
that large when I recovered those finds, I'd have destroyed them.
Broken antiquities are as useless to me as unprovenanced artifacts
are to you. That airlift wasn't mine."

"Surely you know that the University of Georgia has a claim on
the Estrella, and anything you find of hers belongs with her. We
know that her crew was tossing her cannons and cargo overboard
before she sank. You can't salvage her cargo."

A smile spread across Eva Jones's face. "If I find anything that
belongs to the Estrella, I'll surrender it, of course-provided you
can prove it. However, we are only here vacationing. Marcella is
trying out her toy and I'm indulging her."

"At night?"

"What's night down there?" said Marcella.

"What exactly is your toy?" asked Lindsay.

"Small subs are used most often for very deep work. I'm using
this for shallower work and improving the visibility for visual
scanning. I can scrutinize the ocean floor with it and send back
clear pictures faster than scuba divers can survey the same area."
Marcella rose and threw her apple core in the ocean.

"Why not use scooters?" asked John.

"No place to carry equipment."

Lindsay turned to Eva. "If you think of who Denton may have
been visiting on the island, please contact us-or Agent Ramirez of
the FBI."

"I will. I'll ask my crew. Perhaps Hardy said something to them."

"We'd appreciate it."

Lindsay stood and held out her hand. "Thanks for your hospitality."

Eva took her hand and shook it. "My pleasure. Please come
again, and I'll show you my ship."

Lindsay and John climbed down the ladder to their waiting
launch and John piloted them back toward the dam. Lindsay
watched Eva's ship. Suddenly the sails began to unfurl. Lindsay
motioned for John to slow down. He stopped and cut the engines,
and they watched the Painted Lady get under way. They could hear
the capstan raise the anchors and see the sailors managing the
sails. Although they were vastly different kinds of ships, this must
be a glimpse of what it look liked when a galleon set sail. It was
rather magnificent.

"It looks difficult," said Lindsay.

"What?"

"Maneuvering the sails and all of it."

"It just a matter of learning the ropes. If you'd like to go sailing,
I understand Harper's a pro, and I've had some experience. So has
Trey."

"I think I'd like to sail on one of those large sailing ships once.
Just to see what it feels like."

"Did you learn anything?" asked Lewis. He and Trey were both at
the cofferdam. Rotating shifts the way they did, letting the crew
members choose any two days a week off, they kept a good size
crew working every day. John went to check on his crew. Lindsay,
Trey, and Lewis sat atop the dam at one of the tables.

"I think so. They know about the galleon and are looking for it."

Lewis leaned forward. "She said that?"

"Not specifically, but they have a minisub surveying the bottom. One of the things she wants to know is if we know she is looking for it. I believe I convinced her that we don't. She seemed very
pleased."

"So that sub you saw was definitely hers?"

"Yes, they admitted that. They said it's a toy they're playing
with."

"Expensive toy," Trey said.

"What else?" asked Lewis.

"There's a good chance that wasn't her airlift found around the
artificial reefs."

"Why do you say that?" asked Trey.

"Because she says she prefers selling artifacts to breaking
them."

"Maybe, depending on what the cargo is," said Trey. "But if
we're talking about gold, silver, and jewels, then you can afford
some breakage."

Lindsay conceded the point.

"They denied knowing very much about Hardy Denton,
including why he was on the island. They also denied knowing
Keith Teal. Keith, however, according to his father, was familiar
with Jones, or at least her equipment resources."

"So," said Lewis, "they are making an all-out effort to locate the
ship-including surveying at night."

"I would say so, yes."

"How did they find out about it?"

"I don't know. But I would think they have some precise information. Just to know something exists is one thing. Finding it is
something else. The ocean is big. And I think they have known for
a long time. If I'm right, that's why Denton made the bid for the
dam."

They heard someone coming up the ladder to the dam and
turned in time to see Agent Ramirez's head appear above the
bulkhead.

"Hello," he said.

"Did you bring your family?" asked Lewis.

"My family? Oh, no. This, I'm afraid, is business."

 
Chapter 23

AFTER GETTING RAMIREZ a chair to join them, Trey took his seat
again next to Lindsay. Agent Ramirez looked around at the sand,
trailers, scaffolding, the barges, then out at the ocean.

"Did you see Waterworld?" he asked.

Trey smiled and replied, "I visited an undersea oil rig once. It's
a rather unique environment, too."

"The reason I came by is to tell you that the Camden County
sheriff called. Boote Teal was attacked in his home last evening."

"Oh, no," said Lindsay. "I was out there just yesterday."

"Yes, Dr. Chamberlain. That's what I wanted to talk to you
about. Why didn't you call the police?"

"Boote asked us not to."

"You should have reported it anyway."

"Yes, I should have. I got absorbed in other things. I'm sorry.
How is he?"

"In and out of consciousness. The perpetrator hit him over the
head and tied him up. He then searched his entire house. He even
broke the toilet tank."

"Since you got a look at the earlier perp, Dr. Chamberlain, I told
the sheriff I would talk to you." He pulled out a pen and paper.

"He wore a ski mask over his face."

"Boote was able to tell the sheriff that."

"When John and I approached Boote's house, he came rushing
out the door, pushing me down and John backward. He ran to a
car; it looked like a dark blue Pinto."

"Can you give me any kind of description of him?"

"He wore black leather gloves and boots, blue jeans, and a
green and black plaid long-sleeve shirt. He was about six feet, and
I would guess somewhere around 190 pounds. Muscular, right handed, brown or dark hazel eyes. He had been eating food with
garlic. It all happened very fast."

"That's a pretty good description for a fast look."

"He was breathing hard, so the odor was fairly obvious, and I
make estimations about height and weight of skeletal material
fairly routinely. Do you know what he was looking for?"

"He stole a box that had been mailed to Boote from the owner
of a bar that Keith Teal frequented. Neither Boote nor the bar
owner know what was in the box. After some questioning, Boote
finally revealed that he had something secreted in the toilet tank."

"What was it?" asked Lindsay.

"A gold cross about seven inches long encrusted with what
Boote thought were emeralds."

The three of them sat speechless. Lindsay was the first to
recover. "Did he say where he got it?"

"He didn't know about it until a neighbor was defrosting his
freezer and found it embedded in the ice that adhered to the back
of the compartment. Boote taped it to the bottom of the toilet tank
lid. He said he knew Keith had found something because he had
hinted several times during his Sunday visits that things would be
changing for them. I don't suppose you know anything about it?"

"There were Spanish clerics on board the Estrella," said Lewis.
"They often had gold religious symbols for the mission churches."

"You think it belongs to your ship, then?" Ramirez asked.

"I don't know."

"Is Boote going to be all right?" Lindsay asked.

"The doctors think so, but they aren't sure. He is an old man
and not in good health."

One of the crew called up for Trey. Lewis went with him.
Lindsay guessed it was because he wanted her to stay with
Ramirez and pump him for information.

"I'm sorry about Boote," Lindsay began.

"You think this is related to our murders?" Ramirez asked.

Lindsay nodded. "His son is murdered on an island where the
offshore excavation of a Spanish galleon is in progress. Boote is
attacked, and one of the things stolen from him is something that
sounds to be a Spanish artifact. Yes, I think the events are related.
I have already said that I think the deaths of Hardy Denton and
Keith Teal are related and why. If they are, then logically, the death
of Denton and the attack on Boote are connected."

"Ah, a simple syllogism?"

"If my propositions are correct. Look, Agent Ramirez, my boss
would like to get to the bottom of this. We don't want a murderer
on the loose for many reasons, some altruistic and some selfserving. I have already interviewed several people to that end. I
will share with you what I learned from those interviews, no
strings attached. I would like you to share with me. I am sometimes able to put clues together in effective ways."

"And modest, too. You didn't happen to get a look at the teeth
of the man in the ski mask did you?"

Lindsay grinned. "You've been talking to the D.A. back home."

"He told me about your courtroom testimony in a murder case
he prosecuted. He said the murderer was wearing a ski mask, and
you were able to identify him based on a five-second look at his
teeth."

"That was a lucky break. Teeth are something I analyze. I was
unfortunate enough to witness a horrible crime, but the perp
showed me a mouth full of teeth having a number of peculiarly
distinctive features that allowed me to match him up with some
corroborating evidence. I don't do that kind of thing every day."

"It certainly enhances your credibility," Ramirez said. "Tell me
what you have found out about this case."

They were interrupted by a spray of water showering up from
the ocean. Ramirez shifted uneasily.

"Would you prefer to go back to the island?" Lindsay asked.

"Yes, I would. I don't see how you can work here, fascinating as
it is. It doesn't feel safe to me."

Lindsay went to Lewis and borrowed the key to his office.

"Do you think he'll share information with you?" asked Lewis.

"Possibly. Look, I called someone I know at the FBI the other
day and sort of asked him about Ramirez."

Lewis smiled as if he appreciated Lindsay's methods.

"Ramirez is a good guy. Conscientious and honest. I think he
needs to know about the ship."

Lewis shook his head. "I don't know."

"I'll tell him the importance of keeping it quiet-that it will give
the Coast Guard a real headache if word gets out. But I think the
possible existence of the ship has a direct bearing on these cases."

"Possible existence? Do you not believe there is a ship?"

"I don't know. What was it doing way up here?"

"Chased by pirates. We know firsthand how relentless they
can be."

Lindsay smiled. "How about it? I won't without your say-so."

"Go ahead. I trust your judgment. But we need this resolved.
I'm getting inquiries."

Back on the island, Lindsay led Ramirez into Lewis's office
where they sat at the corner table. She brought them both coffee
from the break room. As he put cream and sugar in his, she told
him about her talk with Boote.

"I didn't learn much from him," she said.

"He doesn't trust you university types." He put down his
spoon and took a sip of coffee.

"I talked to Isaac Jones." Lindsay related that conversation.

Ramirez confirmed Isaac's alibi. "Isaac was out that evening
with Jeff and a couple of guys on the scuba teams. They stayed the
night in Savannah and started back to St. Maggie at six o'clock."

"After Isaac, I interviewed the security guard," said Lindsay.

"And did you discover anything important?" asked Ramirez.

"That he is probably a well-meaning, decent man, and probably
believes he has been guarding the two buildings well, but, in fact,
has done very little. He prides himself on remembering names of
people, but in my talk with him, although he knew most of the
men's names, he knew none of the women. Both Gretchen from
biology and Sarah on our scuba team have red hair. He appears to
not be able to tell them apart, even though the red hair is their only
common characteristic. He lives with a wife and has four daughters; even so, or perhaps because of it, I suspect that women are
alien to him. He considers them frivolous, as I suspect they do him
and his love of model trains."

BOOK: LC 04 - Skeleton Crew
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