Diver Down (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (25 page)

“Love isn’t an excuse for everything,” said Lucia.
 

“In my family it is.” I went on to explain how we ended up on Roatan and that it was her brother who made sure she’d be watched, which ended up saving her. Not such a bad thing, considering.
 

“I can’t believe this,” said Lucia.
 

“So you think someone’s trying to kill Lucia because she’s a Fibonacci,” said Graeme.
 

“Yes, I do. It may be payback for a hit done in New York recently. Although I admit my theory isn’t perfect,” I said.
 

“Why not?”

“Because hitmen are usually more direct. The tampering with your regs, the stingray barb—those were designed to hide that a crime had ever taken place. Somebody doesn’t want to get caught. I’d expect a hitman to shoot you in the back of the head in a parking garage or something like that.”
 

“What about the poisoning?” asked Lucia. “That’s direct.”
 

“It is. I think he’s desperate. The regs were planned ahead of time and so was the barb with the succinylcholine, but they didn’t work. Antifreeze is widely available. That plan was on the fly.”
 

“But I’ve never been involved with that part of the family,” said Lucia. “Never.”
 

“I know, but somebody’s gone to a lot of trouble to arrange your death and I don’t think it’s because you do charity work.”
 

Lucia laid back on her pillows and her face became soft and tired. “Why didn’t you tell my brother what was happening? If he knew, he’d hijack a plane to get down here.”
 

“I know and I’m sure my father’s keeping an eye on your brother.
 
He found out about Oz’s offer and had his own freak out. If my father knew I was on vacation with you, I’d never hear the end of it. Honestly, I wasn’t completely convinced the regs weren’t an accident. I was holding out hope that I was wrong, then the barb happened. I thought I could handle it.”
 

“Why? You’re not a cop,” said Graeme.
 

“It’s in the blood. I’ll tell you my story sometime. Right now, I’m going to find Bruno and see if I can trace those drinks.”
 

I got up and
 
Graeme grabbed my hand. “I’m not thrilled that you were spying on us for Oz and I’m not even sure why you did it, but I’m glad you did.”
 

“I saw the bruises, too. Oz was right about me. I couldn’t leave his sister hanging.”

I found Bruno cleaning the pool with a long-handled net. The storm had blown palm leaves, coconuts, flowers, cups, and two deck chairs into the normally crystal clear water. Bruno hauled out a coconut and carefully placed it on a pile with five more. My patience was at an all-time low and my rough edges had the bite of a cheap steak knife. Only one thing stopped me from stomping over there and accusing him of giving Lucia those drinks. Aunt Tenne was stretched out on a lounge chair with eyes so full of hope and unguarded love that I just couldn’t ruin it. So she watched Bruno clean and I stood behind a wide palm tree thinking it over.
 

Bruno could’ve snagged Lucia’s asthma inhalers when he unloaded her bags when we arrived. He’d helped load scuba equipment on the day her regs were sabotaged. The regs were out where anyone could’ve switched them, so that could’ve been Bruno or practically anyone else. He could’ve gotten into her beach bag and taken the third inhaler and wallet as well, but he wasn’t diving the day Lucia got stabbed and I’d seen him hauling luggage before we went out. Theoretically, he could’ve hopped on a boat and following us out, but all the dive boats in the vicinity were for tourists. He would’ve stuck out. There was still the drinks. He could’ve poisoned them, but would he? Bruno didn’t strike me as the kind of guy that would do anything for money and it had to be about money. He was a native Honduran. He didn’t know the Carrows, a couple from St. Louis, Missouri. It wasn’t personal. Sure his clothes were ragged and those canvases didn’t come cheap. I didn’t see an artist doing murder for hire. Maybe all my time in museums and galleries was coloring my vision. Artists could be criminals like anyone else. But I didn’t like the idea, especially with Aunt Tenne in the picture.
 

Mom came up beside me and started to put her arm around me, but stopped. “Are you ever going to shower?”

“Got a lot going on, in case you haven’t noticed,” I said.

“There’s always time for hygiene.”
 

“Good tip.”
 

She groaned and asked, “What are you waiting for? Go interrogate him.”
 

The wind picked up and wrapped her long flowing skirt around my still crusty legs, warm comforting feeling, like her strong arms around my shoulders. “The right moment,” I said. “Where’s Dixie?”
 

“She’s having her hair colored.”
 

“Really? Is she better?” I asked.
 

Mom sighed. “She’s broken-hearted. I think she always will be. If she and Gavin had had children, maybe it would’ve been different. She’d have someone left.”
 

“Hey, she has us. We’ve always been her family. What, are we getting demoted?”
 

“No, but she built her life around Gavin. Her center is gone.”

“So if Dad died, I’d be your center.”
 

“You already are.”

That was disturbing. Mom and Dad were so together. I always felt like the third wheel. Certainly not the center of anything; that would be Dad’s career. We all served the job. I was more like a satellite in orbit around them, occasionally caught in the gravitational pull.
 

“Now whatever Dixie’s hair looks like, we love it. You understand me?”

“Why would it look bad?”
 

“She found a shop in West End that doubles as a tackle shop.”
 

“Oh, lord.”
 

“Exactly. Now let’s get this show on the road. I have some choice words for that man.” Mom pointed at Bruno up to his waist in the dirty pool, trying to grab a submerged deck chair.
 

“No,” I said. “No choice words. He hasn’t done anything for sure.”
 

“He’s seduced your aunt. He’s lucky if I let him live.”
 

“Mom, you can’t.” I lunged for her arm, but Mom was striding across the sand. Aunt Tenne saw her and smiled, then the smile dropped off her face. Fantastic. And I always thought Mom was the calmer of my two parents. Maybe not. I chased after her, spraying sand every which way.
 

“Mom, I will handle this.”

“Please,” Mom said over her shoulder. “You think he’s harmless.”
 

“We don’t know that he isn’t.”
 

She spun around. “He’s after her money.”
 

“Aunt Tenne doesn’t have any money,” I said.
 

“Of course she does. She inherited from the uncles, just like I did.”
 

“But she lives like she’s on disability.”

“Self-flagellation, pure and simple,” Mom said.
 

“Why? What did she do?”

“Nothing. She never did a damn thing.” Mom stepped on the pool deck and pointed a long perfectly polished finger at Bruno. “I would like a word, sir.”
 

Bruno froze and Aunt Tenne jumped to her feet. “Whatever you have to say, Carolina, you can say it to me.”

I stepped in front of Mom. “No, she can’t. It’s about Lucia’s sweet tea. That’s what it’s about. That’s it.”
 

“No, it isn’t,” yelled Mom.

“Go ahead and say it!” Aunt Tenne yelled back.

Bruno and I looked at each other. A sad kind of pleading came into his eyes, but I didn’t know what to do. I’d never stopped my mother from doing anything and, as far as I knew, no one else had either.
 

“Tenne, you know how you get. This man is trying to take advantage of you,” said Mom, pushing past me.

“You don’t know anything,” said Aunt Tenne.
 

“I know you. You can’t handle this. Not right now. Not today.”
 

“Today has nothing to do with it.”
 

“It’s always about today. It has been since you were eighteen.”
 

What the hell are we talking about?

“Well, not anymore. It’s over.” Aunt Tenne’s face was flushed and her green eyes glittered. She was stunning and Bruno saw it. I watched him looking at her and I could tell. He saw her. The her that everyone else missed.
 

 
“Just like that. Do you know how many times we’ve been through this?” asked Mom.
 

“Who cares?”
 

“I do. We are going home soon and he is not coming with us,” said Mom.
 

“You’re just jealous.”
 

“Jealous. Are you crazy? I guess I shouldn’t ask that. I already know.”
 

“You’re jealous because Bruno is talented and handsome and you can’t stand that,” said Aunt Tenne.
 

Mom stomped up to the side of the pool. “Are you saying I don’t have that?”
 

“You have Tommy.”
 

Don’t bring Dad into this!

“Tommy is handsome and talented at many things,” said Mom.
 

“He looks like a giant Howdy Dowdy with all those gangly limbs and red hair.”
 

“He’s charming,” yelled Mom.
 

“Thank goodness for that.” Aunt Tenne spun around on her heels and went to the beach. She passed a waiter carrying a tray of drinks, snatched one off his tray, and chugged it on her way down to the sand. The waiter stared at her, then shook his head and went back to the bar.
 

“Well,” said Mom to me. “What do you think about that?”

“I don’t know.” I really didn’t. Mom and Aunt Tenne rarely fought and when they did it was a pretty quiet affair. More miffed silence than screaming accusations.
 

“I am not jealous.”

“Are you sure about that?” I asked. It seemed reasonable.
 

“That is utterly ridiculous. Tenne is acting like a fool. I’m trying to save her from herself.”
 

I rubbed my tired eyes. “She’s having fun. Can’t you just let her?”
 

“No, I can’t. Do not say you’re in favor of this. He’s using her.” Mom pointed to Bruno still in the pool and wrestling with the waterlogged chair. “You’re using her.”
 

He ignored her. Good choice. Mom had lost it. Where was Dad when I needed him?
 

“Mom, what is he using her for?”

“To get to the States. For money. I don’t know.”
 

“Just let it alone, Mom! For crying out loud,” I said.
 

Mom gave me a blistering look and stomped away. “Fine. I’m getting a Monkey Lala.”
 

“Get eight. That should cover the crazy!” I yelled after her.
 

Then I turned back to Bruno. “That went well.”
 

“Maybe in America.” He pushed the chair to the edge of the pool and tried to heave it onto the side.

I ran around and grabbed it. The thing weighed a ton with its water-logged cushions. I dragged it over the lip and sat down, panting.
 

“Bruno, my mother is crazy, but I still have to ask you some questions about Lucia and Graeme Carrow.”
 

“Yes.” He went for the second chair.
 

“Neither of the Carrows ordered the sweet tea you brought them.”
 

“I don’t know whether they did or not,” said Bruno, then he dove down and pushed the chair to the surface.
 

I waited for him to come up, then said, “I do and they didn’t. Where’d the drink come from?”
 

“The bar. It had a note to take it to Mrs. Carrow.”
 

“A handwritten note?”
 

“Yes.” He struggled with the chair and I got down on my knees and reached for one leg.
 

“Do you still have it?”
 

“I left it on the bar.”

Damn.

“You didn’t question a note with a drink? Where was the bartender?”
 

“Christopher was making Tequila Sunsets on the other side of the bar. I just took the drink and gave it to Mrs. Carrow.” He looked up at me, his black hair slicked back and shiny. I detected none of the tells I was supposed to look for. Nothing. He didn’t appear to be lying.

I sighed. “Did you notice anyone lurking around waiting for you to take it?”
 

He smiled for the first time. “Lurking? No.”
 

“Did you bring Mrs. Carrow a sweet tea this morning?”
 

“No, I was at the airport picking up new guests.”
 

“Where were you on Sunday between 11:30 and 1:30?”
 

His brow furrowed and he heaved the chair the last two inches to my hand. I pulled it onto the side and gave Bruno a hand up. He climbed dripping onto the deck and squeezed out the hem of his shirt. “I was fixing the shower in Room Eight. Alberto was with me. You can ask him, but why?”