Death By Sunken Treasure (A Hayden Kent Mystery Book 2) (12 page)

Twenty-One

I spent most of the rest of the night sitting in my bed reading and rereading the restraining order trying to figure out why Lisa considered me a threat. Nothing came to mind, yet I held the evidence of her fear of me in my hand. The whole thing was so bizarre. It managed to make me feel both guilty and soiled at the same time.

For a holiday, the weekend qualified as a complete fiasco.

The words blurred before my eyes. Too tired to see anything clearly, I managed to do my nightly rituals before I collapsed into bed.

When my eyes opened, darkness shrouded the room. Tiger curled in a tight ball at my waist. Rain pelted against the windows with the intensity of a hurricane and the air around my face felt cold. The clock number display on the ceiling read five in the morning. It was too late to go back to sleep, too early to get up.

I shivered, threw back the covers, and made a run for the air conditioner. My feet felt like Popsicles by the time I got to the control panel and flipped the switch to heat. A whirling sound and the unique odor of heated air rewarded my efforts. I ran barefoot back to my bedroom and huddled under the warm blanket with the television remote control. Too cold to pull my arms out from under the covers, I aimed the remote toward the TV and pressed the power button. Much to my delight, the set sprang to life already tuned to The Weather Channel. The rainstorm looked like it would intensify, not weaken.

Now fully awake and warmer, I found my robe and slippers, padded to the kitchen, and started the coffee. Not wanting to wait for the brew cycle, I went to my home office and turned on my computer.

Still curious about Kristin, I brought up a search engine and typed in her name. The first few pages of hyperlinks told of the recent media blitz she had started. The rest were the usual ancestry results. The mouse pointer hovered over the exit symbol when an article on page six caught my eye, datelined Virginia. I read about Mike’s accident. A bio piece on Kristin ran down the side of the page. I clicked “Print” and listened while my printer spit out the pages. They joined others in a folder marked “Kristin.” I didn’t have enough caffeine yet this morning to read and analyze it.

The coffeepot signaled its finished brew cycle with double beeps.

I poured myself a cup and blew over the top of the mug to cool the contents before going back to my office. This time I typed “Lisa Freeman” into the search bar. Other than mentions in the recent stories about Mike’s death, nothing appeared about her until the fourth page. Lisa had rescued a diver on the Humboldt. At one hundred and twenty feet, near the brass propellers of the old wreck, she had spotted a man acting oddly. He wore a rebreather and his face was cherry red. A sure sign he was suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning. She saved his life. I printed that article too and slid it into Lisa’s file.

Both Kristin and Lisa dove. Both were comfortable at deeper depths. I mulled over the information about Lisa: she was brave, plucky, and sounded like a perfect match for Mike.

I checked the time. Past time to get ready for work. I cursed mildly, logged off the computer, and headed for the bathroom.

The weather mirrored my mood. Thunder, unusual for the tropics in January, crashed continually. I debated whether to risk a shower in a thunderstorm. The need for clean won.

After my shower, I fed Tiger and headed for my closet. I decided to treat the rainy day as akin to a casual Friday, so I pulled a pair of dark blue cotton pleated trousers from my closet. To these I added a striped blue long-sleeved shirt and pulled a lightweight powder blue cotton crewneck sweater over my head. I considered whether to wear heels with the ensemble, and opted for a pair of black ankle boots.

Rain pelted hard against me as I ran for my car. Sorry I hadn’t backed up the drive yesterday, I ran around the Subaru, pulled open the door, and slid into the driver’s seat. Water splashed everywhere as I flipped back the hood of the coat. The engine started right up and I waited a minute for the defroster to remove the haze that blurred the windshield. When I could see through the glass, I put the car in reverse and backed down the drive.

Mallory’s Prius pulled up across the drive opening and I jammed on the brakes, stopping inches from her car. The door of her car flew open. Leaving it running, she raced up the drive to my car, opening an umbrella as she ran. I rolled down the window, letting in a blast of cold, damp air, glad Mallory’s umbrella kept the rain out of my open window.

“I just heard what happened. Where do you think the body is?”

Her words puzzled me. “What body?”

“Mike’s body. A friend of a friend called me just now. There’s something on the news too. Heard it while trying to get the weather, like that matters.” Excitement made Mallory’s conversation bounce all over, like a pinball after it hit the flippers. “The reporter said a body went missing from the morgue over the weekend. No names, but it’s Mike’s body.”

My lone cup of coffee did backflips in my stomach. It couldn’t be Mike’s body. Maybe I wasn’t awake yet and this was all a dream. I pinched myself and winced from the pain. Random thoughts tumbled over in my brain. My fingers tapped on the leather steering wheel. “Are you sure?”

I glanced at my watch. Eight o’clock. The coroner’s office opened at eight. “County offices were closed yesterday.” My eyes locked with Mallory’s. The certainty I saw there made my heart clench. I knew better than to ask her what “friend” called her. The word was code for someone she couldn’t talk about.

She pulled her head back from the window and raised the umbrella slightly. “I gotta go. My office lot will be flooded if this rain is into Islamorada.” Her hand touched my shoulder. “Call me, let me know what you find out.”

When I raised the window, my thoughts turned to Dana. If that story got to her, she would be frantic. And rightfully so. I fished my phone from my handbag and left myself a voice note to call her when she wouldn’t be getting ready for work. Then I backed out of my drive.

The whole story about the missing body bothered me. Reporters fact-checked their stories. They had to. I flipped through the radio news stations and heard nothing about a problem at the morgue.

I was peering through the fog on the Long Key Bridge when I remembered Mike’s will directed cremation. That explained the missing body. The body left for the crematorium. A skeleton shift worked the morgue on weekends. I winced at my choice of words. Someone made a mistake.

The drive to work was awful. In some places, the puddles held almost a foot of water. Despite the lousy driving conditions, most of my attention was tuned to Mallory’s story. By the time I pulled into my parking spot at the office, I managed to convince myself the entire thing was bogus. The body was released. It was the only thing that made sense. The timing worked with a funeral service next weekend. The decision made me feel better. I pulled up the hood of my raincoat again and made a run to the front door.

Ruth sat behind her desk.

“Weather made you late.”

It sounded like a statement, not a question. I answered with a smile and licked a stray raindrop from the edge of my lip. “Gotta get my face on, didn’t want my mascara around my chin from the humidity. Then I need a few minutes with Grant. What’s his schedule like?”

“Busy. I suggest naked.”

My head reeled back as if she’s struck me. I couldn’t believe she made the comment.

Ruth’s face turned a deep red. “I mean…Well, I was talking…” she stuttered. At last she said, “I meant see him before you put on your makeup.” The words came out in a rush.

“Thank God, I’m much too wet to strip.” I tried to play along with the joke, but her words unsettled me. Grant and I only recently started dating, although many thought we’d had a long-term personal as well as professional relationship. That wasn’t the case. We were still sensitive to appearances. For that reason, most of our time together was on his boat, and I was training him to scuba dive.

“Grant has been impossible. Maybe you can calm him down.”

Our boss often got in around six in the morning. When he had something of importance, he expected everyone else to figure it out and be there too. He wanted company. Or solace. Or both.

I stopped at my office long enough to shed my coat, handbag, and briefcase. Then I crossed the space to his door and double knocked. He shouted at me to come in. I did. The chaos in his office shocked me. The drapes were closed against the storm. Two glowing desk lamps provided the only illumination. Papers were tossed everywhere. One of the file cabinet drawers hung open, sprouting files like jagged teeth. He glanced up at me.

“What happened? Did we get robbed?” My arm swept a wide arc over the room.

He stared at me with wild eyes and ran both hands through his already rumpled hair. He seemed more like a mad professor than a calm, collected lawyer. His hands shook. He moved them from the desk to his lap.

“Mike Terry’s body is missing.” He got up from his desk and started an agitated pacing, skirting the papers scattered around the room.

“And that made you pull your office apart because…”

“Not now, Hayden. I’m serious.”

A calmness washed over me. I’d thought this through. Now I had to find the words to explain it to him. I walked to the drapes and pulled them open, then I returned to his side and lay my hand on his arm. “Grant, that can’t be. Mallory greeted me with the same news this morning.”

I led him to the tiny conference area in his office and guided him to a seat on the couch. I waited, willing my calm to seep into his agitation. His eyes looked at me with the intensity of a drowning man. I put both my hands on his shoulders. “Grant, calm down. He can’t be missing. Who would call to look for the body over a holiday weekend?”

“I would. And it was first thing this morning.”

Grant’s words chilled me through the warmth of my sweater. My fingers dug into the nubby beige fabric of the couch cushion. I leaned forward. “You’re kidding me. Why?” The words came out in a hiss.

He responded with a shake of his head. “Dana wanted to schedule the cremation this week. She called me on Sunday. I arranged with the funeral home yesterday to have the hearse pick up the body today at eight thirty. I called this morning to arrange for the release. It was about six o’clock, maybe six thirty.” He dropped his head and ran both hands through his hair. “Someone named Eric told me they didn’t have the body.”

My thoughts jumped to the obvious. “They didn’t say they lost the body, they said they didn’t have it.” That made a huge difference to me. “Sounds like someone else authorized the release.” Names passed through my mind like a flip chart. Dana, Devon, or less likely, Jake. Kristin? I didn’t think so. Lisa? I winced. I still hadn’t told Grant about my run-in with her yesterday or the restraining order. The words that burbled to my lips died unspoken.

“They said the body couldn’t be located. And his final rite authorization only named Dana and me. Dana wouldn’t have asked me to do it if she already had.” He waved a hand as if he anticipated my next question. “The morgue worker told me cold chamber 25 was unoccupied.” His words were more chilling than the term.

“What about the funeral home?” I reached for the phone. “Did you call them?”

“The morgue had no record of releasing the body.” His eyes searched mine as if looking for an answer.

“Weekend worker?” There had to be a simple explanation. My head spun. I’d spent most of the drive to work this morning convincing myself Mallory was wrong.

Grant’s face lost a shade of its ruddy color. “Eric, the attendant, assured me he would keep looking and was calling in extra staff to help.”

My mind filled with images of someone performing the search. I’ve never been in the morgue. My experience was limited to TV shows. “Did you call Dana?”

The look he shot me gave me the answer. I hoped he didn’t make the call my assignment. I pointed a finger towards my chest and squeaked, “Me?”

For the first time since I came into his office, the storm clouds lifted from his brow. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that. Hell, I don’t want to do it.”

I sighed in relief and sat silent trying to figure out how to help.

As if reading my mind, Grant said, “There’s nothing we can do now but wait. I’m going to try to concentrate on the Ramsey depo. The case is convoluted enough to distract me. I’ll call the morgue again if I don’t hear from them.”

I returned to my office and grabbed the makeup from my handbag. Then I headed for the restroom and some face painting. Chilled at the thought of Mike’s missing body, I hugged my arms around me.

Like Grant, I spent the rest of the morning working on other matters. The wind and rain continued to beat against the windows. The morning never lightened beyond twilight. I pulled my drapes. Mike’s missing body depressed me enough.

Ruth tapped on my door. She told me she wanted to skip lunch and leave for the day.

She lived in a low-lying area. If she stayed at work, she might be forced to abandon her car and wade through the puddles to her house.

I wished her a safe trip and followed her to the reception area to put the phones on night service so they would ring throughout the office. Through the glass of the front door I saw that two of the parking spaces had water up to the bumper tops.

I went to Grant’s door and tapped lightly. He answered with something that sounded like a grunt. I told him about the ponding and suggested we close for the rest of the afternoon. The weather wasn’t a hurricane, but it was an unusual downpour.

He scowled. “You can leave if you want to.”

His attitude took me by surprise. “Did you hear from the morgue?”

He glanced up and met my eyes. “Sorry. I’m being a bastard. No. They’re supposed to call me.” He glanced at the art deco aviation clock on his desk. “I figured I would wait until after lunchtime. How the hell many bodies can be in that place that they could lose one?” Frustration tinged his voice. Tension poured off him.

“I’ll go to the morgue on my way home. See if there’s any progress. A body can’t walk out. Mike must be there.” I didn’t want to think about where else he could be.

Grant snapped the pen he held between his hands. “What are you going to do? Search alongside them?” He reached for the phone, punched the speaker, and hit redial. A woman answered and Grant asked for the ME.

She paused.

“He’s not taking any calls.”

Something about her tone seemed familiar.