The Body in the Boat Page 9

  Underneath, he wore old-fashioned swim trunks with horizontal stripes and a tight-fitting, black shirt.

  “You sure you’re going to be warm enough?”

  He looked down at his attire. “It was the best I could do. Don’t want to get bogged down by layers.”

  She did her best to help him “gear up” which mostly consisted of him shrugging on a vest that had been a life jacket in its former life but he’d made into a buoyancy compensator device. It was made of thick, rubbery material with bladder pockets glued on for positive buoyancy.

  Next came the old propane tank turned dive tank. Black tubes like tentacles snaked from it to the bladders on his vest.

  He squatted low in the boat, distributing his weight, and she helped lift it so it nestled between his shoulder blades. Homemade straps made of the same material as his vest wrapped around the tank and his shoulders like a backpack.

  She eyed it warily. “Looks corroded.”

  “Just a little exterior rust.” He turned around, facing her, and nearly toppled backward. After he’d regained his balance, she helped strap the front.

  “Will, this duct tape wasn’t here before.”

  “It’s fine. Just needed to reinforce the straps.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he’d already snapped the clasp closed and was shuffling back to his seat.

  For weights, he wore a belt with bricks tied to it. They were knotted in such a way as to allow for a quick release. All he had to do was tug on them, and they’d drop off, hopefully after he drained his vest of air, allowing for a smooth ascent to the surface.

  Ella dug around and brought up his mask, handing it to him. It dug into his forehead and refused to go any further.

  “That’s strange,” he muttered. Tugging it off, he adjusted the straps then slipped it back on. “Must be the temperature changes messing with the rubber.

  Once the mask was in place, he teetered on his feet, his arms outstretched.

  “How do I look?” Even through the mask, the pride in his voice was evident.

  “You ever see Creature from the Black Lagoon? No? Then, you look great.”

  With each step he took, the boat rocked, forcing both of them to sit. He shifted awkwardly, trying to figure out the best way to get into the water.

  “You could just roll off the side,” she suggested.

  His lips pinched together in concentration, and a chocolate lock broke loose from his slick-backed, patent leather hair. Finally, he nodded, grabbing the homemade mouthpiece that looked like it had come from an old snorkel. It, too, was connected to the tank.

  She turned the knob on the top of the tank, watching the welded-on gauge beside it.

  After testing the air flow, he pulled the mouthpiece out so he could talk. “I’ve tested the gear underwater in a feed tank. It should work. If all goes well, I’m estimating to be down there no longer than five minutes—just enough to test the equipment—before I come back up. I’ll check in then dive down again and search the sediment like Chapman wanted.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I think you’ll be limited by the temperature, though.” She eyed his sole layer of clothing then the dark water.

  The excitement in his eyes was infectious, dampened by their purpose for being there. The first dive underwater was like discovering a new world, being an explorer in a new frontier.

  But they were there to look for clues of a man’s murder.

  He shot her a tight smile. “Very well. Here goes.”

  With a grace only a dashing inventor from 1920s Chicago could muster, Will splashed over the side of the rowboat. It rocked heavily, and her hands scrambled for purchase.

  The moment the danger of swimming with the fishes passed, she leaned out as far as she dared.

  Treading water, Will gave her a thumbs up then deflated the bladders in the vest. The water surface bubbled as slipped beneath it. His chocolate hair floated around his head like a halo before the shadows swallowed him.

  Ella’s stomach knotted as she pulled her cell phone out and kept an eye on the time, splitting her attention between it and the inky water. If his prototype was successful, maybe he could build a second one for her. If she was going to have a recreational activity in Keystone, she much preferred diving underwater over sailing through the air.

  Across the water, the Romani had pitched several tents in a circle at the park with the carts and animals around the edges. Several of the wagons seemed to double as living quarters.

  Children darted around, chasing each other from the water to the forest then back again.

  Some of the adults had taken to bathing in the lake. Ella grinned, hoping she’d be there when the sheriff found out.

  The moment of levity quickly faded as she looked back at the agitated surface five feet out from the boat. Her reflection stared back, flushed from the cold, eyes full of concern.

  Ella glanced at the clock. It had been six minutes.

  Her hands fidgeted for something to do. She assured herself that if there had been trouble, he would’ve popped back up. Maybe he’d found something in the muck.

  Suddenly, the trickle of bubbles became a boiling storm. Her hand’s gripped the sides of the boat as she waited for him to surface.

  Another minute passed, feeling like an hour. Ella tore off her jacket and kicked off her shoes. She had one toe in the frigid water when his head broke the surface.

  Ella grabbed her chest. “What happened? You nearly made me get my hair wet.” She pointed at her curly hair. “Do you know what that would do to this? I’d look like Flo.” Despite her joking, her heart hammered in her ears.

  Will spat out his regulator and floated on his back.

  Ella’s adrenaline kicked back up. “Will? What’s wrong? Did you run out of air?”

  Her foot dangled over the edge of the boat again, and she reconsidered her decision not to dive in. Reaching behind her, she scooped up one of the oars and held it out to him. The moment his hand closed around it, she reeled him in—only a little too aggressively.

  His head hit the side with a thump.

  “Oops, sorry about that. And that.” His head had hit the side again. “Probably should wear a helmet next time, am I right?”

  When he didn’t respond, her unease grew. She did her best to help him clamber aboard. Water slopped everywhere, including part of her. He tore off his mask off.

  “Will?”

  “I’m okay, El,” he sputtered finally.

  “What happened?”

  A crevasse formed between his brows. “There’s another body.”

  CHAPTER 10

  ELLA stood on the dock next to Sheriff Chapman, watching Will row Pauline to the center of the lake. Before going to the station to notify the sheriff, Ella and Will had tied off a fishing bobber to one of his diving weights and marked the spot.

  “You didn’t touch it this time, did you?” Chapman asked.

  “No.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  One of her eyebrows quirked up. “What? No.” They lapsed into a silence that lasted a whole five seconds. “Well, maybe eighty percent not, twenty percent disappointed.”

  “Hm.”

  “Sixty-fifty.”

  Water lapped at the pylons underneath.

  “Fine, fifty-fifty.”

  “Three bodies in just under a month,” Chapman said, his voice slow and thoughtful, “and you’re somehow there for every one of them.” She could feel his eyes shift to her.

  She winced. When he phrased it that way, even she began to have doubts about her innocence.

  “So, this isn’t normal for here? That’s a relief. For a little bit there, I was worried I got stuck in a town with enough murder and mystery, it’d send Scooby Doo running with his tail between his legs.”

  “Who—”

  “Talking dog that helps solves mysteries.”

  “The dogs talk where you’re from?”

  She waved away the question. “Also, I resent the impli
cation that I somehow have something to do with this. First of all, this is a skeleton. Second of all, Will found it. Not me. Third, he was also there when Kay died—and with me when we discovered Stan, as a matter of fact.” A fact that she was just now realizing. “Wow. Maybe he and I shouldn’t hang out? That’s really bad karma. I mean, not to throw him under the bus or anything.” She shook her head to stop from rambling. “My point is, clearly we both have bad luck.”

  He was silent, turning back to the boat. From this distance, Ella could tell Will was trying to convince the coroner to don the diving gear. A few minutes of this went by before he began hefting the equipment on and splashed into the water himself.

  Ella wished she’d gone with them but there hadn’t been enough room for three people, and the sheriff didn’t want to borrow another boat.

  Her stomach growled, complaining about the fact that it was nearing noon and all she’d consumed was half a loaf of banana bread—something she’d pay for later.

  Turning, she glanced at the back of Grandma’s Kitchen and began tapping her foot on the dock. This was taking longer than it had a couple days before, and she was late for work—again. Also, the fact that she had another similar experience to compare this with was concerning on a whole other level.

  “It doesn’t make sense. Think this could be a dumping ground for a murderer?” The question was rhetorical, something she needed to process aloud. “A serial killer,” she added softly.

  “Could be. Nothing much about this makes sense.” Frustration edged his tone.

  She could tell he was used to things black and white, no convoluted gray mess to wade through. If a man died, there was usually someone holding a smoking gun.

  He ran a finger over his mustache. “I bet you hear a lot working at Wink’s, don’t you?”

  Ella considered the strange question. “Sure. I hear a lot about a lot of things, mostly stuff I never wanted to know. For example, did you know Betty can’t process dairy? And Mr. what’s-his-face with the tattoos on his head, he fancies wearing skirts every now and again?”

  Chapman stared at her a little too long, took in a slow breath, and swore. “I swear, Miss Barton, one day I’ll get used to talking to you.”

  “But today is not that day, am I right?” She shot him one of her best grins which he promptly ignored.

  “Alls I was saying is, small town like this, word travels faster than a lightning strike. And it probably goes right through that diner.”

  Ella nodded slowly. Just by the nature of her job, she’d been privy to several private conversations, ones more serious than bowel movements and clothing preferences. “I suppose.”

  “Since you can’t seem to stay outta trouble, might make some use of you.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, keep your ears open. Don’t go nosing around, mind you, but if you happen to overhear anything, you’ll let me know, yes?”

  Out in the water, Will broke the surface of the lake, putting something long and skinny and very much like a femur into the rowboat.

  A small part of Ella was offended the sheriff felt the need to ask. Of course, if she heard anything more than just the rumor mill working overtime she’d tell him—anything pertinent to crime or dead bodies, that is.

  “I will.”

  “Just be careful. Ears only. I don’t want you sticking your nose into anything that might get you hurt—again.”

  Ella faced him, studying his sharp profile and gray hair. “Aw, I was right. You do like me.”

  His mustache twitched. “Naw, I just don’t want another body to deal with.”

  “It’s okay. You can admit it. You’re soft on me—”

  “No.”

  “You see me like the daughter you never had but always wanted—”

  “Spawn. Almost as bad as Six.”

  Her hand tapped his back before giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. “It’s okay. Your secret’s safe with me, you ol’ softy.”

  Ella burst through the front door of Wink’s diner, and the bell jingled merrily overhead. She rushed over to the soda fountain where Wink was mixing ice cream and root beer.

  “Sorry,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. She leaned in close to Wink’s blue hair.

  “Dear, you’re breathing on my neck.”

  Ella lowered her voice. “Will and I found another body—a skeleton—in the lake.”

  Wink’s hands froze on the lever for the ice cream dispenser. “What?”

  One of the gentlemen sitting at the lunch counter cleared his throat. “How ‘bout it, Wink? I’ve been waiting for half an hour.”

  “And you can wait another minute. It’s not like you need the calories.” She stared pointedly at his soft arms and cheeks. His skin flushed, and he muttered something about the service in the place going downhill.

  Ella’s eyes darted around at the handful of patrons. “Not now. I’ll tell you in the kitchen.”

  By the time Ella had finished tying her apron, the kitchen door swung in.

  “Okay, give me the scoop,” Wink said without missing a beat.

  Ella quickly filled her in on her and Will’s lake venture that morning. Horatio listened in, flipping patties and twirling his spatula like a baton.

  “Think whoever did it is the same person who killed Stan?” he asked.

  Ella shrugged. “It’s possible. But we’re all assuming that this person was down at the bottom of the lake for nefarious reasons, myself included. But who knows how old the skeleton is? Maybe it was an accident. A drowning a long time ago.”

  “Perhaps,” Wink said. She fed Chester a peanut, and his tail swished from atop his perch on the ancient refrigerator. “Or maybe it was more recent, and the elements broke down the tissue faster.”

  Ella tilted her head, considering her theory. She had no idea how long it took adipose tissue to decompose in cold waters, but Pauline would. “Look at you, Nancy Drew.”

  The fryer sizzled as Horatio dropped thick slices of potatoes in it. “It’s definitely too strange to be a consequence.”

  “Coincidence,” Ella added. He shrugged.

  “Well, if you find out anything,” Wink said, “let me know. I have to get going.”

  She made a chittering noise, grabbed a peanut, and held it over her shoulder. The squirrel jumped from the fridge, his flannel shirt flying behind him like a cape, and landed on her shoulder, his presence alone probably breaking a dozen health code violations.

  Ella picked up a knife and began to chop lettuce. “Where’re you headed?”

  “Got a meeting. I’ll be back in an hour.” After grabbing a handful of nuts, she slipped out the back door. The hinges squealed as it slammed shut.

  Ella stared at the chipped paint on the wood, wondering what that was about. Maybe Flo knew why Wink had been dodgy lately.

  “Got cow feed with the rainbow here,” Horatio said. He sprinkled crushed hazelnuts and raisins over a salad before handing it off to her.

  With the ticket in one hand and the salad in the other, Ella swung into the diner, trying to read the table number on the ticket.

  She stood in the middle of the checkered linoleum floor for a couple of minutes before giving up on deciphering the hieroglyphics that was Wink’s handwriting.

  “Got a salad here. A trout hazelnut salad.” No one answered. “I mean, cow feed with the full rainbow.”

  A hand crept up from one of the booths. Ella stiffened as she approached the table and came face-to-face with the unpleasant, blonde-haired woman who’d been collecting signatures with Stan outside the diner the day before he died. When she spotted Ella, her mouth puckered as if she’d sucked a lemon.

  Ella resisted the urge to dump the plate in her lap, instead, setting it down just hard enough to cause a cherry tomato to jump ship.

  “Oops,” Ella said without the slightest hint of a sincerity.

  Today, the woman’s sheet of hair was rolled into a French twist, her makeup as expertly done as Rose’s. She
looked down her nose at the salad, stabbed at a leaf of lettuce, and nibbled it like a small rodent.

  “You better not be here collecting signatures,” Ella said.

  “Of course not.” A sickly sweet smile spread over the woman’s face.

  Ella considered her range of retorts, but there wasn’t a single one that didn’t get her fired. She settled on a lengthy glare then left to check on another table. She’d made it two steps before the woman called out.

  “I think you forgot my water.”

  “It’s right there.” Ella pointed at the iced water on the table.

  “Yes, but I wanted a lemon.”

  “Fine. I’ll get you a lemon.”

  “I need new water, though. This has been sitting too long.” Her nose wrinkled. “It smells like the sewer.”

  You would know.

  Without a word, Ella grabbed the water, making sure a few drops sloshed over the side, then disappeared into the kitchen.

  Grabbing a lemon, she slid a butcher knife from a block and chopped it clean through the fruit in one slice. The knife hit the board with a thud.

  “Hey, watch it. You’re getting lemon on my lasagna.”

  She apologized to Horatio then took one of the halves and dropped it into the same cup of water. Marching back into the diner, she deposited it on the table. She crossed her arms and stared.

  “W-what is this?”

  “What? You asked for lemon water. I gave you lemon water. I fail to see the problem.” She left for the safety of the kitchen before the woman could demand anything more. Two minutes later, Ella’s conscious got the better of her, and she returned to the table with fresh water and actual lemon slices before ducking back into the kitchen.

  “Who is she?” Ella huffed to Horatio.

  “Who?”

  “That blonde-haired ice queen.”

  Horatio’s thick eyebrows rose up, and he peered through the pass-through. “Hm, don’t know. I’ve seen her mostly around Stan. They used to eat here together all the time.”

  “Was he having an affair with her?” She hated how presumptuous the question was but she just didn’t have the energy to care.

  “Probably. Stan didn’t seem like the type that stayed with one woman for long.”