Treasure-Hunting Tales

Bess, Delia, and I stumbled from our cars, all talking at once. “What!” “You’re kidding!” “Where?” “What’d you find?”

“Shhh! I guess I shouldn’t be talking so loud,” George cautioned, lowering her voice. “I don’t think Lucy and Diego want everyone on Key Largo to know about it. But it’s so cool!”

That was for sure. I was dying for more details, but George was already shooting back up the stairs to Delia’s balcony. The rest of us scrambled after her.

As soon as we were inside in the living area, Bess dropped onto the couch. “Is this private enough? Or should we check for listening devices?” she joked, feeling under the cushions.

George was so worked up that she didn’t even have a comeback. “Four gold bars. That’s what we found. And a bunch of gold coins—fifty-three, to be precise. Lucy and Diego and I counted them.” She sank onto the couch next to Bess and hugged one of the pillows. “Diego says it’s worth over fifty thousand dollars. And that’s just the beginning. I mean, the rest of the treasure can’t be far away, right?”

“Wow! It’s like a dream come true,” I said, climbing onto one of the stools next to the kitchen counter.

“I knew all their hard work would pay off,” Delia added. “I can’t wait to tell St—”

She stopped in the middle of saying Steve’s name. All of a sudden she looked a lot less excited.

“Steve?” George said, finishing Delia’s thought. She was so psyched about the Catarina ’s treasure that she didn’t notice Delia’s discomfort. “Can you believe he said he didn’t think we’d ever find the treasure? He’s totally going to eat his words.”

Delia’s cheeks turned an uncomfortable red. Turning away from George, she stood at the kitchen counter and flipped through the mail she’d grabbed from her mailbox on the way up from the driveway.

“What?” George shot a confused glance at Delia. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

“Um, something happened while you were out on the Scout,” I began. “We saw Steve.”

“In a red motorboat... with a scrape on it,” Bess added.

George blinked, and I could see some of her excitement fade. “Uh-oh,” she said.

Delia kept her eyes on the mail while Bess and I told George about seeing Steve—and about our visit with Mrs. Manning.

“So it was the same boat as yesterday, huh?” George said when we were done. “Do you think Steve was...”

“Poaching? No way,” Delia said firmly, looking over the kitchen counter at us. “Once Steve gets back, he’ll be able to explain.”

I had a feeling she was waiting for us to agree, but I just couldn’t. If Steve had such a great explanation, why was he avoiding Delia’s calls?

“Oh, never mind. I’m going to change,” Delia said. With that, she headed down the hall to her room. The sound of her bedroom door shutting echoed in the living room until George finally broke the silence.

“She must feel awful,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I mean, if Steve was driving that boat, he must be the guy who took those butterfly orchids, right?”

“It’s a strong possibility,” I agreed.

“His mother definitely has orchids on the brain,” Bess pointed out. “She had some gardener working overtime, planting a bunch of new ones in her greenhouse. There weren’t any butterfly orchids, but...”

“But maybe that’s just because Steve lost the ones he poached when they fell over the back of the boat yesterday?” George guessed.

“Maybe,” I agreed. The theory made total sense, but there was a nagging doubt that stuck like glue to the back of my mind. “I just wish I knew where Chick Russell got the butterfly orchids he was selling at the flea market today. Do you think he and Steve know each other?”

“Wait a minute. Back up,” George said, glancing from Bess to me. “Chick was selling butterfly orchids? What else did I miss?”

We told her everything—from our trip to the flea market, the Shell Emporium, and Chick’s houseboat, to finding the scrap of T-shirt fabric near the tree that had been stripped of butterfly orchids.

“So we don’t know where Chick got his butterfly orchids,” Bess finished. “But that blue fabric could definitely have come from Steve’s shirt. Remember he was wearing one when—”

She looked up in surprise as Delia came back into the living room. She had changed into capris and a bright pink scoop-necked T-shirt. It seemed as if she was trying to brighten her mood, too, because she smiled at us and said, “Can we please stop talking about Steve? It’s all just guesswork until we talk to him in person. Anyway, I’d much rather hear about the Catarina. ”

George glanced uncertainly at me. She and Bess know how hard it is for me to let go of a mystery once I get started. But I could see that Delia needed cheering up.

“Sounds good to me,” I agreed. Turning to George, I said, “What was it like to find those gold bars? Did they look different after sitting at the bottom of the sea for almost four hundred years?”

“I still can’t believe you found them at all,” Delia added, sinking into a chair by the couch. “Where were they?”

George hesitated. “Lucy and Diego made me promise not to say where we found them,” she began.

“Even to us?” Bess said indignantly. “But I’m your cousin! What about blood being thicker than water and all that?”

“It’s just till they’re sure they’ve found the mother lode,” George said quickly. “Then they’ll be able to put out a marker to show they’ve found a hot spot. You know, treasure from one of the old wrecks.”

“Treasure hunters use two red buoys to mark a hot spot,” Delia explained to Bess and me. “Other salvage boats will honor the marker and keep at least three hundred feet away so that whoever found the sunken cargo can work the site without other people crowding in.”

“The Salazars let me dive, too,” George said excitedly. “It was so cool. I mean, at first the gold just looked like old rocks covered with seaweed and barnacles and stuff. But then Diego and Lucy used this blower...” She shook her head in amazement. “Once the sand came off, you could see that it was gleaming.”

Listening to George seemed to help Delia take her mind off Steve. To be honest, Bess and I were totally caught up in hearing about the gold too. I had to keep pinching my arm to remind myself that George was talking about real treasure.

“So the Salazars didn’t put out the marker?” Delia asked.

“Nope,” George said, shaking her head. “They want to make sure they’re close enough. Otherwise, some other salvagers could move in and find everything first. Lucy and Diego want to wait and see what happens tomorrow.”

“Imagine seeing those gold bars just sitting there at the bottom of the sea,” Bess said dreamily. Then she sat up suddenly and said, “Hey! Are they on the Island Scout now? Can we see them?”

“Sorry,” George said, shaking her head. “The Salazars left, and I’m pretty sure they took the gold with them. At least, they said they were going to keep it safe.”

Getting up from the couch, she walked over to the glass doors that led to Delia’s balcony. The sun had already sunk below the horizon, and darkness was falling over the marina. “Tomorrow’s going to be the big day. I can feel it,” George said, gazing at the Island Scout. “Diego ran a new scatter pattern on the computer, based on where we found those gold coins and bars today. They said I could go with them again and—”

“Hold on,” Bess cut in. “You’re going out on the Scout again?”

George shot a surprised glance over her shoulder. “Haven’t you been listening? They’re about to find a huge treasure. Worth millions, maybe! How could I not go again? You guys should come too. Diego and Lucy said you could.”

“What about the stolen orchids?” Bess wanted to know. Getting up from the couch, she joined George next to the sliding glass doors. “We’ve got to talk to Steve, and find out more about Chick Russell.”

Talk about a touchy situation. Bess looked totally convinced that she was right—and George looked just as sure that she was right. The two of them just stood there facing off while Delia and I watched uneasily.

Finally Bess pulled George out onto the balcony. “We’ll be right back,” she said over her shoulder to Delia and me.

I couldn’t hear their conversation, but I had a pretty good idea of what they were saying. Until George suddenly whirled around and said, “Nancy... Delia! Come quick!”

There was an urgency in her voice that got me moving fast, and Delia was only half a step behind me.

“Check it out.” George pointed to where the Island Scout was docked. At first all I saw was the black silhouette of the boat against the dark gray evening sky. Then I spotted it—the glowing yellow flicker of a flashlight beam inside the boat’s cabin.

“Someone’s sneaking around inside the Scout!” I said.

Break-in!

“We’ve got to do something!” George gasped. “I mean, what if the Salazars didn’t take the gold when they left? What if it’s still on board?”

I was already heading for the balcony stairs. Behind me, I heard Delia say, “Shouldn’t we call the police? Whoever’s there could be dangerous!”

She was right about that, no doubt about it. But there was no way I could stop my feet from running toward the Scout. I guess you could say I’m physically incapable of standing still when I come across trouble. I’m hardwired to do something about it. And that flickering flashlight beam definitely looked like trouble to me.

“I’ll be careful,” I called back over my shoulder. That was when I noticed George behind me, her sneakers crunching on the gravel as she ran. Bess and Delia were still on the balcony. From the quick glimpse I got, it looked like Delia was talking into her cell phone.

“Hear that?” George muttered, as we got closer to the Scout.

I heard it, all right. Whoever was inside wasn’t trying very hard to be quiet. There was a lot of banging and crashing, and the flashlight beam jerked around wildly.

“The Salazars’ equipment...” I said under my breath.

“That idiot could be destroying it!” George picked up her pace and shot past me, pounding across the dock.

The person inside the boat must have heard her, because the flashlight beam suddenly shined out one of the cabin windows—straight at us.

“Hey!” George paused, blinking into the glare.

Then the light blinked off, and we heard a mad scrambling inside the cabin.

“Quick—before he gets away!” I cried.

We were on the deck in a flash. The cabin door was ajar, and George and I flung it wide and ran inside.

“Ow!” George cried, stumbling forward. She hit the cabin floor amid a chaotic mess of metal detectors and oxygen tanks and papers. I saw a flicker of movement in the shadowy darkness beyond George, and then the door on the other side of the cabin banged shut.

“Hey!” I cried, jolting forward. I barely made it past George when I heard a loud splash outside the closed door.

“He’s swimming away!” George grimaced, rubbing her shin. She must have seen me hesitate, because she said, “Don’t worry about me, Nan. I’m fine. Just go after him!”

It took me only a couple of seconds to yank open the door and get outside. But when I leaned over the railing, all I saw was gently rippling water where the person had jumped in.

Come on, where are you? I wondered.

I scoured the nearby water for any sign of movement, but the marina was a patchwork of boats and docks and buoys, all shrouded in shadows that blocked my view. To make things worse, the steady murmur of voices on the patio of Gaby’s Seafood Grille mixed with the sounds of gulls and water lapping against the dock. If someone was swimming, the sounds of it were lost among all the other noises.

“Do you see him?” George asked, limping up next to me. “He can’t have gotten far, or—”

Vroom!

The sound of a gunning engine pierced the darkness, making us jump. The next thing we heard was the squeal of tires coming from somewhere near Delia’s house. We ran to the front of the boat in time to see a truck zoom past Delia’s house before it made a screeching turn and disappeared around a corner. Standing there, listening to the fading sound of the engine, I felt like a deflated balloon.

“I guess we better check on the damage,” I said.

Bess and Delia found us inside the Scout a minute later. “Whoa,” Bess said, looking around with horrified eyes. “Whoever that was really tore this place apart. Do you think he was looking for the gold?”

“Seems like a good guess,” I said. George and I had already started to gather up the metal detectors, tools, buoys, and scuba equipment. Talk about total chaos. Every shelf and cabinet had had its contents ripped out and thrown to the floor. Maybe that was why I didn’t notice the computer screen right away. But George sure did.

“Uh-oh. Whoever that was tried to log on to the Salazars’ computer!” she said.

When I looked over, I saw the message “Access Denied” on the Salazars’ computer screen in glowing red letters.

“So he wanted more than just the gold,” I realized. “Isn’t that the computer Lucy and Diego use to try to predict where the Catarina is?”

George nodded. She was already at the keyboard, typing in commands. “Looks like we got here before he could hack into the system and find out where we were today,” she said. She lifted her eyes just long enough to glance at Delia and Bess. “Did you two see who was driving that truck? I’m pretty sure he’s the one who did this.”

“The beat-up one that just tore out of here?” Bess glanced at Delia and shrugged. “There were patches of silver paint on it, but I didn’t see who was driving. Sorry.”

“Silver paint?” I echoed. That definitely rang a bell, and when I thought about it, I remembered why. “I think I saw that truck yesterday at Pennekamp. It belongs to—”

“Chick Russell!” Delia said, before I could finish. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. I guess I was too busy calling the police and Lucy and Diego.”

“Did you find out about the old coins and gold bars we found? Are they okay?” George asked.

“Diego said not to worry. It’s all safe, and he and Lucy are taking extra care to make sure it stays that way,” Delia assured her. “Actually, they should be here by the time the police arrive.”

Before we knew it, the Salazars and two police officers were crowding into the cabin of the Island Scout with us. Once we told them everything that had happened, the officers told us we were free to go. I had a feeling that meant they wanted us out of there so they could look the boat over for evidence—no easy job with four extra people hanging around.

“You usually hate being left out of the loop, Nancy,” Bess said, as we made our way back across the marina toward Delia’s. She arched an eyebrow at me. “No objections? No sticking around to see what clues the cops dig up? Are you feeling all right?”

“Actually, I was hoping to dig up a few clues of our own,” I told her. “Anyone up for a drive to Chick Russell’s houseboat?”

The Pelican Bay Trailer Park was a lot livelier at night than when Bess and I had been there before. People were hanging out near their trailers, talking, playing cards, and listening to music, while kids rode bikes and clustered in groups playing electronic games. A few heads turned curiously our way as we drove toward the houseboats along a road sparsely lit by streetlamps.

“Hmm,” Bess said, as I pulled our convertible into the empty spot next to Chick’s houseboat. The inside of the boat was completely dark. We looked up and down the row of parking spaces that ran alongside the docks, but Chick’s truck wasn’t there.

“What do we do now?” Delia asked, frowning.

George nodded at a middle-aged couple who sat on the rear deck of the boat right next to Chick’s. Both of them were staring right at us.

“We can’t sneak on board to take a look around,” George whispered. “Not with Mr. and Mrs. Busybody sitting two feet away.”

The neighbors kept glancing our way, and finally the man came to the railing and said, “Can we help you folks with something?”

Hmm, I thought. If these people were as nosy as they looked, maybe they could help us. Putting on my friendliest smile, I got out of our convertible and walked over to their boat. “Actually, we’re looking for Chick Russell,” I told them. “Have you seen him?”

“I don’t recall seeing you here before,” the woman spoke up. She looked over her glasses at me, then peered at Delia, Bess, and George in the car. “Are you friends of Chick’s?”

“More like acquaintances,” I said, wishing she’d stop giving us the third degree. “We’d like to, um, interview Chick. You know, for a kind of personal profile of a local businessman.”

It wasn’t a total lie. I mean, we did want to talk to him, even if the information was for solving a crime and not for any newspaper article. Luckily, they didn’t question my explanation.

“Is that right? Well, Chick is a born salesman, that’s the truth,” the man said, chuckling. “You never know what he’ll be selling next.”

“We saw corals this morning at the flea market,” Bess said. She, Delia, and George were all out of the car now, and they walked over to join me. “And orchids. Real beauties.”

“You don’t happen to know where he gets them, do you?” Delia added.

The woman sat back in her chair and shook her head. “It’s a mystery to me where he gets all that stuff,” she told us. “Every so often we see him carrying a crate of this or a bucket of that, but Chick doesn’t give a lot of particulars.”

No surprise there. If Chick was poaching, he wouldn’t exactly advertise.

“Anyhow, I guess you’d be better off asking him yourself,” the woman’s husband added. “Here he is now, as a matter of fact.”

A pair of headlights arced out over the bay as Chick’s truck pulled up next to our convertible. For a moment he sat behind the wheel, taking in the situation. When he finally got out, I saw Bess, George, and Delia all do double takes. Apparently they’d noticed the same thing I had—that Chick’s hair, sneakers, shorts, and shirt were soaking wet.

“Hello, Chick,” Delia said, eyeing him from head to toe. “Been out for a swim?”

If he was at all bothered by her scrutiny, he didn’t show it. He smiled broadly and said, “Well, this is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, ladies?” He didn’t answer Delia’s question, I noticed. But I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

“Someone broke into the Island Scout tonight, over at Rock Harbor,” I told him.

“Someone who jumped into the water to get away from us,” George added. “And then drove off in a truck that looks exactly like yours.”

Chick scratched his chin, seeming to consider what they had said. “The Island Scout? Is that some kind of boat?” he asked.

I caught the doubtful glances Bess and George shot my way. Could Chick really be so clueless? I didn’t think so. I noticed that he totally ignored the fact that we’d seen his truck there. And that his soaking wet clothes made him a suspect.

“Yes, it’s a boat,” Bess said patiently. “We told the police about seeing your truck there, by the way. And now here you are looking like you’ve just been for a swim in your clothes. I’m sure the officers on the case will be very interested to hear that.”

You can bet the couple on the neighboring houseboat were hanging on our every word. They didn’t even try to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping.

“What kind of journalists are those girls?” I heard the man whisper to his wife. “I thought they were going to ask about his merchandise.”

As Chick glanced at his neighbors, I saw the corners of his mouth lift in a smirk. Then he turned back to us and said, “Far as I know, there’s no law says a man can’t take a dip in his clothes. Now, if you journalists don’t mind, I’d like to go inside and take a shower.”

I couldn’t believe it. Somehow, Chick was twisting everything around to make it look like we were the ones with something to hide. Okay, maybe we had been busted misrepresenting our motives to his neighbors. But as far as I was concerned, Chick still had some serious explaining to do. I could tell Delia felt the same way.

“Actually, we do have some questions for you,” she said, stepping in front of him. “What were you doing on the—”

“Would you look at the time? Sorry, ladies, but it’s getting late,” Chick cut in. “Why don’t you stop by during business hours, and we’ll finish our little chat?”

Chick didn’t give us time to object. Grabbing his digital music player from the dashboard, he slammed the truck door, stepped past Delia, hopped onto the dock, and went inside his boat.

That left just us and his nosy neighbors. They were watching us like we were the hottest prime-time reality show on network TV. Too weird. So we got into our car and drove back down the winding drive toward Route 1.

“Does that guy ever give a straight answer?” Bess asked. “I mean, it’s obvious he’s the one who was on the Scout. ”

“His attitude really bugs me,” I admitted. “But we can’t let him get to us. We have to be objective if we’re going to figure out what Chick is up to.”

“Isn’t it obvious? He was trying to get the gold coins and gold bars we found today!” George said.

“Yes, but...” I took a deep breath, trying to make sense of all the thoughts and questions that kept popping up in my head. “How could Chick know about the gold in the first place? Until now we figured he’s probably poaching. Maybe even poaching on a pretty big scale. But stealing sunken treasure? Does Chick even know Lucy and Diego?”

I looked at Delia in the rearview mirror. “Hmm? Oh—not that I know of,” she said. But she was staring out the window, as if her mind was on something else. When I checked the mirror again, she was fishing around in her bag, and then I heard her pressing keys on her cell phone. She listened for a while, then hung up and tossed the phone back into her bag.

“Steve?” Bess guessed.

Delia nodded. “Still no answer,” she said, letting out a sigh. “I don’t get it. Why won’t he call me back?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. It seemed pretty clear to me that Steve was avoiding Delia. Up until now, she had been his staunchest defender. But now, as she stared out from the backseat, absently drumming her fingers against the door, I thought I saw a glimmer of doubt.