“No hidden float?” Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Then what’s our next move?”
“Ours?”
“Last I checked I’m still a Keasling.”
She popped the lid on the Coke and pulled a long drink.
“Me, you, and Lanny.”
Sandy sank to the couch and kicked off her flip-flops.
“Sea Urchins forever,” her brother added.
“Cut the crap, Jake. Like you care?”
“Blood ties. If I had my pocket knife handy we could slice our pinkies and mingle blood and swear undying loyalty.” He patted his T-shirt — no pockets. He rested his hand over his heart. “From the bottom of my most important organ, I care.” He added a grin. “Second most important organ.”
She shook her head.
“Come on, Sandy.”
“Come on, Jake.”
They stared at one another.
Sandy drained her Coke.
Jake sauntered to the dart board on the wall beside the couch and removed the four darts. He backed up. Positioned himself facing the board. Facing the couch. He transferred one dart to his right hand. Paused. “You might want to get off the couch. I’ve got a lousy aim.”
“I know,” she said. Unmoving.
“Your funeral.”
“Go ahead.”
He squinted, cocked his arm, and let the dart fly. It hit the wall above the board, bounced, and dropped to the floor.
Jake retrieved it and resumed his position. “Do over?”
She sighed. “What do you want?”
“Practice.”
“I’m not talking darts.”
He said, “I’m not talking darts, either. I’m talking about you and me practicing being family. Team Keasling. So we can figure out what to do next.”
“About what?”
He lifted the dart. “About some scary shit going down?” He aimed. “About your guest getting poisoned yesterday.”
She tensed.
“Your guest being the mysterious diver who Lanny mysteriously supposedly stole a float from.”
She’d been waiting for Jake to bring this up. He’d taken almost a full day to get to it. She assumed he’d been trying figure how he could play it to his advantage. She assumed he had the angle now. She waited for him to name a price.
She said, “What do you want, Jake?”
“Be nice to stop looking over my shoulder. How about you, Sis? You look in the fridge and wonder if the leftover pizza is poisoned?”
“I throw out leftover pizza.”
“Not even a little freaked?”
“Freaked, no. Cautious, yes.”
He threw the dart. It hit the arm of the couch, impaling itself. “Good idea about being cautious.”
She said, “Leave it alone.”
“How am I supposed to get better?”
“I’m not talking darts, Jake.”
“Oh darn. I was, this time.”
“There’s nothing to gain. You might think you can trick me into telling you something. Not gonna happen. Give it up. I don’t know what happened to the diver.”
“Sure you do,” Jake said. “Anchovies! You’re a Keasling. Keaslings do anchovies!”
“Not anymore,” she said.
“It's in the blood!”
“Not poisoned anchovies.” She pushed herself up off the saggy couch, suddenly weary, wondering if she could keep up the effort. Her limbs felt like they were weighted with wet sand. She moved heavily to Jake. She grabbed his left hand and plucked two darts from his grasp. She turned to face the board and threw a dart.
It speared the triple ring, twenty-point section.
“Wow,” Jake said. “You’re in practice.”
She eyed him. “I live here. You don’t, anymore.”
He faced her. His coppery eyes gleamed, and narrowed. “Way to cut to the bone, Sis.”
“You want to move back in? Plenty of room. Rent’s three hundred a week.”
“That what you charge Lanny?”
“I give Lanny a discount.”
“That’s fair.”
“Yes it is. He shouldn’t be living on his own. You know that. He’s been saving up his wages. He wants to buy a boat.”
Jake hooted. “Captain Lanny Keasling.”
“It won’t happen. Doesn’t hurt to let him dream.”
“There’s the bottom line. Let’s all protect Lanny and his dreams. Let’s be sure he gets the biggest slice of the pie, while we’re at it.”
“You got your share.”
“I live in a shitty condo. I pay my own mortgage. I pay all my own bills. Lanny kick in for utilities here? Lanny buy the groceries?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Why Sis, I’m just a little fucking tired of Lanny always sucking up the sun.” Jake spun and threw a dart. It hit the board, the double ring.
Sandy said, softly, “I know you are.”
Jake froze in the process of aiming his last dart. “Say what?”
“I know you’re feeling second rate. I’m sorry. What would you have me do? About Lanny.”
“Stop wiping his ass.”
She suddenly felt close to tears. She would dearly love to stop wiping Lanny’s ass. Stop cleaning up his messes. Stop it all. She said, “Would you like to take over?”
Jake let his throwing arm fall. “Christ Sandy, you really know how to take the righteous out of a guy’s argument.”
She laughed, a short bark.
He tapped his dart hand against his bare thigh. “So. You think he’s in big trouble, this time?”
“Don’t you?”
“How would I know?”
She walked across the room and hitched herself up onto the billiard table. That’s all it was good for anymore. She regarded her brother. He was the best-looking of them all, even with the ridiculous green hair. She’d often thought his good looks were a curse, making life so easy for him he never felt the need to try. Grudgingly, she had to admit that wasn’t the only thing that messed up Jake Keasling. He was second rate, in their parents’ eyes. Didn’t work hard enough, didn’t show proper respect for the right things. Whether that was cause or effect of their parents’ judgment, it shaped him. And when they died, and she took over the estate and had to manage her brothers’ inheritances, she’d treated Jake the same way. As a screwup. And he played the role to a T.
And here he stood playing at darts. Playing at whatever the hell he was playing at.
She said, “You want to know why I brought Joao Silva to the cave, Jake?”
His eyes widened. “Joao. Aren’t we Miss Portuguese Speaker.”
“It’s his name.”
“Get a little intimate, did you?”
“You want the story? Or do you want to play the fool?”
“Whoa, hard choice. Hmmm. The story.”
She nodded. Smart choice. When it came to playing the angles, Jake always made the smart choice. She said, “I wanted to find out if what I thought I saw, I really did see. Which was Lanny taking something red out of Joao’s dive bag, on board my boat that day. When I confronted Lanny, he denied it. And that pissed me off. And worried me.”
Jake nodded. She saw that he got it. Lanny was an innocent. Lanny didn’t tell lies.
Except, he did.
She continued. “So I tracked Silva down and talked him into coming back here. Told him I had his dive gear. Brought him to the cave. Scared him shitless about being an illegal. Fed him, watered him, dumped the porta-potty. Asked him about the red float.”
“And?”
“And he played dumb.”
“So you got pissed and poisoned him.”
She said, carefully, “What would that gain me?”
“A diver who can’t talk. Who can’t report being kidnapped and held hostage by Sandy Keasling.”
“A diver,” she said, “who now can’t tell me what kind of trouble Lanny’s gotten himself into.”