I had debated giving Lanny that bit of case-related information. I decided that I needed to give something in order to get something.
He sealed his lips. Not giving anything.
I gave a little more. “We believe Robbie Donie anchored there, at some point.”
Lanny’s clasped hands tightened. “Did you find Robbie?”
Same question your brother asked, I thought. I said, “No.”
Lanny broke into a smile. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Is it?”
“That means Robbie’s not dead down there.”
“All it means,” I said, striving for a kindly tone, “is that we didn’t find his body.”
Lanny’s smile died.
I waited for him to ask the next obvious question. He didn't. I answered anyway. “What we did find was a monitoring instrument cage. You know anything about that?”
Lanny shook his head, hard.
“It seems the sort of thing Jacques Cousteau would set up. Keep watch on the ocean.”
Lanny said, “Jock is dead.”
I nodded, in sympathy. “The thing is, that cage is a likely site where the yellow float originated. You know the float I’m talking about? You remember — the other day on your beach I showed you the photo on my cell phone. And Walter explained that we found the float in a hiding place that Donie used.”
Lanny said, “Oh.”
“And then, if you’ll recall, we explained that the diver you and Sandy rescued — Joao Silva — had a dive bag with a similar float, only colored red.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know about it.”
“Well,” I said, “here’s the thing. I think maybe you do know. Because I believe I saw you take the red float from the dive bag and put it in your duffel bag.”
“Don’t call me a thief.”
“I’m not. A thief steals something for gain and I don’t think you were doing that.” That was a hair-splitting definition but I wanted to make the distinction. I added, “I think you’re a good man who was trying to help somebody.” That was true; I did think that. “Maybe protect somebody, like the diver?”
Lanny’s brown eyes moistened.
I thought then of the poisoned sea lion on our beach, eyes so large and brown and full of pain and fear. And Silva the poisoned diver on the Keasling beach, eyes wild and full of pain and fear. And Lanny looked at me now with something in his eyes akin to that. Fear, pain, distress. Guilt? If I were kinder, I would tell him it’s okay, never mind, let’s drop it and you can tell me about that bluesy rock concert.
Instead I said, “That's why Walter and I came to your beach the other day. To ask you about the red float. And then, after the diver got poisoned, you disappeared and we didn’t get the chance.”
Lanny blinked back the tears.
I pressed, “And then that night, at the dunes, I got the chance to find out where you hid the float.”
“No.”
“I think yes.”
“You followed me.”
I said, brusquely, “Look Lanny, when I found you up on that dune you were wearing a pack big enough to hold a two-foot long float. There was a trowel in the pack’s side pocket. Are you going to tell me you didn’t dig a hole somewhere on the dune and bury that float?”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
I nearly laughed. “Well thanks for being honest about it.”
He whispered, “It’s hard.”
“What’s hard, Lanny?”
He shook his head.
“Is it hard keeping a secret because you’re trying to protect somebody? And you don’t like keeping secrets? I don’t blame you. That is hard.”
“I didn’t say any of that.”
“Is it Fred Stavis you’re trying to protect?”
Lanny flinched.
“I mean, Fred showing up at the dunes, saying he followed you because he was worried about you… That sounds like two guys who have each other’s backs.”
“He's my boss.”
“I know.”
“And he’s my friend.”
“Is he?”
“Yes.”
“So what was the trowel for, Lanny?”
“It was just in my pack.”
“Oh, right, from the sand-castle building. Okay, let's brainstorm. You went out to the dunes because it’s pretty at night. And you brought the trowel in case you needed a pit stop.”
Lanny went red.
“Look, I know about bathroom necessities in the outdoors. I hike, I backpack. I use a trowel. Is that why you brought the trowel to the dunes?”
He went redder. “I don't do that.”
“No?”
“You're not supposed to bury…that…in the dunes.”
I waited. I'd shocked him into protesting what he would not bury. I pressed, “Then what did you bury in the dunes?”
“Nothing, I didn’t, you shouldn’t, didn’t you see the fences, don’t you know about not walking on little plants?”
I hadn't seen any fences. But I sure planned to look.
I said, “Did you bury the float in a fenced area, thinking nobody's going to trespass there and find it?”
He shook his head.
“Okay, let's go back to that day on your beach. To the poisoned diver. You got very very upset and you said something. You didn't mean to say it out loud but you let it slip — the way we say things when we’re shocked and not being careful. Do you remember what you said?”
He shook his head.
“You said I broke it.”
He was mute.
“What did you break, Lanny? Something on that instrument cage at Cochrane Bank? Maybe something that released a float? The yellow float that Robbie Donie found? Or maybe there were red floats there, too… Like the red float Joao Silva found?”
“I didn't break any floats.”
“Well then what did you break?”
He sealed his lips.
“Damn it Lanny, you're such a big protector of the dunes, of the sea, you idolize Jacques Cousteau, you’re so proud of your nickname Sea Urchin, you live right here on the ocean’s edge. You worry about that sea, don’t you? Well you should. Because I saw something this morning that sure worried me. Let me tell you what I saw, when Walter and I and Detective Tolliver went diving at that site on Cochrane Bank. I saw a dying kelp forest, I saw a graveyard where sea animals were gray and shriveled, I saw water full of dying plankton that came down from a huge algal bloom on the surface. You know anything about all that?”
He shook his head, hard.
“And I saw a lot of jellyfish.” Saw, hell, I got wrapped in jellyfish.
He was silent.
“They're called comb jellies. I googled them. They thrive in polluted waters.”
“I don't know about jellyfish.”
“Well sure you do. You pulled Joao Silva aboard after he got stung by a purple-stripe.”
“That's all I know about jellyfish.”
I thought, you protest too much. I wondered why. I said, “I've heard that jellyfish are becoming a problem. What do you think?”
“I don't know.”
“That night we went to the dunes, did you see all the jellyfish in the channel?”
He shook his head.
“Really? There were jellies that looked like fried eggs and blue flowers and see-through saucers…”
“Moons,” he said.
“Moons, yeah, that’s what they looked like. Guess that's why they're called moon jellyfish.” Aurelia aurita, on Dr. Russell's slideshow. “It's weird that you didn't see them, there were so many. Pretty, but a little creepy too. You know? Like…”
He whispered something. It sounded like devils.