Didn't matter. I knew.
CHAPTER 32
We headed back to Morro Bay and as Tolliver guided the Breaker through the harbor mouth we watched the water.
It was innocent of jellyfish.
We passed the beach, where gawkers were taking photos of the empty water. We turned a right hook into the channel and I spotted a TV news truck driving the waterfront road. We passed Tolliver's favorite cafe and there were gawkers taking photos of the channel water — innocent of jellyfish here too, now. It did not seem to matter. There had been an event, and people came.
When we reached the end of the channel, where it began to widen into the back bay, Tolliver skewed the Breaker toward shore. He parked at a long wide working dock, in front of a barge-like boat bristling with cranes and equipment lockers.
By the time we'd disembarked and clambered up a short stairway onto the dock, Fred Stavis was there waiting.
“Heck of a day,” Stavis said.
“A terrible day,” Tolliver replied.
“Will this take long? Need to tackle that baby.” Stavis jerked a thumb at the dock, where a huge compressed-air tank sat on an equipment rack.
“You'll have time for us.”
Stavis's mouth quirked into a tight smile. “You want to go up to the office?”
The dock gave onto a bulky two-story building sheathed in weathered planks, a workshop-style building.
I studied Fred Stavis. He wore the ubiquitous camo pants, along with a white oil-stained T-shirt. Working clothes, but for the familiar sockless boat shoes. I thought, suddenly, he's going for the Oscar Flynn cool-guy look. Making it his own, with his awkward Stavis style.
“Here's fine,” Tolliver said.
“If it's good for you, it's good for me.”
“This shouldn't take too long. Ms. Oldfield has a question or two for you.”
Stavis turned his tight smile on me. “Haven't seen you since that night at the dunes. Boy oh boy, huh?”
I said, “We've just been at the Diablo nuke plant. That was a real boy-oh-boy.”
“Oh yes. That. It's already on the news.”
“We parked at that dock in the intake cove. You know the dock, right?”
He took a moment. “Why do you ask?”
“We learned about the anti-fouling jacketing of the pilings. And I recalled that you told Walter and me, out at Morro Rock, about the jobs your company does. Like installing piling wraps. So here's my first question — did you do the job at the Diablo dock?”
“We've done that kind of job. Matter of fact, one of my vessels is up the coast at the Cayucos pier right now doing a jacketing.”
“I'm talking about the Diablo dock.”
“Okay, sure. But, uh, why ask about that?”
“Because a marine scientist who was there with us discovered a recruitment plate attached to the dock. It collects samples of the organisms in the water, including polyps of moon jellyfish.”
“Oh yes?”
“Did you install the plate?”
“Good golly, never heard of a recruitment plate. We just did the jacketing.”
“Did Lanny work that job?”
“Um, it was a good while ago.”
“Might we check your records?”
“No need. Now that I think about it, Lanny did work that job.”
“Did he ever refer to moon jellyfish as devil moons? Diablo means devil in Spanish.”
Stavis just stared at me. Then he shifted position, facing the boatyard next door, angling his body away from me and directly facing Tolliver. “Doug? Like I said, I'm busy. I don't know where she's going with this but I answered. Can we wrap this up?”
Tolliver said, “You didn't answer her question about devil moons.”
“That's because it's an absurd question.”
“Answer the damn question, Fred.”
“No. All right? You know how Lanny is. If he was talking about 'devil moons' who knows what he was talking about? I sure don't.”
“Where is he?”
“Home? It's not one of his days with me. And I need to get back to work.”
“Mr. Shaws has a couple of questions for you now.”
Stavis's face pulled into a you're-kidding-me look. He let out a loud sigh and angled slightly to face Walter.
Walter got straight to it. “I presume in your work you have occasion to use buoys and floats?”
“Yes, sure. Obviously.”
Walter opened his cell and tapped the screen to pull up the photo of the red float and passed the phone to Stavis.
Stavis looked, shrugged, returned the phone to Walter.
“This morning, Cassie and I found that float buried in the dunes. More or less where you were last week, as you mentioned.”
“Oh yes?”
“The history of the float is interesting. Joao Silva, the diver Sandy Keasling rescued last week, had the float. Lanny took it from his dive bag. Lanny eventually buried it in the dunes. A puzzle.” Walter rubbed his chin. “Would you have any idea why Lanny would take that float? And then hide it?”
“You got me.”
Walter cocked his head.
“Look, the floats we use are standard polyform. Standard colors — yellow and orange.”
“This float was the standard yellow, but somebody painted it red. Specifically, somebody used a granular pigment — a red iron-oxide pigment. Would you be familiar with that sort of marine paint?”
Stavis appeared to give it some thought. “Sounds like an anti-corrosive.”
“That's what I thought. But the binder in the paint is slowly soluble in water. And let me add that there is no biocide in the mix, so it's not an anti-fouling paint.”
“Well, it wouldn't be. Not without a biocide.”
“So we're left with a red iron-oxide pigment and a temporary adhesive. Does that make sense?”
“Not to me.”
“Would someone ever use such a paint in a marine environment?”
“Can't see why.” His eyes flicked again toward the boatyard.
This time, we all turned to look.
It was a fenced lot with barrels and drums and winches and hoses and ropes and a big overhead crane holding up a cabin cruiser with a crumpled hull. A cinder-block building with a red tile roof had a sign that said Morro Marine. I realized this had to be the place Sandy mentioned in regard to the replacement of the damaged rub rail on the Sea Spray. And now that I was looking, I noticed the Outcast at anchor in front of the boatyard — Tolliver had said that Donie's boat would be moved to a storage dock. Aside from that tingle of recognition, I didn't get what was so interesting to Fred Stavis over there.
Tolliver said, “You seeing ghosts, Fred?”
Stavis gave a little jerk. “What?”
“You keep looking over at the Outcast. Thinking of Robbie?”
“Why would I be thinking of Robbie? I was watching for Jorge. He borrowed a tarp from me and I need it.”
Walter said, “Mr. Stavis, you didn't answer my question. I'll rephrase it. How would my mysterious paint be used in a marine environment?”
Stavis wiped a line of sweat from his forehead. “You know, I'm just wracking my brain but I can't come up with anything helpful.”
Walter said, “That's a shame.”
“Then let's come at it this way,” Tolliver said. “What other things are this red oxide used for?”
“The production of steel,” Walter said.
“And as a pigment in cosmetics,” I said, having read over Walter's shoulder. The female, I thought wryly, being the one to notice it.
“Hey,” Tolliver said, “how about fertilizer? My azaleas were dropping leaves and the nursery said it was iron deficiency. Sold me a special mix.”
Stavis laughed. “I don't have a green thumb and I don't use makeup so all I can suggest is the anti-corrosive. And now I'd like to get back to work.”