“You're welcome. And I'll confirm your ninety-nine. Can't argue with the evidence.”
“That's refreshing,” Tolliver said.
“I made a mistake. I was just trying to handle things. So yes, I admit that I had Joao move the body. And yes, I agree that he must have panicked and returned for the float. But none of that changes the fact that Robbie's death was an accident.”
Walter scratched his ear. “Mr. Stavis, I'm not implying that the red float proves you killed Robbie Donie.”
“Then what in hell is the point of it?”
“It proves motive.”
“For what?”
Walter indicated the unopened paper bag. “For this.”
Stavis turned to Tolliver. “Did we not just finish with Robbie?”
“We did,” Tolliver said. “Now we're discussing your Joao Silva problem.”
Stavis lifted his palms.
“You were afraid Silva was going to talk.” Tolliver's voice was tight; he was making the effort to remain composed. “After he fled the hospital, you and Oscar were, as you put it, in a pickle. It took you until the next day to figure out that Sandy was hiding Silva. You knew that cave, you'd played there with Sandy and the boys, as kids. So you waited for your moment and paid Silva a visit. He was still suffering from the jellyfish sting and was rattled by Sandy's interest.” Tolliver paused. “Yes, Fred, I had a chat with Sandy today too. On the record.”
“She lies,” Stavis said.
“I don't think so. I think you, the big boss, told Silva to keep his mouth shut and then you told him chin up, playing the good guy. You'd brought him a treat. His favorite? But the anchovies were contaminated with domoic acid. Your boss had a supply in his lab.”
“I don't know anything about that.”
Tolliver opened the bag and removed the stack of clamshell food containers and slid them across the table toward Stavis.
Stavis gave a little jerk. And then laughed. “What's this?”
“This is courtesy of Lanny. He's a loyal young man. It took him a long while to even consider your role. He had a rough day yesterday — we all did. He had a big shock. And it shocked him out of his misplaced loyalty.” Tolliver showed a grim smile. “He went by your warehouse yesterday and got these. He knew where you kept them.”
“So? Yes, I keep picnic supplies on hand.”
“Don't have many picnics, though? Too busy? And those supplies last forever, right? At least, your foam trays have — they're way out of date. That model was discontinued five years ago. You can find a similar model at Costco — not all that different, just a modification of the fastener. I wouldn't have noticed but my techs are eagle-eyed. Bottom line, Fred, your discontinued-model foam tray was used to serve Joao Silva poisoned anchovies.”
“No.”
“Frederick Stavis, you're under arrest for the murder of Joao Silva, and for obstruction of justice in the concealment of Robert Donie's body.”
“No. No.”
“And I'll advise you that a reckless endangerment charge is pending for your role in the development of venomous jellyfish at the Diablo Canyon dock.”
“Doug.” Stavis shook his head. “This isn't right. You know me. You've known me all my life.”
Very deliberately, Tolliver snapped off the recorder. “I knew Robbie Donie. Didn't like him but he was a citizen of my town. I knew and liked the citizens of my town who went for a swim. You, Fred? I don't want to know you.”
After Stavis had been removed, the four of us sat around Tolliver's table.
Drained.
Satisfied, that feeling of achievement that wells up upon solving a case, no matter the circumstances.
Adrift. Looking at one another. It's all over.
Walter cleared his throat. “What about the Keaslings, Doug? The legal ramifications.”
Tolliver let out a long sigh. “At the least, I have Sandy on harboring an illegal, I have Jake on the possession and discharge of an unlicensed firearm, I have Lanny on the theft of a boat.”
I said, “They all cooperated, in the end.”
“That they did. I could reasonably make a case for sentences of community service.” He looked up at his poster of the harbor, of Morro Rock. “Not sure the community can weather being served by the Keaslings.”
CHAPTER 52
We rose early.
We needed to pack our equipment and drop by the market to pick up fruit and something chewy, yet to be negotiated, and then drop by Peet's to fill our thermos for the trip back home to the mountains.
But outside it was sunny.
Walter said, “What do you say to a quick walk on the beach? Stretch our legs before the long drive?”
“I say yes.”
Walter opened the sliding glass door and we went out to the golden sand and the blue sky and the sea sparkling like mica.
Keep this up and we'd find an excuse to extend our stay.
We had the strand nearly to ourselves.
It was low tide — incoming — so we took off our flip-flops and edged down to the wet sand and headed south, for no reason other than that direction gave us a splendid view of Morro Rock.
The sand molded to our feet and the sun warmed our backs.
We came to the eroded remains of a sand castle and, beside it, a child's orange plastic shovel. Walter picked up the shovel and tossed it to higher ground.
He didn't say it and I didn't bring it up but I was abruptly yanked back to a vision of the showy sand castle on the Keasling beach. If we reversed course and headed north we would in time come to the bluffs and the Keasling turf. I recalled Lanny's pride in the sand castle, and his boasting of the Keasling childhood nickname. Suitable name, I thought — the Sea Urchins. Prickly, brightly colored, eye-catching. But you wouldn't want to pick one up.
We remained on our southerly course.
Up ahead, a small group was gathered around something in the sand.
We drew up and I nearly shouted stand back but there was no urgent need of the warning.
The group gave the jellyfish some space.
It was about the size of a fist, flattened in the sand. Translucent — grains of sand visible right through it. It was hardly recognizable as Aurelia aurita, but for the clover-leaf pattern in the center of its bell. So pretty, even in death. A harmless-looking saucer.
“Over there, like, here comes another one!” A teenage girl in the group pointed down the beach.
We looked.
A small wave sent a lip of water onto the sand and deposited another gelatinous disk.
The little group started for the newcomer.
I said, “Stay back.”
Walter was already on the phone with Tolliver, and then he was on hold, and then when Tolliver came back on the line Walter put the phone on speaker.
Tolliver was saying, “I'm getting other reports. She says looks like they're all dying. She says their stingers can still hold venom — I'll be sending my people to collect them but meanwhile keep everybody away. She says Flynn engineered a fast-growth gene, he was hurrying up the moons, he wanted to see the effects in action — the sonofabitch — but she says his notes say the side effect is likely sterility so those polyps at Diablo might be the last generation. We can only goddamn hope.”
Walter said, “By 'she' I assume you mean Dr. Russell.”
“That's right, Violet Russell, she's here with me now.”
“Here, where?” I asked.
After a moment he answered, “Fresco Cafe.” And then in the background he was speaking to a waiter, “We'll take it with us,” and then he came back to us to say, “Every time I order olallieberry pie these goddamn jellyfish interfere.”