“No shit. I’ll show ’em to you when we get back.”
It took us almost forty-five minutes, but we finally docked at Skeeter’s. The wizened man came sauntering out, eyeing the boat for possible damage. There wasn’t a spot on the boat that wasn’t damaged. Dinged up, banged, bruised, and battered, the body still held together. All of the damage had been done long ago.
“Them fellas find you?”
“Oh, no, don’t tell me,” I couldn’t believe it yet I could. “Them fellows?”
I knew right away who it was.
“Let me guess.” I stood there in front of him and told him exactly what had happened. I knew it before James or Em did.
“Two guys asked about us, where we were going, said they were supposed to meet up with us and you told them exactly where we were going and that we’d rented the metal detector, right?” I’d bet two million dollars on it.
“Yeah.” Skeeter had a wide grin on his face, so proud of himself that he’d turned us in.
“So they found you.” The grin exposed two missing teeth in the front.
“Oh, yeah.” James nodded his head, his arm around the lovely Amy’s waist. “They found us.”
“Well, I’m gonna guess that you are done with the equipment?”
“We are,” James said.
“Skeeter, I’d like to rent this detector for the next several days.”
James spun around and stared at me.
“Full-day rental?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I guess I can do that. Prepaid with a credit card or cash?”
James hauled out the overheated plastic and handed it to Skeeter.
“You boys should have just brought one with you, like your friends.”
“The two guys? They had their own?”
“Did,” he said as he swiped the card. “I’m surprised they didn’t show it to you. Same make and model.”
The Harley was in the parking lot, a dusty black one with a gold fender. There was no question who was out at Cheeca Rocks looking for gold.
“Show us the coins, amigo.”
In the truck I pulled the two pieces from my pocket, and handed them to James.
“So much crud on them, it’s hard to tell.”
“Coral encrustation.”
“Don’t get technical on me, bro.” He turned the key.
I knew right away that I’d been dissed. James didn’t believe there was any value.
And again he turned the key, and turned the key.
“Open the hood.” I climbed out of the truck.
“You don’t know the first thing about an engine.” James’s face was getting red. He was not a happy camper.
“Open it.”
He pulled the lever from inside. “Didn’t we just put a new battery in this damned truck?”
“We did. That’s why I want you to pop the hood, James.”
I lifted the white metal and stared at the oil-soaked engine and the new battery. Somehow the red cable had come off of the brand new battery. I slipped it back on, twisting it to make sure there was contact.
Climbing back in, I said, “Turn the key.”
After two tries, the engine fired.
“Okay, what did you do?”
“Somehow the cable came off the battery.”
He nodded. “I think the guy at the garage knew what he was doing when he replaced the battery. So there must be another explanation.”
“I think we know the other explanation.” I motioned to the motorcycle, down the row from us.
Em pushed me toward the door. “Let me out for just a moment.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
She pulled the new metal nail file from her bag. Of course the modern, well-equipped woman carries not only a.38 caliber revolver with her, but also a heavy-duty steel nail file.
Sliding out, she moved past me, and as she brushed up against my thigh I could smell the suntan lotion she’d applied, mixed with a slight odor of sweat. I was in love.
Walking to the black cycle she took the file and shoved it into the rear tire. Harder and harder, twisting.
“Em. What the hell?”
Now she had two hands on the file, forcing, twisting, pushing.
“Girl,” Amy shouted out from the backseat, “what are you doing?” There were notes of fear and anger in her voice. “That’s someone’s property for God’s sake. You can’t just-”
Em turned and shot her a cold glance. “I could ask you the same question. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She took a deep breath. “With other people’s property?”
Amy drew back, recoiling with a little fear.
“But I’m lady enough not to interfere with your multiple boyfriends and your marriage and maternal status.” She turned her head sharply, looking back at her work so far.
A second later she looked back at Amy with a burning, smoldering look. “Please, kindly shut up and let me finish.” She drove that blade, peeling off rubber, striking, digging.
Amy didn’t say another word. And I could see in his eyes that James was torn. Em had ripped his new, married girlfriend, the girl, who was my sidekick in the brief dive expedition. But she, Em, was standing up for me, for James, and for the truck. There was a lot to be said for that.
Em twisted that sharp piece of metal, turned it over and over again, and finally the file snapped in her hand. She turned to me with a defiant look, then a smile spread across her face.
“I got through.”
“Yeah?” I walked over and bent down. Half of her brand-new file was embedded in the rubber tire.
Very faintly I could hear the thin hiss as air escaped the tire.
“But now you’ve got to buy another file.”
“Uh-huh. But this time I’m charging it to Mrs. T. She’s the reason we’re here, right?”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Driving north, there was dead silence from Amy.
I pointed to the jewelry store on the left side of the highway. It was a white building with blue trim and a blue neon bird above the door.
“James, The Blue Heron Jewelry Shop.”
“What?”
“Pull in. Let’s have somebody look at these coins.”
He had a smirk on his face. “Pard, I seriously doubt if those ugly things are worth much. If anything.”
“Humor me, my friend.”
Cutting across traffic, he drove into the parking lot.
“Do you know, Skip Moore, that in the years that we’ve dated you have never invited me into a jewelry shop?” Em sounded a little peeved. “You’ve never even suggested that we look at anything.”
“Well, I-”
I wasn’t sure what the insinuation was. I didn’t have the kind of money to be able to afford jewelry. I mean, with Em it was pretty much pizza, a movie, and a sweater or a CD for her birthday or Christmas. Maybe a good book, but forty or fifty bucks was about my limit.
Amy kept silent. Since the dustup with Em she hadn’t said anything. I glanced at her, but she kept her focus straight ahead.
The four of us stepped out of the truck.
Walking into the little shop, I was immediately taken with the emerald fish, gold birds, and silver sand dollars that adorned the shelves. Rings, pendants, and bracelets sporting jewel-encrusted crabs, conch shells, and pelicans were laid out on soft velvet inside glass display cases. Maybe this is what Em had been hoping for. Everything was sparkling and elegant.
“Cheesy,” she said.
It was a good thing I hadn’t bought her jewelry. She wouldn’t have liked anything I would have picked out.
“Can I help you?” A soft lilting voice broke the silence.
The guy was dressed in a tux shirt with an honest-to-God hand-tied bow tie.
“Do you appraise old gold coins?”
He smiled.
“Of course.” His voice almost condescending.
“Well, we found what appear to be coins while we were diving and wondered if they had any value.”
“Oh, how exciting. We just love old gold coins.”
“We’re not sure they’re gold, but-” I had my reservations about this guy. “So you’ve had some experience with-”
“Sir,” he held his hand up, “we are in the diving capital of America. Of course we’ve had some experience.”