Uh oh, thought Carol, as Greta and Ellen moved in around her. I’m surrounded. Captain Homer started to pick up the sealed envelope on Julianne’s counter but Carol stopped him.
“If you don’t mind, Captain Ashford,” she said firmly, taking his hand off the envelope and putting the photos under her arm. She lowered her voice. “I would like to talk to you privately.” Carol nodded her head at the two women. “Can we go out in the parking lot together for a minute?”
Homer’s beady eyes squinted at her. Then his face broke into the same obnoxious, lecherous smile that Carol had seen on the Ambrosia. “Certainly, my dear,” he said. He shouted to Greta and Ellen as he walked out the door with Carol, “Wait here. I’ll only be a minute.”
Necessity is the mother of invention, Carol thought to herself as she led Homer Ashford out the door. So invent, bitch. And now. As in this moment.
They walked up the steps to the parking lot. Carol turned to Captain Homer at the top of the steps with a conspiratorial look on her face. “I can tell that you’ve figured out why I’m here,” she said. “I didn’t want it this way, I thought it would make a better story if nobody knew what I was doing. But you’re obviously too clever for me.” Homer grinned foolishly. “But I would ask you to tell as few people as possible. You can tell your wife and Greta, but please nobody else. The Herald wants it to be a surprise.”
Homer looked puzzled. Carol leaned over and almost whispered in his ear. “The entire Sunday magazine section the fourth week in April. Isn’t that unbelievable? Working title, ‘Dreams of Being Rich,’ stories about people like you, like Mel Fisher, like the four Floridians who have won over a million dollars each in the lottery. On how sudden income changes your life. I’m doing the whole piece. I’m starting with the treasure angle because of its general interest.”
Carol could see that Captain Homer was reeling. She knew she had him off guard. “Yesterday I just wanted to check your boat quickly, see how you lived, see how it would photograph. I freaked out a little when you recognized me so fast. But I had always planned to go out with Williams first.” Carol laughed. “My treasure-finding equipment from MOI faked him out. He still thinks I am a genuine treasure seeker. I almost completed my whole interview with him yesterday. I only came back today to finish a couple of small items.”
An alert went off in Homer Ashford’s system when Carol talked about faking out Nick Williams. Homer wasn’t certain he believed this smooth reporter’s story even now. He mused to himself that her story was plausible, but there was still one big unanswered question. “But what is Williams carrying around in that bag?” he asked.
“That,” said Carol, sensing his distrust, “is nothing.” She raised her eyebrows and laughed again. “Or almost anyway. We pulled up a worthless old trinket yesterday afternoon so I could photograph the salvage process for the story. I told him to have it appraised today. He thinks I’m an eccentric. He must be keeping it hidden in the bag because he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want anybody to see him with it.”
Carol lightly hit Captain Homer in the ribs with her elbow. He shook his head. Part of him realized he was being told a very clever lie. But somehow enough of it made sense that Homer couldn’t pierce the deception. His brow furrowed for a moment. “So I guess you’ll want to talk to us when you’re through with the other two . . .”
At just that moment, unbeknownst to Carol, Nick and Troy drove into the marina parking lot. They were still slightly drunk and silly. “Lawdy, lawdy,” said Troy, spotting Carol and Captain Homer in conversation, “I believe my eyes have screwed up. They’re sending a picture of a beauty and a beast to my brain. It’s Miss Carol Dawson together with our favorite fat captain. Now what do you suppose they’re talking about?”
“I don’t know,” said Nick, bridling instantly, “but I’m damn sure going to find out. If she’s double-crossing us . . . .” He pulled the car quickly into a parking place and started to jump out. Troy reached across and restrained him.
“Now why don’t you let me handle this one?” Troy said. “Humor may be just the right ticket here.”
Nick thought for a moment. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “I’ll let you go first.”
Troy walked into view just as Carol and Captain Homer were finishing their conversation. “Helloooo, angel,” he said from forty yards away, “what’s happening?”
Carol held her hand up in acknowledgment but didn’t turn around to greet Troy. “So that’s 2748 Columbia, just beyond the Pelican Resort, at eight-thirty tomorrow night?”
“Right,” replied Homer Ashford. He nodded his head in Troy’s direction and started to leave. ‘We’ll be ready for you. Bring plenty of tape, for it’s a long story.” He made a peculiar clucking sound with his mouth. “And plan to stay for a little party afterward.”
Homer was already halfway down the steps when Troy walked up beside Carol. “Hello, Captain Homer. Good-bye, Captain Homer,” he said quietly, still playing the comic. He leaned over to kiss Carol on the cheek. “Hi there, angel . . .”
“Yuch,” Carol pulled her cheek away. “You smell like brewery. No wonder I’ve had to look all over town for you two.” She saw Nick coming toward them across the parking lot. He was carrying the exercise bag. She raised her voice. “Well, Mr. Williams, what a pleasant surprise. How nice that you and your brother here could climb down from your bar stools long enough to keep our appointment.” She looked at her watch. “My, my,” she said in her most sarcastic voice, “we are certainly fashionably late. Let’s see, if one waits fifteen minutes for a full professor, how long does one wait for a fake professor?”
“Knock off the bullshit, Miss High and Mighty,” Nick said, responding angrily to her barbs. He joined Carol and Troy and then caught his breath. “We have a few bones to pick with you as well,” he continued. “Just what were you doing talking to that asshole Ashford?”
Nick sounded threatening. Carol recoiled. “Listen to him,” she said, “the typical macho male. Always shifts the blame to the woman. ‘Hey bitch,’ he says, ‘forget I’m late, forget I’m an arrogant bastard, it was your fault anyway . . .’ ”
“Hey, hey . . . hey,” Troy interceded. Carol and Nick were glowering at each other. They both started to speak but Troy interrupted them again. “Children, children, please,” he continued, “I have something important to say.” They both looked at him. Troy raised his arms for quiet. Then he adopted a stiff pose and pretended to be reading. “ ‘Fourscore and seven years ago, our forefathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation . . .’ “
Carol cracked up first. “Troy,” she said, smiling despite her anger, “ you are something else. You are also ridiculous.”
A grinning Troy punched Nick on the shoulder. “How did I do, Professor? Would I make a good Lincoln? Could a nice young black boy play Lincoln for the white folks?”
Nick smiled reluctantly and looked down at the macadam while Troy jabbered. When Troy was finished, Nick’s tone to Carol was conciliatory. “I’m sorry we were late,” he said in measured tones, “we forgot what time it was. Here’s the trident.”
Carol recognized how difficult it had been for Nick to apologize. She accepted gracefully with a short smile and a gesture with her hands. “You keep the trident for a little while longer,” she said after a brief silence. “We have a lot of other things to talk about.” She looked around. “But this may be the wrong place and the wrong time.”
Both Nick and Troy were giving her questioning looks. “I have some very exciting news,” she explained, “some of which is here in your copy of the pictures that I developed this morning. Bottom line is that the telescope picked up an infrared signal coming out of the fissure from some kind of large object or objects.” She turned to Nick. “It may be more treasure. We can t be certain what it is based on the images.”
Nick reached for the envelope. Carol pulled it away. “Not here, not now. Too many eyes and ears. Take my word for it. What we have to do now is make plans. Can you two take me out again tomorrow morning early and be prepared to salvage objects possibly as big as two hundred pounds? Of course, I intend to pay for chartering the boat again.”
“Wow,” whistled Nick, “two hundred pounds! I can hardly wait to see the pictures . “ He was sobering up rapidly . “ We’ll need to borrow a dredger and — ”