Double Dog Dare (The Raine Stockton Dog Mystery Series) Page 8

  When I could feel my shoulders start to burn, I took a break from the water and, at Melanie’s insistence, released Cisco to paddle around the boat with her. Since we were in barely four feet of water and there were other small boats nearby, I wasn’t concerned about either of them, and apparently Miles felt the same because after a time he joined me on deck, and we watched the two merry-makers in the water below us while he rubbed sunscreen on my back. I settled back in the shade of the awning over the helm, and he sat out on a towel in the sun.

  I glanced around at the other small boats swaying in the water around us, some of them close enough that I could hear voices. I said, “I don’t suppose we’re anywhere near the place where Rachelle Denison disappeared.”

  “The other side of the island.” Miles settled a baseball cap on his head and put on his sunglasses. His bronze shoulders, still damp with sea water, gleamed in the sunlight. I was glad we weren’t fighting anymore.

  “But if it’s a popular dive site, it’s probably just as crowded as this one.”

  “Usually.” He leaned back on his elbows and turned his face to the sun.

  “Miles, how do you suppose that regulator got wedged in a crevice?”

  “Anything can happen underwater.”

  I lifted my sunglasses to give him a meaningful look, but succeeded only in blinding myself with the bright sun. I let them drop to the bridge of my nose again. “You’re not being very helpful.”

  “I’m on vacation.”

  “Will you teach me to dive?”

  “Not this trip.”

  I confess, I liked the fact that he thought there might be other trips.

  “Why not?”

  He sat up, gazing over the side of the boat to look for Melanie, who had put her snorkel mask back on and was snapping pictures with her underwater camera. He needn’t have worried; I was watching her, as well as Cisco who treaded water beside her. “Because,” he said, “I have a feeling the main thing you want to know about diving is what a regulator is and how it could be tampered with.”

  Melanie surfaced and took of her mask, laughing. “Great pictures, Dad! The fish are swimming around Cisco’s feet!”

  “You’ll have to submit them to Underwater Magazine,” he called back to her. “Bet you win a prize.”

  “Cool!” She put her mask back on and ducked under the water again.

  Miles retrieved his phone from the bench storage compartment where he had left it, and began to scroll through his messages. I watched Cisco for signs of fatigue, but, like his human counterpart, he seemed to be having too much fun, snapping at the water and playing tag with Melanie, to get tired. I decided to give him a few more minutes.

  I turned to Miles. “So?”

  “So what?

  “What is a regulator and how can it be tampered with?”

  “The regulator controls the pressure of the air divers breathe.” He didn’t glance up, at least as far as I could tell. “When people talk about the regulator they’re usually referring to the mouthpiece they see the diver breathing through, but it has lots of parts. You want the whole run-down or the condensed version?”

  “Condensed is fine for now.”

  “So that’s it. It’s basically a pressure gauge attached to hoses. As for what can go wrong, almost anything. Turn the wrong valve and the whole tank can bleed dry in a matter of seconds.”

  “Causing you to depend on your dive partner to share his oxygen.”

  “Which is not a problem if your buddy has an octopus—a spare regulator—otherwise it can be dicey. Panic can hit anybody in an out-of-air situation, and if they refuse to return the regulator...”

  “Then you would have to do what you can to save yourself.”

  “Right.”

  “Do you have one of those spare regulators on your equipment?”

  “Sure. Most experienced divers do.”

  “I wonder why Alex Barry didn’t.”

  “Good question.”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “Because I’m on vacation.”

  I gazed meaningfully at the phone. “So what exactly constitutes a vacation for you, Miles?”

  He finished the text he was sending and turned off the phone, then leaned across and gave me a quick kiss. “We’re having drinks with Alex Barry this afternoon. Happy?”

  I was also surprised. “We are?”

  “You told me not to shut you out.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. That was another thing I liked about Miles. He was a fast learner.

  ~*~

  SIX

  We met at a place called The Harbor Club, which was reached via a shell drive lined with dolphin topiaries. There was a golf course-like lawn with a giant fountain and reflecting pool, and flower beds brilliant with red and yellow and bright pink blooms. The interior was a surprising contrast—lots of dark wood and ships’ wheels, deep green leather club chairs drawn up in intimate circles around polished mahogany tables. The floor to ceiling window in front of which we were sitting was shaped like a ship’s prow and had a magnificent view of the bay and the marina crowded with boats, but even it was coated with sun-darkening film so that we could see out but no one could see in.

  Alex Barry was a slender, gray-haired man with pale features and a small precise mouth that somehow gave him an air of distinction while at the same time making me not want to trust him. He had already claimed a table and he stood when we approached. His smile was pleasant but the way his faded denim eyes flicked over me, head to toe, reminded me of a snake’s tongue, and I took an unconscious step closer to Miles. I was actually glad to feel the possessive touch of his hand on my back. Already I knew why Miles didn’t like him. The word sleazy came to mind.

  Miles introduced us and Alex immediately ordered a round of drinks—a white wine for me, a refill of the scotch he’d been drinking, and, without asking, a club soda for Miles. So he knew him that well. But, I supposed, having once been his brother-in-law, he would. He settled back in the deep club chair, adjusting his jacket, and smiled.

  “So, Miles, still tea-totaling, I see,” he said. “One day that’s going to catch up with you, you know.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” returned Miles pleasantly. He added soberly. “I’m sorry about Rachelle.”

  Alex nodded, and for a moment he looked like what he was supposed to be—grieving, and in shock. He said thickly, “I am too.” He finished off his drink and met Miles’s gaze. “Susan told me she talked to you.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” replied Miles in a tone that was as even and direct as Alex’s. I liked the way these men did business, even if it was a little intimidating. And even if this wasn’t exactly business.

  As though reading my mind, Alex flashed me a quick, tight smile. “But no need to go into that right now when there’s a lovely lady at the table. That would not only be rude, it would be a crime against nature, wouldn’t you agree?” Without waiting for a response, he turned to me. “What do you do, Raine?”

  “I’m a dog trainer,” I told him. I wondered if he had ever met one of those before. I suspected that when other men, including Miles, introduced their girlfriends to Alex Barry, the names were generally followed by the word “model”, “actress” , “lawyer” or maybe even “CEO”. Not dog trainer.

  “Are you?” If he was surprised he didn’t show it, which was a point for him, I guessed. He picked up his glass again, realized it was empty, and set it down. “You should meet the fellow who works for me, Rick Chambliss. Great with dogs. That’s why I put him in charge of setting up for all our clients who have dogs.” He glanced around impatiently for the waitress.

  “I think I’ve met him, actually,” I said. “He was on the beach with Cocoa.”

  “Right.” A small frown. “That crazy dog. He never was good for anyone but Rachelle. She had him trained to the camera, did you know that? You never saw a picture of her without that dog, it was like her trademark. But when she wasn’t around, he was wild, c
ompletely out of control. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him now.”

  “Did you find him, yet?” I asked. “Your sister said he ran away.”

  “No, not yet.” His smile was faintly self-deprecating, vaguely wry. “You’re the expert, Raine. Do you think he knew Rachelle wasn’t coming back? Do you think he just decided there was no point in hanging around anymore?”

  “I think dogs know when something’s wrong in their household,” I told him. “They’ve survived for thousands of years by learning to read human moods, behavior and body language better than any other animal on the planet. And they’re very dependent on routine. When their routine is disrupted it can be stressful. And some dogs react to stress by running. It’s instinct, really. They respond to pain by trying to run from it.”

  Alex murmured, “Don’t we all?”

  The waitress arrived then with our drinks, but I couldn’t help noting he did not ask whether I thought Cocoa might come back. That was usually the first thing people asked about a missing dog, mostly because they needed someone to reassure them that yes, the chances were good that they would see their beloved pet again. But of course Alex had made it clear Cocoa was not his beloved pet.

  Even though I knew Miles had more important things to talk about, I was confused about something. I asked Alex, “I thought Rick was just your dog walker. What did you mean when you said he set up for your clients with dogs?”

  Miles answered that one. “Alex’s company runs the concierge service,” he said. “I thought I mentioned that.”

  “I bought it a couple of years ago,” Alex explained, “and made it part of the security package. It makes things easier for the people who have part-time homes here to have one company in charge of everything from maid service to fire and theft protection. ”

  So Rick had been the one who set up Cisco’s bed and dog dishes. I’d have to thank him, if I saw him again.

  Miles said, “Susan said business hasn’t been going all that well.”

  He blew out a dismissive breath and waved away the notion as though it were a pesky fly. But the nervous darting of his eyes gave him away. “What does she know? I don’t see her more than once or twice a year and all of a sudden she’s the expert on everything. Hard to lose money in the security business in a down economy, old son, you know that. Crime goes up, so do my contracts. Hard to lose money.”

  “Yet somehow you managed it,” Miles said.

  There was a flash of something as hard as a knife blade in his eyes, but it was just a flash. And the cool, confident smile that played around the edges of his lips remained in place. “Is that a fact?”

  Miles said, “You’ve got two lawsuits pending in Colorado that you are not going to win. You lost the Crichton Contracting account last year when one of your employees was arrested for stealing from a construction site. Turns out he had a criminal record that you didn’t disclose.”

  “We use ex-cons a good deal in this business,” replied Alex, unperturbed. “Who knows security better than the people who’ve made a career out of getting around it? Of course, you realize I’m the one who turned him in.”

  “About two minutes before the police were about to close in anyway,” Miles went on. “But it didn’t stop Crichton from pulling out. After that, new clients have been a little hard to come by, as far as I can tell. Not to mention that biotech investment that went sour last year, and the SEC case you spent five years and a couple of million trying to keep from going to court. Congratulations on that, by the way. Not many people even knew about it.”

  The eyes got harder, the smile didn’t waver. “You had me investigated, Miles? And you’re not even a stockholder.”

  “For which I’m feeling pretty grateful right now.” He leaned back, took a sip of his club soda, and put the glass down. “You’ve done a good job for me over the years, Alex. You’ve probably done a good job for most of your clients. But you’ve had a run of bad luck. Your business is circling the drain. Did you marry Rachelle for her money?”

  I glanced at Miles, impressed. And here I had been thinking I was going to have to figure out a way to ask the hard questions. I settled back and sipped my wine, enjoying the show.

  Alex looked annoyed. “Of course not. That’s a completely inappropriate question. Besides…” he glanced at me, trying to replace the annoyance in his expression with politeness, and achieving nothing more than a smirk, “we’re boring your lady friend.”

  Miles glanced at me. “Are you bored, sugar?”

  “Not at all,” I assured him. “In fact, I‘m fascinated. Please go on.”

  Miles said, “I tell Raine everything. I like her to know who my associates are.”

  I turned a killer look on him, but of course Alex Barry could have no way of knowing how tongue in cheek that was.

  “Raine has some experience in criminal investigation,” Miles went on, his tone a bit more sincere now. “I thought she might be able to help us unravel how things stand in this police investigation.”

  I managed to keep the surprise out of my face, and just sipped my wine complacently when Alex looked at me. After all, it was true. I did have experience…after a fashion.

  Alex smiled thinly at me. “Is that right? Maybe you should come work for me.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I have a job.” And before he could make further inquiries into my experience, I said, “I know this must be hard for you. Do you have any idea why the police suspect you?” Sometimes a woman’s touch is required.

  He gave a terse shake of his head. “Because they have to suspect someone and I was the only one there. Because the press is starting to turn this into a circus. Because of who I am, and who she was. I don’t know. The whole thing is insane. It was an accident. Anyone can see that.”

  Of course he had left out the most important “because”. Because they couldn’t find the body. If there had been a body, it might have been much easier to determine whether or not an accident had been the cause of death.

  Miles said, “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

  Alex Barry looked at him steadily. “I didn’t kill her, Miles.” It was perhaps the first time since we’d sat down that his eyes had not darted or shifted at least once. That made his statement slightly more convincing.

  “That might not matter if you’re arrested here,” Miles said. “We both know the problems that can crop up when international law is involved.”

  “You’re probably tired of telling the story,” I offered sympathetically. “If it’s too hard for you, I understand.” Again, the woman’s touch.

  Alex looked at me for a moment as though he wasn’t quite sure whether to trust me, which was, I was sure, a look he gave a lot of people. And apparently my woman’s touch was not quite as effective as I had hoped because he said flatly, “As a matter of fact, I am tired of talking about it.”

  Miles coaxed, “Do it anyway.”

  He gave him a steely eyed glare for just a moment, tossed back some scotch, and then said, “Rachelle wanted to celebrate ourt anniversary on the island. She had a big party planned and everything. We always take the boat out to the reef our first night here, it’s like a tradition, a big thing with her. We take a picnic and dive the reef, always the same.”

  “Because that’s where you proposed to her,” I guessed.

  He looked surprised, and then nodded. “To tell the truth I wasn’t that much into it that night. Somebody had sent her a bottle of champagne to celebrate this new part she’d gotten, and I don’t know, maybe she had too much of it. She was acting a little odd.”

  “Odd how?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Hyper. Goofy. I remember asking her if she was good to dive, but then she seemed to get it together and acted okay until we got in the water. We’d only been down about ten minutes when she signaled she was almost out of air. I thought it was her gauge, but we started back anyway.”

  “Didn’t she check her gear before she went in?” Miles asked.

&nb
sp; “We both did, before we loaded it on the boat that afternoon. The police say the hose on the regulator they found had been sliced, but I don’t see how she could have missed a thing like that in broad daylight.”

  “Why do you suppose they only found that one piece of equipment in the cave?” I asked. “Shouldn’t it have been, well, you know, with the rest of the equipment?”

  “The theory is that in her panic she took off her gear and tried to swim to the surface without it. The currents around the caves can get strong enough to break it apart. Or…” and his eyes met mine. “someone planted it there. All I know is that if they’d been able to prove that it belonged to Rachelle, I’d probably be in jail right now. ”

  “New moon,” Miles murmured thoughtfully.

  “Right. Rachelle never used a dive light when we were together. She claimed that both of our lights in the water made it too bright. And we anchored far enough away from the reef that the lights wouldn’t disturb the marine life.”

  I was confused, and my expression must have shown it. “Usually with a night dive your only light is your dive light,” Miles explained, “and whatever ambient light is on the surface. That’s the whole point. On a dark night, with no shore lights or boat lights, and only one dive light, it would be hard to notice the excess bubbles if you were using air at a faster rate than normal. Or if there was a leak.”

  “Right,” said Alex briefly. “And I didn’t.” He took another drink of scotch. “At forty feet she started panicking, grabbing at my regulator. She was completely out of air. I started buddy breathing, but she was in full-blown panic, sucking air like a freight train, and when it was time to give the regulator back, she wouldn’t. I finally got it back from her, but in the struggle I think she got disoriented. She pushed off and started swimming the other way. I tried to go after her, but the currents were stirring up a lot of silt. I couldn’t see her, I was running low on air, I had to surface.”