Swimming downward, the view through the mask resembled an old photograph, brittle and sepia toned. Silt filtered through the yellow rays of the sun gave only a few feet of visibility. Thee were no schools of fish like in the Gulf, just the occasional bass or crappy snooping around the bones of long flooded pines, their tentacle like branches flowing with the wakes. Easy to get into trouble. Snag an air hose and you were done for the day, assuming you could make it back to the surface. Several had died and Jim wasn't interested in joining that group.
Jerry pointed off to the left to an eerie sight. Just past a tree was a large shape poking upright in the mud, the Last Chance. The shallow draft boat listed slightly port, bow resting on a rock. The bridge and superstructure was still intact. That was easy.
Maybe a little too easy.
Carefully dodging a branch, they swam towards the stern. A catfish slithered out from under a rock, startled by the strange movement. The short transom was half buried, only the tops of script letters showing. The unique back rail that identified it as their target, gentle filigree in the metal was visible in the low light. Jerry waved Jim to port as he made his way toward starboard bow. Before he cut that way, Jim went along the filigreed back rail. The patio doors to the salon were broken, the opening inviting the unwary to explore.
The frayed remnants of curtains moved with the light current. He could almost see the party goers dancing and drinking. Was this a dream? An fairly clean empty bottle lay on the floor, a sign of low water flow. It made sense, really. This was one of only two or three places on Lanier where there wasn't a small creek bringing in new mud. You laid in during storms, the combination of steep slopes and trees kept the wind to a minimum. Maybe Harvey was hoping to raise it himself? Nah, by that time he was too crazy to think past the moment.
He thought of the girl.
What was the name? Corrine...Colleen...something like that. He had talked to her at the poker game when no one else would. Blonde and nothing special to look at. The only thing that stood out was the necklace, a cloisionne dragonfly dangling between her small breasts. It was odd thing. If the light was right, it cast rainbows like stained glass, yet it was solid. It must have cost some bucks new. But like everything and everybody, nothing was bought that way. She got it from some clown who traded it for services rendered.
Services. Right. There was a reason the women didn’t like her.
The necklace fit her personality. She'd been hanging around Harvey for a while, but it wasn’t clear if it was business, pleasure or both. On the days boats would show up, she would flit from boat to customer and back. From a distance, she was decoration. But her purpose was obvious. Behind the doors, she closed the sales in her own special way.
No one noticed her gone when the boat came up missing. The boat had gotten everyone’s attention. It wasn't until after Harvey turned up dead it occurred to anyone to ask. And no one cared enough to file a missing persons report.Everyone assumed she drifted away to find her next target.
A thought went straight to his heart. What if?
Shaking it off, he swam on up the side. The windows to the main salon were still intact. Glancing in, Jim saw random piles of cushions. Several broken glasses littered the floor, probably knocked out of the cabinets as the boat sank. Ronding the corner to swim up the side, he saw something else.
A pair of bright pink bikini bottoms hanging on the door to one of the bedrooms. It looked like a pair Jim had saw at the poker game. The dread grew. The girl said were hers and she was commando. Come to think of it, the poker game had only been a couple of days before the sinking.
A glance at his watch told he he had about ten minutes left. Continuing up the side, he came up on why the thing sank. About three feet from the bow ,two holes jutted out below the waterline about 12 inches apart. The edges of the fiberglass were melted and pointing outward. C-4 or something. Probably sounded like a muffled shotgun when it went off under the water and no one would have been the wiser.
It had been enough to flood the hold quickly. From the side, it didn't appear it had rolled much. Extra ballast in the hull? Harvey once mentioned he had been a demolition diver in the Navy, but honestly no one had believed him. This looked professional. He had to have learned it somewhere.
He took a hold of the rail and gave a tug. Everthing was stable, no movement. This would be important when they went inside. He looked up to see Jerry waving him over. As he crossed above the bridge, he looked through the upper cabin glass into the stateroom. Nothing out of the ordinary. Bare benches lined the sides, cushions had long gone. The foot of a king sized bedframe was visible. A couple more empty bottles and som. It was like the party had just stopped.
Coming up beside the other diver, Jim's gaze followed the pointing hand. It was the headboard of the bed. At the base, where the mattress had been, was a lump of what looked like clothes. Above it was something very weird. Exchanging glances, they swam a closer to the window. Several pairs of rusty handcuffs were hanging from the a rail screwed into the bulkhead. One of which still looked occupied.
It was time to leave.
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Topic-Christine Wichman
Pic-Sallon Newlove
Pic Guesses: Dragonfly (in blog), Cloisonne (in blog), Rainbows (in blog), stained glass (in blog), Flit (in blog), colorful,
