The descent wasn’t nearly as treacherous as the actual underwater search would be. The only diving Clyde had done in the last four years was right here at the lake, but his diving experience that began three decades ago down in the Florida Keys kicked in now. Hand over hand, he followed the anchor rope to the lake bottom. From there he began searching for the body of J. Melton Lampwerth IV, confident that if he remained focused, he would find Lampwerth. But it wouldn’t be easy. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding, the feeling that Jimmy Ray had just about reached his breaking point. It wouldn’t take much to set him off.
Every night for three months Clyde had dreamed the same nightmare. In the dream, he, Snake and Jimmy Ray would drown the old man, ignoring his desperate pleas. “Why don’t you just shoot me? I don’t want to drown! Please, don’t do this!” the old man begged. Clyde would wake up in a sweat remembering that foggy morning in January when Snake wrapped the anchor rope around the old man’s leg. He couldn’t forget when he, Snake and Jimmy Ray hoisted the old man and the anchor over the boat’s gunwale into the cold water, then capsized the man’s red rowboat to make it look like an accident. Damn, he despised himself. How could he have done such a thing? The old man’s words “You won’t get away with this!” rang inside Clyde’s head.
Clyde wondered how his peaceful life had changed so drastically. Growing up in rural Georgia, he’d gone to church every Sunday, even sang in the choir. He played second base on the church softball team, was a lineman on the high school football team, ranked number two in the state in high school wrestling in his weight division. Sure, he’d only had a high school education, but he’d been ambitious, a hard worker, a moral person. He had moved to the Florida Keys, taken diving lessons, and soon was earning big bucks working on an underwater salvage team.
Sheila, that’s what happened. He’d fallen hard the first time he saw her, dressed in white shorts and sky-blue halter, drinking a gin and tonic on the sailboat’s deck. In those days, Clyde had been tan, tall, muscular, not like now, and Sheila had succumbed to his charms—and his hard-earned money. She was so sexy, so sweet, so adoring. They were positive fate had created a special place just for them. Even now, after all these years and everything that had happened in their lives, he quivered with desire when he thought of his Sheila.
Six months after the quickie wedding, she had a baby. A preemie, they told family and friends, but everyone knew babies three months early never weighed eight and a half pounds. But who cared? After all, Sheila and Clyde loved each other, and both were devoted parents. And from the day she was born, Red, nicknamed after her mass of flaming red hair, never lacked for material things. Big mistake.
Then came the boozing and partying, which took their toll on both Clyde and Sheila. Clyde lost his high-paying job managing the salvage company. For a year they lived off the profits from the sale of their house while renting a tiny apartment. Then, nearly destitute, the family moved from Florida to Virginia where Clyde went to work for Sheila’s brother at Smith Mountain Lake. Another mistake. Sheila’s wealthy, can-do-no-wrong brother introduced her to drugs, and Clyde found himself plunged into a life of crime to pay for Sheila’s habit. If not for Sheila, Clyde could be working somewhere else doing honest labor, but he couldn’t abandon her. And so he stayed. Then Red, more interested in having a good time with the fraternity boys than studying, flunked out of Florida State and moved in with her parents.
Clyde snapped back to the job at hand, attached one end of the search line to the anchor rope, and held the free end in his hand. From this point on he began the tedious search pattern of fanning out in one direction, returning to the anchor, then out again, thus making the anchor the hub in an imaginary wheel. Groping his way with gloved hands, he knew that eventually he’d discover the body. He was positive it was here. After all, he and Jimmy Ray had tied Lampwerth to a couple of cinder blocks and dumped him in this spot only a little over a week ago. Time after time Clyde’s hands touched tree limbs, fence posts, and even a deflated inner tube. Never the corpse. Even with his underwater light flipped on, visibility was so bad he could see only inches in front of him.
On the water’s surface, Jimmy Ray’s phone call to Sheila reached her answering machine. Knowing Clyde could surface any minute only enhanced Jimmy Ray’s excitement. He grinned in anticipation, whispered a couple of perverted thoughts into the phone, and hung up. Leaving messages was good, but occasionally he’d need to hear the fear in her voice. He’d call again later.
When air bubbles signaled Clyde’s ascent, Jimmy Ray put aside all thoughts of Sheila. Later, baby.
“Got it, Jimmy Ray. Pass me the line,” Clyde said as he surfaced beside the boat and whipped off his mouthpiece and goggles. He tied the line to one end of the freshly sliced rope still attached to Lampwerth. He’d had no trouble cutting the cinder blocks loose. “Help me get him in the boat.”
“Hell no, I ain’t gonna help you drag that squishy body in this here boat. He looks worse than crap. Don’t smell none too good, neither. Let’s tow him behind the boat; it sure won’t hurt his looks none.” Jimmy Ray laughed.
Clyde, not eager to touch the dead man any more than necessary, agreed.
“Wait up a sec, Clyde. Gotta git his diamond ring. Don’t know how I missed it before. The chicks go for flashy rings, you know. And this is a big ‘un.” Clyde gagged and looked away as Jimmy Ray pulled out his knife, leaned over the side of the boat and chopped off Lampwerth’s swollen finger. He tugged at the two-carat diamond ring, but it wouldn’t budge. Jimmy Ray swished the finger around in the water, then grinning, dropped the finger with ring intact in his pants pocket.
Clyde hauled himself into the boat, pulled up the anchor, turned the ignition, pushed the throttle forward, and began motoring slowly out of the cove.
“Uh oh,” Jimmy Ray said, “look over there. We got company.” He pointed to a pontoon boat loaded with sightseers about a hundred yards away.
“Let’s hope they stay in the main channel,” Clyde said. He throttled back to an idle and waited for the other boat to pass by. He and Jimmy Ray both relaxed an instant too soon. A passenger on the other boat pointed to the cove, hollered, and the pontoon boat suddenly changed course and headed straight for them.
“What’ll we do, Clyde? If they git too close they’ll see our dead dude.”
“Ahoy there,” shouted the pontoon captain. “Do you have a phone we can use?”
“Sorry, no,” Clyde yelled back.
“I’ve got a pregnant woman here. She’s just gone into labor, needs a doctor. How ‘bout your marine radio?” The pontoon boat inched closer to the idling cruiser.
“It’s broke. Been meaning to get it fixed.”
“I could pick him off easy,” Jimmy Ray said under his breath as he bent over and fingered his rifle resting on the boat’s floor.
“Listen carefully, Jimmy Ray. Put the gun down. Move slowly to the stern and cut Lampwerth loose. Maybe they won’t see him floating, then we can come back later and pick ‘im up. We can’t take a chance on them identifying us.”
For once Jimmy Ray did as he was told without arguing. Clyde shoved the throttle forward full speed and the boat bounded out of the cove. Seconds later screams of horror from the sightseers echoed across the water.
They’d discovered J. Melton Lampwerth IV.