“Which one of you was the one who found him?” a gruff voice asked, nearly thirty minutes later.
I raised a hand and ordered myself again to stop shivering, “Th-that w-would be me.”
“Really,” Jillian scolded. “Do we have to do this right this second? Zachary is freezing. That water is ice cold. Can we do this later, when he has had a chance to warm up?”
“It’s all r-right,” I said to Jillian, as I held her hand. “I’ll b-be okay. Ask away, p-pal.”
The four of us were sitting on some large, nearby boulders. I had a bright orange emergency blanket draped around my shoulders, and two uniformed medics were just finishing up a routine medical checkup on me. I guess everything was fine, because they began putting things back in their kits and then promptly left afterward. I looked up at the two cops, who had been watching, and tried grinning, only my teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. Trust me, it made trying to talk interesting. The first cop, the one who had asked who had found the body, stepped forward. He was tall, in his mid-fifties, and had thinning gray hair. He was holding a clipboard and looked annoyed, as though he was angry with me for making him do some paperwork. There was also a young female cop with him, who thus far, hadn’t said anything. She was probably in her late twenties, had bright red hair pulled up into a tight bun, and seemed uncertain what she had to do. Perhaps she was a rookie?
“For the record, only one of you went in?” the senior cop asked, as he looked at the four of us.
“Yes,” Julie answered. “We all spotted the body, but Zack was the one who volunteered to go out there to offer help.”
“Do you have any idea who it is, man?” Harry asked.
“Divers don’t typically carry ID in their wetsuits,” the female cop said, speaking her first words. “I’m a diver myself. I never carry ID on a dive. It’s usually stored in a locker, or with a friend who stays on the beach.”
A question popped into my brain, but I wanted to wait a few moments. I was hopeful that I was done shivering for the time being.
“H-have you found any vehicles n-nearby?” Damn my body. Why couldn’t I warm up? I must sound like a stuttering idiot. “Wh-what about the other diver?”
“What other diver?” the first cop asked, interested. “Did you see another diver?”
I shook my head, “Well, n-no, but that goes against everything you’re t-taught when you learn to dive.”
“And what’s that?” the older cop wanted to know.
“Never dive alone,” the female cop answered, giving me a nod of appreciation.
“And how would you know that?” the second cop suspiciously asked, as he turned to look my way.
“He learned to dive in high school,” Harry answered for me. “I know it might come as a shock, but we both did. Our P.E. instructor was one sadistic son of a…”
Julie smacked him on the arm.
“Watch your mouth.”
Harry shrugged, “Whatever. Zack’s right. You don’t dive alone, bro. Too many bad things can happen.”
“Like this,” Jillian softly said.
“I wonder what he died of,” I mused, more to myself than to anyone.
The female cop shrugged, “He probably just… cute dogs. Are they yours?”
I looked over at Sherlock and Watson. Their ears were up, they were unblinking, and they were staring straight at the officers. If I didn’t know any better, then I’d say that neither dog trusted the two strangers. Why the corgis were giving the cops the stink eye, I wasn’t sure.
Giving a grunt of exasperation, the older cop moved off, heading in the direction the M.E. was standing. The female cop squatted next to the dogs and held out her hand. Both dogs gave it a cautious sniff before each gave the hand a single lick. Grinning, the woman stood and held out a hand, the same which had just been licked.
“Officer Marianne Adolphson.”
I shook the offered hand, “Z-Zack Anderson. This is Jillian Cooper.”
Harry then held out his hand and made his and Julie’s introductions. Remembering the dogs, I took a breath and was about to say their names when Sherlock decided I wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking and let out an short, ear-splitting bark. I ruffled the fur behind his ears and looked up at the cop.
“And this is Sherlock. He doesn’t like to be excluded from introductions. Sniffing your right foot is Watson.”
“Sherlock and Watson? Wait. Tell me you’re not from Oregon. What was the name of that town... Pomme Valley?”
I shook my head as Jillian let out a delighted laugh.
“Unreal. You’ve heard of my dogs?”
“Are these really the two dogs I’ve heard so much about?” Officer Adolphson asked, as she pulled out her cell. She promptly snapped a few pics and then, presumably, sent them off to a few of her contacts.
“They’re really them,” I admitted. “Tell me something, Officer, how...”
“Please,” Officer Adolphson interrupted. “Call me Mary. It’s easier.”
“Thanks. Okay, Mary, how do you know my two dogs?”
“Are you kidding?” Mary exclaimed. “Everyone knows all about them. These two have solved two murder cases and located some type of valuable missing pendent. News like that will make the rounds, I assure you.”
“Two murders?” Harry repeated, frowning. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
“They are up to, er, 7 or 8 murders now,” I corrected, “and that doesn’t include busting a dog napping organization and locating a ton of jewelry missing since the 1940s.”
Mary stared at the dogs with wonder in her eyes.
“Oh, and don’t forget earlier this year,” Jillian said. “They solved your late wife’s murder case in Phoenix.”
I snapped my fingers, “Forgot about that one. Seriously, I’m losing track of all of the cases they’ve closed. I honestly don’t know how they do it. I’m just here to make sure they get their kibble twice a day.”
The older cop suddenly appeared by Mary’s side.
“If you’re done socializing, Officer Adolphson,” the senior cop said, with a little bit of a sneer in his voice, “perhaps you could help me look for any signs of this mysterious second diver?”
“Of course, Officer Lewis. Umm, I feel I should tell you something.”
“Oh?”
“Do you see the two dogs there?”
“Of course. What about them? This is public land. As long as the owners clean up after them, they’re allowed to be here.”
Mary nodded, “Correct. However, I was referring to their names. They are Sherlock and Watson, from Oregon. You heard about them. We were just talking about them last week.”
One bushy gray eyebrow was raised, in true Vulcan fashion.
“Is that so? These two are the crime fighting canines from Pomme Valley?”
“Guilty as charged,” I admitted.
“And I am to believe that these two dogs have solved a murder case?”
“More than that, I’m afraid,” I corrected. “I forget the number of cases, but the number of murders is somewhere around 8.”
“You forgot Samantha’s case again,” Harry reminded me. “She wasn’t in PV, man, but she still counts.”
“Right. I guess that’d be 9.”
“They’ve solved 9 murders?” Officer Lewis repeated, incredulous. “Impossible.”
I shrugged, “Believe it. Don’t believe it. It doesn’t matter. As for that poor diver? I’m guessing it was just an accident. Maybe he ran out of air, maybe he became tired, or...”
“...a current could have pulled him under,” Mary suggested, after I trailed off.
“What are you doing here?” Officer Lewis asked me, after he gave Mary a scowl.
“Just taking a vacation with some friends,” I answered. “We’re not here to cause any trouble. This is my first visit here, and my girlfriend here wanted to show me around. Harry and Julie over there are close friends, who are traveling with us.”
”How long will you be in town?” Officer Lewis wanted to know.
“A few days. Why?”
“Don’t go...” Officer Lewis trailed off as a phone began to ring. Fishing his cell from his pocket, Lewis grunted once, and turned away, walking in the opposite direction.
“Don’t mind him,” Mary told us. “He was supposed to be fishing right now, and seeing how we’re short-handed, he had his PTO canceled.”
“That isn’t our fault, man,” Harry said, frowning.
“I think he’s talking to the captain,” Mary said, as she turned to look back at the direction Lewis had wandered off. “I’ll go check on him. Will you guys be staying in this area for a little bit?”
Jillian nodded, “We will be, yes.”
At the exact same time Mary wandered off, I watched Jillian suddenly turn to look at the dogs. She was still holding their leashes, and at the moment, both Sherlock and Watson were looking northwest. Curious to see what they were looking at, I rose up on my tip-toes to see over the ridge and out at the water. The problem was, that’s all there was in that direction: water. Stretching endlessly away to the west, all I could see were the gentle lapping of the waves as they crashed into the rocks, which then had the water working its way up as high as it could onto the shore.
“They want to go that way,” Jillian told me. “Should I let them?”
I was now dry enough to put my shoes back on, so I nodded and waved her on.
“Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
Five minutes later, I crested the small ridge and was approaching a bend on the shore. I could clearly hear Jillian and Julie talking together in the distance, as well as see the footprints in the sand, which led in the same direction I was headed. But, as I approached the water’s edge, I could see that they were still a decent distance ahead of me. Both dogs, I could see, were sniffing along the ground and guiding the three of them farther north along the shore. Then, as one, they stopped and turned their heads to look back at me. By the time I caught up, the two ladies were laughing about something, and Harry was sulking. Hopefully, it wasn’t something at his expense, but seeing how Jillian would never shame someone, even if she had reason to, I figured one of the girls must have told a funny story. Hmm. Now that I thought about it, if the funny story was about me, then Jillian would be sharing it with everyone.
“What’s the matter?” I whispered, as I approached my friend’s side.
“I just wish I knew what they were laughing at, man,” Harry quietly grumbled.
“You think they’re laughing about you?” I softly asked.
“What do you think?” Harry sourly asked. “Of course they are.”
I angrily grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him off to the side and out of earshot from the girls.
“Look, pal. I don’t know what’s bugging you. I don’t know why you’re acting so depressed. You’ve got a wife who absolutely loves you. You’ve got two adorable kids, a fantastic house, and a successful business. I should also mention you have immaculate tastes in friends. You have got absolutely nothing to be angry over.” I turned to look at the two women and hooked a thumb in their direction. “And those two? I hereby wager that, if they’re laughing at one of us, it isn’t you, but me.”
“There’s no way,” Harry insisted. “Julie likes to make fun of me.”
“If she does, then you need to learn to laugh at yourself,” I advised him. “No one likes being ridiculed, but people love to laugh at those who can take a joke. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve been laughed at. But, back to the girls. You think they’re laughing at you? Bet me. I say I’m the one they’re laughing at.”
“Fine. What do you want to bet?”
“Hmm. If I’m right, and I win, then I want you to make a conscious effort to relax. This is a vacation. Have fun.”
“I guess I can do that.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
Harry sighed, “I knew that was too easy. Fine. What else do you want me to do?”
“At dinner tonight, you will eat whatever I order for you.”
“Damn, dude. You drive a hard bargain. Fine. And if I win?”
I shrugged, “I don’t know. What do you want me to do?”
“Something as heinous as what you’ll put me through tonight, that’s for sure.”
I grinned, “I’m waiting, amigo. You must have something in mind. And, I should tell you, all culinary wagers are off the table.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Frog legs. I ate frog legs, Harry. Let’s see you top that.”
“That was pretty wicked,” Harry admitted. A smile finally formed on my friend’s face. “I’ve got it, bro. If I win, then you will volunteer at the clinic. I have some kennels that need to be scrubbed out.”
My eyebrows shot up. Me? Cleaning dirty dog kennels? Why, that sneaky, two-timing... okay, fair’s fair.
“You’re on. Hey, Jillian?”
My girlfriend’s head turned and she gave me a beaming smile, “Yes?”
“Just now, what were you and Julie laughing about?”
“Oh, uh, it was nothing.”
“I need to settle a bet,” I said, as I gave Harry a sideways glance. “There’s a lot riding on this.”
“I don’t think you want to know, Zachary,” Jillian giggled.
Oh, man. The nagging little voice in my head suddenly decided that, even if I did win the bet, I was still going to end up losing. Maybe this wasn’t a smart idea after all?
“You can tell me,” I groaned. “I can take it.”
I hope.
“Well, all right. Just remember, you asked for it.”
“Perhaps I should have just asked if you were telling a story about me,” I mumbled.
Jillian nodded, “That would have been the smart thing to do. The answer? Yes, of course.”
I triumphantly turned to Harry, “See? I told you they were talking about me. Hah! Now, I expect you to honor the wager. And I know you know what that means. Besides, we’re gonna have some fun tonight, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, yeah. Swell. Hey, wait! What was the story? What was so funny?”
“That’s really not necessary,” I hastily interjected. “It doesn’t need to be told.”
“It does if you think I’m gonna let you pick out my entree tonight,” Harry argued.
Julie stared at her husband in amazement, “You’re going to let him pick out your choice of dinner tonight? Dare I ask what he would have had to do should he have lost?”
“Kennel cleaning,” Harry chuckled. “Okay, Jillian. Spill. What’s the story?”
Jillian helplessly looked over at me and gave me an apologetic smile, “Well, this was a story Zachary told me when we were comparing embarrassing stories one night last week. This happened before I met him. It happened on a road trip from Phoenix to Los Angeles, where Zack stopped at a roadside rest area.”
I felt all the color drain from my face. I suddenly knew what story Jillian had been sharing, and the thought had me cringing. Of all the infernal luck, she had to tell that one?
“Zachary was wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts,” Jillian explained, looking at Harry. “The kind with large pockets in the front. Do you know the kind I mean?”
Harry nodded, “I have several pair. Why is that funny?”
Jillian’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she noticed the embarrassed look on my face, “Well, the problem came with his belt.”
“His belt?” Harry repeated, confused. “I don’t get it.”
“You will,” Julie snickered, as she looked my way and giggled.
Jillian suddenly pointed at my belt, “Do you see what’s on Zack’s belt right now? I’m talking about that black pouch by his right hip.”
“Yeah, I see it. What about it?”
“It’s his multi-tool gadget,” Jillian explained. “He always carries it with him.”
“Okay. So?”
I groaned, drawing Harry’s eyes to my own.
“What am I missing?”
“It’s heavy, Harry,” I sighed. “If you’re standing in front of a urinal, and you unbuckle your belt, especially for the first time since strapping that thing to your belt, then what’s going to happen when you let go of the belt to, ah, take care of business?”
Harry’s eyes widened and he started to snicker.
“That’s right,” I nodded. “My shorts fell to the floor so damn fast it was as though someone had come up behind me and yanked my shorts down. Needless to say, it was a busy day, and the place was packed.”
Harry let out a loud guffaw and grinned at me. He finally nodded.
“Okay, man. You win. Just go easy on me.”
I smiled back at my friend, “Like hell I will. You had better plan on bringing some Tums tonight.”
Then we heard a series of loud, high-pitched yips. Sherlock and Watson were both pulling on their leashes, anxious to resume moving. I thought I had heard most of the noises the corgis were capable of producing, but the yips both dogs were making now was a new one on me. Was it excitement? Frustration? A combination of both?
Jillian passed me Sherlock’s leash as I took the lead. Winding our way down a well-used path, we traveled another 300 hundred feet north before coming to a sudden stop. Sherlock yipped once and fell silent. About ready to squat down to see if there was anything wrong with him, such as a thorn in his paw, or perhaps check to be sure his harness wasn’t too tight, I heard an answering sound.
Just then, a series of chirps, almost bird-like in nature, echoed back at us. Both of the corgis’ ears jumped straight up, and both, I might add, resumed pulling on their leashes, eager to get to… the water. I peered anxiously in that direction, eager to see what was at the water, waiting for them. What I saw drew me up short.
It was a small group of sea otters, floating together in the water. I remember reading from somewhere that otters tended to hang out together for safety reasons, and that they had a very high metabolism. That meant they spent the majority of their day eating, and when they weren’t eating, then they were primping their fur. Otters had the densest coats of fur on any animal, having nearly a million hairs per square inch. They didn’t rely on fat to keep them warm, but their coats, so at any given moment, you could find an otter cleaning its fur.
This particular group numbered around two dozen, and all of them, I might add, were staring straight at us. Nearly three-quarters of their numbers were eating, whether it was mussels, crab, or some type of shellfish. Hooked together to keep from floating away, the raft of otters continued to stare at us, as though they were trying to decide if we were dangerous or not.
Sherlock led me right up to the water’s edge, which placed him nearly 15 feet from the otters. Keeping a tight grip on his leash, I stood, motionless, as I stared at the cute, snuggly-looking bundles of fur staring back at us. Jillian appeared by my side moments later.
“Oh, they’re so cute!”
“True, but they’re still wildlife,” I reminded her. “Look at the size of them. They’re bigger than the dogs.”
Jillian nodded, “Right. No petting. Harry, that goes for you, too.”
“Why would you think I’d do something like that?” Harry asked.
I turned to my friend and regarded him in silence for a few moments.
“What?” PV’s veterinarian demanded. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Now,” I clarified. “However, you can’t say that you didn’t do anything like that in the past.”
“When have I ever tried to touch wildlife?” Harry wanted to know. He looked at Julie and smiled sheepishly. “Honestly, I don’t know where Zack comes up with this stuff, man. I would never…”
“Oh, don’t give me that,” I interrupted. “Think back to senior year. Do you remember what we all did for the senior prank?”
Surprisingly, Harry shook his head, “No, I actually don’t. Whatever it is you think I did, I didn’t do it. I never…”
“Bear poop.”
Harry stopped in mid-sentence. He stared at me for a few moments before a huge grin appeared on his face. A shit-eating grin, if you’ll pardon the pun. He suddenly looked at Julie and sobered.
“Umm, it’s all hearsay. Don’t buy it, Jules.”
“What did he do, Zachary?” Julie asked, ignoring Harry and turning to me. “What’s this about bear poop?”
“It has to be some of the nastiest, smelliest, most disgusting poop known to exist. Strange, if you think about all the different animals that are out there, but you need to trust me on this one. The zoo in Phoenix had three polar bears. Every single night, the poop was collected and stored in white 5-gallon buckets, which were placed just outside a certain gate.”
Jillian wrinkled her nose, “Eww. Why would they do that?”
“The swing keeper would then come by not long afterwards and collect the buckets, so that it could be disposed of properly.”
Julie turned to her husband, “You stole a bucket.”
“I did not!” Harry protested. He pointed at me. “How come you’re not accusing Zack? He’s the one who stole it.”
Julie crossed her arms over her chest, “He would never do something like that.”
“That’s true,” I admitted, drawing a scowl from Harry. “Now. But, back then? Yeah, that was me. I stole the poo.”
Jillian turned to me with a look of surprise written all over her face.
“Zachary, you didn’t.”
“We were young and really dumb,” I said, by way of answer.
“What did you do with the bucket?” Julie asked.
I looked over at Harry and grinned, “Perhaps you’d like to take it from here, pal. You’re the one who stole the bucket from me.”
Harry fidgeted uncomfortably, “I, uh, may have left it inside the principal’s office, with the lid removed.”
“That’s disgusting!” Julie exclaimed.
“It really was,” I recalled. “But, I heard the lid was left next to the bucket, so that it could be sealed back up. I know, it was a stupid prank. But, in our defense, no one got hurt.”
The chirping from the water suddenly quieted, which drew all of our attention. Sherlock was still at the water’s edge and was standing, with his front left paw curled under him, as though he was trying to decide whether or not to take another step. What I saw next had me reaching for my phone. Not to call anyone, mind you, but to start recording what was transpiring in front of me.
One of the young otters had apparently awoken from its nap, spotted Sherlock nearby, and was slowly edging closer. The otter swam up to the water’s edge, eyed Sherlock, and then cooed at him, just like how a dove would. The tri-colored corgi still hadn’t budged an inch. Sherlock watched the strange creature approach, and when it appeared as though the foreign dog wanted to sniff noses, he edged forward to do just that. The otter, on the other hand, wasn’t too sure what Sherlock was doing, so it curiously leaned forward to get a better look.
Otter and corgi ended up touching noses.
Sherlock snorted once, and then pawed at his nose, as though he had just dunked his snout in water. The corgi’s actions had the effect of spurring the otter back to deeper water. Within moments, nearly a dozen of the larger adult otters were within reach. At first, I became worried for Sherlock’s safety, and started to pull him back towards me. Then, I realized the otters weren’t there to fight. They wanted to play!
Four of them ventured up to us and sat up on their haunches, as if they were trying to make a decision how to proceed. That’s when I noticed Watson had appeared by Sherlock’s side, which meant Jillian was now standing next to me. She had her phone in her hand, too, only I don’t know if it was to take pictures or to call someone.
“Wild otters can be dangerous,” Jillian said, by way of explanation.
I watched the otters, who were watching the dogs. They were chittering, chirping, and cooing as they raced up onto the beach, took a step or two out of the water, and then bolted back to the safety of the ocean. Sherlock, recognizing play, dropped his head and playfully yipped.
The otters chirped back. This playful banter lasted a little over five minutes, until the otters determined it was time for another snack, and drifted away from the shore. Nearly half disappeared beneath the waves, but then reappeared not long afterward, clutching some type of food in their paws. We saw mussels, several were holding small crabs, but the vast majority of them had some type of shellfish.
Whackwhackwhackwhack.
“It’s got a righteous beat to it, doesn’t it?” Harry chuckled.
“They’re breaking open the clams,” I observed. “It looks like they’re carrying around something hard with which to break the shells. That’s what they’re doing: smashing the shells open.”
“Clever,” Julie added.
The otter that had touched noses with Sherlock was floating on its back with the others, and was holding a small black mussel in its paws, but it only had eyes for the dogs. It cooed a few times before it, too, began the rhythmic beating which signaled the beginning of its dinner. After a few moments, however, it suddenly dropped the shell it had been holding, bolted upright, and let out a noise that sounded a lot like the word, ‘hah’, only loud and clipped.
Just like that, every single otter in the raft had discarded their meals and were floating upright in the water. I heard several hisses, and then, the otters dove out of sight. Confused, I looked at my girlfriend.
“What just happened? What spooked them?”
Jillian pointed at the dogs, “Zachary, look! Whatever spooked the otters has spooked them, too!”
Sure enough, Sherlock’s hackles were raised, and he was letting off several warning woofs. Watson scooted closer to Jillian’s side and whined. A split second later, I slapped a hand over my nose.
“Damn, Watson. You haven’t done that in a while. Whew. I’m glad we’re outside.”
For those who may not be familiar with my little girl, or have experienced it but may have forgotten, Watson has been known to be a little gassy at times. Don’t get me wrong, she’s much better than she has been. Hell, right after I got her, the stench was so bad, and was happening so frequently, that I had to seek advice from Harry. He explained that some dogs fart because they take in air when they’re eating. It can happen if the dog eats too fast. Well, Watson could empty her bowl in less than 20 seconds. And that, I’m sorry to say, caused her to inadvertently gulp air, and… well, the air has to go somewhere.
“Dude, what the hell are you feeding her?” Harry exclaimed, as he fanned the air. “I thought you told me she wasn’t farting as much.”
“She wasn’t. Isn’t. This is the first in a few months.”
“Maybe the poor thing is scared,” Jillian suggested, as she squatted low to put an arm around the red and white corgi.
I looked back at Sherlock and narrowed my eyes. He was staring straight at a row of waist-high shrubs. Was an otter hiding back there? Or, worse yet, was there something else hiding back there?
I handed Sherlock’s leash back to Jillian and motioned for Harry to join me. For once, he didn’t put up any arguments. Together, we carefully skirted around the bushes and, on the count of three, made a loud, whooping noise.
“Aaauuugh!!”
A wild-eyed, young woman popped up in the middle of the bushes and then smiled sheepishly when she realized the four of us were staring at her. She looked to be in her early twenties, had short, curly black hair, and was tall, around 5’10”. She was wearing a dark green t-shirt, with some type of white logo on the upper left breast pocket, khaki shorts, and white shoes.
“Who are you?” I demanded. “Why were you hiding from us?”
“I wasn’t!” the girl protested.
“You’re standing in the middle of a bush,” Jillian pointed out, using a neutral voice.
At this point, I caught Harry’s eyes and nodded back in the direction we had come from. My friend nodded knowingly, and hurried off.
“Who are you?” I asked. “Were you spying on us?”
“No!” the woman indignantly cried.
“Then explain yourself,” I continued. “What were you doing here?”
Jillian suddenly took a step closer and stared hard at the woman’s face.
“Excuse me, have you been crying?”
The woman automatically wiped her face with her hands.
“Of course not. Why would you say that?”
“Because you have,” Julie said, as she joined Jillian. “Your eyes are swollen, your nose is red, and you have bags under your eyes. What… the diver! You know about the diver, don’t you?”
A fresh tear streaked down the woman’s face before she could wipe it away with her hand.
“Did you know him?” Jillian gently asked.
The woman nodded, and then started sobbing.
Jillian pulled a tissue from her purse and offered it to the woman.
“Who was he? Was he someone close to you?”
I caught Jillian and Julie’s eyes and indicated we should head back toward the scene of the crime. Jillian nodded and held out a hand. The woman in the green shirt took it and carefully stepped out of the bush.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” the woman began.
I nodded, “I hope so, because it looks like you were relieving yourself in there.”
Jillian smacked me on the arm, “Zachary! This woman’s upset. Now’s not the time for jokes.”
“I thought it was funny,” Julie quietly confided to me.
I grinned at her. “Thanks.”
We arrived back at the crime scene and saw Harry talking to the same two cops. Catching sight of us, he said something and then pointed at us. The senior cop glanced over, saw the woman walking with us, and his face became grim. He said something to Mary, which resulted in Officer Adolphson hurrying over to intercept us.
“Officer Marianne Adolphson,” Mary announced, as we arrived. “Monterey Police Department. And who might you be?”
“Sh-Sherry. Sherry VanZanten.”
“Is it true? Were you caught hiding in the bushes?”
“I wasn’t hiding in the bushes,” Sherry protested again. “I was simply collecting my thoughts. I heard a body had been discovered, and when I went to see for myself who it was, I saw that it was Jack. I clearly didn’t handle the news well.”
“Jack?” Mary repeated, as she pulled out a small notebook. “Jack who?”
“Jack Carlton. He’s an aquarist for Monterey Bay Aquarium.”
“And how did you hear Mr. Carlton had passed away?” Mary asked, frowning. “His body was only discovered less than 30 minutes ago.”
Sherry turned to point at a series of buildings a half mile away.
“I work right over there. Do you see those buildings? They’re part of MBA. Whenever I have a break, I like to walk along the beach.”
“Where the body of a deceased diver just happened to turn up,” Officer Lewis’ voice suddenly said, making us all jump. Sherlock woofed a warning at the unfriendly policeman.
“We work in the same department,” Sherry told us. “Our paths are bound to cross, which they do, dozens of times each day. What’s your point? Are you accusing me of something?”
“Take down Ms. VanZanten’s statement,” Officer Lewis said,
Mary nodded, and turned back to Sherry as the senior officer pulled out his cell and made a few calls. “What can you tell us about the deceased? Where does he live? What type of work does he do?”
“Who, Jack? Well, he has an apartment here, in Monterey, but he also kept apartments in New York City, London, and Wellington.”
“Wellington?” Mary repeated, as she questioningly looked up.
“New Zealand,” I answered.
Mary nodded, “Thanks. He has apartments all around the globe, huh? He must be paid very well.”
“He was,” Sherry confirmed, “but not just from MBA. He was an on-call diver for National Geographic. They sent him all over the world.”
“To do what?” I curiously asked.
“To dive, to capture underwater shots, to check census checks of certain species. You name it, he did it. And NGC had him doing practically everything.”
“This guy sounded like he enjoyed his adventures,” Jillian remarked.
“Jack may not have been at MBA full-time, but he had more volunteers than anyone. Everyone wanted a chance to work with him.”
“What was he like?” Julie asked. “Did he get along with everybody? Could someone have done this to him?”
Sherry shook her head, “Oh, heavens no. Everyone loved him. He was, far and away, the most popular aquarist at MBA. They are going to be devastated by his loss.”
“Someone that popular usually has people who are jealous of them,” I idly commented.
Sherry shrugged, “Possibly, but not around here.”
Harry suddenly raised a hand, “I have a question. Based on what you’re telling us, would you say this Jack guy was an experienced diver?”
“One of the best in the world,” Sherry confirmed.
“So, where was his diving partner?”
Sherry shrugged, “I really don’t know. I can only assume they were somehow separated. You’d have to look at his dive log to know for sure. He keeps meticulous records.”
“And where would we find this dive log?” Mary wanted to know.
Sherry pointed at the buildings in the distance.
“In his office, of course.”
Officer Lewis finished his call and joined Mary.
“What do you have? Do we have anything to go on?”
“His name is Jack Carlton, and he’s a world famous diver and explorer,” Mary answered. “And, we should probably check his diving log. Mr. Carlton wouldn’t have gone SCUBA diving alone, and right now, we’re missing a diver.”