"So, I don't get it. People have just stopped salvaging?"
Teddy cuts me a look.
"What kind of fool ya be? Of course they haven't stopped. Salvaging goes on like it always did. Only these days when folks go out there to look for something they just don't find it. You know what I mean?"
"They salvage on the sly."
Teddy nods.
"Who's to blame them? The law says the government retains ownership to anything they find."
"And doesn't have to pay them for it?"
"Oh, the law provides for just compensation," says Teddy. "But it's the government that gets to decide the compensation. And believe me, it's nowhere near just. That's why, people who salvage nowadays, when they find something of value, they sell it on the black market to some rich collector who secrets it away for his enjoyment and his alone. The public doesn't hear about it. And worse, the public doesn't get to share in the history of what was found. All the Historic Wrecks Act did was make sure people would never get a chance to see historic marine finds again."
"It was different when you found Schwartz's Scepter, right?"
"Oh yeah, it was altogether different. It was years before the wrecks act when I found Betty's bat." He looks at me, winks. "That's what I called the scepter. I never much liked the idea of naming it after me. Better to give a nod to Queen Elizabeth I. A beauty it was."
"Something to behold, huh?"
"Oh yeah, man, like you've never seen. Three dozen emeralds, the biggest, fattest ones you can imagine, and better than a hundred diamonds. All set in the finest gold. Weighed nearly a hundred pounds it did. I was the proudest man on the face of this earth when I came ashore in Miss Peg holding Betty's bat." He takes a moment to relish the memory. "And after I found her what did I do? I put her on display for all to see, that's what. More than half a million people walked through that little museum of mine over the years. They got to see history close up. At a dollar a head."
"Not a bad turn of coin."
Teddy laughs.
"No, not at all. Made even more selling T-shirts and replicas and whatnot. And I was due it, too. A return on my investment," he says. "But that's what got in the government's craw, seeing me make a little money and them not. Got to where it was costing me more in lawyers than I was taking in, so I just gave in to them, agreed to sell the scepter to the British Museum."
"And then it got stolen," I say.
"Yeah," he says. "Then that."
We ride for a while, neither of us speaking. Teddy looks at me.
"I know what you're wondering," he says. "What's that?"
"Same thing as everyone else wonders. What really happened to the scepter? Did ol Teddy pull a switcheroo? That what you're wondering?" "Well, now that you mention it." He grins, gives me a wink. "You just keep wondering about that," he says.
24.
It's only midmorning by the time Teddy drops us off at Cutfoot Estate. Boggy and I check on the hole-digging crew in the backyard. They're making minor progress against the bedrock. The first Bismarck is ready to set. Finally.
I do the math. If we average a little better than a hole a day, then we just might have all the palms planted in time for the big party. I leave Boggy to oversee everything, then head inside.
I find Barbara sitting in the front parlor with Aunt Trula. There's a third woman with them-blond, pretty, outdoorsy looking. Her yellow sundress shows off a nice tan. Nice legs, too. Not that I'd stare.
She's been crying. She wipes her cheeks with the back of a hand.
"You poor, poor dear," Aunt Trula says, getting up and patting the woman on her back. "Rest assured that I shall help you however I can. And for starters, I want you staying here with us."
The woman shakes her head.
"No, no. I couldn't possibly do that. It's a great imposition. And I didn't come here with that in mind," she says, in an accent I'm pretty sure is Australian. "I just wanted to ... to see, that's all."
"I will not hear it," says Aunt Trula. "You are staying, and that is that. For as long as you need to."
The woman lets out a long sigh.
"Well, thank you," she says. "It is very kind. And I am dead on my feet. Been traveling for the better part of the past two days."
Barbara stands, gives me a hello hug.
"Zack," she says, "this is Fiona McHugh. It's her brother whose body ..."
She stops. She doesn't say anything else, doesn't need to.
"My condolences," I say.
The woman nods, offers a grim smile.
"Fiona just arrived this morning from Australia," says Aunt Trula, continuing to comfort her. "I'm sorry, dear, but I didn't catch exactly what part of the country you are from."
"Perth," says Fiona. "On the west coast."
"The most isolated big city on earth," I say. "Home to the Kings Park Botanic Gardens."
Fiona brightens a bit.
"Why, yes. Do you know Perth?"
"No, but I've had some contact with the botanic gardens. Provided them with the seeds of some Malaysian palms after a weevil infestation wiped out their collection."
Aunt Trula says, "Zack is one of the leading authorities in the world on palm trees."
"Well, that's not exactly true," I say. "In fact, it's not even anywhere near true."
"Oh, shush. You're brilliant, absolutely brilliant. You should see what Zack is doing to my backyard, Fiona. Transforming it into a regular Nebuchadrezzar's garden," says Aunt Trula. She takes Fiona's hand. "Come, dear, let me show you to your room."
She leads Fiona from the parlor. When they're gone, I sit down on the couch beside Barbara.
"Wow," I say.
"Wow?"
"Double-wow. As in, wow, when did I suddenly become ace-high with Aunt Trula? And wow, the dead guy's sister is here."
"The dead guy's name was Ned," says Barbara. "Ned McHugh."
"No disrespect intended," I say. "I'm just surprised to see her, that's all."
"We were, too. She got here about an hour ago," says Barbara. "Said she wanted to see where her brother's body washed ashore. So I took her down to the beach, then left her there to have some time alone. We'd been sitting here for a few minutes when you arrived."
"Pretty lady."
"Yes, I saw you staring at her legs."
"That wasn't staring. It was a professional appraisal."
"And you approve?"
"Very much so."
"She's a cop," Barbara says.
"No way."
"What? Pretty women with nice legs can't be cops?"
"I didn't say that. But the women cops I know? They don't look like that."
"All I know is that she's not exactly thrilled by the way the Bermuda police are handling this. They aren't telling her much."
"Could be because they don't know much."
"That's what bothers her. She said she intends to do some looking into things herself."
"How old was her brother?"
"Just twenty-six. He was spending a couple of years traveling. Wound up here, working at a dive shop. Full of life, the world was his oyster," Barbara says. "It's just so unfair."
I put an arm around Barbara. She rests her head against my chest. We're quiet for a moment. Then ...
"Did you happen to ask Aunt Trula about an attorney?"
Barbara looks up at me, eyebrows angled in a way that tells me she's a little irked.
"Excuse me, but weren't we just cuddling?"
"We were," I say. "It was nice."
"So can't you turn it off for just a little while, Zack?"
"Sure, I can. Sorry."
I kiss the top of her head. We settle back into the couch.
I wonder how Brewster Trimmingham is doing. I need to check on him before I do anything else. I need to check on a couple of other things, too.
"Stop it," Barbara says.
"Stop what?"
"Tapping your foot like that. It's driving me crazy." She sits up. She pulls a slip of paper from a pocket, gives it to me. "Here's the attorney's name."
She gets up from the couch.
"Listen, Barbara, I'm sorry. It's just that ..."
"It's just that your mind is elsewhere. And I understand, darling." She pulls me up from the couch, kisses me on the lips. "Now, go do what you have to do. Because I want you back again."
25.
What I have to do first is call J.J. He tells me he's dropping off someone at the Naval Dockyard, but can be at Cutfoot Estate as soon as he's done. Say, thirty minutes.
As much as I like J.J., the whole routine of waiting on a driver to show up and then haul me somewhere is beginning to cramp my style. It's not that I'm in a giant hurry. But it's the American in me-when I'm ready to go, I'm ready to go. And I'd just as soon drive myself there.
"Where you heading this time?" J.J. asks after I hop into his van.
"The hospital."
He shoots me a look, concerned.
"Something wrong?"
"Yeah, I've got a bug up my ass."
He laughs, throws the van into gear, and rolls out of the driveway.
"Plenty of that going around," J.J. says. "Speaking of which, I just got a call from that niece of mine, Janeen."
"And?"