Chapter Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Seven
“I thought you usually go out at dark o’clock,” Harper said over the sound of the engines as the boat chugged out of the harbor and into the bay.
The briny ocean breeze was invigorating, the sea lions were barking, and the seagulls were cawing overhead. She took a deep breath and soaked it all in. Yes. This was exactly what she needed.
“Usually we do, but we had that special event earlier, and tomorrow’s schedule is packed. Weather report says we’re supposed to get hit by a bomb cyclone in the next day or two.”
“What in the world is a ‘bomb cyclone’? Doesn’t sound good.”
“Heavy rain, basically,” Tariq said, squinting into the bright sunshine. “We Californians get a little freaked out when confronted with actual weather systems. So, do you want to tell me what happened this morning? You’re clearly shaken up.”
She had taken a long, hot shower to remove all traces of this morning’s nightmare, but still felt as if she had Joel’s blood under her fingernails, reminding her of how the mud from poor Delilah’s grave had stuck with her.
Harper was starting to feel like Lady Macbeth: No matter how many times she washed her hands, they were still unclean.
“Kind of a long story,” she said.
“I ain’t got nothin’ but time, baby,” Tariq replied with a gentle smile.
Harper gave him an abbreviated version of meeting Asher and Highbaugh at the Perles Mansion, getting locked in the basement with Asher, and hearing Asher and Joel arguing upstairs before Joel ended up dead on the patio outside.
“Didn’t see that coming,” Tariq said, shaking his head as he steered the boat. “Joel was a weird little dude, but—wow. You think he was drunk?”
“Under the influence of something, that’s for sure. I didn’t smell alcohol on him, though that can be masked. The detective said they’d run a tox panel.”
“And do you believe Asher’s version of events? Or…do you think he might have pushed Joel himself?”
“Joel was acting very strangely…I don’t know.” It was only then that Harper remembered the journal was still in her car, under the seat. “I mean, Asher was awfully angry, and they were arguing, but pushing someone out a window to his death? That’s…a lot.”
“And Highbaugh hightailed it out of there?”
“I imagine he heard the ruckus and took off. The better part of valor, as they say.”
Tariq nodded and gazed out to sea, apparently lost in thought. A bracing wind came off the water; seagulls swooped and called overhead.
“You really think Asher could have done it?” asked Harper.
“I really think I don’t trust him,” said Tariq. “Delilah told me a few things about their relationship. He was very possessive toward her, to a disturbing degree.”
“I got that feeling. The thing is, Joel did appear completely out of touch with reality…he said he was seeing bunnies.”
“That’s a new one,” Tariq said. “Assuming the bunnies didn’t do it, then there were only two people upstairs. Either Asher murdered Joel by pushing him out the window, or Joel jumped out the window of his own volition.”
“I suppose those are the two options.”
“Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“There is a back stairway,” said Tariq. “The old servants’ stairs. Theoretically, someone else could have been there and slipped away without being noticed.”
“That’s a disturbing thought.”
“What do you want to bet the authorities rule it a suicide? Joel was an odd duck, and you yourself said he’d been acting strange the past few days. Much easier to blame him for his death than to accuse a wealthy local resident of murder.”
“Detective Serrano doesn’t strike me as the type to ignore evidence or to participate in a cover-up.”
“Doesn’t have to be that obvious, Harp. All he has to do is not vigorously pursue the investigation and close the case.” Tariq cut the boat’s engine. “And now, time to get to work. This looks like a likely spot.”
“What are you collecting?” she asked.
“Today I’m just retrieving some water samples from different depths and locations. Other times I come out to tag the jellies. Need a team for that, though.”
“Must be hard to find a jellyfish in the ocean.”
“I’m an old salt. I just follow my nose. I have a sixth sense for this sort of thing.”
“Really?”
Tariq laughed. “Of course not. I’m a scientist. To find the jellyfish we look for slicks, areas where the currents and the wind collect what the jellies like to eat. Then we churn them up with a maneuver called a ‘jelly donut.’ ”
“I prefer glazed.”
He gave her a pity smile. “We pilot the boat around in circles to create an upwelling current that brings the smack to the surface.”
“I’m learning a whole new language. What’s a smack?”
“A group of jellies. Here in Monterey Bay we have comb jellies, egg yolk jellies, sea nettles, purple-lipped jellies…”
“And then? How do you tag a jellyfish? I mean, aren’t they just…jelly?”
“Depends on the medusa, but they’re more substantial than they look. We use glue, cable ties, or suction cups. They usually only stay on for a few hours, but that still gives us loads of information about water temperature, depth, motion…It’s a lot of fun.”
“Okay, I’m convinced. Clearly, I missed the mark becoming a historian.”
“I’m sure that involves having fun, too.”
“Sure does. Just not usually out on the ocean,” Harper said, watching Tariq as he efficiently laid out all his equipment. “Can I ask you about something non-jelly-related?”
“Ask away. I’m an open book.”
“Ha! I would argue that one, Dr. Johnson.”
He grinned at her over the plankton nets. “Shoot.”
“Rumor has it Delilah mentioned you in her will.”
He frowned. “I’d be surprised if that was true. Where did you hear that?”
“Joel mentioned it.”
“I thought Joel was hallucinating.”
“He was.”
“And yet you believe him about the details of Delilah’s will?”
She shrugged. “Just thought I’d ask. The other thing is, I’ve heard some rumors about your brother.”
“More rumors?” He fell silent for a moment, but Harper noted a muscle flexing in his jaw. “It’s a small town. Rumors abound.”
“I know. That’s why I wanted to hear the truth, from you.”
He shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. The Johnsons adopted me when I was three, after my parents died in a car crash.
My adoptive brother, Wyatt, and I were just a few months apart in age.
We were very close.” As he spoke, Tariq appeared focused on his task, his big hands busily calibrating the oxygen meter. “He died when we were twelve.”
“I’m so sorry. What happened?”
“We were on a hunting trip with our dad, just the three of us. Dad was taking a nap while Wyatt and I went for a hike. We were a couple of stupid kids, and started goofing around on a really steep path. Wyatt lost his balance and fell down a ravine. I couldn’t get to him.
By the time I ran back to camp and got our father, it was too late. My brother was gone. Head injury.”
“That must have been so traumatic. For everyone.”
“My parents were beside themselves. It’s hard to imagine that level of grief.
They were sort of lost to me, for a long time.
” Tariq threw the device overboard and brought up several bottles full of water.
“Frankly, witnessing that made me rethink having children and running the risk of that kind of pain.”
Loving anyone means taking a risk, no matter what, Harper thought.
“Anyway, after Wyatt died, everything changed. For a while, my parents found it hard even to look at me.”
“How awful. They didn’t blame you, did they?”
“Not in so many words. They never said anything about it. But I felt like it was my fault, and that they thought it was my fault. At the very least, I felt like I was a daily reminder that their real son had died, and they were stuck with me.”
Harper lost her breath for a moment. “I can’t believe that.”
“I couldn’t help but think that it would have been better for everyone if I had been the one who died,” Tariq said with a shrug.
“Anyway, my grades took a nosedive, and I started getting into trouble. Eventually I was sent to counseling, which was a blessing for all concerned. I had a really good therapist, who helped a lot. Still, I miss Wyatt. A lot. It’s been almost thirty years, and I still think of him every damned day. ”
“I understand. I have a sister, you know.”
He glanced at her. “No, I didn’t know. You’ve never mentioned her.”
“As kids, Scout and I were pretty close, too, like you and Wyatt. She’s just two years younger than me, and when we were growing up, we did everything together, and I mean everything. Our mother used to say we were two peas in a pod.”
“What happened?”
“I went away to college, so we didn’t see each other as much.
Then she went to a different college, and we saw each other even less.
I spent all my time in the library, and Scout spent most of her time partying.
Flunked out of school, got a low-wage job, and followed in our dad’s footsteps until she was a full-blown alcoholic. ”
“Are you in touch at all?”
“For a while we were. Mostly I heard from her when she was in trouble or needed money. I talked to her about getting help, but as you probably know, until someone is ready to admit they have a problem and are willing to address it, nothing will change. Scout was in and out of rehab for years but couldn’t stay sober.
The last straw was when she showed up to our mother’s funeral roaring drunk.
Our mother, who had stood by Scout through the bad times and the worse times, had supported her for years, had always, always come through for her.
And when Mom died, Scout was too drunk to care. ”
Tariq winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”