Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
“I went to Al-Anon, learned how to draw boundaries. That really pissed Scout off, and she stopped speaking to me altogether.” Harper’s voice got tight, and tears stung the back of her eyes.
She cleared her throat. “Just as well, I suppose. That’s probably one reason my heart went out to Asher.
Those sibling bonds are so strong and can be so painful.
I don’t think people always recognize the importance of siblings, and the pain of losing that relationship. ”
“I suppose you’re right. Hey—cuteness alert!”
A dark, sleek creature was bobbing in the waves, big black eyes shining and huge nose twitching: a sea otter. It flipped onto its back and floated belly up, rubbing its furry honey-blond cheeks with its front paws.
“Awwww! She’s washing her little face,” Harper said. “She’s adorable!”
“As a dedicated and impartial marine scientist, I feel obligated to say that otters are just about the cutest thing in the animal kingdom. I mean, they don’t hold a candle to jellyfish, of course…”
“Is it true sea otters were once thought to be extinct?”
Tariq nodded. “They’re curious creatures and not particularly afraid of humans, which may well have doomed them.
In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, hunters killed so many for their fur—otters have the densest coat of any animal—that their population was devastated.
But in 1938, fifty of the clever little critters were discovered hiding off the coast of Big Sur.
Eventually, with conservation efforts, they’ve staged a comeback.
Here in Monterey Bay, we have southern sea otters, who play a key role in maintaining the health of the estuary and the bay.
Otters love to feast on sea urchins and consume enough of them that the sea urchins don’t destroy the kelp forests.
They also eat crabs, which helps the sea slug population to thrive, which in turn keeps the eelgrass healthy by eating algae off the leaves. ”
Harper smiled. “This sounds like a practiced speech.”
“Welcome to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, Dr. Grae. I’m Dr. Tariq B.
Johnson, and I’ll be your tour guide today,” he said with a grin.
“You should come by and let Penny show you around the surrogacy program. We have five nonreleasable females who act as surrogates to orphaned otter pups, teaching them how to groom and forage so they can eventually be released back into the wild. The otter we’re looking at now may well have been a rescue—see the tag on her flipper? ”
“The aquarium does amazing work.”
“It sure does,” he said with a nod. “I’m lucky to be part of it. Oh, one more thing: If you keep an eye out, you might just see the makkeweks.”
“The what, now?”
He smiled. “The Rumsen peoples—who lived here long before Europeans arrived—believed an aquatic creature they called a makkeweks lived in these waters. Neither shark nor seal, it was a huge creature with a massive dorsal fin. Every once in a while, someone claims to have captured an image of it in a photograph, but as yet there’s no scientific evidence that makkeweks exist or ever existed.
It’s sort of our local version of the Loch Ness Monster. ”
Out on the water, the brisk wind mussing her hair, far from haunted mansions and menacing mirrors, Harper was able to breathe again. This was a needed reset. She should do this sort of thing more often.
And, looking up at Tariq’s profile, his intelligent eyes and intriguing mouth…it was easy to get her mind off murder and mayhem.
All the way home, Harper pondered the beauty of Monterey Bay, cute little otters rescued from extinction, and the mythical sea creature known as the makkeweks.
But when they pulled up in front of Ellen’s house, Tariq asked, “Why is your apartment door open?”
“Ugh, not again.” This time, in the daylight and with Tariq at her side, Harper was more irked than frightened. “What is up with that door?”
“Could be a faulty latch.”
“You know, the doors at the Perles Mansion are famous for opening and closing on their own.”
Tariq fixed her with a look. “You think the spirits are taunting you?”
“It’s…possible?”
“Is it?”
“Maybe…maybe it’s a message?”
“Or maybe it’s a faulty latch. Or an all-too-real creep who broke in.”
Harper stared at the door for another moment without making a move to get out of the car. “I’m calling the cops. Just in case.”
A very polite uniformed officer, who looked about the age of Harper’s students, showed up and did a quick sweep of the apartment.
There was no sign that anyone had been there.
Her laptop was on the table, surrounded by her neatly stacked papers and notebooks, not a page out of place.
The bed was made up, the quilt folded exactly as she had left it this morning.
Harper checked the bathroom and was relieved to see the new mirror was in one piece.
Still…it felt like someone had been inside.
Someone who should not have been. Harper could not explain why, even to herself, though she thought she detected a faint metallic scent underneath the aroma of woodsmoke and the scented candle she had been burning.
She thought about what she had been telling her students not so long ago: Humans are animals with instinctual knowledge, though they too often discount what they feel.
“Nothing missing or disturbed, as far as I can see,” she said to the police officer. “I’m sorry—I feel silly now for having called you. It’s just that I was at the Perles Mansion this morning, and—”
“Oh, I heard about that!” said the officer. “You were there? No wonder you’re on edge. It’s good you called, just in case.”
After he left, Tariq asked: “Did you check for your jewelry box?”
Harper laughed. “My what, now?”
“Don’t women have jewelry boxes? That’s always the first thing they check for on cop shows.”
“Naw, I keep my diamond tiara and emerald necklace in a safety deposit box, right next to my stack of solid gold bars.”
“And here I thought you were a poor college professor, not an heiress,” Tariq said with a chuckle. “No jewelry box, check. You live, you learn.”
Harper smiled and showed him the cigar box where she kept her inexpensive earrings and a few necklaces. She had bought most of them at craft fairs, handmade by young artisans or retired hippies.
“Much better than a diamond tiara, in my view,” said Tariq. “Anyway, nothing wrong with the door latch that I can see. Most likely you didn’t shut the door all the way and the wind caught it. You’ve been a little distracted recently, what with death all around you.”
“True enough.”
“If it would make you more comfortable, call a locksmith and get a new lock installed.”
“Good idea,” Harper said. “One of my students has a brother who’s a locksmith. Maybe I’ll give him a call.”
Tariq straightened and studied her, his hands on his hips. “Feeling better?”
“The otter helped. A lot.”
“Otters’ll do that. How about I hang around tonight? We could order a pizza, or tacos. Or better yet, I’ll cook for you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
Harper was surprised by a surge of emotion. She had felt so much better after their boating excursion, but now, again, she felt wrung out. Tired. And afraid. And tired of being afraid. She cleared her throat. “The truth is, I would love for you to stay.”
He gave a quick nod. “Good.”
While Harper checked on Ellen to be sure she was set for the evening, Tariq went out to buy groceries and a bottle of wine.
When he returned, he poured them each a glass of wine, put on some music, and started chopping vegetables.
The apartment was soon filled with the aroma of sautéed garlic as Tariq cooked his specialty: linguini with clam sauce, garlic bread, and a big green salad.
As they ate, they reminisced about their days at Berkeley and swapped stories about the years after they had completed their degrees but before Harper came to Monterey. They talked about anything and everything except the Perles Mansion, Delilah, Asher, and Joel.
The hour grew late.
“You must be exhausted,” Tariq said, as they finished straightening up the kitchen.
“What about you?”
“I could use some sleep.”
Harper hesitated. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”
“Are you afraid to be alone?”
“No. I don’t want to be alone.” She held his gaze and stood very close to him. “I want to be with you.”
He brushed her hair from her cheek and cupped her chin. Slowly, very slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Tariq spent the night. And not on the floor.