Danger at the Dive Shop Read online

  Then again, Chica had an uncanny ability to sniff out lost or stolen items. She’d also saved Kitty’s life several times by anticipating violent attempts on her life. Maybe Chica could lead her to the treasure.

  Andrew followed Kitty’s gaze and said, “Beautiful dog you got there. I didn’t know they let dogs on these dives.”

  Kitty knew what he was asking, since he’d witnessed Coleman’s refusal for Chica to come on the boat. Kitty had been forced to bring out Chica’s papers and the dive shop’s own agreement regarding service animals.

  She dodged the question by saying, “I don’t think they would if they didn’t have to, but I’m glad Angelina has been so kind to her while I’ve been exploring the reefs.”

  He wasn’t going to be put off his line of questioning. “So, you said she was a service dog. What does she do?”

  Kitty knew his real question was why she needed Chica. It was a question she’d faced many times in her life when she traveled alone with Chica. Outwardly, there was nothing wrong with Kitty, aside from a perpetually sunburned nose and slightly uncontrollable brown hair. It was only when she translated for a hearing impaired cruise ship group that she wasn’t questioned about her dog. Then, and only then, Chica was accepted for who she was and the job she had to do. A lot of folks thought since she could speak that Kitty wasn’t hearing impaired, and that Chica was a pet. But there was a reason Chica had been her companion for years, and would be for years more, God willing.

  “She’s trained to assist the hearing impaired. I’m a translator. That’s what I do when I’m not on vacation. I’m headed back to work on Monday, actually.”

  He frowned. “Hearing impaired? You’re not deaf, are you? Or do you have one of those implant things?”

  Kitty looked out at the water for a second, composing her thoughts. She should be used to the questions, used to the judgments and assumptions. But she wasn’t. She needed to be ready with an explanation that still protected what privacy she had. “Not every Deaf person travels with a service animal, and Chica is trained to help large groups. She can alert anyone she’s assigned to, and she can work independently from me.” Except when Kitty went on a scuba diving vacation and then Chica seemed to get a little resentful at being left out.

  “But you don’t need to bring her with you when you’re not on duty, right? She could have stayed at the dive shop.”

  Kitty knew that Andrew didn’t mean anything by his suggestion. She simply didn’t want to explain that soon, Chica would be a full time service dog for Kitty. But she still felt a surge of irritation at the implication that she was the kind of person who ordered a fake badge off the internet so she could take her dog grocery shopping. Plus, Chica was a great asset to have in his corner if his life was ever in danger. Chica was probably more useful in a crisis than most humans.

  “True, she could have. But she’s also very valuable and I didn’t feel that I should leave her alone so long. A highly trained service dog could be useful to a lot of thieves,” she said. Not that Chica would ever, ever go to the dark side. She was a law-abiding dog of the highest order.

  Andrew made a skeptical sound and shrugged. He seemed to be holding his tongue, which was a pleasant change.

  Not everybody loved dogs, or even liked them. Kitty understood that. She wouldn’t expect someone to immediately take to Chica, just as she wouldn’t expect someone to feel affection for a stranger’s baby. But she just couldn’t help feeling warmly toward anybody who was kind to children or animals. It was her own bias shining through. Andrew’s inability to understand why Kitty wanted Chica along for the day wasn’t helping Kitty feel more affection for the man.

  “So, you want to walk down to the Blue Dolphin and get a drink later?” Andrew asked suddenly.

  No.

  Kitty swallowed her first response and said, “Sure. I think Ren and Jenny go there every evening. They say the place has great margaritas. We should all go together.”

  Andrew looked irritated at his invitation being turned into a group affair, but there wasn’t much he could say about it. Kitty could tell he wasn’t the type of guy who would put himself out there unless he knew it was a sure thing.

  Well, surprise. Kitty was the opposite of a sure thing.

  “Cool. Well, gotta go get changed. These board shorts start chafing if I don’t get into something roomier.” With a wink, he walked back toward the others.

  Kitty looked out on the sparkling waves. She felt no obligation to Andrew,. She was happy with her job traveling the sunny Yucatan on luxury cruise liners, a bookstore filled with leather-bound classics, two friendly-but-ornery black cats, a drafty old colonial watched over by Nancy in her absence, and Chica. Kitty really didn’t need anything or anyone else, and hadn’t for a long time.

  Kitty had to admit that wasn’t exactly true. Not anymore.

  She thought of the little silver charm that Chica was wearing on her collar. After solving two murders together, she and Leander forged the sort of bond that was deeper than a relationship built on fancy dinners or walking barefoot on the beach. Kitty wasn’t quite sure what that bond was, exactly, but she was undeniably happier for knowing him. They lived hours apart and both traveled the majority of their days, so it didn’t make sense to think of the future at that point. It was enough to know he was a phone call away, a friend when she needed one. It was more than she’d had in a very long time.

  There, she was thinking about him again. Kitty stood up, irritated with herself.

  “Lunch is ready,” Angelina called out to the group and they started filing toward the galley.

  Chica sat up and looked toward Kitty as if to say, Hurry up, or it will all be gone and I’ll get nothing.

  Kitty stowed her book back in her bag, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin and the ache of tired muscles. As many days as she spent in the stunning vistas of the Caribbean, she would never tired of it all.

  Accepting a sizzling pan of fajitas, Kitty took a moment to revel in the incredible view, delicious smell of the spicy food, and the laughter of the group. Chica had apparently forgiven her because she came to sit by her feet, ears up and eyes hopeful. All the bad memories of the last few months were fading away. A vacation had been just what she needed to recover from the gruesome murders and the life-threatening race to find the killers.

  Life was good. It was more than good, really. It was perfect.

  Chica stood up and focused on Coleman as he walked across the deck, his usual angry expression on his face. Kitty put a reassuring hand on Chica’s collar.

  “It’s okay, girl. Have some chorizo,” Kitty said, holding out a bit of the savory sausage.

  Chica didn’t turn her head and didn’t blink.

  Kitty sighed. Maybe Chica needed this vacation just as much as Kitty did. Chica was still behaving as if Death itself stalked their group, waiting for the right moment to drag one of them under the turquoise waves and to the bottom of the Caribbean sea.

  Service animal PTSD, probably.

  Nothing to worry about. What could possibly happen out here in paradise?

  Chapter Two

  “It’s not contagious, you know. Death is as natural as life. It’s part of the deal we made.”

  ― Mitch Albom

  Kitty paused in front of the dive shop on her way back to her room. Taking Chica for a short walk had served a three-fold purpose. She and Chica had both needed to stretch their legs, it gave Kitty quiet time for prayer, and she’d gotten a nice break from all the people. The place was bustling with tourists. She spent half of her days on a luxury cruise liner so she wasn’t too bothered by noise, but the crowd that had recently gathered was a different sort. Impatient, short-tempered, and definitely not interested in having a good time.

  Angelina and Mark were both at the long counter, piles of papers in front of them as they sorted out the new bookings. A large group of people stood in the wide open reception area. In the three days she’d been at the dive shop, she’d never seen so man
y people trying to reserve boats.

  The bright blue sign on the front of the building was faded from the sun and the white paint was peeling off the cement walls, but it didn’t seem to alarm any of the people who were standing inside. It wasn’t really the place you stopped at on a whim, but it was still charming in an authentic sort of way. Old signs, netting, glass floats brought in by the tide, and dried starfish were hung haphazardly. The white tiled floor and formica covered counter were as utilitarian as you could get, and yet the decorations on the walls gave the place a cozy air.

  Coleman had three boats running scuba trips to the reefs and it seemed like they were in use all of the time. His reputation for being the best dive master around was clearly more important than the state of the building. And to be fair, the boats were top of the line.

  The living and sleeping quarters were behind the main building, built in a square surrounding the garden area. Since the dive shop also operated as a hostel, sometimes there were guests who weren’t part of the diving expeditions.

  There was one large room for a mixed group of ten people, two medium rooms for a group of five, and then four or so several smaller private rooms. Lisa, Joan, and Christina shared a room designated for five women and there had been several female overnight visitors so the extra beds had been filled each evening. Jenny, Ren, and Andrew were in the other medium room, and Jenny had mentioned how nice it was to have extra space to put spread out her clothes since there were empty beds. The private rooms were mostly empty and Kitty wondered why Joan, Lisa, and Christina didn’t snatch them up. Of course, there were also more expensive so cost may have been a factor.

  Her current accommodations were definitely a step down from her luxury cruise ship digs, but it had a window air conditioner and a comfortable bed. That was more than most places that were outside the big resorts. The addition of a mini fridge where she could store some sodas, bottled water, chocolate, and Chica’s dog treats had made her quite happy.

  Kitty considered taking Chica for another tour of the neighborhood until the current wave of tourists had subsided, but it was hot and she thought of the cold Diet Coke waiting for her in the room.

  “Excuse me,” she said to several large men blocking her path.

  They didn’t turn around.

  “Con permiso,” she tried again.

  One made eye contact with Kitty, then slowly turned back around, feet planted far apart and arms crossed.

  Well.

  Kitty wished she were the kind of woman who could give someone a good push, and that Chica were the kind of dog that could bite someone for being rude. It was true that she spent a lot of time being coddled on a luxury cruise ship, surrounded by friendly staff and pleasant guests, but she didn’t think the world had changed that much since she’d started working as a tour guide.

  Stepping to the side, she tried to edge her way between the surly men and a pair of teenagers. They seemed too young to be booking a scuba diving trip, unless they were the type of boys who were simply late bloomers. One glanced at Kitty and she knew her estimation of their ages was correct.

  As she squeezed through, the skinnier teen put out his arm to block her way. Chica let out a low frooooooffff sound in her throat. It wasn’t a growl. It was the sound she made when she wanted to bark, but knew it would be overkill. The boy dropped his arm at the sound and spoke to her in Spanish. “We were here first. You have to wait your turn.”

  “I’m staying in a room is in the back of the shop,” she said, thankful she was fluent and didn’t have to resort to having Chica bare her teeth. She leveled a no-nonsense look at him for good measure.

  “So, you’ve already been to Punta Molas?” he asked. His friend leaned over to hear her response, his eyes alight with interest.

  “Not yet. It was on the itinerary, but we haven’t gone there. Probably tomorrow.” She smiled, hoping her friendliness included a very clear end to the conversation.

  “They’re closing it to the public on Saturday. Tomorrow is the last day anybody can search for the treasure. Then the government is taking over,” his friend said. “We traveled all the way from Guadalajara when we heard. Spent yesterday and the whole night on the bus.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  The crowd inside the dive shop suddenly made sense. Kitty glanced around at the people waiting in line. Now that she looked closer, they weren’t the usual crowd of Americans and Europeans dressed in expensive chino shorts and patterned shirts. Kitty saw that the sign above the main counter had been changed, and the cost of a scuba diving trip had nearly tripled in cost from just yesterday.

  It now seemed more than likely that her own tour group wouldn’t visit Punta Molas. Angelina and Mark looked overwhelmed with the schedules in front of them. Besides, bribery was viewed differently in Mexico. Paying a few hundred extra dollars to bump someone from a slot they had already booked wouldn’t be considered too far out of line. Americans took that sort of thing very seriously, but the Latin and South American culture treated it more fluidly. There was being on a list, and then there was being first in line with a few extra bills as a tip. Kitty knew which one spoke louder.

  The situation didn’t bode well for the two young teens but Kitty said, “Good luck with your trip. I hope you find treasure. Be careful and may God be with you.”

  They both grinned and thanked her as she continued through the crowd.

  Mark’s voice carried above the general hubbub, his American accent growing with every Spanish word he spoke. “I’m sorry. You can’t spend four hours diving without purchasing several tanks. These are open circuit tanks, and they only last one hour. If you want to stay all morning, you’ve got to buy the extra tanks.”

  Glancing at him as she passed, Kitty could see he was frustrated with the man standing in front of the counter. He was heavy-set and balding, and something about his posture made Kitty think he wasn’t going to accept Mark’s stipulations. Not very wise when there were so many others ready to pay top price and a little more to search for treasure, she thought.

  She finally made it to the door in the back of the shop and pulled it open. The courtyard was quiet, except for Ren and Jenny at one of the small tables. Ren had a bag of M&M’s beside him. Their heads were bent, nearly touching as they pored over what looked like a map.

  As she came closer, Kitty decided she’d better announce herself. It seemed that the reports of gold coins had captivated quite a few people, and the two marine biology students might not be happy to have their summer project exposed as a treasure hunt.

  “Hey, guys.”

  Sure enough, they sat up with matching expressions of surprise. Ren quickly pulled the map toward him and spread his hand over the top.

  “Have a good walk?” Jenny asked. She’d fixed her long blond hair into two braids, both tied with red yarn.

  “I did. Chica had a better walk, since she got to pee on several posts and a canoe. Oh, and then she saw a large lizard. All very exciting.”

  They both chuckled but it sounded strained. “We’re just planning our dive tomorrow.”

  “Oh, good. Did you talk to Mark?” Kitty glanced back at the dive shop. “There were so many people in there just now that I could hardly get through the place.”

  They exchanged worried looks.

  “I― I wonder why,” Ren said.

  “Two teenagers told me they’d traveled all the way from Guadalajara because they’d heard that Punta Molas was closing on Saturday.”

  Jenny gasped. “Closing? What does that mean?”

  “Closed to anyone but the government, I guess.” Kitty felt awful to be the bearer of bad news. “Maybe I’m wrong. We should ask Mark and Coleman tonight.”

  Ren nodded and stood up, folding the map and tucking it under his arm. “You know, I think we’d better go find one of them right now.”

  As they hurried toward the back door of the shop, Kitty said, “Mark looked really busy. You should probably try Coleman.”

  J
enny waved her thanks for the information and they both disappeared into the shop. As the door swung closed, Kitty could see even more people milling around. She glimpsed Angelina’s face and she looked worried.

  “What a mess. Lord, please help everybody keep their cool, ” Kitty muttered. Sighing, she started toward her little room. It was the first door on the left and although she didn’t like being the closest to the road―and therefore closer to the traffic noise―she liked the privacy.

  Chica was watching the door to the dive shop. “Let’s go. That chorizo sausage must have had a lot of salt because the Diet Coke is really calling my name.”

  Reluctantly, Chica followed Kitty to their room. Bless the inventor of air conditioning. As Kitty opened her drink and turned on the AC, Chica paced in front of the door.

  “Sit, girl. You’re making me nervous,” Kitty said. “If it wasn’t so hot, I’d take you on another walk, but as it is, you’ll have to wait until it gets cooler.” The traditional afternoon siesta only made sense to a person after they’d visited the humid, jungle climate. Then they understood that getting out of the sun for a few hours wasn’t a matter of laziness, but self-preservation.

  Chica sat down and faced the door. Her ears were up, and a shiver ran down Kitty’s spine. Chica was a low-key, obedient dog until she sensed danger in the air.

  “What is it?” she signed. Maybe Mark and the balding man had come to blows. Maybe the large group in the shop were starting to rebel against the fees Coleman had set. Listening hard, she could hear the faintest sound of voices raised in anger. She really didn’t want to get involved in any disputes, but then she felt ashamed of her own reaction.

  Chica didn’t like to get involved, either. She liked to lie in the sun and chew on rawhide bones. Sometimes she liked to sneakily drink the very last of Kitty’s virgin strawberry margaritas. But when it was time to chase down a killer, or save someone from certain death, Chica was there.