The Steel Shark

Chapter 15

Joe paused at the crowd’s edge. He hated crowds almost as much as Maeve loved them. As soon as he stopped, Edison sat. Joe looked at a pod of dolphins swimming with a school of tuna, frozen in place for the exhibit. He remembered piloting his sub in the middle of a pod of dolphins once, how they’d practically danced around him, and clicks and whistles had come through his hydrophone. It’d be months before he got a new submarine and joined them again.

“I see Vivian.” Maeve was already waving. “She looks great. Really butch. She totally has the legs to pull that suit off.”

Mr. Rossi must have hired Vivian to be his bodyguard at the event. He was surprised she’d agreed. He suspected she’d be happy to kill him herself over the refrigerator, not to mention the recent headlines blaring that they were in a relationship.

Vivian came over. She did look good — tall and fit and angry. He got ready to apologize.

“Mr. Tesla.” She gave him a frosty smile.

“Uh-oh,” Maeve said. “What did you do to make her so mad?”

“I was trying to be nice.”

Maeve tilted her silvery head. “I see a client on the other side of the room. Far away from you guys. Really far.”

Quicksilver fast, she darted into the crowd.

“Your mom likes the fridge,” Joe said. “I’m sorry it caused you problems.”

“Yes.” She clearly wasn’t going to talk about the refrigerator. “They’re not bringing the subs up.”

“What?” His answer came out louder than he’d intended, and Edison leaned against him. “Someone probably murdered the bodyguard.”

“You know, murders seem to happen every time you go outside. Have you thought of staying home?”

He laughed. “I basically do. I just have a large home — especially if you count the swimming pool in my backyard.”

“I count that as the ocean. And I’m not swimming in it again until you get rid of your pet sharks.” She smiled when she said it. A good sign.

“It’s the hit-and-run drivers you need to worry about,” he said.

That prompted another smile. Eager to capitalize on her good humor, he filled her in on his findings with the video from the contest.

“I want to hire you to keep going with the investigation,” Joe said. “Are you in?”

“I’m in. I’ve been hassled by the police and mocked in the newspaper as your arm candy. I want to sort out this damn crash already.”

“Which was worse?” Joe asked.

“Interrogation while doped up on painkillers while trying to stop my mom from accepting the fridge, or the public perception we’re dating?”

She looked pretty mad about both scenarios.

“You don’t want to know,” she said.

Answer enough. “Sorry about the press. I didn’t tell them that, and I thought if I denied it, it might make it worse.”

“Let’s get this over with,” she said. “And nail whoever is putting us through this.”

Maeve was back. “They’re loaning us watches!”

“Watches?” Vivian said. “Gee whiz.”

Vivian wasn’t a gadget person.

Maeve held out her wrist to display a bulky watch with a screen on the front instead of a clock face. The screen displayed a moving aerial view of the hall. “It shows footage from the drone flying around in here. You can see everything on these!”

“So. We can spy on our fellow partygoers?” Vivian asked.

“There’s no audio,” Maeve said. “Can you believe how dusty the back of that whale is? Really breaks the illusion.”

She fastened a watch around Joe’s wrist and handed the third watch to Vivian.

“Could be useful,” Maeve said. “For increased situational awareness.”

“If you can’t beat ’em.” Vivian fumbled to put the watch on her wounded arm. It looked awkward, but Joe knew better than to offer to help.

Alan Wright appeared at his elbow. “You look pretty fit for a sub-crash survivor.”

“Assuming they don’t drown, sub-crash survivors usually look pretty good,” Maeve said. “They’re like canned fruit in syrup.”

Alan snorted and gave Maeve an appreciative look. Joe remembered, again, why he didn’t like him.

“I heard they’re considering manslaughter charges against you,” Alan said.

Maeve shot him a worried look. They hadn’t talked about that.

Joe glanced down at the scene on his wrist. The drone hovered a few feet over their heads for a few seconds, then flitted off like a hummingbird, showing a shot of a walrus.

“I’m sure the investigation will exonerate us,” Vivian said. “Since we’re blameless.”

Alan snorted again. Joe hated that sound.

“I’m taking my sub out tomorrow to have a look-see, Joe,” Alan said. “I suppose you’re too freaked out to join me.”

“I could manage.” Joe worked on his poker face. He didn’t want Alan to know how desperately he wanted to go down and look at the crash site himself.

“No dogs allowed,” Alan said. “But I can bring it to your dock through that old water outflow. You won’t even have to step outside.”

“I’m in.” Now he’d owe Alan. He hated that, but it would be worth it.

Vivian stared at her wrist, as if transfixed by the drone’s-eye view. She looked nervous, probably worried she might have to go back out in the sub. He didn’t blame her. He wasn’t looking forward to his first time back in a submarine either, but he wasn’t going to let his fears shut off another part of the world.

He couldn’t.