The Case Of The Phantom Diver Ch 07

"Where do you think you're going?" Pamela Farris challenged, spotting her eldest son slinking toward the staircase.

"Up to my room," Phinn replied.

"Oh, no. You turn right around and march over to that couch," Pamela commanded, pointing toward the living room. "You are not allowed to take a nap yet."

"Oh, come on!" the teenager whined. "I'm not going to take a nap. I just wanna go upstairs."

"You've suffered a mild concussion and need to be monitored. Falling asleep can be dangerous," the worried mother stated.

"That's nothing but an old wives's tale, Mom. Getting sleep is considered vital for repairing your brain," Phinn argued before realizing he screwed up once his mother's expression changed. "Not that my brain is damaged! The doctor said it was only a mild concussion, and I feel fine. There isn't a reason to get paranoid."

"I get paranoid every time you leave the house except for school. How in the world do you get attacked at a library? I knew it; you're mixed up in something again. It better not be this pirate treasure hysteria," Pam warned, gesturing to the TV. There wasn't anything currently on the screen about Thornbeard, but Phinn knew what his mom meant.

The six o'clock news had reported on the scuffle that broke out at the marina. Apparently, a person claimed to have a map and attempted to sell copies. However, once someone handed over the cash only to realize it looked fake, they demanded their money back. The seller tried to run as a few others who'd paid for a copy also realized what had happened.

"I bet this whole pirate treasure story is fake, Mom," Phinn responded, hoping to squash her fears. "You know, a hoax to gin up tourism. I wouldn't put it past Mayor Broome. He's desperate to bump up his approval ratings."

"That's not a no, Mom!" a younger voice called from the living room.

"Your brother is right, Phinny. Were you down at the marina today?"

"I can honestly say that I was never at the marina anytime this summer," Phinn said truthfully. "And I wasn't even at a random library. I was in the archives of Dad's workplace. Shouldn't I be safe there?"

"You're safe nowhere because nobody likes you," Putnam cackled.

"Shut it, Pugsley!"

"Don't say that, Putnam, and don't call him that, Phineas," Pamela admonished, wondering how her two boys turned out this way when her husband was the calmest and least adventurous person she knew. "And tell me again why you were at Bentworth."

"I told you. I'm working on a school paper," Phinn lied.

A bark of laughter sounded from Putnam's favorite armchair. Although, he never looked up from his tablet.

"I am!"

"Phinny, it's the summer. Why would you work on a school paper? It's not like you," Pamela said, pausing as another idea formed. "You didn't get in trouble last semester, did you?"

"No. Miss Pendelton knows I'm interested in Edgewater's criminal history, and she wants me to submit a special article for the school newspaper," Phinn said, selling his lie hard. "And she thought I could help the girls on the paper."

"Girls? Which girls?" Pamela inquired, perking up at the possibilities which popped into her head.

"Um, Erin Donnelly might end up in charge if--"

"Erin's a cute girl. Good head on those shoulders as well," Pamela praised, already wondering how she could play cupid.

"And Bex Fairfax is also on the--"

"You stay away from Becca. That's a girl who doesn't follow the rules. Now, I don't want you to get any ideas about her," the matchmaking mother directed.

"It's just an article, Mom. It's not like I'm joining the newspaper," Phinn added, holding in a grin over distracting his mother.

"Hmm, we'll see. I might have to ask Sara Pendleton about this. What's your article about?" the suspicious but hopeful mother asked.

"Silas Mosley," Phinn answered without hesitation. He wasn't concerned about his English teacher backing him up. She owed Phinn and Jake for helping out with a shady boyfriend last year. "He's the Prohibition Era criminal from Edgewater."

BRRRING-BRRRING

Pam jumped slightly as the house phone rang. With two unpredictable boys, she refused to cancel the landline like many of her friends. If she did, Phineas and Putnam might use its absence to their advantage. It only took her a few quick steps to reach the phone near the entrance to the kitchen.

"Hello? Oh!" Pam's expression turned to delight when she heard the voice on the other end. "Why yes, Phineas is home. Who, may I ask, is calling? Oh, yes, hello."

Phinn watched as his mom's excitement deflated while she turned to look at him. She held out the phone.

"It's for you," Pam said needlessly, her voice filled with disappointment.

"Hello?"

"Phinn? I'm sorry for calling your house, but I didn't know your cell number," Zelda Imhoff apologized. "I hope I'm not interrupting dinner or anything. Your mother sounded, um, odd."

"No, no, this is a good time, Ms. Imhoff," Phinn replied, not using her last name. He wasn't sure how his mom might react to calling the flirtatious librarian by her first name. Actually, he wondered if she'd be thrilled since it was clear to him that her initial delight came from thinking a girl called her son. "How can I help you?"

"We've had a bit of excitement down at the Dillingday after you left," Zelda announced, causing Phinn to turn his back to his mom. "Somebody broke into the special collection room not long before closing. We noticed while checking everything before locking up for the night."

"Really? What did you find?" Phinn asked, choosing his words carefully for his prying mother's ears.

"Funny that you put it that way. I suspect I did find what the person wanted," Zelda teased. "I was planning on contacting you anyway. After you left, I called Gertie. She mentioned somebody spending a couple of days in the special collection room a few months back. Apparently, this happened while I took my vacation down in the Caribbean. This man was particularly interested in local history during the Colonial Era, Civil War, and Gilded Age. Gertie claimed the man was messy, forcing her to go through the cabinets and boxes to fix what he put back wrong, even though she told him not to put any items back by himself. After hearing that, I decided to check our Civil War collection."

"And you found something?" the junior detective asked, fighting to keep his eagerness out of his voice.

"I did! It's the ship manifest, bill of lading, and a note by the purser from the

Fleetwing

," Zelda revealed.

Phinn struggled not to ask about the familiar-sounding ship, with his mom lingering nearby to eavesdrop. Instead, he made a sound to let the ginger-haired librarian continue.

"There are several interesting items on the list, including diving gear. Unfortunately, part of the document has been torn off. You might want to get to the library first thing in the morning. I've hidden it elsewhere in the library for now."

"That's great and bad," Phinn responded. "We'll come down tomorrow bright and early."

"No. No, you won't," Pamela declared. "You're staying at home tomorrow. You won't be going anywhere until I know for sure that you don't have lingering effects from your concussion."

"But, Mom--"

"I said no!"

"Wait, did your mother say a concussion?" Zelda asked after overhearing her.

"Uh, yeah, something happened today. If you could give me your number, I'll let you know when I can stop by, Ms. Imhoff. "

"I scanned all three, so I can always send it over if you can't come down here," Zelda offered, rattling off her phone number.

"That sounds great. I'll let you know. Thanks for all your help," Phinn said, hurrying to hang up after he scribbled down the librarian's contact information. Before he could argue, Pamela pounced with a question.

"Why is Zelda Imhoff calling you? She better not be encouraging your meddling again."

"Mom, you have to stop with the suspicious paranoia. Ms. Imhoff is helping with my article on Silas Mosley. She found some additional material in the library. I need to go and grab them--"

"No, you aren't going anywhere."

"Well, can I at least go next door? Maybe Jake can pick up the material for me tomorrow," Phinn suggested, wanting an excuse to call Zelda back in private.

"Very well. I'll allow it, but don't stay over there long."

Phinn started walking out the back door without waiting for his mother to finish. By the time the door shut behind him, he'd already sent the librarian a text with his email address. A few minutes later, he and Jake huddled in the Magnum family den while they waited for Zelda to send over a copy of the documents.

"Why does the

Fleetwing

sound familiar?" the stocky detective asked.

"It was Jason Tarr's ship. He's the one who is our best possible suspect for the search expedition in the 1880s," Phinn reminded, reaching down to pet Bandit, the Magnums' bulldog.

"Right. And Zelda just found it in the wrong drawer?"

Phinn relayed what the librarian had told him and explained why he couldn't ask follow-up questions with his mom in the room. Additionally, he added that he might not be able to leave the house tomorrow.

A buzzing nearly sent Jake to the roof. With dread, he checked his phone's screen before sighing with relief. Quickly, he dashed a message off.

"Who's that?"

"Andre. A few of us are hitting up Smashburgers in about twenty minutes," Jake responded. "We're going to watch the game and grab something to eat."

"And that has you jumpy?"

"It's not them."

"Trina?" Phinn inquired.

"No. She's still not answering," Jake reported before revealing his real issue. "Johanna's been driving me nuts. She must have gotten my number when I sent the pictures to myself from her phone. The girl is pissed we ducked out of the historical society before granting the exclusive interview she wanted."

"Ah, I see."

"No, you don't. Johanna's getting worried because our names are now out there," Jake divulged. "I don't know who spread the rumor. Johanna nearly tore off my head when I asked if she did. Talk about touchy."

"What rumor?" the bespectacled teen questioned, having a bad feeling.

"You're not going to like it," Jake warned, disclosing what's on local social media. "Not only are Jake and Phinn hot on the trail of Thornbeard's treasure, but we're already close to finding it."

"Goddammit!" the more studious amateur sleuth swore, slamming his hand on the desk. Startled, Bandit started to bark. "Sorry, buddy. Nope, it's not playtime yet."

"People are already talking about following us to the treasure to get their cut," Jake added.

"That's what worried me. Shit, this is the worst. We don't need a repeat of The Crooked Councilman," Phinn recalled their past case.

"At least we're not fifteen this time and can't drive. Well, you still can't drive, but I can. So we got that going for us," Jake pointed out.

"Just when I think this case is worthless, I get jumped in a fricking archive of all places. You're taking the next punch, got it?" the less durable detective declared. "I just better hope none of my mom's friends see this and tell her. I already had to claim I'm working on an article for Miss Pendleton."

"Two weeks after the school year ended? And she believed you?" Jake challenged.

"Not entirely. I had to entice her with the names of a few of the paper's female reporters. You should've seen the gears turning in her brain," Phinn recounted, chuckling despite his anger about the latest development.

"Okay, Zelda sent it," Jake announced, seeing the new message pop up on the laptop. "What does any of that mean?"

"Hold on. Let me look," Phinn replied. Immediately, he realized what Zelda meant by a torn portion of the paper. All three had identical missing sections in the upper corner. "Damn, the dates are missing on the manifest."

"What does that mean?"

"Actually, all three are missing the dates," Phinn said, sighing. "That means we can't be sure when this is from and where the

Fleetwing

was headed for how long. Well, this isn't the Rosetta Stone we needed."

"Huh?"

"It's not our smoking gun," the brainy investigator clarified. "Still, Zelda was right. Enough items are listed here to indicate an underwater search of some type. I'd imagine that wasn't very common during this period. Divers couldn't go too far down without suffering from a serious case of the bends."

"How does this help us?" Jake wondered.

"By providing us with another reason to look into the Tarr family, specifically Jason Tarr," Phinn determined. "Unfortunately, the Tarrs don't easily give access to their family papers. It's bound to be more difficult with the treasure hunt hype starting."

"Wait a second," Jake indicated, holding up a finger. His feet swiftly carried him out of the den until he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Yo, Libby! Do you know any Tarrs? The old family in town!"

It took almost thirty seconds of banging and swearing about getting interrupted before the return shout came.

"Regina Tarr?"

"Um, yeah!" Jake yelled, shrugging his shoulders at the name. "Is she your age?"

"That rich bitch from South High is two years older than me!" Liberty Magnum yelled, walking down the hallway until she could peer over the railing. "Why? Did she say something about me?"

"Uh, no. It's for our case. Are you friends with her?"

"What didn't you understand from ten seconds ago? Gawd!" Libby screamed, throwing her arms up in frustration before disappearing.

Jake returned to the den. He began to repeat what his older sister said until Phinn stopped him.

"I heard. Hmm, at least we have a name to start with. And if this Regina is two years older than Libby, we might know people who know her."

"You mean I might know someone," Jake corrected.

"I know some people I'm willing to talk to," Phinn stated. Then, he shifted subjects. "Is Libby going out?"

"When doesn't she go out? Seriously, she's taking this catching up with friends while home thing to a whole 'nother level. I think she has a fake ID. Why?" Jake asked.

"Just wondering about Bandit. I noticed your mom and dad aren't home."

"Dad should be home soon, I think. Fridays are one of their busiest nights, but he knows Mom has a trial next week. So she's hunkered down at the law firm and probably won't get home until late. Whatcha thinking?"

"How would somebody like to go for a walk once the sun goes down? Would you like that, buddy?" Phinn asked, talking to the bulldog, whose body started to wag excitedly. Next, he looked up to his friend to explain. "It gets me out of the house for a little while."

"I figured so. But you better wait until it gets darker and cools off a little," Jake said, checking the time. "I gotta go."

"I won't take him far. Just behind us to the park and maybe down a block or two," Phinn said, telling the dog he'd be back later.

********************************************************************************************************

Located on the west side of Edgewater's Uptown neighborhood, Smashburgers was a popular sports-themed restaurant. Its walls featured numerous big-screen televisions, and each table had a small monitor that flashed score updates, news, and trivia. The latter subject also featured prominently on Tuesday Trivia, a night when teams competed with one another on topics ranging from sports to entertainment to pop culture.

It was also a popular hangout for those under twenty-one. With the NBA Finals possibly ending tonight, Smashburgers was crowded. Fortunately, Smashburgers was located across the street from Magnum's, Jake's dad's sports bar, so Jake was well-known at the restaurant. Also, Marvin Magnum held a small ownership stake in the restaurant. Those connections meant that Jake's group had a table already reserved.

Unfortunately, the two cars full of teens didn't have reserved parking. Having to park three blocks away quickly became the main topic of conversation as they walked down the busy sidewalk.

"Couldn't we use your dad's spot? My feet aren't used to all this walking," Wallace Weaver complained. The lone non-football player in the group, the class clown often joked about his lack of physicality.

"We could've if he had gone home. I guess he's staying longer because of the big game," Jake said, referring to the message he'd sent while searching for parking. "It's a good thing Phinn is going to check on Bandit."

"Uh-oh, there's a wait for a table," Daniel Youngberry noticed. Last year's backup quarterback, Danny seemed the most nervous about practice starting in six weeks. With a strong team across the board, an inexperienced QB might be the North High Puffers' weakest link.

"Don't worry, kid. We got royalty with us," Andre Savard announced, stepping aside to usher Jake through the door.

"Welcome to Smashburgers. How may I help--Oh! Right this way, Mr. Magnum," the sexy hostess greeted.

It was apparent to everyone in the group that Farrah Styles heard Andre's comment and decided to keep up the act. With a dip, she half-curtsied to the co-owner's son. A dark-skinned classmate of theirs, every single guy checked out the slinky teen's tight curves. A former cheerleader, Farrah had been kicked off the squad last year for unbecoming behavior. Basically, she'd been caught rewarding last year's starting quarterback in the locker room after a big playoff win.

"Looking good, Styles," Luke Ridley complimented.

The waitresses at Smashburgers wore powder blue and white 1950s retro-inspired uniforms. Updated slightly for modern tastes, the women often left several extra buttons undone or raised the skirt's hemline to earn more tips.

"How's tips?" Kody O'Keefe asked. The team's kicking specialist was always worried about money. It didn't help that Coach Turnbull forbade his players from having part-time jobs--something Kody and Jake often ran afoul of in their own ways.

"Not bad," Farrah admitted, escorting the seven guys to an eight-person table before handing over menus. "Enjoy, boys."

"Damn, I wouldn't mind enjoying her," Heath Thune commented, his eyes following the hostess' tight ass as it faded from sight.

The sleazy comment led to several wadded-up napkins hitting the team's center in the face.

"Watch it, Thune, or you're going to turn into Grogan," Wally warned. He didn't particularly care for Jake's fellow linebacker.

"Where is Shane tonight?" Jake asked, checking the score. The game was still early in the first quarter and wasn't all that thrilling yet.

"Out on a double date with Valance. I heard he met a pair of hot tourists at the beach this last week. They're in town visiting relatives for a couple of weeks," Heath relayed.

"We saw them the other day down at the beach," Luke responded. "Kinda fake looking."

"Girls looked fine as hell to me, but you wonder about them if they thought Rick seemed alright," Andre remarked, never looking up as he studied the menu he knew by heart.

"We didn't see them for more than a few minutes. Rick pissed off Jake, so he embarrassed him in front of his new arm candy," Luke recounted.

"Wait, is this when you found that skeleton?" Kody questioned.

"Oh, man. Everyone is talking about that pirate treasure today. Did you hear about the robbery at the historical society last night?" Wally asked.

"Nothing was stolen," Jake replied.

"How do you know?" Heath questioned.

"Man, you're talking about Jake Magnum, the famous detective. Of course, he knows," Andre teased.

"Phinn and I were there today. Nothing was stolen."

"I heard two different sets of burglary teams got into a brawl, and that's why they didn't steal anything," Kody gossiped.

Suddenly, the table conversation died as a petite waitress with neck-length hair approached. A relatively accomplished soccer player, Reed Frye had the type of friendly personality that made her seem way hotter than she looked. A cute brunette with medium-sized breasts, light brown eyes, and a toned ass, Reed was the kind of girl every guy thought would make a great girlfriend.