Free Diver Down (Mercy Watts Mysteries) by A.W. Hartoin Page A

made a run for it, saying she had to get something from our room, but Mom and Dixie followed, still peppering her with questions.  
    I watched them bothering the crap out of Aunt Tenne, grateful that for once it wasn’t me. I was totally alone and nobody was bothering me. Sure I got some of the usual double takes, but nobody came over and said how much I looked like Marilyn or anything worse. Everything was perfect. I scubaed. I hadn’t seen Aaron all day. But that couldn’t last and I should’ve known where he’d be. That cheeseburger was fantastic, too fantastic. It had a hint of the Tommy Watts Burger, Aaron’s restaurant, Kronos, was known for.  
    I asked the waiter, “Have you seen a little guy, crazy hair, food obsessed, likes Spiderman?”  
    “He’s in the kitchen,” he said.  
    Of course he is. Aaron was the only guy in the world who would spend his vacation in the resort kitchen, probably because he hadn’t located a Dungeons and Dragons game to invade.
    Aaron came out of the kitchen, wearing a pink hairnet and carrying a platter of chili cheese fries with a side of pablano garlic aioli. That wasn’t on the menu.  
    “What are you doing in the kitchen?” I asked as he sat down next to me.  
    “Cooking.”  
    “Why?”  
    I had to ask, so I deserved what I got. Aaron told me about every fish available on the island and how to cook them. He was going to invent a fish hot dog because that needed to happen. But his chili cheese fries were amazing. The secret ingredient was plantain and he planned to introduce an island submenu if he could talk Rodney, the other owner of Kronos, into it.  
    While Aaron was explaining fish gutting against my will, I saw Mom trailing Aunt Tenne down to the beach. Christmas was over and my aunt looked like she might crack Mom in the head with a coconut.  
    “Hey, Aaron,” I said. “Do you know why Mom’s acting so weird about Aunt Tenne?”  
    He stopped mid-intestine sentence and said, “She’s okay this year.”  
    “Who? Mom or Aunt Tenne?”  
    “Tenne. Your mom’s the same.”  
    “What do you mean this year?”  
    “It’s August,” he said with a mouthful of fries and a huge splat of aioli on his chest.  
    “Why wouldn’t she be okay in August?”  
    “August is bad. Got to make the cobbler.” He headed for the kitchen and I chased after him.  
    “What is it about August?”
    Aaron shrugged and went into the kitchen. Even Aaron wasn’t talking and he had chronic diarrhea of the mouth. Usually, I couldn’t shut him up. But it was something about August. I walked back to the dive shop and went through every August in memory. Other than the year of sitting in the cemetery, I couldn’t think of anything that happened in August.  
    The Gmucas were already in the shop, making out in a corner. Everyone else filtered in after me. Colin kept trying to stand close to me and Joe and Andrew were annoyed with him. Mom was last and came in with her worried face. We loaded up our gear into the golf carts and got to take one of the resort boats out to Turtle Crossing. We had to sit on the edge of the boat and fall off backwards. Mauro straight up laughed at me as I waddled over in my penguin suit, the last one to go in. Everyone else was bobbing around like corks, waiting for me. I sat on the edge and was about to put my regulator in my mouth when Mauro stopped me.  
    “You’re worried about Lucia,” he said in that fabulous accent that I couldn’t quite place.  
    I bit my lip, not sure how much to say. I might come off like some conspiracy theory nut.  
    “She did get clearance from her doctor to be certified,” he said.  
    “I know,” I said.
    “Is there something else?” His eyes were so brown and he smelled like Hawaiian Tropic.  
    Focus.
    “Yes,” I said.  
    “You won’t tell me?”  
    “I have nothing concrete. Just stay close to her. Okay?”
    “You have me worried. Scuba can be a dangerous sport.”  
    “That’s