Saltwater Secrets - Cindy Callaghan Page 0,10

always marking his words, so that when the truth eventually came out about something, like, for example, that Zac Efron was actually an alien, we’d remember that he’d predicted it. “If something can pack this much nutrition into this much cup”—he held up the cup—“we need to ask how.”

“How?” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away while he stared out at the ocean with a combination of love, respect, and awe that resembled the way an old man might look back on his life. “She holds many tales,” he said.

I guessed he’d forgotten that we were talking about smoothie nutrition facts and had moved on to ocean awe. “Sure does,” I said.

“Lots of tales,” Dario agreed.

“What are we talking about? Buried treasure? Pirates?” Josie asked. “Or marine species? Because that’s my specialty.”

Rodney didn’t address Josie’s questions. Instead he pointed to the flyer and asked, “So, Meredith Maxwell’s coming here of all places. Why Whalehead, New Jersey?”

At the mention of Meredith Maxwell, we catapulted questions:

“Can you even believe it?”

“What do you think she’ll open with?”

“Think we can get into the front row?”

Again, Rodney’s mind had already shifted to the next thing. He used his chin to indicate Murphy’s Pier, home of the fabulous Minotaur Coaster. “I love that thing.” Then he did something bizarre, even by Rodney standards: He took a ziplock bag out of a duffel that sat at his feet. He poured the last drops of the smoothie into it, sealed it shut with a pinch, and put it back into the duffel. Then he tossed his empty green cup into the trash can. Next, he swung the duffel over his shoulder, grabbed his surfboard, and lifted it over his head. He said to us, “The ocean is calling, mates. And I must answer.”

He walked down the ramp to the sand, dropped the bag, and switched to a jog. Once he hit the water, he belly flopped on top of the board and arm-paddled over the white-capped waves.

“I think that guy gets too much sun,” I said. “Messes with his brain cells.”

While we were talking, Josie’s alarm on her phone went off. Time to check in with Dad. She sent a super-quick text and flashed me the screen so I could see what she’d done.

It also gave me a chance to glance at my own phone to see if TJ had texted. He hadn’t.

Without missing a beat, Josie asked Dario, “What’s his story?” Dario has the backstory on everyone, like a future news reporter should.

“He was a scientist in a former life. He invented something that helps with something and made a ton of money. He retired to live the life of his dreams, as a surf bum.”

“He’s rich?” I confirmed.

“Filthy. Most people don’t know that. They also don’t realize that he’s way smarter than he may seem.”

Nine Stella

Police Station

June 25 (Continued)

There’s a knock on the door.

“Excuse me,” Santoro says. The chair makes a terrible screech when he pushes it back. He straightens himself up slowly, and the grimace on his face says he hurts. I wonder if maybe he got shot in the back or something.

He peeks his head out the door but doesn’t actually leave.

I’m pleasantly surprised when chips and soda appear. I guess I assumed he’d engage in hushed detective whispers about me or some other case, but he was getting us a snack.

He puts a soda down, pops the top with one big hand, and slides it to me. Then he does the same with the other one for himself. He takes a gulp that probably sucks in half the can.

He drops a bag of chips in front of me, eases back into his chair, crosses his legs, and rips his bag open. He’s all settled in to hear the rest of my story. He asks, “You knew Rodney before this day on the boardwalk?”

I sip the Coke. It’s warm. “Oh yeah. We’ve known him for years, but we really still don’t know him that well. He’s someone that we could talk about for hours.”

Santoro sets a chip in his mouth, a whole chip at once, not a bite of a chip. “Why?”

“He’s unusual.”

“Unusual how?”

“Maybe a better word is ‘interesting,’ ” I clarify. “I like him. We have fun listening to him, but we never really took him seriously.”

“But this time you did,” Santoro says.

“At this point we had no idea what he was talking about, which was typical, and we really didn’t give it a second thought.” I add, “It was Rodney gibberish: vitamins, sea tales,