15.
Their morning was delightful and slow, and they talked about her using his BMW, among other things. Horatio found that a certain weight had been lifted from him concering how he felt towards Schell, despite his misgivings where the Mal Noche and Walter Dresden were concerned. They were something he was constantly aware of and actually prepared for, but telling Schell about them was another matter. He just wanted, more than anything, to proceed forward with caution, and Schell, apparently, was right there with him. Someone actually caring about him was a wonder to Horatio, and he just wanted to soak in the attention for a while. Schell was more than happy to oblige him.
He had seen the changes in her and was sure now that she wasn't acting out of gratitude for what he had done for her in Seattle, that, and seeing that she was more than capable of handling her things on her own. Knowing these things prompted him forward.
Their morning eventually drew to a close, and despite not receiving any calls, it was actually Schell who had to wind things down, explaining that she had to go with Lionel Harrison to one of several Florida Bureau of Archeological Research facilities; this one being near Oleta River State Park. The archives there, she explained, had some important information on several of the shipwrecks the Trust wanted her to do paintings on.
She heaved a good natured sigh, shrugging it all off as necessary business, and as Horatio got ready to leave, he insisted on their having dinner. Then he turned, after pulling open the gate to the elevator, and paused.
To Schell's surprise, he slipped both hands to her face, smiled into her eyes and leaned forward to kiss her, giving her that very same, exquisitely delicate embrace that he had given her when he had left Seattle. As he pulled back, she smiled in delight, her eyes momentarily closed as she placed both hands on his jacket lapels and took a deep breath.
"That's not fair, you know…" she murmured before opening her eyes.
"Oh yeah?" he murmured back, gazing at her.
"Making one weak in the knees as you are leaving isn't in the rule books, is it?" She asked as he stood up straight, taking her hands in his.
He gripped them firmly, but gently. Horatio only chuckled and leaned forward, to gently buss her cheek near her ear.
"Who needs rule books?" he murmured into her ear and as she began to laugh again, he pulled away, smiled and walked into the elevator. The last thing he heard was her saying 'Bye' as the elevator doors gently whooshed shut.
Not an hour later, Schell was standing next to Lionel Harrison inside Constance Lange's gallery, both were looking around the room slowly, gazing at several dozen of her paintings, while a few more were set at intervals on the floor in preparation to be placed on the wall. Constance was in command of the situation, her thick Southern drawl explaining the best lighting and techniques for displaying her work. Yet a part of Schell's mind was definitely somewhere else, and even Lionel would occasionally glance at her, seeing she was in an extraordinarily good mood.
"So, when we get the US Governor painting hung over there, that should complete all we need for the setup of this exhibit." Constance said, turning to look at Schell. Constance was more used to the eccentric, uber-rich artists she dealt with and couldn't quite come to terms with this smaller, white-haired woman in a comfortable denim jumper and Birkenstocks. In her mind, it just had to be a provincial Northern thing. Who, for crying out loud, went around South Beach in jumpers and their hair pulled back in a pony tail? It was just so, hick.
"Darling, just remember," Constance said as she gazed down her nose at Schell, "The grand opening is the day after tomorrow and it is a semi-formal event, please remember darling, to look your very best."
Schell refrained from sighing, seeing the look of distaste in Constance's eyes and instead gave her a winning smile.
"Nothing to worry about, Mrs. Lange, that's well in hand."
"Let me recommend a wonderful hair stylist just off Lincoln Road in South Beach. He's fantastic at working with any kind of hair, and darling, with that astonishing colour of yours, he could do miracles!" Constance went on, going to her purse and searching for a card.
Lionel glanced at Schell, who only gave him a mercurial smile as she looked around the room again at several year's worth of her artwork. "Ready to go?" he whispered as Constance continued on with her recommendations for buying an appropriate dress for a semi-formal event.
"Half an hour ago," Schell whispered back.
"There's the Versace shop, also on Lincoln Road, that has a nice selection, and also a place called 'Steam on Sunset', relatively new place, but they have a good selection of women's things. Then there's the…"
"Connie darlin'," Lionel interrupted with a winning smile of his own. "I have to get this here young lady to the archives at Oleta River, so we are gonna have to cut this short. Can't keep the Trust waiting, now, can we?"
"Oh…" Constance replied, a hand to her bosom, she blinked at Lionel in mild annoyance then she handed Schell a business card. "Oleta River did you say?" she asked, "You simply must take the Ocean Beach road, the view is outstanding…" she said as Schell took the card. "Make sure, darling, that you ask for Maurice, he's as queer as they get and the best hair stylist they've got!"
"You're too kind. I'll see what I can do," Schell replied, barely masking the dry tone in her voice.
"All right, Miss Demereau!" Lionel said, taking her neatly by the arm and steering her towards the door. "Time's a wasting! I know the curators at the archive have been busy all morning combing through their files looking for what we need, mustn't keep them waiting." Lionel said, aiming for the door. "Connie, we'll meet again at the opening, I am sure."
"But of course!" Constance replied, noticing that Schell had once again failed to call her ma'am. "Don't forget to contact Maurice, darling!" she called out to Schell. The door swung shut, cutting off her voice and a sour look crossed Constance Lange's face. "Where the hell Lionel finds these artists is truly shocking!" she said, and turned to paw through her purse for her cell phone. "Truly shocking!" she murmured in disgust and proceeded to flip her phone open to make her call.
Outside, Schell breathed a sigh of relief and looked at Lionel. One glance from him and the look on his face caused them both to begin chuckling.
"What planet did she come from?" she asked as they walked down the street to where Lionel had parked.
"That darlin', is Bal Harbour snobbery at its best. Don't let it put you off!" Lionel chuckled as he fished his keys out of his pocket. Schell paused as they approached the car.
"Lionel…" she said, stopping to admire his car. "Can I ask a big favour?"
"Sure, darlin'! Anything for you…" he smiled, turning to look at her.
"Can I drive?" Schell asked. Lionel had picked her up in a silver BMW 645i convertible, with the top down.
"Drive?" Lionel asked.
"Yeah…" Schell ducked her head and blushed. "It's like this Lionel, I have a friend who offered the use of his BMW and I've never driven one, before. I want to see what it's like."
"A friend, you say?" Lionel asked, looking at her with a mischievous glance. "That must be some friend to offer the use of a car like one of these."
"Oh, he's something all right," Schell replied, then looked at Lionel hopefully. "May I?" she asked again.
Lionel melted, stood up straight. "How can I resist a pretty little thing like you?" he said.
"Thank you, Lionel, I promise to be careful."
"You had better be, darlin'" Lionel joked as he handed her the keys then opened the driver's side door. "This is a $70,000.00 car."
Schell let out an astonished laugh and climbed in, taking the keys from him. Lionel grinned, shook his head and walked around to get in on the passenger side.
"I might add it's gonna feel very strange riding in my own passenger seat!"
"Just tell me which way to go," Schell replied, buckling up and then starting the engine. Lionel obliged and before too long they were driving along the coast heading north for Oleta River State Park where the archives were located.
As with many coastal roads, there were areas prone to erosion and in such areas, rock sea walls had been installed to support the road. This drive was no different, although Schell still couldn't get over how flat the Miami area was. There wasn't a mountain to be seen in hundreds of miles and what very few hills there were, were all man made. Occasionally they would drive under an overpass built for safely protecting tourists needing to cross the road to the beaches beyond.
Schell asked many questions, and Lionel confirmed that yes, sometimes during particularly nasty hurricanes, the rock walls and roadways would get washed out. Plus you didn't want to be on the road when the waves began crashing against the rocks.
Their afternoon was decidedly busy and it was fairly late when they left the archives. Lionel gallantly offered to let her drive the BMW home and before long they were on the long stretch of road opposite a portion of seawall. They were chatting away, Schell excited about what they had found and in the far distance she noted another pedestrian overpass, that told her roughly where she was at in the long drive back to Miami Beach.
They were discussing the shipwreck of the San Pedro, near Indian Key just off Islamorada. A vessel that was part of the 1733 Spanish Gold Fleet. It had been carrying a large compliment of wealthy passengers, many of whom swam for their lives, with their wealth, for the key that lay less then a mile away. Many survived, but their wealth didn't. The San Pedro and two other ships, the Angustias and the El Infante, each had been part of that ill fated 1733 fleet and each was carrying known quantities of silver and gold.
The Trust wanted Schell's depiction of what happened to each ship as they were now part of the many historical wrecks around the state and protected in Florida waters. So, loaded in the car's trunk were several reams of research papers for Schell to sift through to determine the details of just how each ship met its fate. From there, she would come up with the drawings for the paintings and proceed on.
"Now, you've got to admit, Lionel," Schell was teasing him. "So far, all the ships the Trust wants me to paint are from that 1733 Fleet, there have got to be some more interesting ones out there to paint that are just as historical."
"Well, not all of them are gonna be from that time frame, darlin'," Lionel replied, watching the wind whip Schell's hair around. "Once you get the principal four ships underway, you're gonna have your choice of several fascinatin' ships after that. Take the Rosalina, she's a brigantine that was lost off Pickles Key in 1837, carrying a load of Jamaican Rum. Now besides the fact that gold and silver are what most salvagers are after, a bottle of that there rum would be worth quite a lot of money!"
Schell let out a delighted laugh, and he couldn't help but be carried up in her mood.
"Then there is the Herrera, now despite the fact that she was part of the 1733 fleet, she is fascinatin' in that, to this very day, folks are still finding animal figurines from her wreckage site. Thousands have been recovered. And they are still finding' them!"
"Really?" Schell prompted.
"I kid you not, darlin'," Lionel replied, "And for another rum ship, there was the bark Feronia, lost in 1845, also carrying a cargo of sugar, besides the rum. Then there is the run of the mill Mary Celeste-style mystery ships, or Bermuda Triangle ships, depending on your point of view. Ships like the Enterprise, a schooner lost in 1859 off Jupiter's Inlet, or the Pilita, another brigantine, lost in 1851 off Carysfort Reef. Both of these ships had no crew on board and nothing was ever heard from them again."
Lionel was happily going on, telling her of the Isabella Reed, a barge lost off Conch Reef with a load of sugar, molasses, rope, and whiskey --that he would dearly love to have a sample of-- when the car suddenly seemed to be hit with a terrific strike that utterly shattered the windsheild.
Schell, capable of only one reaction, instantly slammed on the brakes, gripping the steering wheel in a vise grip as the windshield splintered in an enormous mosaic of shattered glass. She felt, rather than saw, Lionel slam back against his seat, his head flying back as another strike hit the car. Fighting for control of the car, Schell could only react in the split seconds that followed before the car, easily traveling 5 to 10 miles over the speed limit, abruptly crossed the yellow line, narrowly missing another car before hitting the curb.
Before she knew it, she was airborne. The car rose and turned, forced over by the momentum and the way she hit the curb, turning the car in a right twist as it came up over the seawall. The last thing she recalled was seeing rocks and water at a crazy tilt, before the car continued its turn, and slammed with a sickening force onto the rocks below…