Thalassophile // JJ Maybank

Chapter 17

The next morning I got a text from Kiara, letting me know we were all meeting at the Chateau. The message was very short. Someone else had evidently told her to send it because we were the only ones with working cell service.

When I received the text I was sitting on the couch with Flynn, watching a movie. I was the only one home again. I had on sweats and a black crop top. I hesitate, looking down at what I was wearing before shrugging, knowing the meeting was probably urgent.

I slip on my white shoes and grab my keys before heading out the door. I get in the car and head over to the Chateau.

When I get there I notice everyone on the front porch of the house. I head over to the group, knocking on the framing of the porch, catching John B's attention. He waves me over as JJ continues to rant about burly men.

"Okay, well, no, like the type of guy at my dad's garage." JJ hesitates, glancing at me. "I mean, you guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers."

"Yeah, yes. No, we know." Kiara responds.

"I can't tell you with full confidence, guys. These boys, these killers..." The blonde leans up against the brick wall, taking a hit from his juul. "They're square groupers."

"They're square groupers, like narco square grouper?" Pope asks, tuning his hands over his face. "Like Pablo Escobar, square grouper?"

"Yeah, man."

"You guys," Kiara says catching their attention. "Not everything is a kingpin movie."

"Okay, so what does this square grouper look like? Specifically?"

"You weren't there, bro." JJ states, taking another hit.

"Well apparently, you don't know what to look for." Pope spits.

"Dude! I wasn't taking little mental Polaroids the entire time. Man, I was under duress, okay?" JJ snaps.

"What on earth?" I mumble. John B looks over at me shrugging his shoulders.

"But I can tell you," JJ continues. "I can tell you by the way that Ms. Lana was screaming... that there's guys are serious hombres, man. It's a heavy vibe right now. I'm not liking this very much."

"Okay, why do they want the compass?" Kiara questions.

"It's a piece of shit." Pope adds. "You couldn't pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to. No offense, John B. I know it's in your family."

"The office." John B says.

"What?" I ask looking over at him.

"My dad. My dad's office." John B repeats, heading toward the front door of the house. "He always kept the office locked because he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. I mean, we used to laugh at him like he was gonna find it. But now that he's gone, I've just kinda... I just left it as he kept it."

We all follow him into the house as he heads towards his dads office. John B pulls out a set of keys. The keys jingle as he searches for the right key.

"Yeah, for when he comes back." Kiara chirps.

"Yeah." John B agrees.

The brunet finally gets the door open, revealing the contents of the office. There was piles of book everywhere and random stacks of paper. Pictures lined every wall of the room.

"I've slept over here like 600 times, and I've never seen this door open." Pope states.

"Here, look." John B grabs a cork board with several pictures off the wall. He sets it on a table in the middle of the room, showing it to all of us. "Here, look. This is the original owner, right here."

"Okay, Robert Q. Routledge, 1880 to 1920. There's the luck compass right there." Kiara gestures toward the compass in the photograph.

"Actually, um..." John B's voice wavers. "He was shot after he bought it. Then the compass was shipped back to Henry." John B points at another photo of a man and a woman standing on a doorway. "Henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass. After he died, the compass was given to  Stephen. Stephen had the compass with him when he died in Vietnam."

"Let me guess, he died in action, right?" JJ questions.

"Sort of." John B responds drawing out the S. "Uh... a-actually he was killed by a banana truck. In- in country. Anyways, after that, Stephen passed the compass down to him, my dad." John B points at a picture on the bottom of the board. It was a picture of his father and a young boy, John B.

"Hm, sounds like there's a reoccurring theme here." JJ points out.

"Yeah, um, you have a death compass." Pope finishes.

"I do not." John B counters.

"You have a death compass." Pope repeats.

"Get rid of it." JJ instructs. "It's cursed, and it's made it's way back to you."

"Look, my dad used to talk about this compartment in here. Soldiers used to hide secret notes." John B screws off the top of the compass.

"What's that?" Kiara asks noticing something different about the compass.

"That wasn't there before." John B points out.

"This is my dad's handwriting." John B announces, looking at a work scratched into the surface.

"How can you know that?" Pope grumbles.

"Because he does these weird Rs with the—" John B holds up the compass cap, showing us the word. "See it?"

"Can I see it?" JJ asks. He leans over John B's shoulder, looking at the steel object.  "Red- Rout- No, I think that's an A."

"It says Redfield." Kiara tells him.

"Right."

"Okay, well, what's Redfield?"

"Besides the most common name in the county." Pope says.

"Oh maybe— maybe it's a clue." John B points out, leaning back into his chair. "Maybe it's a clue to where he's hiding it."

"A clue? Come on that's-"

"Absolutely possible." I cut Pope off, staring him down.

A rooster crows loudly outside, cutting the awkward silence that follows.

"If it is a clue, maybe it's an anagram?" Pope tries to cover his earlier comment.

"Yes. Perfect. Anagram. You need paper." John B whirls around, looking for a piece of paper amongst the clutter. He grabs one, slapping it on the table in front of Pope.

Another crow comes from the rooster.

"How can you concentrate with that thing crowing at you?" Pope snaps as JJ leans over his shoulder to get a look at the word Pope had scrawled on the paper.

"JJ loves the rooster." John B defends.

"I love the rooster." Kiara says agitated.

"Okay, let me think." Pope instructs.

"Seriously, think."

"Dedfiel. Colors— that's stupid."

"What about, like, Ritalin?" JJ tries.

My brows furrow in confusion. "J, that's not even the right letters." I point out.

I notice his eyes widen subtlety when he realizes I had spoken real words to him.

"Um.. Dreidel? Fiddler?" Kie tries.

"Let's stick with what's on the paper." Pope says.

"Fiddler wouldn't make any sense." I state. "He was looking for a shipwreck."

"Right." Kiara says in annoyance.

"Guys, somebody's here." John B announces frantically, facing away from us and looking out the window.