MURDER ON THE SEA OF CORTEZ
A
McGraw / O’Grady Mystery
Danny Motola
The calm waters of the Sea of Cortez were about to change. In the distance a fuzzy curtain developed. It was not rain, for the sky was clear as spring water. The sun, unperturbed by any cloud, shined in all its splendor. Then the mirrored waters began to dance like a fast two-step at a Dixieland concert. The fuzzy curtain soon became a wall, formed by the wind — the deadly wind — that changes the Sea from angel to devil; the natives call it the Wester. It starts in the Pacific as a high, and blows over the Sierra Giganta of Baja, and as it comes down, with intensified force, it fills the void left by the warm air of the desert, increases its speed, and bleeds into the Sea of Cortez.
The small craft was now at the mercy of short steep waves that crashed over the
bridge and inundated the bilge. A cork would have had better luck. This craft
was tossed up, down and sideways like a giant toy in the hands of a naughty
seven year old, seemingly out of control. The east coast of the Baja peninsula
was the scene of this maelstrom. To the east of the boat were a series of four
islands called the Encantadas; the largest, only two thousand feet long and five
hundred feet wide. Devoid of beaches, only menacing rocks protruded from their
shores. Had the captain been alert with the engine running, he could have found
shelter from the wind on the lee side of any of these islands.
But the captain was not at the controls. In fact he was not
in the boat. The engine was not running. The wind continued to push the boat
towards the jagged rocks. One wave lifted the helpless craft ten feet on its
crest and then sent the boat crashing into the rocks. The noise was deafening,
but no one heard it. The relentless sea battered the fragile fiberglass shell
without mercy. Separately but very close, a body was floating, arms flailing and
mouth open gasping for air.
Like breathing out and breathing in, the wind relented, and
an eerie calm returned to the Sea.