2 Dog River Blues (22 page)

“Can you hang on to my dinghy and motor for a few days. I don’t have the energy to worry about it right now.”

“Long as you need,” he said. “You take care now, you hear?”

I nodded and felt a twinge of loss as he pulled away. I realized I was going to miss my uncle and wondered if he’d be interested in going for a sail before I left Mobile.

As I made my way to my boat I felt as if I’d just run a marathon. My legs hurt. My back hurt. My head hurt. Hell, I couldn’t think of a damn thing on me that didn’t hurt.

It took three tries to get the lock open and I stumbled twice walking down the steps to the main salon. A shower was out of the question. I’d never make it back down the dock. Instead, I shucked my clothes, tucked the manuscript under the settee, and climbed up into the front berth.

I slept the sleep of the dead for twenty hours. I don’t know if it was the too few fitful hours of sleep I’d been able to sneak in since my cousin Jessica had come into my life, or the fact that my body had used up every ounce of adrenaline it had produced the previous week. Whatever it was, a bomb could have gone off next to the boat and I wouldn’t have noticed.

When I awoke I peeked out the port window next to where I slept. The sun was shining, and several fishing boats drifted nearby. Shorts and t-shirts appeared to be the dress of the day and one of the boaters even had his shirt off. I smiled in anticipation of warm weather. Hell, that was the reason I’d come south.

I climbed down from the front berth, drew on a pair of cargo shorts, and went to check on the manuscript. Even though Rusty and Fish were dead, my heart raced and my hands felt a little clammy as I reached under the cushion. I half-expected the book to be gone. When my fingers touched the plastic bag surrounding it, I relaxed.

I was surprised Jessica hadn’t called yet. Then again, maybe she had. I picked up my phone and sure enough, there were eight messages from Jessica.

I decided my cousin could wait. After brushing my teeth I put on a pot of coffee, scrambled half a dozen eggs with cheese, and sat down to eat. The phone rang. Pushing aside my plate I reached for the phone and felt relieved when I saw that it was not Jessica.

“Hey,” I said. “How ya doing?”

“I’m better,” Cathy said. “Can I come on down to your boat?”

“Can you give me an hour or so? I guarantee you don’t want to see me before I’ve showered. I can’t even stand myself right now.”

“See you then.” She hung up and I dove into my eggs.

I refilled my coffee mug, gathered up my bathroom bag, a towel, and a change of clothing, and was headed out the door when the phone rang again. I knew who it had to be, and as much as I wanted a hot shower I couldn’t leave her hanging. I set my things on the cockpit seat, stepped back into the boat and picked up my phone.

“Didn’t you get my messages,” she asked.

“Good morning to you too,” I said.

“I was beginning to think you were dead.”

“Just dead tired. And now all I want to do is take a shower. I feel like I spent the night mud wrestling.”

“Uncle Roy said you got the manuscript back.”

“When do you want to pick it up?”

“How about dinner tonight? It’s just after noon now. Let’s meet at the marina restaurant at six. Gran’s looking forward to meeting you. And by the way, she doesn’t know you’ve got the book. It will be a nice surprise for her.”

“Me too,” I said. My heart did a strange triple beat and my hand started to shake a little. I felt uneasy about meeting her for the first time.

Jessica didn’t give me a chance to change my mind. She laughed, said something I couldn’t understand, and hung up the phone.

As I walked down the dock toward the showers my mood turned dark. The muscles in my neck and back felt bunched, like a tangle of taught banjo strings waiting to break.

Cajun Bob sat by himself at the gathering table when I rounded the dock house. He was dressed in shorts and a Guy Harvey t-shirt, and was reading the paper while sipping from a large coffee mug. Any thoughts I had of slipping into the showers unnoticed were put to rest when he looked up and waved me over.

“Have you heard what happened to Rusty?” he asked.

It was an unexpected question that turned my knees to spaghetti and threatened to steal my composure. I grabbed a chair, leaned on it a moment for support, then pulled it out and sat down. I shook my head and waited, afraid my voice would betray me if I said anything.

Bob laid his paper on the table, pushed it aside and leaned toward me. “Son of a bitch just disappeared. The police seem to think he’s dead.”

“What happened?”

Bob shook his head and picked up his coffee cup. “You know, I never did believe those stories they used to tell around here about him. Shit, if I’d a known, I’d have been a little less flip with the man.”

“Bob, what the hell happened?”

“I’ve got a friend, Buddy Jenkins. He’s with the Coast Guard. I ran into him at Wal-Mart this morning. We’re on the same bowling team, you know, and….”

I reached across the table and grabbed his wrist as he began to raise his coffee cup toward his mouth. “I don’t need the long version, Bob.” My voice reverberated across the table and Bob gave me an irritated look. “Just tell me, what happened to Rusty?”

This time he shot me a startled look. “Oh yeah, you guys were getting sorta friendly. First time I.…”

“Bob.”

“Right, Rusty. They think he might have been running drugs. The Coasties figure maybe he tried to double cross someone and it got him and some other guy killed.”

“Come again?” I said. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and it must have showed on my face.

“Yeah,” he continued. “I never would have thought it either. They found Rusty’s boat with a dead man on board. Buddy didn’t know the dead guy’s name. Guy was shot twice and there was no sign of Rusty. They stopped another boat and they had something like half a million dollars cash on board. Some guys from Venezuela, here illegally. They aren’t talking of course. They demanded that they be allowed to talk to their consulate or some shit like that. Don’t you just love these people who come to our country and try to use our laws against us?”

“And they found drugs?” I asked, ignoring his diatribe.

“No. According to Buddy there wasn’t a trace around. They think he either hid them while trying to cut a better deal for himself, or he never had them and was going to hijack the cash. Either way it got him and the other guy killed.”

“Doesn’t the drug trade run the other way?” I asked. “I mean, they come in from South America and someone buys the goods up here.”

“So maybe it went the other way and they hijacked the money from Rusty. What difference does it make? He’s just as dead one way or the other. I’m just repeating the story as I heard it.”

“If they didn’t find the body, how do you know Rusty’s dead?”

“Hey, these are drug people we’re talking about. They probably cut him up into little pieces and fed him to the gators. These guys don’t play around, man. They play for keeps.”

I stood and nodded toward the showers. “I guess you’re right. I've got to get cleaned up. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sure.” Cajun Bob drained his coffee cup, made a face, and asked, “Did he ever find you the other night?”

“No.” I turned away from him so he couldn’t see the worried look on my face. “I haven’t seen him in a couple of days.”

“Just be glad he didn’t drag you into this shit,” he said. “You might be swimming with the fishes yourself right now.”

“Yeah,” I said, as I headed toward the showers. “I’m damn glad that didn’t happen.”

While I showered I gave some thought to what had happened to Rusty’s body. There was a better than average chance that it was wedged among debris somewhere along the bottom of Mobile Bay. I wished the whole thing would go away, but it wasn’t likely. I suspected that sometime in the next couple of weeks some fisherman out on the bay would find the body. Then the whole episode would crop up in the news again.

I just hoped that Cajun Bob hadn’t mentioned me to his Coast Guard friend, or said anything about Rusty looking for me the day he disappeared.

When I got back to the boat I poured a cup of coffee and moved out into the cockpit to wait for Cathy. I had mixed emotions about her visit. I liked her, but something I’d seen in her over the last few days had tempered my enthusiasm toward our relationship.
 

Then there was Jessica. I didn’t want to admit to myself that I was developing feelings for her. It was a forbidden relationship, a place I would never allow myself to go. Still, I couldn’t deny the attraction.

I put aside my musings when I caught sight of Cathy strolling down the dock. She had nice legs and looked good in her blue shorts and loose-fitting white blouse. As she approached a breeze came up and tousled her hair.

“Come aboard,” I said. I held out my hand and helped her down into the cockpit, then added, “We can go below if you’d like?”

“It’s nice out here.” She dropped my hand, plopped down on the seat, and leaned back.

“Coffee? Coke?”

She shook her head and I sat down opposite her. I was unsure of what to say, unsure of what she wanted. After several awkward moments she pointed over my shoulder. “Looks like that guy caught something out there.”

I twisted around and watched an elderly man with a gray beard, kinky white hair and caramel colored skin reel in about a three-pound speckled trout.

“Nice catch,” I called out.

“Third one just like it,” he said.

He took the fish off the line and tossed it into a Styrofoam icebox, and I turned back to find Cathy studying me.

“Did you hear about Rusty?” I asked.

She nodded and licked her lips. “I ran into Cajun Bob on my way over. It’s all he could talk about. Was the dead man they found Fish?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Seems likely. I guess you don’t have to worry about them anymore. There might be some questions though.”

“What do you mean?”

“The police might come around, asking questions about Rusty.”

“I don’t know anything. I barely knew the man. I’m certainly not going to file kidnapping charges against a dead man.”

“That’s good,” I said. “I’d just as soon not have to explain the whole situation to the police.”

She shot me a look, and I wasn’t sure if it was fear or loathing I read in her eyes. “You have anything to do with this, Wes?”

I shook my head. “Cajun Bob told me it was drug related.”

“We both know that’s not true, don’t we?” she said. “You don’t have to worry though, I won’t say anything. Besides, I’m going back to Wisconsin.”

“With what’s his face?” I asked.

She smiled for the first time since climbing aboard. “No, not with what’s his face. I sent him packing. The son of a bitch admitted he was late getting down here because of some woman he met. Tried to justify it by reminding me how long he was in jail and how long he had to do without. Said she didn’t mean a thing. I didn’t much care.”

“When you leaving?”

“Couple of days.” She stood and stretched, and then gazed out over the water. “I’m going to miss this place.”

“So stay,” I said.

“I can’t. I’m staying in a motel until I can get everything off the boat, then it goes up for sale.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be.” She reached out and touched my arm. “I’ve got to go.”

I had nothing else to say. Apparently, neither did Cathy. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and then turned and climbed off the boat.

I watched her until she disappeared around the corner of the dock house I felt a twinge of sadness as I headed inside. We’d had something together, even if it was only for a short time. I took a beer out of the fridge, hesitated, and then popped the top. It was a little after three, earlier than I usually drank. I figured what the hell. Sometimes you’ve just got to go with the mystical teachings of Parrothead philosophy. After all, it really is five o’clock somewhere.

Chapter 24

I downed a second beer and turned my thoughts to the upcoming meeting with my grandmother. I paced back and forth in the cabin. Three short steps forward, three short steps back, then I’d reach for the phone, determined to cancel dinner. Every time I dialed the number, I hung up before it could ring through. Then I’d step out into the cockpit to clear my head.

It was a ritual I repeated a dozen times or more, chastising myself over and over for being such a coward. The idea of meeting the woman my father called mother terrified me, even though I knew this was as close as I was ever likely to get to knowing my father.

My skin started to itch and I half expected welts to form on my arms and legs. I hated feeling that I was out of control.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to sit, but I was back on my feet within moments. It felt as if six o’clock would never arrive.

Finally, it was time to go. I grabbed my wallet, climbed off the boat, and trudged along the dock like an old bull on its way to the hamburger mill.

When I reached the parking lot Jessica’s car was nowhere in sight. I felt a mixture of relief and irritation that they weren’t there. My first inclination was to head up to the bar for another beer while I waited for them. Instead, I headed over to the round table where I took a seat to await my fate.