Bulls Island (31 page)

I spotted McGrath first and waved at him. They ambled over, winding around other tables, smiling in my direction.

“Hi! How was your trip?” I asked Bruton.

“Boring, just like I like all airline flights to be. How’s everything here?”

“Back on track and moving ahead, just the way I like work to be! I’m so glad y’all are here.”

“Hmmph,” McGrath said. “That’s some bull.”

“He’s been making bull jokes for two days now,” Pinkham said. “He thinks he’s Henny Youngman.”

I had no clue who Henny Youngman might be, so I looked at them with a questioning face.

“Before
our
time,” Bruton said in my direction. “Catskills comedian, I believe.”

“Ouch,” said McGrath and Pinkham in stereo.

“I want you to be my Trivial Pursuit partner,” I told my boss.

“I don’t play games,” Bruton said.

“Whoa! Tough guy!” McGrath said in a sissy voice.

“Yeah. Oooh!” Pinkham said in a girlie voice. “Scary!”

Apparently these three enjoyed a healthy sarcastic repartee outside the office. No matter how important men became, inside them beat the hearts of boys.

We had our sensible breakfast of oatmeal, fresh fruit, poached eggs, and juice, talking about the order of events for the day. When the bill was paid and a generous tip was left for our very officious waiter, we walked over to the Triangle offices, where Sandi was waiting.

“Well, look at this,” McGrath said. “Looks like this place was built a hundred years ago.”

“Longer,” I said. “And it’s for sale. One million six hundred thousand, and there’s not a right angle in the whole building.”

I brought them inside and Sandi jumped up from her desk to greet them. More coffee was served after they had the tour and everyone paid Sandi the compliments she deserved.

Detail by detail I took them through the work and its progress and soon it was time to head out to the island, where we would meet J.D. and his team of architects, foreman, and so on. Needless to say, I knew that Big Jim and Louisa had been prepped by J.D. for the occasion.

“Well, despite the unforeseen rhubarbs, you’ve done a fantastic job, McGee,” Bruton said. “So far.”

“But we knew you would,” McGrath said.

“Because we have just a few bucks riding on this one,” Pinkham said.

“Thanks,” I told them, and meant it. “But never fear, we’re gonna make so much money on this one, you won’t believe it.”

McGrath, who I thought was feeling rather chatty, piped up again. “Yes, on the plane coming down here, Ben showed us the projected
earnings, and I must say we were mighty impressed, weren’t we, David?”

David Pinkham nodded and his blue eyes twinkled. He had eight children. How anyone with eight children managed to retain a bit of twinkle in their eyes was beyond me. His wife, Amanda, was Superwoman and Mother Teresa rolled into one. When I thought about families like theirs, my private life felt so meager and miserable. But if I could find my way to the light of truth, maybe all of that would change.

We loaded Sandi’s car with materials for the presentation and I took the men in Sela’s car. Soon we were on our way.

Sela had been on the island since early that morning, getting ready. J.D. arrived early, too, to oversee, setting up the riser and the sound system, and checking any other details, like the “Absolut” arrival of his vodka wife.

I called J.D. on my cell when we got to the dock, and as I knew he would do, he brought over his beloved boat with his captain, Smitty, to deliver the men from New York and me to Bulls Island in style. There must have been a hundred or so people waiting for the ferry, and those who knew boats pointed at J.D.’s when it pulled up alongside the dock. For a split second I thought I saw Vinny’s weasel in the crowd, but I decided I was mistaken. Besides, I wasn’t going to allow any thoughts of Vinny to ruin the moment.

It was a gorgeous late September day and the famous South Carolina brilliant blue sky and water were living up to their reputation. The marsh grass was still green and scores of birds, Snowy Egrets, gulls, and terns, were everywhere to be seen, watching us watching them.

J.D. got off the boat to shake hands with everyone and it only took a minute for me to see that we weren’t all going to fit comfortably on his little boat.

After shaking hands and exchanging polite remarks with Bruton, Pinkham, and McGrath, J.D. turned to his captain and said, “Take
the men over. Sandi, Betts, and I can jump on the ferry. We’ll see y’all there in a minute.”

“I’ve always admired these boats,” Ben said. “Is this a Capri?”

“No, this is a 1953 Riviera,” J.D. said with pride. “My dad gave it to me when I graduated from college.”

“Fantastic,” Ben said.

“He’s on the island waiting to meet y’all,” J.D. added.

“Great!” McGrath said, and Pinkham nodded in agreement.

Ben Bruton sat in the back with McGrath, and David Pinkham got in the passenger seat next to the captain. They pulled away from the dock at a sporting clip and we followed them a hundred yards behind, lumbering along on the old but faithful ferry.

It’s incredible what you remember in a time of crisis. I remember I was looking into J.D.’s eyes with such pride when we heard the explosion. We watched in stunned horror as his boat burst into flames. I saw McGrath and Pinkham fly up into the air and land in the water, but his captain and Ben Bruton seemed to have simply disappeared.

“Help! God, help me please! I’m hurt!” Paul McGrath screamed.

“Can’t swim!” Pinkham called out in terror.

The ferry captain stopped our boat, and three men, then three more, dove right into the water to help save them. They threw out a dozen lifesavers and Pinkham and McGrath each managed to grab one, then all the men gathered at the side of the boat and pulled my colleagues on board.

“Where the hell is Bruton? Where is he?”

I realized I was screaming.

“And Smitty? Oh my God! Call Sela, Betts! Tell her to tell Ed!”
J.D. and Sandi rushed to McGrath and Pinkham’s side to assess their injuries and I dialed Sela.

“We saw it from here,” Sela said. “Ed just called the IOP police and they’re on the way. So are ambulances. Try to stay calm. What’s their condition?”

“Sela? Bruton is missing! So is Smitty, J.D.’s captain! What if…what if they’re dead?”

“Don’t even think it. Get ahold of yourself! Do you hear me? Stop panicking!”

“I’m going in,” I said, and hung up.

While I was pulling off my shoes, I knelt to speak to McGrath and Pinkham.

“It’s going to be all right,” I said, knowing otherwise.

“They’re okay,” J.D. said. “Just banged up, and McGrath has a nasty gash on his leg.”

“I’m going to find Ben.”

Before he could stop me, I jumped over the side of the boat, feetfirst, as I was unsure of the depth of the water. It was deep and cold and the first few seconds were jarring. But I couldn’t see underwater. The boat was in pieces all over the place and still burning. I began to think that perhaps I should have left this to the professionals, but I could not stand by and wait. What if Ben was unconscious but still alive? Time was precious! If I had the chance to save him, shouldn’t I do it? I dove again and tried to see what I could, but the water was so murky I couldn’t see ten feet ahead.

Thirty seconds later I heard J.D.

“Betts! Wait!”

He was swimming toward me.

“Betts! Stop! This won’t work! We need divers with sonar! There’re a dozen of them on the way. And fire and rescue, too! Come back with me! We have to get McGrath and Pinkham to the hospital!”

I hung there, treading water for a minute, trying to think and to process what he had said. I was almost paralyzed with fear and thoroughly shocked by what had just happened. If I left, I could be leaving Ben to die when perhaps he could have been saved.

I screamed, “No! J.D.! I’m not leaving without Ben! I can’t!”

He reached my side and grabbed me under the arms and started swimming back to the ferry with one arm.

“Ben’s gone, Betts. So is Smitty. People saw them…people saw what happened. I’m sorry. Just relax now…”

I felt myself go limp and then I began to weep, sobbing all the way back to the ferry and as we made our way back to the dock.

The dock was loaded with people waiting, trying to get a glimpse of us. Needless to say, the press was arriving in full force and I noticed several ambulances.

“Where are you taking them?” I said.

“East Cooper,” said one of the team loading McGrath onto a stretcher.

“I want to call Sela. Oh my God. I just can’t believe this!”

“Ah, crap,” J.D. said as I pulled my waterlogged cell from my pocket. “We’ll get you a new one tomorrow. Sandi?”

“You okay?” she said to me, handing me J.D.’s cell, knowing I was anything but all right.

“Yeah, I’m
going
to be okay. Just not yet. Do you know where the hospital is?”

“I can follow them.”

“Okay, do that and I’ll see you there in ten minutes.”

Walking away from them to a quiet spot, I dialed Sela’s number and she answered.

“You’re not going to believe this,” she said.

“What?”

“Valerie is over here…”

“I knew she would be.”

“Well, she’s so whacked out on whatever it is she’s on that when she heard there were only men on that boat, she didn’t even ask if J.D. was okay. She was so completely discombobulated that she blurted out, ‘What do you mean? Betts was supposed to be on board!’ Do you understand what I am telling you?”

The implication of her words didn’t register in my mind as it normally would because I was still reeling.

“No, what do you mean?”

“Simple. If they find explosives in the remnants of that boat or anywhere in the area, Valerie’s going up the river, honey. We’re talking murder.”

I
would never get over the shock and the pain of losing Ben Bruton in so incomprehensible a manner. He was an icon, fearless and brilliant, and in addition, probably the most highly respected man I had ever known. His wife and children had to be just absolutely, completely inconsolable. It was no exaggeration to say that the world suffered a great loss that day. In the financial world, where greed is a cunning mistress, ethics were sometimes most easily achieved through government seizure of one’s fortunes, the promise of public humiliation, and/or an invitation to be a “guest of the state” for the rest of one’s natural years. In that world of high stakes and continuous temptation, Ben’s reputation was impeccable.

What I knew of Smitty was that he was quiet and polite and knew how to handle a boat; J.D. was heartbroken because he had known him for years and loved him. All Smitty wanted to do was please the Langley family and ride the rivers of the ACE Basin and the Inter-coastal Waterway. He was a simple man with a loving patience for
all, J.D. said, and certainly every meeting I had had with him rang true to J.D.’s description of his character.

I couldn’t help but think about what you left behind when you died. Here were two men, polar opposites in many ways, whose legacies were strong moral character and a commitment to a code of righteous behavior. Certainly there was a large lesson there for all of us to learn.

Was Sela right? Had the explosion been meant to kill me? Was Valerie involved somehow? I decided not to repeat Sela’s story to J.D. because it sounded like hearsay or gossip, and during those first hours, there was no shortage of hysteria in any quarter. The truth would eventually become apparent. At that moment what mattered most was making sure that Pinkham and McGrath were okay. And finding Ben’s and Smitty’s bodies.

The local media, who were already at the dock to cover the event, suddenly seemed to be swarming like angry bees because this was real news. Given the amount of energy in the air, I was convinced that it would make national news, too.

The first thing J.D. and I did was update Ed by cell phone, and then we rushed to the hospital in J.D.’s truck. The air was thick with screaming sirens, anxiety, and desperation.
Get out of the way! Time is critical! Every minute!
Every kind of emergency vehicle was arriving on the scene as we were driving off.

When we got to the hospital, we found Sandi in the admitting area. She reassured us with the news that McGrath and Pinkham were being treated and would be released shortly.

“Can we go see them?” I asked.

After some convincing, the medical staff let us go into the examining rooms. J.D. and I must have looked frightful, with our wet clothes clinging to us and trauma plastered across our faces. I was shivering so badly that a nurse gave me a blanket, then another. Pinkham and McGrath’s injuries were minor, but their emotional
states were understandably shaky. We were all very shaken and suffering various degrees of shock.

Pinkham, who was slightly senior to McGrath, had already called Doug Traum, the chairman of ARC Partners. They decided it was appropriate for Traum to make the call to Bruton’s widow.

“He’s flying Carol down here in an hour,” McGrath said. “If they find his remains, she wants to take them home for burial.”

“Just what in the hell happened out there?” Pinkham asked.

“We don’t have any idea,” J.D. answered, “but Ed O’Farrell, our friend who’s the chief of police for Charleston, and four other officers who were on Bulls with him, are questioning everyone. The rest of the force is all over it. They’re compiling a list of ‘persons of interest.’ And their divers are already arriving on the scene. I’m sure that what’s left of the boat is being gathered up and they’re searching the marsh and the wooded areas with bloodhounds for any pieces of evidence there might be.”

It occurred to me again that in this world of competitive TV networks, so desperate for any kind of news story, this would definitely be of interest to the larger markets. I knew at once I had to warn my son.

“Hey, J.D.? Can I borrow your cell phone?”

“Sure,” he said, and handed it to me.

I walked outside to the parking lot to call Adrian so he would know that I was unharmed. Of course I got his voice mail.

“Hi, sweetheart,” I said, struggling to sound upbeat. “It’s Mom. Listen, there’s been an accident down here, and should you see it on the news, I just want you to know that I am fine but my cell phone is broken. But I am one hundred percent fine. Didn’t even break a nail. Okay? Love you and I’ll call you as soon as my phone’s fixed.”

Then I called Sela again. No answer. Well, I thought, she was probably frantic, trying to pack up and leave the island. (One didn’t use the metaphor “up to one’s eyeballs in alligators” on Bulls Island
for fear it might come true.) Our ecofriendly picnic was now a crime scene.

As I walked back into the hospital J.D.’s phone rang. I answered it and it was Ed O’Farrell.

“Hey. Is J.D. there?”

“Yeah, sure.” I said. “I’m just walking back inside now. I’ll get him.”

“You okay? The others?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I’ve never been though anything like this before. None of us have. I can’t believe what happened, can you?”

“No. Incredible. Like a war zone or something.”

I reached J.D.’s side and handed the phone to him.

“Hey, Ed. It’s me. J.D. What’s up?” He paused for a minute and then said, “What? She said
what
?”

His face was incredulous. Aghast. Red and then ashen.

“What?” I said.

He held his hand up to me, asking me to be quiet for a minute. His brow was knitted in concern and he was shaking his head back and forth. What was Ed telling him?

“Of course I’ll call our lawyer! Could you please tell her just to shut the hell up until she has a lawyer at her side? Oh, they are? Well, that’s good.” There was a long pause and then J.D. said, “Thanks, Ed. I appreciate that. Of course! Pick them all up and let’s get to the bottom of this! I agree. I agree with you completely! Thanks. Of course. Okay, we’ll talk later.”

“What happened?”

“It seems my wife is part canary.”

“Meaning?”

“She started singing, screaming actually, when the boat blew up. And she said all kinds of really incoherent and stupid things to implicate herself in the explosion.”

“Such as…”

“Such as: ‘This wasn’t supposed to happen! I didn’t tell him to do it! Oh my God! All we did was have one conversation about it! He promised me! And where the hell is Betts? She was supposed to be on that boat! Why did I believe him?’ You can imagine that Ed was just a little bit curious about who she was referring to, so he’s taking her downtown for questioning. Thank God my parents are there. They’re going with her. Here’s the second part of the kicker. Turns out she also admitted that the guy she was talking about is the same fellow who has been supplying her with her pills. Apparently, there’s some suspicion on Ed’s part that they’ve become an item.”

“Well, that’s disgusting, but sometimes the simplest explanation is the truth. Good grief. Do you think she was fooling with him so he would give her what she wanted?”

J.D. was so thoroughly shaken by the news from Ed that he became uncharacteristically sarcastic. “I’m unfamiliar with the relationship between drug dealers and their clientele. But I’d venture a guess that he would be able to convince Valerie that she would find it easier to procure what she wanted in a timely fashion if they were intimately involved.”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it.”

“Innocent or not, she’s in big trouble. And here’s the most despicable detail. She didn’t want to give him up to Ed because if he goes down for possession and distribution of illegal narcotics—not to mention possession of a deadly weapon with intent to commit murder—where is she going to get her next fix? How self-serving is that?”

“Very. But she told him?”

“Yeah, and she told him about some other guy, too. Apparently there are two men involved in this. Maybe more. But Ed’s going to bring them all in for questioning.”

At that moment Paul McGrath and David Pinkham appeared, dressed in their damp clothes and looking completely bedraggled.

“Y’all okay?” I asked.

“Glad to be alive,” McGrath said.

“Me, too,” Pinkham said.

“Well, thank heaven you are! Sandi? Why don’t you take them back to the hotel and we’ll meet you there as soon as I get cleaned up. J.D.? Do you mind running me back to the dock? I can pick up my car there, go change, and meet you at the hotel.”

“Okay, that sounds fine. Until Traum arrives with Carol we should stay together.”

I gave McGrath and Pinkham a hug around their necks and felt tears rising again. I had shed more tears on that day than I had in years.

“I’ll see y’all soon,” I said, and left with J.D.

We walked in silence to his truck and drove back in near silence to the dock.

“What’s gonna happen now?”

“I don’t know, Betts, I don’t know. This is so much to think about. I mean, is Valerie completely insane?”

“I’d say yes to that. Are you going to put her in rehab?”

“That’s up to her. One thing is for sure, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m all done with her.”

“I don’t blame you, J.D. No one would.” It was at least the third time he had said he was through with her, but this time it had nothing to do with me.

“I think you’re right.”

We pulled into the parking lot and just stared at each other then. The enormity of the day’s events was pressing on us, the senseless loss of Smitty and Ben, the heartbreak it would bring to their families, Valerie’s shocking vengeance—it was a lot to absorb.

“What are we going to do about Bulls Island? The project, I mean?”

“Well, I don’t know. I think a lot of that decision will depend on why this horrible tragedy took place. For all we know right now, it could’ve been another ecoterrorist incident. We have to gather the facts and then we can decide. Which is why, when I let you off at your car, if you get spotted by the press, don’t talk to them.”

“I think it’s a good idea for none of us to speak to the press or it might compromise the police investigation.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be the one who could’ve put a criminal behind bars and then doesn’t because of a careless remark.”

We drove through the enormous parking lot and finally came to my car. There were media trucks everywhere, but by God’s grace, we went undetected. I looked at J.D. for a few moments. What was left to say?

I got out and, turning back, said, “Thanks, J.D. I’ll see you soon.”

“Sure thing.”

I despised the uncertainty that the tragic events of the day had left in their wake. As I drove back to the condo, I was remembering a less complicated time, being young with J.D., lemonade and the fragrance of roses in the heat of late day, walking hand in hand on the beach, warm sand and no shoes, the way his eyes sparkled in merriment, the way it felt to be next to him. All the elements were still there, but everything had been sullied by Valerie’s admissions and the horrendous loss of Ben and Smitty. More than anything, I wanted to roll back time, and of course that was not to be. That could never be.

I showered and changed, mentally preparing myself for a long night, and drove back to downtown Charleston and the hotel.

Not long after I arrived, Doug Traum and Carol Bruton called us to say they had just checked in and were on the way to our suite as soon as they unpacked.

McGrath and Pinkham had showered and changed into fresh clothes and so had J.D. The hotel had sent us several carafes of coffee
and platters of sandwiches, all on the house. But no one showed any signs of an appetite except Sandi, who was devouring a chicken-salad sandwich.

“Well, that was very nice of them,” I said to Pinkham, pointing to the food.

“They knew we had endured an extraordinary day,” he said.

“That’s for sure,” McGrath added.

“I keep a few things at the office,” J.D. said. “And Sandi picked up dry shoes and socks for me at Dumas.” He had the most peculiar look on his face, but I decided it could have been for any number of reasons and kept myself from trying to interpret it.

“Sandi’s a good woman,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said.

I asked, “Did we hear anything else from Ed or Sela?”

“Not yet,” McGrath answered.

The five o’clock news was on television. When pictures of the dock flashed across the screen, McGrath raised the volume and we fell silent.

Regrettably, the first face we saw was Joanie’s.

“Yep!” she was saying to a reporter. “And my sister, Betts McGee, jumped right off that boat to try and find her boss! I didn’t know she was so brave but she’s a hero today!”

“She certainly is,” the perky reporter replied. “Two people are reported dead and the cause of the incident is under investigation and still unknown. Anyone with information about this terrible tragedy should call the Charleston County Police Department at the number shown on your screen. Now back to you, Bill…”