Minus Tide (2 page)

“He didn’t talk to anyone?”

“No. I picked up once and he hung up on me. I guess it must have ruined it for him.”

“Did your aunt go to the cops about it?”

“What could have been done? He hadn’t broken the law. There’s got to be more to a harassment charge than singing badly to someone once a year.”

“But it must have made you feel nervous.”

“Maybe the first couple of times. Then it sort of became a sad joke.”

“Do you wonder if he would’ve come back here when he got out on parole?”

Ann watched Mitch’s fingers play with the brim of his hat. She noticed the dirt under his nails, just like the first day they’d met in school.

“I don’t think he was that stupid. There’re a lot of folks around here that wouldn’t have hesitated using him for crab bait if he’d tried.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Duane had to get his start somewhere, didn’t he? Before he got comfortable pointing a gun at people he’d rip them off other ways. Sneaky stuff that didn’t pay all that much. He was always on the lookout for new suckers, smooth talking them into parting with their money. Most folks were too embarrassed to do anything about it when they realized they’d been taken. But a few caught up with him, took what he owed in teeth. I guess that might be why he started holding joints up. His mouth was a mess. He couldn’t talk smooth anymore.”

Mitch shook his head. “I guess I hadn’t heard that about him. But you know how stories get told around here. Sometimes a big piece gets misplaced. People forgive when it becomes easier than holding a grudge.”

“Well there are still grudges out there, believe me. Maybe not so strong now. I sense their roots to the past are dying.”

“So what made you stay here with your aunt? I thought you were all set for college.”

“Believe me I was hoping to get out. Then my aunt almost lost her store when she got sick and had no one else to run things. I just want to be sure she’s back on her feet again before I make a move.”

“She’s lucky to have you here. But I also know you belong in college. You’ve always had the brains. There wasn’t a day in school that I didn’t see you carrying an armful of books. I still don’t know how a person could read that much.”

“It was my only way to cope after mom was gone. I don’t know if I’d still be here if books hadn’t kept me company.”

“I guess everyone needs a way to escape when things get rough.”

“Even you? I thought life was nothing but easy street for Mitch Young—star quarterback, married to the Prom Queen, an exciting career catching the bad guys.”

“It’s hardly easy. If you only knew...”

“Then tell me about it Mitch. Tear down my misconceptions.”

“It’ll have to wait until another time, Ann. Sheriff’s here.”

Chapter 2

Ann stayed to answer the sheriff’s questions and watch them prepare the arm to be sent to a forensics lab in Portland. The sun had burst through the granite colored clouds and warmed up the beach. Passersby gawked from a distance, but all they saw was a large cooler, the collection kit and a small shovel. A couple of wet dogs wandered in too close and had to be shooed away. Afterwards, Ann decided it was time to leave and handed back Mitch’s jacket. When the sheriff paused in cutting tape with a knife she sensed his eyes turning up toward her. A cold ball of tar dropped to the bottom of her stomach. She never did feel comfortable around the man. Back in school he always had a way of turning up at every girl’s carwash fundraiser with more caked-on mud than normal. And you knew he was around by the waft of his aftershave—heavy, like dead cow lilies steeped in tequila. Behind his back some called him Lady Dawkins.

“I need to ask you a favor, Ann.”

“What is it, Sheriff?”

Dawkins put a cigarette in his mouth. But each time he tried lighting it, a gust would blow out the flame. Ann watched the movement of his hands as they tried to outwit the wind. After several attempts he set them on his knees and waited for a break. Ann noticed the lack of a pinkie finger on the ruddy hand holding the cigarette. A waxen nub stood in its place. The rest of the digit had been lost since before she was born, when there’d been a mill down on the bay and the sheriff was still a pimple-faced boy saving up money for his first car.

“I’m hoping you’ll not talk to anyone about what you found this morning. It could affect the investigation if you did.”

“I understand.”

“It might take weeks before forensics has a chance to get to it. Small towns like us aren’t exactly at the top of their list.”

“I’m sure that’s true.”

“I’ll have Mitch let you know later what we find out.”

Grunting, Dawkins shifted around on the log until his back faced her. She heard the snick of his lighter and curses at the wind, Mitch’s stifled laughter coming from behind. She was surprised by how much more she liked Mitch now, wondered if he ever really was the stereotypical jock she’d once pegged him for.

“You don’t have to keep me in the loop, Sheriff,” Ann said to the slumped figure. “I’m really not that interested.”

But she wasn’t even sure if he’d heard her.

Chapter 3

About a month after Ann had found the arm, Mitch stopped in her aunt’s store and paid for cup of coffee and a pack of gum. She hadn’t seen him for a few days. He seemed to be in a hurry.

“No cigarettes today?” Ann asked. “Or did you already quit?”

Mitch walked over to the counter where they kept the condiments. He started tearing open packets of sugar and dumping them into his cup. Ann knew there’d be five in all, followed by six containers of cream. She noticed his hands were shaking badly, and there were some bloody bandages wrapped around the knuckles of his right hand. Mitch’s pants weren’t pressed as usual, but wrinkled badly at the knees. His leather boots were scuffed with white marks instead of waxed a shiny black.

“I thought we were on good terms since we hung out at the beach together. Aren’t you going to talk to me?”

“Sorry Ann. I’m running late. Sheriff needs me to be somewhere right now.”

“How’s Tammy doing?”

“She’s working at the 101 today. She’s been working extra shifts lately, trying to save up money for when the baby comes.”

“I heard about it. You two must be excited.”

“We are. But we don’t get to see each other much. Have to keep telling ourselves it’s not a permanent thing and that we’ll get through it.”

“Well, I wish you all the best.”

“Thanks. And to answer your question, I did quit smoking.”

“How? Getting too expensive?”

“There’s that... But it was really coach Burn’s doing. He caught me lighting up the other day and gave me hell. Said he didn’t care if I was even on duty, he’d kick my ass anyway.”

“And it worked?”

“Coach Burns doesn’t make threats, Ann. I’ve spent too many years on the field with him to think otherwise.”

“Looks like he must have slapped you around some.”

Mitch glanced at his hand, lowered it behind the counter. “That wasn’t coach. I slipped on the jetty the other day and went slam dancing with some boulders.”

“Did you break anything?”

“Naw, just cut up some. Could still be a little infected.”

“What happened to the boy?”

“Dumb kid would have inner-tubed to Japan if we hadn’t gotten there in time. He was cold and wet, but alive. Had that look in his eyes that told me he wouldn’t be going into the water again for a long time. Well, I think I ought to get going now.”

“I’ve been wanting to ask. Did you ever hear anything back about who that arm belonged to?”

Mitch pressed the lid down on his cup of coffee. He glanced around the store to see if anyone was listening in. Old Walter was in the back, carefully picking out his tomatoes. Fifty years working for the railroad had taken away most of his hearing.

“Nothing but the guy’s age and stuff like that. Of course if his finger tips hadn’t been nibbled off they could have taken prints.”

“And the Cyclops tattoo?”

“They’re still looking into it. I think as far as the sheriff is concerned, finding the owner of that arm is a low priority right now.”

“That’s too bad. Seems to me there could be something important getting missed.”

“You never know what will turn up eventually. I thought you weren’t all that interested?”

“I wasn’t. But mysteries have always been that way with me. If I’m inconvenienced by one I get annoyed and won’t give it my attention. Then one day I’ll suddenly remember it and I’ll want to know what happened.”

Mitch zipped up his jacket and peered outside. He had dark shadows beneath his eyes and up close Ann thought she saw a deep bruise healing were the shadow of his hat covered his upper forehead. She wanted to ask him if he’d gotten
that
while saving the stupid kid.

“I wouldn’t waste any more time thinking about it, Ann.”

“I won’t.”

“Hey, if you feel like it maybe you’ll want to stop in at the 101 and say hello to Tammy. With me being gone a lot she’s been pretty starved for talk.”

“She doesn’t get her fill at the 101?”

“Only chit chat, you know. She’s always liked your company, Ann. Told me that she misses those days when the two of you used to go out kayaking together.”

“Maybe I’ll stop in. I’ve got to run an errand first.”

“Mrs. Notham?”

“You got it.”

Mitch forced a smile. “When I worked for your aunt that one summer, I probably went out to her place four days a week. Can’t say it wasn’t worth it, she always tipped me with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.”

“She’s still at it.”

“It’s a good thing some things don’t change. Well, I better get moving.” Mitch grasped the brim of his hat with his good hand and hunched outside. It was still early afternoon and yet the distant mountain range was darkened as if it were much later. The rain was coming down sideways, warmed by the tropical trough from which it had descended. Ann watched Mitch get into his patrol car and pull back onto the highway. She wondered what the sheriff needed him for. There was something changed in his voice. His normal, easy-going tone seemed replaced by a poor imitation, and Ann had sensed that he was hoping she wouldn’t notice the difference. He’s trying to cover up his stress, she reminded herself. They’ve got more on their plate than I can possibly imagine.

Ann thought about Tammy, of how they’d drifted apart. At one time in their lives they’d been inseparable. When you were young, she thought, you had that feeling that you and your friends were like passengers on the same ship cruising into the future. Boyfriends would come and go, but you’d always be there for each other in the aftermath of tears.

In their junior year they’d both taken up kayaking. It was their way of getting away from everyone and clearing their heads. Some weekend mornings they’d launch from a pebbled beach into thick fog. The tide would be coming in and they’d paddle with it for hours. And then as the fog cleared, they’d find themselves far up a river that fed into the bay, surrounded by forests busy with kingfishers and bald eagles and they’d come onto shore and eat lunch and talk until it was time to put in again and let the changing tide pull them back to the sea. That was what made fighting the current all worthwhile—lying back in the sun and letting it take you on its silver back to wherever your mind wanted to go.