2 Dog River Blues (17 page)

Pressing my body against the siding of the house, I slid over to the door, reached out, and found it locked. A moment later I heard a crash from the front of the house as Roy broke through the door. I stepped back, let out a kick, and threw my shoulder against the cracked doorframe.

Holding my gun pointed in front of me I ran through the kitchen and out into the living room.

Jessica spun around as I burst into the room and lowered her gun when she saw me. “Uncle Roy’s checking out the bedrooms,” she said. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed with excitement.

“I don’t think he’ll find anything,” I said. “The boat’s gone.”

 
Roy walked into the room in time to hear me. “Wes, I know you saw the manuscript on Rusty’s boat. But we should still do a quick search of the house. I suspect Rusty keeps it with him, but we’d be nuts not to look. Why don’t you take the kitchen? Jessica, you stand guard and I’ll check out the bedrooms. We’d better be quick about it though. The last thing we need is for the police to show up.”

I scoured the kitchen, but once again found nothing. I headed for the living room where I found Jessica leaning against the wall, peeking out from behind the curtains.

“All clear so far,” she said.

“I’ll go check on Roy,” I said. As I turned toward the bedroom I caught sight of a cell phone sitting on the arm of the sofa.

“I’ll be damned,” I said. Plucking the phone from its resting place I flipped open the cover and shook my head.

“What?” Jessica dropped the corner of the curtain and moved over to join me.

“It’s mine.”

Roy walked into the room. “We’d better get going.”

Tucking the phone into my pocket I unclipped Roy’s from my belt and held it out for him. “I don’t need two of the damn things. One gets me into enough trouble.”

Roy grabbed the phone as he crossed to the front door. He cracked it open, looked around, and stepped out into the night. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

As we drove back to the marina my thoughts turned from the manuscript to my new family. Jessica and Roy were no longer strangers from a strange land, although I had to admit Alabama had its share of strange.

When we arrived at the marina, Jessica parked the car and turned to face me. “If you go chasing around by yourself again, I’ll kill you myself. That is if Fish and Rusty don’t beat me to it.”

“I think she means it, son.” Roy slid out of the back seat and stood by the passenger door, waiting for me to get out. When I did, he put his left hand on my shoulder and drew a nine-millimeter pistol from his coat pocket. “You’d better take this.” Then, in a fatherly fashion he added, “Try not to lose this one. And you should listen to Jessica. The book isn’t worth your life, or any of our lives for that matter. Understand?”

I slipped the gun into my waistband. “If I hear, see or feel anything, I’ll call.”

“We’re here for you Wes,” he said. “Just remember that.”

Something in the tone of his voice drew my attention to his weathered face. His eyes were filled with genuine concern and without thinking, I said, “Would the two of you like to come down to the boat and have a drink before you head out?”

Jessica switched off the engine and was out of the car almost before I finished asking. “Let’s go,” she said. As she swung around me she grabbed Roy’s arm and headed toward the dock.

I watched the two of them for a moment, and then I hurried along, trailing them out to my boat. I was dead tired again and couldn’t for the life of me understand what had possessed me to extend this invitation.

The night air had a salty feel to it. In the distance the engines of a large ship echoed across the still bay, bound for ports unknown. I was beginning to get itchy feet, and I wished I was tagging along beside that behemoth, riding the waves instead of chasing an old book around Mobile, Alabama. I longed to once again be carefree and headed for nowhere.

We paraded onto
Rough Draft
and down into the cabin. I made a waving motion toward the empty berths as I stopped at the galley and opened the cupboard where I kept my extra mugs. “Sit anywhere. I’ve got Miller Lite or rum and Coke. And if you’d prefer, I think I can rustle up some pineapple juice to go with the rum.”

“Rum over a little ice for me,” Roy said.

I pulled the gun from my pants and laid it on the counter. “I don’t have any glasses,” I said. “Just plastic mugs. Glass and ceramics don’t hold up well in a storm.”

It took me a moment to gather three mugs together. One of the drawbacks of living on a boat is limited space. Livaboards, as those of us who live on a boat are called, tend to bury unused items beneath seats or in corners, often under items used every day. Since I live alone, I only keep two mugs handy on the oft chance another boater might drop by. Finding a third was a chore.

I tossed three ice cubes into a mug, topped it with a hefty splash of rum, and handed it to Roy. They were both seated on the starboard sofa.

Jessica looked uncomfortable with her arms folded across her chest. The pained frown she wore was unpleasant and added years to her face.
 
Roy seemed relaxed and was either unaware of the volcano seated beside him waiting to erupt, or so used to Jessica’s moods that he didn’t care. On the other hand, I was getting damned tired of her attitude.

I had no idea what I’d done to piss her off this time, but I decided to play it cool. “How about you?” I asked her.

“Just a Coke.” Her voice turned frosty as she added, “Diet if you have it.”

“Certainly your highness.” I reached into the fridge, pushed aside a diet Coke and pulled out my last regular Coke. I can be as passive-aggressive as the next person. I gave the can a little toss. She fumbled it, dropping the unopened Coke into her lap. The glare she shot me was enough to freeze a steam pipe. She popped the top without a word and I handed her a mug before grabbing a Miller Lite for myself. Finally, I crossed over to the port settee and settled in.

 
Roy downed his drink in two long swallows, then smacked his lips. “Nothing like a little rum to help a man relax.”

He waved me down when I started to reach for the empty cup and added, “I never have more than one. It’s one of those habits I could find addicting, so I control the urge.”

Roy set the mug on the counter and took a small, darkened pipe from his pocket, holding it up for my inspection. “My biggest vice, one I can’t seem to control. Mind if I smoke?”

I have an unwavering rule on board; have had since the day I bought the boat. No smoking. Yet for some reason, I said, “Go ahead.”

He took a pouch out of his other pocket and began to build his smoke. I couldn’t help but smile at his little ritual. Scoop a little, tap the tobacco down, and scoop a little more. Almost as an afterthought, he pulled out an old Zippo lighter and lit the pipe.

The rich tobacco smoke spewed forth and filled the boat, wrapping us in a scented cocoon. There was a hint of anise or almond or perhaps cherry, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but somehow it made me want to go out and buy a pipe.

Easing back into the cushions I sipped my beer and watched Jessica. She squeezed and released the can in her hand, playing a metallic symphony that was doing an excellent job of eroding my mellow mood. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I asked, “Something bothering you, Jess?”

Her head snapped in my direction and she gave me a cutting look. “I told you my name is Jessica.”

Roy chuckled and pointed his pipe stem in my direction. “When she was six years old she beat the crap out of a neighbor boy for calling her Jess. Since that day I can’t remember anyone calling her that and not suffering some consequence or another.”

“You mean there’s something worse than the silent treatment and that evil eye she keeps casting my way?”

“I’m not giving you the evil eye. If I were, you’d know it. It just so happens I was deep in thought. Something you don’t seem too familiar with.”

I raised my hands in mock defeat. “If there’s something you want to say to me, why don’t you just spit it out?"

“Fine.” She drained the rest of her Coke. “Were you born an asshole, Wes?”

I was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Gran’s going into the hospital next week and she’s convinced she’s not coming out. All she can talk about is how she wishes she could meet you and maybe talk to you a little.”

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked.

“You’re being a little melodramatic,” Roy cut in. “She’s going in for a hip replacement and I don’t remember her saying anything about being afraid she wouldn’t make it through the surgery.”

Jessica transferred her glare from me to Roy and he said, “I’ll admit that she did say something about wanting to see Wes before she died. But I don’t think she was talking about her imminent death.”

“She told me too many people she knew were going into the hospital and not coming out,” Jessica said. “If that’s not expressing concern about dying, then what is?”

“You’re right dear.”
 
Roy continued to look down at the pipe in his hand, studying it with exaggerated care, intent on backing away from the discussion.

“All right,” I said.
 

Roy raised his eyes and looked at me without moving.

“All right what?” Jessica asked.

“All right, I’ll go see her. Set up a time and place and I’ll be there.” My stomach did a little jig as I said the words, and my hands trembled. I had enough trouble interacting with my mother, let alone a grandmother who hadn’t bothered to contact me in over thirty years.

Jessica jumped up, threw herself across the cabin and engulfed me with a hug. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

I disengaged from her and said, “I’m not making any promises beyond the one visit. I still feel some resentment toward her.”

Jessica grabbed Roy’s hand and gave it a tug. “Come on, let’s get out of here before he changes his mind.” To me she added, “I’ll talk to Gran tomorrow. Maybe we can do lunch?”

“I guess we can do that,” I said, regretting my decision already.

“Good.” Jessica raced up the stairs, towing Roy along behind her.

He paused on the top step and turned to me. “I’ve got a friend who owns a helicopter. I’ll give him a call come daylight and see if he can fly us around. If Rusty’s on his boat, we’ll find him.”

“If we don’t find him soon the book’s as good as gone,” I said.

He gave a quick nod, and then followed Jessica out into the night.

Chapter 19

Alone, I took another beer from the fridge and stepped out into the cool night air. Time was running out and I dreaded the thought of defeat at the hands of Rusty and Fish.

Dispirited, with depression creeping up on me, I sat down in the cockpit, put my feet up, and sipped my beer. As I contemplated life’s unfairness, I heard the sound of a boat motor in the distance. A few minutes later I saw the red port navigation light and the aft white light. Even though it was dark, I scooted down in the cockpit.

I was pretty sure it was Rusty’s trawler, and as it motored by I managed to make out the name
Carpe Diem
on the transom. Rusty was headed home.

I slipped into the cabin and grabbed my phone to call Roy. He didn’t answer. I picked up Roy’s gun and stuffed it into the pocket of my sweatshirt where it dragged against the stretchy fabric. I’d promised not to go off half-cocked by myself, but I told myself it wasn’t my fault Roy hadn’t answered his phone. I clipped the phone to my belt, grabbed the truck keys, and hastened off the boat.

I tried Roy again as I pulled out of the parking lot. I considered calling Jessica, but I really didn’t want her involved anymore. Instead, I pressed down on the accelerator and pointed the truck toward Rusty’s place.

The house was lit up and Rusty’s Cadillac was parked under the carport. To my relief, Fish’s truck was nowhere to be seen. I parked one house down from Rusty’s, and made the trek up the drive with my hand on the gun in my pocket, jumping at every night sound I encountered.

A quick check around the house confirmed that
Carpe Diem
was tied to the dock and that no one was laying in wait for me outside. At the front door I took a deep breath, pulled the automatic from my pocket and turned the knob.

Pushing open the door I was surprised to see Rusty seated in the lounge chair reading a book. On the table next to him was a large glass of brown tinted liquid and a cell phone. As I drew the door shut behind me he looked up, closed the book, and smiled. “I’ve been expecting you ever since I saw you slinking around in the cockpit of your boat.”

“You don’t seem concerned by the fact that I’m standing here pointing a gun at you.” I looked around. “Why’s that, Rusty?”

“That’s because I’ve taken out an insurance policy.” Placing his book on the table next to the phone, he picked up his glass. “Can I offer you a glass of sweet tea?”

I glanced across the room to the hallway leading off to the kitchen and bedrooms.

“You have nothing to worry about,” he said. “We’re alone. I’ve decided to try another approach, rather than kill you that is.”

“And that would be?”