2 Dog River Blues Read online

  And so, as the car approached, I dove into a patch of long grass, stretched my body out as long and flat as I could, and hoped against all hope that they wouldn’t spot me.

  Burying my face into the grass I heard the car slow and sensed the beam of their spotlight flash by me. I forced myself to lie still for the count of a hundred and then I sprang to my feet and ran as fast as I could toward the tree line. The car stopped and swung around when they reached the end of the service drive, and once again I threw myself onto the ground and waited.

  The ground was moist and smelled of moss and dead grass. I was running out of energy as we played hide and seek for three more passes, and then they pulled out onto Hamilton Road and headed off toward the marina, still creeping along, still shining the damn light. It was a good thing for me they had moved on, because the sky was graying and I was afraid I couldn’t stay out of their sight for too much longer.

  Mud covered and shivering, I trudged along Hamilton toward the Chevron station at the corner of D.I.P., where I hoped I could warm myself up and call Roy for a ride. Unfortunately, when I reached the station Rusty’s car was parked out front. Skirting the store I continued my trek for the last mile and a half to the marina.

  I almost lost the game when I turned onto Bayou Road. Glancing over my shoulder, I had just checked to make sure that Rusty’s Caddy wasn’t headed my way when I smelled a burning cigarette. Dropping to the ground, I rolled into the sewage ditch as Fish came walking up the street. If he had looked over his right shoulder he would have seen me, but he was talking on a cell phone as he stepped past my hiding space.

  I was prepared to jump up and run if he turned, but he kept walking and talking. “He hasn’t been here, Rusty.”

  There was silence, and then he said, “Yeah. Well, come get me and we’ll head back to your place. I don’t think he’ll go to the police. He’s just dumb enough to come back to the house. We can be ready for him. Besides, you’re selling the book tomorrow, aren’t you?”

  Then he drifted out of my hearing range. I kept my head down and lay still in the ditch until I heard the tires of a car pull off the road. There were voices, and then a door slammed and the car pulled away. That’s when I looked up and saw the taillights of Rusty’s car heading back toward Hamilton.

  By the time I reached the parking lot, all I could think about was taking a hot shower and climbing into bed. I dragged my weary body down the dock, looking forward with each step to calling it a day, only to discover an empty slip. My boat was gone.

  Chapter 16

  I ran to the end of the dock and gazed out along the river. Rough Draft was half a mile upstream, sitting there, waiting for the tide to come in and break her loose.

  Curling up and going to sleep right there in the middle of the dock was a tempting option at the moment. Instead, I trudged back down the dock, across the parking lot and over to Cathy’s boat. Along the way I noticed that Rusty’s trawler was back in its slip.

  I fought the urge to break in and search it for the manuscript, but daylight was creeping across the sky. People would soon be wandering around, and if I didn’t recover my boat before the tide turned, I might lose it all together. I’d once seen a boat break loose from its anchor and drift ashore. The damage to the bottom had been pretty extensive.

  I was surprised to find Cathy’s lights on, and when I knocked, she threw open the door. The pleasant scents of hot coffee and bacon wafted from within and my mouth began to water.

  “Jesus, Wes,” she said. “What the hell have you been up too? You look like shit.”

  “It’s been a rough night. Any chance I can get a cup of coffee and maybe a little bacon?”

  She wrinkled her nose but stepped aside. “Come on in.”

  Randy Travis played on the stereo, and bacon sizzled in the kitchen giving the place a down home flavor. Her houseboat was roomy and inviting. From the outside it appeared tiny, inside it was a bastion of efficiency. The kitchen and dining area were on the entrance level. There was a refrigerator, a stove with oven, an apartment sized, stacking, washer and dryer, and plenty of cupboard space. A small wood table with four chairs sat in the middle of the dining area.

  Two steps down was the living room. A floral patterned loveseat, a matching rocker, and a desk with her computer shared the room with a thirty-two inch flat screen TV. Beyond the living room I could see her bedroom.

  She poured us both a cup of coffee, put on a couple more strips of bacon, and scrambled half a dozen eggs. I filled her in on my nighttime excursions in between sips of hot coffee and forkfuls of bacon and eggs.

  As she listened, she stood, walked over to her desk, and dug around through the bottom drawer. She came back and placed an Alabama information calendar on the table next to my plate. Opening it to February she pointed to the date. “High tide’s a little after noon today. Do you think your boat will float free or do you think you’ll need a tow?”

  I leaned back in the chair, rested my hands on my stomach, and fought to keep my eyes open. “I don’t know. It gets shallow quick up there. I suspect Fish Conner’s never had to deal with the deep draft of a sailboat.

  “I came over to see if you’d take me out to Rough Draft in your dinghy. Mine’s gone. I can only hope it’s still with the boat.”

  Cathy picked up our plates and carried them over to the sink. “I’m expecting Rob at any minute now. In fact, you just finished his breakfast.”

  “That would be the ex?”

  Cathy turned from the sink. “Yeah.”

  I yawned. “I’ll go see if Cajun Bob can haul me there.”

  “No. I can do it. But we might as well wait until the tide starts coming in. In the meantime, why don’t you use my shower? It’s off the bedroom. And then you need to take a nap.”

  “Won’t that be awkward? Explaining to your ex-husband why another man is sleeping in your bed?”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass whether he likes it or not. Might do him some good. Why don’t you go take a quick shower and lie down? While you’re doing that, I’ll throw your clothes in the washer.”

  It was all I could do to keep from falling asleep right where I sat so I pushed myself up from the table and tottered back to the bathroom. I stripped, set my mud-stained clothing outside the door, and took one of the fastest showers I’ve ever taken. I couldn’t wait to climb into that bed.

  ***

  It was a long journey from dreamland to reality, and I fought the entire way. I pushed away the insistent hands that rocked my body, tried to ignore the calling voice. When I rolled over, I was staring up into Cathy’s face.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Ten-thirty.” There was a tinge of raw anger in Cathy’s voice. “The tide is beginning to come in. If you don’t get out to the boat pretty soon it might work itself loose. We both know what happens then—bye bye Rough Draft.”

  I looked around. “If you’ll hand me my clothes, I’ll get dressed.”

  She grabbed my clean clothes off the chair where she’d set them while I’d been asleep, and threw them at me. Without another word she turned and stomped out of the room.

  I couldn’t think of anything I’d said or done to get her pissed at me so when I stepped out of the bedroom I asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

  “The son of a bitch called at the last minute and said he wouldn’t be here until tomorrow. I told him to go to hell.”

  “We must be talking about….”

  “That asshole, Rob. This is so like him. He is the most undependable, uncaring person I’ve ever known.”

  “And the reason you still love him is?”

  Cathy was pacing back and forth across the little kitchen. She stopped in front of the sink, picked up a towel, threw it back down and turned to face me.

  Hands on hips, she gave me the look that all men should recognize as meaning, Caution, don’t go there. “I don’t still love the son of a bitch. At least I don’t think I do.” She lowered her voice as she added, “And
don’t you start on me, Darling. I don’t need your shit on top of his.”

  The caustic use of my last name told me it was time to change the subject. “Maybe we should go check on my boat.”

  “My dinghy’s gassed and ready to go.” She threw me that look again before stalking off across the room and out the door.

  Cajun Bob, Phil, Renee, and two of the other Bobs were standing at the end of the dock, looking out at Rough Draft, talking and pointing. The buzz stopped when they saw us.

  “Tough luck, Wes.” Cajun Bob nodded toward my boat. “If you need some help let me know. I’ll come out in my boat and try to pull you loose.” He held up a handheld VHF radio and added. “I’m tuned to channel sixty-eight.”

  I waved my thanks to the dockside supervisors. “I wonder what they think happened.” I said as Cathy turned up the engine and headed upriver.

  “I saw Renee this morning and told her someone set your boat adrift last night. She wanted to call the police but I told her not to bother. I figured you needed sleep more than you needed the marine police out here grilling you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, as Cathy brought the dinghy up next to my boat.

  “Any time,” she snapped, and I wondered if I was on her permanent shit list.

  I grabbed the ladder and pulled the inflatable forward until they touched. As I scrambled from the dinghy the inertia kicked the small boat away. Clutching at the rail I climbed aboard and into the cockpit.

  Below, Fish had left a mess, although as I looked around I couldn’t see any obvious physical damage to the boat itself.

  I switched on the engine blower. While I waited for the blower to clear any fumes from the engine room, I walked the deck. Nothing appeared damaged so I headed back to the cockpit.

  The key was in the ignition and the engine started with the first try. My unease gave way to relief and I waved Cathy away from the side of the boat.

  This area of the river ran just a shade over six feet in depth at high tide, which meant that Fish had buried the keel five or six inches in the mud. The river bottom was soft and I wasn’t too worried about any damage being done to the boat below the waterline. Still, I didn’t know exactly how far off the channel Fish had driven the boat before running it aground.

  I put her into gear, nothing. I shifted her into reverse, again nothing. Then I threw her into forward, turned the wheel hard, and felt the first shifting.

  I moved the gearshift back and forth several times, and with each maneuver I swung the wheel, first to port and then to starboard, and like a stumbling elephant, the boat began to turn away from the bank of the river.

  It was my intention to swing the boat around and hope that I could follow the track in the mud where Fish had first driven her aground. By turning the boat around I also broke the suction hold the mud had on my keel.

  It was a nerve-racking exercise, but the boat eased forward until it gave a final lurch and pulled away from its resting place.

  Cathy and Cajun Bob were waiting for me when I pulled up. With their help I got the boat tied up and the electrical supply reconnected.

  “Thanks,” I called out as Bob wandered away.

  Cathy waited to say anything until we were alone. “Sorry I snapped at you. Sometimes Rob pisses me off so badly I can’t stand any man.”

  “Why don’t you come on inside and I’ll put on a pot of coffee,” I said.

  She hesitated, then nodded and stepped aboard. “They did a real job on your stuff,” she said, as she followed me below.

  Most of my cupboards and shelves had been emptied, the contents dumped on the floor. I dug around until I found my grinder, and an unopened bag of coffee, then I got a pot started. Settling down on the starboard cushion, which for some reason was free of debris, I looked over at Cathy and said, “I don’t know what he had in mind unless he was looking for cash. If he was, he didn’t find any. That’s what I love about cash cards.”

  The coffee was sputtering to an end and she waved me back down as I stood. “I’ll get it,” she said.

  I plopped back down, watched for a minute while she picked two unbroken mugs off the floor, and then I drifted off to sleep.

  It was an innocent sleep filled with pleasant dreams and uninterrupted. I awoke with a start. Daylight was fading, the boat rocked in the wind, and Cathy was gone.

  Somehow, she had managed to straighten the mess around me. The place smelled of pine cleaner and bleach and everything was off the floor. My clothes were folded and stacked on the settee across from me and she’d even filled the shelves over the bunk where I’d fallen asleep.

  I felt refreshed for the first time in days. I felt like I could go all night again. I was dying to get aboard Rusty’s boat, but it was too early. Instead, I changed my clothes, tucked my wallet into my back pocket, and walked over to Cathy’s boat.

  I couldn’t remember if she was working that night, but she answered my knock with a warm smile. “Come on in,” she invited.

  “Actually, I was thinking that I owe you a dinner, for your help this morning.”

  “You don’t owe me a thing,” she said. “In fact, I owe you for the way I treated you earlier.”

  “Let me rephrase my statement. I’m starving, and I really don’t want to eat alone.”

  “In that case, let me grab a sweater and turn off the TV.”

  A few moments later she joined me, carrying a light blue sweater and a small purse. We strolled, arm-in-arm along the dock and across the parking lot. Occasionally the vague scent of her perfume tickled my senses.

  The night was clear and brisk and as we approached the marina restaurant the aroma of roasting meats and fried fish set my mouth to watering.

  I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and family troubles, illuminated manuscripts, even near death experiences were the farthest thing from my mind.

  While we ate our steaks, I tried to put aside any thoughts of the manuscript, Rusty, and Jessica. Everything came rushing back, however, when Cathy asked, “Did you call your cousin?”

  “I lost my cell phone last night,” I said.

  “I left my phone on the boat,” Cathy said. “When we’re done eating if you want to walk me back I’ll be glad to let you use it. I like her by the way, Jessica that is.”

  I thought I detected a touch of resentfulness in her voice and I wondered if she wasn’t jealous.

  I pushed aside my plate and changed the subject. “What’s the latest with the ex?”

  “The asshole called to say he had some business to take care of before he came down. Based on past experience, I took that to mean that he met a woman and couldn’t leave until he slept with her.”

  “Are you going to get mad at me again if I repeat my earlier question?” I asked.

  “What question would that be?”

  “Are you still in love with this man?”

  Avoiding my gaze, Cathy used her fork to move a piece of steak around her plate. “I don’t know that I love him half as much as I need him to stop his philandering and love me. It’s almost as if I need to prove to myself that our breakup hurt him as much as it hurt me. Pretty macabre, huh?”

  The waitress came by and we both ordered coffee and key lime pie. When we were alone again, I asked, “And what does all this have to do with what you call the bad boy syndrome?”

  Cathy looked up from her plate. “You’re not really listening to what I’m saying, are you?”

  “It’s that obvious?”

  She nodded.

  “Sorry,” I said. “But I can’t get my mind off that damn manuscript. I keep wondering if Rusty hid it on his boat.”

  “You’re not going to do something stupid?” she asked. “Are you?”

  “I’m going to get onto Carpe Diem, and see if I can find the damn thing.”

  Cathy shook her head and began to chew on her lower lip. “If you get caught, they’ll kill you.”

  “How long can it take to go through the boat?” I asked. “Ten minutes? Once the restaurant and the s
tore close it gets pretty deserted around here.”

  “At least call your cousin, or better yet your uncle.”

  I shook my head. “I need to get aboard as soon as I can. If Rusty shows up he’ll probably move the boat. It’s now or never. Maybe you could call Roy for me. Let him know what I’m up to.”

  Cathy peered over her coffee cup. “Did you call him when you got up and let him know what happened?”

  “I couldn’t. Like I told you, Rusty took my cell phone.”

  “You could have used the store phone,” Cathy pointed out.

  “Well I didn’t.”

  Cathy sighed. “Sometimes you’re a stubborn buffoon. You should wait for help. You’re going to get yourself killed, Wes. It sounds like Rusty’s playing for keeps.”

  “Does that mean you won’t call?”

  “You’re going to do this no matter what I do, aren’t you?”

  I forced a laugh, trying to sound less nervous about my plans then I really felt. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “Bullshit. I’ll call, but don’t expect me to show up at your funeral. Give me the damn number.”

  “You have a pen or a pencil?”

  She drew a pen from her purse, placed it on top of a clean napkin, and pushed it across the table. I wrote the number on the napkin and handed it to her. After she read it back to me she stood and walked out of the restaurant without another word.

  I motioned for the waitress to bring our bill, and then picked at my pie while she took my card and brought back the receipt. I gulped down the remainder of my coffee and headed out into the night, following the dock to Rusty’s boat.

  Chapter 17

  I stopped back at my boat for a flashlight, and then scouted the area around Rusty’s boat to make sure no one was watching. When I was certain I was alone, I stepped aboard Rusty’s boat, Carpe Diem.

  There are hundreds, if not thousands, of boats throughout the United States with that name. ‘Seize the day’ was an appropriate thought if not an original one.