2 Dog River Blues Read online

  Maybe it was because I was nervous and not paying attention, perhaps it was the cold morning air drifting across the water, or God playing a joke on me, but the outboard refused to start.

  I fiddled with the choke, primed the bulb, and pulled the starting cord over and over, all to no avail. Running out of patience, I tilted the prop out of the water, and began rowing toward the distant shore. In my haste, I knocked the fishing pole overboard. So much for excuses, I thought.

  Despite the cold, I was sweating by the time I pulled the inflatable onto the beach. Sunshine sparkled on the near still water and a gull circled the beach above me. His lonesome call seemed to mock me as I looked at my watch and realized that I still had at least a half an hour left before I could expect Roy.

  Dragging the boat along the sand, I managed to push and pull it up to, and behind a clump of trees. I disconnected the motor from the gas tank, pulled it off the inflatable, tucked the book under my shirt, and deflated the dinghy.

  I stumbled over to a piece of log on the westerly edge of the beach and sat down to wait for Roy.

  I was beginning to appreciate this southern family more and more. If not for Roy, I’d be stuck not three hundred yards from Carpe Diem and Fish Conners’ bullet riddled body.

  The mind is a well-trained trickster, especially when loaded with guilt and anxiety. The guilt was a byproduct of my Catholic upbringing. The anxiety was something I’d acquired working as a P.I.

  There are certain facts you live with when you’re out there chasing the shit-heads that have overrun our cities. Number one is that the laws are rigged in their favor. Number two is that if something you’ve anticipated doesn’t go wrong, there’s always the unanticipated to look forward to.

  The unanticipated was the arrival of a large motor yacht. The day was bright and still, and I heard it before I saw it. By the time it poked its nose into the calm waters of the cove I had carried the motor and gas tank over to edge of the road. I ran back to the dinghy and half dragged, half carried it halfway to where I’d left everything else. I stopped and watched the yacht motor to within a hundred feet of Carpe Diem and begin to let out its anchor.

  I estimated it to be in the eighty-foot size range. As I watched, two men appeared on the deck and began lowering an inflatable into the water.

  Taking the VHF radio from my pocket I turned it on and tuned it to channel sixteen in time to hear the query, “Carpe Diem, this is Winds Low. Do you copy?”

  I cursed at my luck. It had to be the buyers looking for Rusty, and I didn’t want anything to do with them. Just as I was wondering if they had seen me, my phone rang. I grabbed it, but a tall stick figure dressed in a yellow rain jacket looked up and seemed to be studying the beach.

  He pointed in my direction as I answered the phone. “I hope you’re nearby.”

  “I’m about three minutes away,” Roy said.

  The dinghy was in the water now and the man who had pointed at me climbed in to join the first two. The engine roared to life and they headed for Carpe Diem at a fast clip.

  “I’ve got company,” I said, “and I don’t think they’re friendly.”

  As if to confirm my fears the inflatable stopped just long enough at the side of Carpe Diem for two of the men to climb out. The third, the man in the yellow jacket, gunned the engine as soon as his partners were on the boat and headed for the beach.

  Grabbing my own rolled up dinghy I flung it to my shoulder and with short, lumbering steps began to run to where I’d left the engine.

  “Hey,” Yellow Jacket called out across the water. “Hey, I want to talk to you.”

  Ignoring the man’s hail, I pushed myself for speed just as Roy pulled up in Jessica’s car. It ground to a stop alongside where I’d left my outboard and Roy jumped out. He was loading the motor when a sharp crack filled the air.

  A bullet slammed into the side of my dinghy with enough force to knock it from my shoulder, carrying me to the ground with it. Three more gunshots echoed across the water and I scrambled behind a tree.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Roy reach into the trunk. He grabbed two pistols, spun around, and came running toward me like a two-fisted gunfighter, squeezing off two shots with each gun toward the dinghy.

  Peering out from behind the tree, I watched Yellow Jacket swing the inflatable around and head back toward Carpe Diem.

  “You missed,” I said.

  “On purpose. I don’t want to kill anyone. Now let’s get the hell out of here.” He handed me the guns and picked up my dinghy with an easy jerk that I found humbling. I followed as he carried it over to the back of the car, where he shoved it in next to the outboard. As he fought to close the trunk, I took the VHF radio from my pocket.

  “What are you up to?” he asked.

  “Go ahead and get into the car,” I said. “Be ready to get the hell out of here. The shit’s about to hit the fan.”

  Once Roy was behind the wheel I hit the send button and spoke into the radio. “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Coast Guard this is Carpe Diem. We are currently located at Prince Cove and are under attack. I repeat, under attack. Shots have been fired and my crewman has been shot.”

  I released the send button and heard, “Carpe Diem, Carpe Diem, this is the Coast Guard, please repeat.” There was a pause and then, “Carpe Diem, this is the Coast Guard. We have your position at Prince Cove, if this is correct, please repeat.”

  “Did you have to call a Mayday? I heard they get too many of those. Big fine too.”

  “Roy, they were shooting real bullets at me and they had no idea who I was. Not to mention that there’s a dead body on board. I kind of think that’s an emergency.”

  “Rusty?”

  “Fish,” I said, giving him a brief rundown of what had happened.

  “You get the manuscript?” he asked.

  “I did.”

  Roy floored the car. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “I’m not sure it was worth it,” I said. “Rusty and Fish are dead and Cathy may never be able to enter her boat in the dark again. Still, I guess the outcome beats the alternative.”

  “What’s that?” Roy asked.

  “We could be the dead ones.”

  If he had a comeback, I didn’t hear. I dropped off to la-la land.

  Chapter 23

  When we got to the marina I held out the manuscript to Roy.

  “I talked this over with Jessica. We both think you should be the one to give it to Ma,” Roy said.

  I hesitated, and then tucked it back beneath my sweatshirt. “When?”

  Roy chuckled. “I’m sure Jessica will call and let you know.”

  I felt myself flush. I had no doubt Jessica would be calling. It was one of the reasons I wanted to get rid of the book. I needed to get out of Mobile—quick.

  I climbed out of the car and turned back to face Roy. “Can you do me a favor,” I asked.

  “What do you need?”

  “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 helpe
d 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.”