Bucket of Fish
Page 7
“I don’t know Mom.”
GB and I sat on a bench out by the Steamship terminal. It was Monday night.
“You sure he said nice shoes?”
“Whataya mean am I sure – of course I’m sure.”
“Uh Oh.”
We watched every person getting on the steamship. There was a huge crowd. It had been one of the busiest Labor Day’s in the history of the island.
“Maybe we missed him, there were so many people.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
We watched as a Coast Guard launch landed a couple of men in business suits at a nearby ramp. It was probably part of some Labor Day celebration, I thought. We decided to go back by the Samoa Bar. When we got there, the place was still pretty crowded, mostly local guys. I glanced in through the swinging doors and saw Mr. Trenton filling a beer mug. Carl and Curly D. were sitting at the bar. They glanced out at me and smiled.
Chapter 31
GB and I ran up over to get Sharon. We all went over to his back yard to try and figure something out.
“Why didn’t Mr. Trenton leave?” Sharon asked.
George Bailey thought for a while. “ I’ll bet he thought the note was from one of his competitors, who wanted all the business that weekend.”
Mrs. Watson came out and offered us some lemonade and cookies.
“My goodness Walter, what happened to you?”
“He got in a fight with a bully and almost won.” GB said proudly.
Mrs. Watson gave me an extra cookie.
It was 6:30PM. Tomorrow was a school day and we didn’t have any time left to figure something out. GB and Sharon just sat there on the back porch chairs and tried to think of something. A man was going to be killed before we got our new seating assignments. We argued back and forth. We had to tell someone.
“I’m going to go tell the Lifeguard – he’s the only law enforcement person left on the island,” Sharon said.
“But he only tells you not to throw rocks and stuff.” George Bailey said.
“We just can’t let a man get killed.” Sharon said.
She was right. She was also late and had to get home.
“Don’t worry Sharon, I’ll go,” I said.
Sharon left. I was just getting up to go and was worried that the lifeguard building might be closed by the time I got there, when I heard a knock on the Watson’s front door. Mr. Watson answered and spoke in a low voice to some people.
Mrs. Watson came out on the back-porch-- I could see her lips trembling. “George Bailey and Walter please come in--there are two gentlemen here to see you. They say they’re friends of Max Wales and are with the F.B.I.”
Chapter 32
When we got in the living room the older man introduced himself as Agent Mitchell. He had received a call from Max Wales who had just arrived back from a two-week assignment tracking deer poachers in Northern California. As soon as Max opened the mail he notified his old fishing buddy Agent Mitchell. The two agents had hitched a ride over to the island on a Coast Guard boat.
“If you don’t mind Dr. and Mrs. Watson, Agent Hadley and I’d like to talk to the boys alone. I can assure you that they are not in any trouble at all.” The Watson’s slowly walked their bedroom and closed the door. I knew Mrs. Watson would have her ear at the keyhole.
“OK boy’s, let’s start at the beginning -- tell us everything you know.” Agent Mitchell said.
I let GB do most of the talking. When he got to the part about Sharon and the doll the agents both looked at each other.
“Does she still have those notes she took?” Agent Mitchell asked, shaking his head and smiling.
“Thure does.”
“Can you fellas show us the way to the Samoa Bar?”
“Thure can.”
Chapter 33
As we walked down from GB’s house to the Samoa Bar, I had to keep wiping my sweaty hands on my pants. GB and Agent Mitchell were in front and I was walking next to Agent Hadley. Agent Mitchell was a tall chubby guy with a big mustache. He looked a lot like the old harbor seal that always sat near the entrance to Hamilton Harbor. If you fished to close to him -- he’d always nab your fish. I could see GB looking up, talking non-stop –his hands were going fast like he was directing an orchestra or something.
After we’d gone about two blocks, Agent Mitchell stopped, stroked his chin and nodded.
“Go get ‘em George Bailey,” he said.
GB took off back toward his house.
Agent Mitchell motioned to Agent Hadley and they whispered to each other. Agent Hadley came back to me.
“Don’t worry Walt, George Bailey has a job for you too.”
GB ran back – carrying his shoeshine kit and an old broomstick!
When we got near the Samoa Bar, they sent me around back by the alley. It was my job to keep an eye on the back door and bang on a trashcan with the broomstick if anyone came out the back.
Later GB told me what happened in front.
GB took his shoeshine kit into the Samoa Bar. The bar was real smoky and crowded. He went up to Curley D, who was sitting on a barstool talking to Carl. They both kept looking at Mr. Trenton. GB tapped Curley D. on the elbow.
“Excuse me Mr. Cur Curley –would you like a thoethine?”
“Nah kid – I ain’t got time – I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Last one is free – spit thine too!”
“Ah hell – go ahead.” Curley D. said and swung his legs around.
“Uh--- I can’t shine them in here – my mom will k –kill me.”
“Still stuttering huh – OK OK – we’ll go outside – it’ll have to be quick.”
GB went first through the swinging doors, turned towards the pier, then past a small side walkway where the two agents were waiting with their guns out.
“No such thing as a free shoeshine these days Curly D.” Agent Mitchell said as he held his gun to Curley D’s head.
----------------------------------
I could see the back door of the Samoa Bar. I stood there holding that stick for about five minutes, seemed like an hour, when I suddenly felt someone behind me.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Walter Quen tin –tin Jenkins. You goin to pee in your pants again boy?”
I just started bangin on that trashcan as hard as I could.
THE END
Epilogue
GB, Sharon and I split the reward. It ended up being $500 apiece. The FBI had posted another $1,000 reward on Curly D. We never even had to testify because all of the criminals pointed fingers at each other.
They rounded up Carl and the fat man, a Los Angeles bootlegger who was Carl’s partner. It turned out that Carl had taken over the island bootlegging when Jack Neeves decided to get out. Jake saw it wasn’t going to last after Prohibition was repealed.
Agent Mitchell said the most fun was when he locked Officer Hollis in his own jail.
One day the three of us rode our new bikes out by the Halfway House. GB and Sharon were going steady now. Sally had found the only Junior in our class with a car. It was OK -- there was this girl in my English class.
“Just think Walt,” GB said, “It all started with a Bucket of Fith.”
Author’s Note
This is a work of fiction and everything is made up. Any relationship between these characters and people in real life is just an accident. My Dad’s name was George Bailey Hershman but everybody called him either Hersh or George. I called him Dad. He was really more like the character Walt Jenkins. In fact I got the idea for the book from a picture of my Dad holding up some fish when he was about 12. His pants were too short just like Walt’s. Dad grew up during the Depression and was a U.S Marine in World War II.
Before he died, Dad read Bucket of Fish and said he liked it except –
“You can’t catch corbina on Catalina Island and I never saw a sand crab there!”
He’s right about corbina of course. I’m not sure about the sand crab part. Hamilton Island is a lot like Catalina
Island, but Hamilton Island, which I made up, has corbina and sand crabs. Hamilton Island also has better surf and other stuff.
My neighbor Art Emerson, who died about the same time as my Dad, delivered ice in a Model T Ice Truck on Catalina Island in the 1930’s and helped me with the book. They didn’t have many refrigerators then and most people used iceboxes. Art was in the Navy during World War II
There is a Hamilton Island near Australia, but I don’t know anything about it.
I hope you liked this book. I wrote three more about George Bailey and his friends.
Books are fun to write, but it’s a lot more fun if people like them! If you liked the book please write a quick review in Amazon. Reviews really help –they give other readers courage to take a chance on an unknown writer. Thanks!
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