I shrugged. “I got a lead on a Shiite mosque in Avondale, and I went to check it out. It seems Atef is Shiite, at least the Mullah Ghazi doesn’t know him, and he knows most of the Sunnis. That’s where I saw Buddy Dwyer and I followed him to S&K Rigging.”
“Ghazi gave you the tip?”
That didn’t require an answer.
She nodded, “Yeah, one of the guys said he saw you there. You pissed him off because you didn’t wait outside for him when he told you to.”
I just looked at her. That didn’t require an answer.
“What did you do when you got to S&K Rigging?” she said.
“Parked and waited.”
“Alone?”
“As far as you or anyone else is concerned, I was alone.”
“Then what?”
“Well, Officer, then I heard shooting, and saw Atef and Dwyer exit the premises at a high rate of speed.”
“You being a smartass?”
“Just the facts, ma’am.”
And again she looked at me for a long time. She shook her head in resignation.
“We found two men dead, and one unconscious. All three of them are on the Homeland Security list of potential threats.”
“If you check DNA samples in their little bathroom, you will find that Atef was there.”
“It’s being checked. But we know he was there. How do you know he was in the bathroom?”
“Just a guess.”
“We found a barrel bomb with a partially welded top. There was a bullet hole in the upper lip. If the round had hit three inches lower, the whole place, and maybe the whole block would have gone up.”
I thought about me taking refuge behind the barrel when the shooting started. Dang.
“So if I suggested,” she continued, “we get a search warrant and confiscated your pistols and check them against evidence we found, what do you think the conclusion would be?”
I shrugged.
“And if we tested for powder residue, what would we find?”
Again, I shrugged.
“And if I asked you to strip off your bandage would I find a fish bite or a bullet wound?”
She stood up and stepped off the boat. She finished the bottle of water, screwed the cap back on and tossed the empty onto the bow.
“One of these days, you are going to step over the wrong line.”
I started to say something, but she had already turned and was walking away.
I picked up the empty water bottle and watched her until she was out of sight.
40
I was applying a coat of white, glossy paint to the outside of the topside cockpit. I had discovered some dry rot in a corner where moisture had accumulated over the years. I had replaced it with a hand-sanded piece of tempered wood and was hoping the color would match once it dried.
I was wearing an old, worn chambray shirt I had yanked the sleeves off of, and an old pair of trunks. It had gotten hot and the sweat was running into my eyes so badly I had wrapped a bandana around my forehead to stem the tide. All I needed was an eye patch and a sword. Arrrrgh.
“Hey Jackson!”
The voice came from behind and below me. I turned and looked over the edge and Dahlia and Megan stood on the pier, each shielding their eyes with one hand.
I smiled. “Hey, guys.”
“We are on our way into town and thought we’d look you up. Megan wanted to see your boat. Billy’s uncle was at the store and let us onto your dock.”
“Come on aboard,” I said. “Just watch your step. This old scow is floating, but as stable as she is, she might still move. I’ll be down.”
I put the lid on the paint can and set it in the cockpit in the shade. I took the brush with me. I could wash it out in the sink if I was done, or wrap it with plastic wrap if I was going to keep painting later.
The interior of the boat was pleasantly cool, and I slid the doors open and the two girls stepped in. Dahlia had on a short-sleeved brocaded blouse and a pair of cream-colored capris. Megan had a sleeveless white blouse and a pair of shorts. She wore flip flops.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Dahlia said. “We started talking about you, and your boat, as we came down the hill and when we saw the sign to the lake, we decided to take a chance.”
“My good fortune,” I said. I looked at Megan. “Would you like a tour?”
She smiled and nodded.
“It will be a short one,” I said. “This isn’t a very big boat.”
I indicated the area we were standing in, “This is the main salon, or you could call it the lounge.”
“You don’t just call it the front room?”
“Boats have a special name for everything,” Dahlia said.
Megan was looking around, taking everything in.
“For instance,” I said. “What you would call the kitchen is called the galley.”
I moved into the galley.
“The bedrooms are called staterooms. The beds are called berths and the bathroom is called a head.”
“Head? Why would they call it a head?”
I laughed. “Because back in the good old days of wind-powered sailboats they always put the bathroom at the front, or at the head of the ship, so as the wind filled the sails from behind it blew the smell away from the boat.”
“Yew.”
“And I called it a bathroom, but usually it was just a hole over the water.”
“Double yew!”
“You asked a question, and you got an answer,” Dahlia said, smiling.
“Let me show you the rest,” I said.
They followed me down the hall. I was glad I had made the bed. “This boat has an unusually large bath and bed in the master stateroom.”
I moved through the stateroom and out onto the stern. They followed. There was a light breeze. I looked at Megan, “See, I told you it wasn’t much of a tour. The back of a boat is the stern and the front is the bow. Do you know what the left side and right side of the boat is called?”
Dahlia looked expectantly at her daughter. She turned to me. “The reason we’re here is that Megan had some issues with her grades and I promised to bring her on a shopping trip if she resolved the issue, which she did. “So I’ll bet she’s smart enough to know that answer.”
Megan gave her mom that teenaged look. “Mom. They don’t teach boats in high school.”
“Your mom just thinks you are smart. Any guess?” I said.
“Is it starboard or something?”
“Bingo, you win the prize. Port and starboard. Do you know which is which?”
She shrugged.
“Here’s a trick to remember which is which. Port is the left side. Port and left have the same number of letters.”
“Four.”
“Exactimudo.” I smiled. “Let’s go topside.”
I led the way up the ladder. When we were all on top, Megan was looking at my foot. Or, rather, my prosthetic.
“How did you lose your foot?” she said.
“Megan!”
“It’s okay.” I waved my hand, “This is the upper deck. It is a very pleasant place to watch a sunset. As you see, it has a cockpit so I can steer the boat from up here.”
“Can we go on a boat ride?” Megan asked.
“Megan!” Dahlia turned to me, “I’m so sorry.”
I waved a dismissive hand.
She turned back to Megan. “Honey, we didn’t stop here to get Mr. Jackson to give us a boat ride. We are interrupting his day already.”
“Well, it is a pleasant interruption.” I pointed across the marina to the small boat pier. “You see that runabout over there? The fifth one from the end, with the green canvas cover?”
Megan said, “Yeah, I see it.” She looked at her mother who was obviously not finding it.
“Next to the red one, Mom.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“That’s also mine, and if you decide you have the time, I’d be happy to take you out on it.”
“Oh, that’s wa
y too much….” Dahlia said.
“Could we, Mom?” Megan begged. “Please, could we?”
Dahlia looked at me. “Really, Jackson. We couldn’t possibly put you out like that.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “If we go on a boat ride, I’ll tell you how I lost my foot.”
Dahlia shook her head, looking at me. “If you put it that way, how could we refuse?”
41
We were in the lounge.
“Why don’t you girls relax a second? I haven’t cleaned up today, so let me take a quick shower, then we’ll walk over.”
“You’re okay,” Dahlia said.
I got two bottles of water from the refrigerator. I handed each one.
“My mama said I was to keep myself tidy in body and mind.”
“Where’s your mother?” Megan asked.
“She’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
Dahlia turned to her daughter, “Mr. Jackson is saying his mother is deceased.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I said.
“How about your dad,” Megan asked.
“Megan, don’t be so nosy.” Dahlia shook her head, “I’m sorry, Jackson.”
“It really is okay.” I looked at Megan, “My father is deceased also. Let me get a shower and we’ll take a ride.”
I was quick. Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling the canvas cover off of Swoop. I helped the girls on board. Swoop was a nineteen-foot Grumman Sport Deck with a V hull and an eight-foot beam. It was very stable. I pumped the gas bulb, then started the 120-horsepower Johnson motor, and let it idle. I pulled lifejackets from the floor locker and handed one each to the girls.
“I can swim,” Megan said.
“My boat, my rules, please put it on.”
She didn’t argue.
I took it easy through the no-wake zone. Once past the buoy, I slowly brought her up on plane. I headed across the water, putting her nose on Scorpion Bay in the distance.
The day was heating up, so I kept a strong enough pace to keep a breeze on us. It would be hot enough on the trip back when the wind would be with us. I cruised Scorpion Bay and headed up to Castle Creek. When I glanced behind me, Megan was taking it all in, but Dahlia was watching me. She smiled quickly, then turned her head.
In no chop, Swoop could go forty miles per hour, but I kept it steady at about twenty-five. A little over an hour later I pulled Swoop back into her mooring.
Megan hopped out on the pier, then helped her mom out.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Jackson,” Megan said.
“Just Jackson,” I said. “It was my pleasure. Can I interest you ladies in some lunch?”
“Only if you let me buy,” Dahlia said.
“Done. Let me batten this down and I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”
Megan had moved down the pier looking at the other boats, Dahlia took my arm, pulling me into her. She looked at me for a long moment.
“You have been very nice, thank you,” she said, and leaned up and kissed me on the cheek.
“That made it more than worthwhile,” I said.
I could have sworn she blushed as she turned away.
The restaurant bar was very large with huge windows on the north side. The windows were garage-door styled, and they had them rolled open. With the swamp cooler running, and a breeze, it was pleasant. I guided us to a window seat so they could watch the boats.
The waitress was a sturdy blonde named Dawn. She’d been working there since spring. She brought menus and a bottle of Dos Equis without being asked. She set the beer in front of me. She handed the menus to the girls.
“Can I get you girls something to drink?”
Dahlia said she’d have a Dos Equis also, and Megan ordered a Coke. Dawn went to get the drinks.
Dahlia studied the menu, but Megan said, “You promised to tell us about your foot.”
“It’s really not much of a story,” I said.
“You promised,” Megan said. Dahlia just shook her head.
I took a drink of the beer and studied the label. “I was stationed overseas and I made the mistake of stepping on an IED.”
“You were in the Army?” Dahlia said.
“What’s an IED?” Megan said.
“Marines,” I said. I smiled at Megan. “An IED is an improvised explosive device. A homemade bomb. The bad guys hid them in places hoping we would step on them and I obliged.”
“Did it hurt?”
“It hurt a lot worse later.”
“So now you have a fake foot.”
“It’s called a prosthetic, and I have several of them. I have one just for swimming.”
Dawn brought the drinks and set them in front of the girls.
“Are we ready to order?” she said brightly.
We all ordered hamburgers. She wrote it on her order pad and turned to the kitchen.
Out the window and across the pier, a lone sailor in a small expensive sailboat was trying to tie off on the dock. He didn’t have bumpers out and the wind kept banging him against the dock as he struggled. Every time the wind banged the beautiful little boat into the dock, I winced.
Dahlia followed my eyes. “Someone should help him,” she said.
“He doesn’t want help,” I said.
She looked at me, “He doesn’t?”
I took a drink of the beer, “That boat is not designed for a crowd. He’s new at it, but he bought that for solo sailing. He knows he has to learn and I’ll bet he wants to learn on his own.”
“Really?”
“People that sail are a special breed.”
“That’s your new neighbor,” Eddie’s voice said from behind me.
I turned and looked at him, “You off work?”
“Damn kid finally showed up.”
“Join us,” Dahlia said.
He hooked a chair and pulled it around.
“Jackson says that guy doesn’t want any help,” Megan said.
Eddie watched the man finally get his bow tied off but now the stern had drifted out to where he couldn’t reach the dock.
“Jackson’s right,” he said. “Man’s gotta learn.”
“Man that has trouble docking his own boat will have a bad time of it out in a squall,” I said. “My new neighbor?”
“Bought the Moneypenny,” Eddie said.
“I saw the name change.”
Dawn brought the food. “PBR?” she asked Eddie. He nodded and she hustled back to the bar.
“Hired me to take him out on her, show him the ropes.”
“Local?” I asked.
“From L.A.,” he said. “He’s a writer. Wrote for some TV show.”
“Hence the name,” I said.
Megan perked up, “Which show?”
He shook his head, “Don’t know. I don’t watch TV.”
Megan gave him a look of disbelief. “You don’t watch TV? None?”
“Doesn’t make him strange,” I laughed.
“Did you see a television on Jackson’s boat?” Eddie asked.
Megan and Dahlia looked at each other, then both looked at me.
“No. No we didn’t,” Dahlia said.
“You don’t have a television?” Megan said.
I started to reply when we heard Dawn cry out, “Stop it!”
We all turned to look.
Dawn was trying to wrest her arm away from a tall, rangy young man. He was a good head taller than her. He had a thick mop of blond hair, a ragged tee shirt torn off at the arms and short enough to show his stomach. His arms were muscled and veined.
She tried to jerk away but he was much stronger and was jerking her like a rag doll. In an instant, Eddie was out of his chair and across the room. I followed.
42
“That’s enough!” Eddie bellowed as he crossed the room.
The man didn’t even glance at him.
Dawn was hitting at the guy, screaming, “Stop it, Jerry! Stop it! Stop it!”
“I think the lady wants you to leave,” I said.
He stood very still, then slowly turned to look at me. He leaned forward until his face was barely an inch from mine. He was a good inch taller than me.
“Why don’t you fuck off,” he said, moving in real close. I guess this was his intimidation move.
I sneezed and blew spit all over him.
“Jesus Christ!” he exploded, jumping back. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” He was madly wiping his face with his bare arm.
“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I’m allergic to assholes.”
Dahlia and Megan had moved up behind us. Megan laughed out loud.
“You looking for a fight,” Jerry said, recovering.
“Jerry, get out of here,” Dawn said, straightening the stools. “You know you are permanently 86’d.” She pointed out the window. “Your picture’s out on the board, you’re not even supposed to be on this lake. I’m gonna call security.”
“Jackson doesn’t look for fights,” Eddie said.
“Well, he fucking found one,” Jerry said and swung a wide, looping right-handed roundhouse at me.
For all the muscles, he was pretty slow. I guess he was big enough he didn’t have to be fast. I moved just enough to let his fist move the air as it whipped pass my face. I stepped back, my hands at my side.
“Son, better listen to the girl,” Eddie said. “You’re biting off more that you can chew.”
Jerry swung at me again, lunging forward. I backed up again. He starting swinging right and left, and I kept moving, just enough for him to miss every time. Finally, he stopped; by now he was breathing heavily. I just looked at him, waiting. I thought I knew what was coming next, and I was right. He lunged forward, trying to wrap me up in his long, muscled arms. I kicked him in the meat of his upper thigh. Kicked him hard. I had shifted so my prosthetic was behind me, my left foot forward in the classic T-stance. When I kicked, I whipped the prosthetic with great velocity and except for the large muscles of his leg, I would have broken it.
The Librarian Her Daughter and the Man Who Lost His Head Page 16
