“Leaving in a minute,” I replied. “Got a second, Scott?”
I walked toward the steps leading up to my house, and Scott followed, wiping his forehead with the tail of a sleeveless workout shirt. “What’s up?” he asked when I turned around.
“You and Germ mind hanging out here a day or so?”
“The Pittsburgh drug dealer got away from Key West PD?”
“Apparently,” I replied. “The hired gunman he’s with is an amateur out of South Miami, Austin Brown. They probably stole a boat last night and could have made Saddlebunch Keys before running out of gas. They’ll probably get picked up today. If not, I might know where at least one of them is headed.”
“Sure, Gunny. We’ll hang out, unless the director says different.”
“You know a gun shop on Old Dixie up near the base?”
Scott laughed. “About a dozen. Shooting’s a pretty popular pastime up there.”
“Owned by a black guy named Austin Brown and his wife, a white woman, Mary-Beth.”
“Yeah,” Scott said. “I know the place. At least by reputation. It’s said you can buy clean guns there. By clean, I mean they’ve never been registered, have had the serial numbers removed, and never been used in the commission of a felony.”
“The black cowboy last night was Austin Brown, and the trailer trash were his buddies. Bradley probably hired them, no idea how they knew each other.”
Scott rubbed the back of his thick neck. “I thought a couple of those guys looked familiar. I’ve probably seen them around Homestead.”
“I gotta head up to Rusty’s place to pick up my daughter and her family. Let Travis know what I told you?”
“Sure thing, Gunny. See ya in a bit.”
Cutting through a path around the steps, I waded out to the foot of the pier, climbed up and went through the door to the dock space. After a quick rinse under the shower on board, I was dressed in clean clothes and pulling out from under the house in the big Winter center-console, El Cazador.
Twenty minutes later, I had to heave to in the shallows by the channel to the Anchor to let a boat pass that was coming down the canal. As it got closer, I recognized Mac Travis at the helm. He turned toward me as he approached and, coming alongside, he reversed his engine, bringing the boat to a stop.
Mac nodded. “McDermitt.”
I stepped over to the rail and leaned on it, ready to fend his boat off if need be. “How are ya, Mac?”
“Same old shit,” he said. “You hear about that shootout down in Key West?”
“Heard something about it,” I said. Mac was a decent enough guy, kept pretty much to himself most of the time. “Some bad guys got killed and a few of them got away.”
“Three got away, but one of ’em went back to the scene of the crime. He’s dead now, too.”
“Hadn’t heard that,” I said.
“Some ugly little crackhead about five foot nothin’ that was supposed to be involved.”
The guy that tried to sell crack to Charlie, I thought. No great loss there.
“Cops get him?” I asked.
Mac laughed and took off his fisherman shades, revealing the white rings around his eyes, where the skin wasn’t exposed to the rays of the sun.
“Weirdest thing I ever heard. You know that little footbridge near the aquarium?” I nodded. “The guy that pedals the Key West Mobile Library was crossing it on that three-wheeled bookstore thing of his. Apparently the little crack monster was crossing it from the other direction and must’ve tripped over something. The bookmobile bumped him right off the bridge. It was feeding time in the shark pen just thirty feet away.”
“He fell in the shark pen?” I asked.
“No, but when they feed the big sharks in the pen, a bunch of little ones, mostly spinners and bonnet heads, come into the tidal pond area that the pen gets its clean water from. What I heard was, the guy wasn’t any bigger than a ten-year-old girl, easy pickings for the five or six three-footers that usually show up for scraps.”
“Guess he missed the sign,” I said.
“What sign?”
“‘Don’t feed the sharks.’”
Mac laughed, putting his shades back on and reversing his boat back into the channel. “Thought you meant the one on the bookmobile.”
“What’s that?”
“Says, ‘Be nice, or I’ll kill you in my next book.’”
Tied up to Rusty’s big barge at the end of the turning basin a few minutes later, I walked across the deck and up to the dock, where I stopped to look around. The air was a little cooler, in the high eighties maybe, but the humidity was through the roof. The only cars in the lot were Rusty’s old pickup, my Travelall, and an older Toyota that I knew belonged to Angie, Jimmy’s girlfriend.
I crossed the yard to the front door of the bar, the smells of something good cooking from out on the back deck filling my nostrils. Opening the door, I stepped inside, waiting a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimmer light inside.
“Hey, Jesse,” Jimmy said from behind the bar. “Ya just missed Rusty, man. He headed out about ten minutes ago.”
“Hey, Jimmy. He take his skiff?”
“Yeah, some bonehead tourists went aground off Sandy Point. Wanna beer, dude?”
“Sure,” I replied. “In just a minute. I want to see what Rufus has back there.”
When I returned, I took a seat on my usual stool at the end of the bar and Jimmy placed a frosty Red Stripe on a coaster in front of me. “That was you in Key West last night.”
It was a statement, not a question. Word spreads quickly among this small island chain community. Still, I didn’t want any details out there. “No idea what you’re talking about, Jimmy.” I took a long pull on the cold Jamaican beer as he watched me.
Jimmy winked. “Sure, dude. Whatever you say.”
“Where is everyone?”
“It’s Friday, man. Everyone’s working.”
“Why aren’t you working?”
Jimmy wiped the bar top with a towel. “I am, man. Just not working for old Joe anymore. He bent another prop shaft. Why’s a near-blind skipper hire a mate and not listen when the mate tells him he’s plowing into skinny water? Anyway, Rusty’s giving me some hours here. Not much, but enough.”
That was Rusty’s way. Half the people in Marathon worked for him at one time or another and it was likely another of Joe’s crew would be stopping by today. If a fisherman lost his boat in a storm, or a lobsterman fell on hard times, he’d put them to work doing odd jobs that really didn’t need doing, just to put a few bucks in their pockets without taking a handout. They were prideful people.
“Hey,” Jimmy said. “You hear the news about the school?”
“Cindy’s school?”
“Yeah, it opens next week, man. Me and Tru took the sign up and helped install it. Guess what she’s calling the school.”
“I figured it’d be the same as Alex’s school in Oregon, Catching It?”
Jimmy laughed and stopped polishing the bar. “It’s gonna be called the Alex DuBois McDermitt Fly Fishing Lodge.”
Just then, Rufus brought my cobia sandwich in and placed it in front of me. “Really? Well, that ought to bring in some customers.” As Rufus turned to leave, I touched his arm. “Got a second, Rufus?”
The little Jamaican man turned around and showed his big, gap-toothed grin. “What can Rufus do for yuh today, mon?”
I took a quick bite of my sandwich as he sat down, the explosion of flavors tickling my taste buds. “Man, this is good. Hey, I meant to ask you about the other day?”
“Seen many udduh days, mon,” he said, still grinning. “Which day be dat?”
I wiped my mouth and searched his smiling eyes. “With those two smug drugglers? I was right over there, both eyes open, and I still don’t know what I saw.”
His grin widened. “It nuttin’, mon. Jus di suspension of time and space is all.”
Looking into his eyes, I didn’t see any sign of subterfuge. �
�A suspension of time and space? I’ve watched you out in the water a few times. Come on, what’s your style?”
He looked puzzled. “No style, mon. It just what I and I say. A momentary suspension of time dat allow Rufus to be in more dan one space at di same time. In di whole cosmos dis kinda ting happen all di time.”
Without another word, the old man got up and strode to the back door. “He’s an old-school mystic, dude,” Jimmy said. “I bet he’s two hundred years old.”
The door opened and we both glanced over. A man and woman were silhouetted against the bright sunlight behind them, the woman carrying a small bundle.
“Eve!” I got up and walked quickly toward them.
“Hi, Father,” my oldest daughter said, smiling and stepping through the door.
I met her halfway across the floor and gently hugged her, so as not to disturb my sleeping grandson in her arms. She turned and said, “Nick, I’d like you to meet your father-in-law, Jesse McDermitt. Father, this is my husband, Nicholas Maggio.”
I looked into Nick’s eyes for the first time since I’d held a gun on him and his father in their Miami office. There was a little hesitancy there. Holding out my hand, I said, “Really nice to finally meet you, Nick. Eve’s told me a lot about you.”
He took my hand in his, with a grip that was firm at first but instantly softened when I returned it in kind. “Nice to meet you, Mister McDermitt.”
I waved toward the bar. “Let’s not be so formal, huh? Just call me Jesse. And Eve, really? How about Dad?”
We walked over to the bar and I introduced them to Jimmy. “I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour. Would y’all like some lunch? Rufus makes the best fish sandwich in the Keys.”
“No thanks,” Nick replied. “We left Miami a little early so we could eat lunch before we got here. The restaurant we stopped at had really fast service. Please, finish your lunch.”
While I quickly ate the rest of my sandwich, Jimmy continued with his news of Cindy’s school. “Anyway, dude, me and Cindy got to talking about fishing. She’d been so busy getting the school ready, she hadn’t had time to wet a line. We went out just before sunset and I put her on some redfish. Long story short, I work for you again, mi hermano!”
I nearly choked on the last bite of my sandwich. “Huh?”
“She offered me a job, right there from the casting deck, dude. Said she was taking resumes to fill staff positions and all that, but she liked to do interviews for guides on the water.”
“Congratulations, Jimmy! You’re a perfect fit for that.”
“The school is even providing me a skiff, man.”
“They couldn’t find a better guide,” I said. Then, with a sidelong glance, I asked, “Rules?”
Jimmy glanced at Nick and Eve quickly. “We didn’t talk about it, but I know, same rules as on the Revenge. Es no problema, dude.”
Nick spoke quickly to Jimmy in fluent Spanish. Jimmy grinned and replied back in rapid-fire sentences, leaving me far behind. Nick smiled and said, “Your Spanish is exceptional. You are Cuban?”
I laughed, knowing what was coming next. “No, dude,” Jimmy replied, falling back into his usual southern California surfer routine, although he’d never been to California that I knew of. “I was a Conquistador in one of my past lives, man. Not some Spanish admiral or anything, just one of the troops, ya know. What I do is meditate for an hour and I can go back to one of my past lives and just sort of look around and listen for a few days. It all comes in super-fast motion, but I’ve learned to retain everything I see and hear.”
“It’s true,” I said, getting up. “The man has a photographic memory.”
I laid a ten on the bar, even though I knew Jimmy had already recorded my lunch in the bar’s tab book. “Hey, tell Rusty I was here and left, but I’ll be back later, or tomorrow. Also, spread the word. The guy Rufus did the little time hop thing with? He may be coming back through here, or maybe he came through last night and is further up island. I’d sure like to continue the conversation I had with him in Key West last night.”
Jimmy grinned and winked. “Will do, Skipper. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know. Thanks.”
Shaking Jimmy’s hand and congratulating him again on the job, I led Eve and her family down to the turning basin. I made a mental note to call Cindy and find out if she needed anything. I’d been bankrolling the school’s initial expenses, but a lot of local businesses were now stepping up. Still, I wanted to thank her for using Alex’s name. Made good business sense, really. She’d been known as one of the best guides in the Keys, and her name was widely known in the fishing community all across the country.
“A boat?” Nick asked as we approached Cazador. “I thought we’d be going in the car.”
I grinned. “Not unless your car’s amphibious, Nick. The only way to my house is by boat or chopper.”
“I don’t know about taking little Alfie on a boat.”
“He’s a waterman,” I told him. “Just like his pappy, great-grandpap, and great-great-grandpap before him.”
I stepped down and quickly started the big diesel engine. Reaching up, I took my grandson and helped Eve over the gunwale before handing him back to her. “You weren’t here when I baptized him, Nick.”
“Is that what that was all about?” Eve asked. “That night out on Cape Sable?”
I glanced at her as I untied the bowline. Eve was a lot like her mom and so different from her sister. Where Kim was tall, Eve was short. Eve also had her mom’s dark hair, which she wore short in back, tapering to longer in the front. She’d also inherited her mom’s more formal manners.
“I did the same with you,” I said. “I offered you up to Neptune in Pamlico Sound, just a week after you were born. And Kim not much longer after her birth.”
Coiling the bowline and hooking it in place, I moved aft and untied the stern, holding the dock until Nick was aboard. He was holding a small baby carrier and had two bags hanging across his shoulders.
“You did?” Eve asked.
“So did my dad. You might not accept a life on the water, kiddo, but you were born to it. My dad offered me to the god of the sea on the day I was born and his dad did the same for him.”
Eve looked around the boat. Seating aboard Cazador is limited to only the two spots at the helm and two forward of the console.
“Nick, put the carrier right here next to me at the helm,” I said and shoved the boat away from the barge. “You two can sit forward.”
Nick looked all around the seat and finally said, “There’s no seatbelt.”
“Nope,” I replied. “You don’t want to be belted into a boat if it overturns.”
His eyes shot up at me, concerned. I hoped it was concern for his son and not himself. I still didn’t have a good read on him yet.
“Relax, Nick,” Eve said. “Nothing will happen.”
She took the carrier from him and placed it on the wide helm seat, then put the baby in it, sleeping soundly.
“You think he has enough sunscreen?” Nick asked, gently touching the boy’s arm.
I smiled and pointed at the hardtop over our heads. “He’s fine, son. We’ll have the sun directly overhead all the way.”
Nick looked at me and smiled. “Thanks, Jesse.”
Once they were seated I toggled the bow thruster, turning the thirty-two-foot boat’s bow toward the end of the canal and engaging the transmission.
A minute later, we entered the channel and I pushed the throttles forward, one hand on the baby carrier sitting next to me. When I looked down, his eyes were open. I located a release on the side and set it up a little, using the handle as a brace.
“There ya go, little Jesse. Now you can see the water.”
Looking back through the small windshield, Eve said, “Did you say something, Dad?”
I smiled back at her. “Just talking to my grandson.”
I basically ignored Eve and Nick all the way to Harbor Channel, talking mostly to my grandson in the sea
t next to me, telling him everything I knew about the different islands and channels we passed. Where we would go to catch grunts, when he got older and where we could dive on some lobster honey holes I knew about.
Approaching the canal to the house, I slowly brought the Cazador off plane and turned into it. The big door on the east side was already open and Germ was on a ladder propped precariously on the center dock.
Reversing the engine and toggling the bow thruster, I turned the boat around and backed into her berth. Germ climbed down and was ready to tie off when I killed the engine.
“Back sooner than we expected,” Germ said, taking the stern line and making it fast to the dock. “We’re almost done with the ladder well.”
I introduced him to Eve and Nick then we all climbed up to the dock. “Follow me,” Germ said and led them to the far side of the dock area and the door.
I glanced up at where he’d been working, surprised to see that the whole thing was done and there was even a railing around the opening, up inside the house.
Taking a quick detour, I climbed up the new ladder and into my living room. The rail looked custom made, fashioned aluminum railing just like around the bow and pulpit of the Revenge.
I almost ran into Travis when I opened the door and stepped out onto the deck, just as Germ led Eve and Nick up the steps from the pier.
“Carl’s idea,” Travis informed me. “Said he picked up the pulpit and railing from a boatyard on Islamorada where they were dismantling a big Viking that’d had the bottom ripped out of her.”
When the others joined us, we stopped by the railing overlooking the island. “Mi casa es tu casa, Nick.”
Looking down from the deck, Nick took everything in. Michal, Coral, and the kids were out on the sandbar in front of Carl’s house with buckets, gathering clams. Charlie and Scott were busy in the garden, picking spinach to use in a salad and Carl was scooping a few of the biggest crayfish out of the tank.
“This is unbelievable,” Nick said. “How many people live here?”
“Just Jesse and the Trent family,” Travis said. “Scott, Germ, and I just dropped by for a visit, and the young couple out there are staying over for a day or so.”
Fallen Honor: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 7) Page 20
