Salvage

by Stephen Maher

  “Yes,” she said. “At the lake.”

  “Olive green?” he asked. “Seventeen feet.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Why? What’s this about? Is this something to do with Jimmy?”

  He sat down on the stool in front of her easel, then got up and looked at it, and crossed to the kitchen to sit on a chair there. “Yeah,” he said. “Kind of. Is Bobby in the cocaine business?”

  Karen sat on her stool, with her feet on the rungs and her legs spread at the knees. Scarnum looked at her face.

  “Phillip, I think you know that Bobby’s in the fish business,” she said. “I’m not sure I shouldn’t ask you to leave.”

  “You might ask Bobby what his canoe is doing tied up down at Charlie’s,” he said. “Ask him that when you give him the flask. He was down there the night after I salvaged the Kelly Lynn, but I scared him off. I didn’t realize it was him. I just thought it was some fucker in a canoe trying to get at my salvage. I chucked a battery and some bolts at him. Nailed him right in the back. Check Bobby for a bruise there. Anyways, it was his canoe, and whoever it was left this flask in the bottom of the thing.”

  He got up and opened the flask and handed to her. “Smell it,” he said.

  She sniffed it, took a slug, and passed it back to him.

  “Since then, I’ve had the Mounties after me and two Mexican gentlemen put the muscle on me,” he said and pointed at the bruise on his forehead. “They seem to think I have some cocaine that belongs to them, which I don’t. If I did, I’d sure as fuck give it to them. These are some seriously mean cocksuckers. I think they’re the same fellows that killed Jimmy. I’m scared to go to Charlie’s. I had to tell Charlie to call the Mounties if he sees any Mexicans around the place.”

  He paced as he spoke, his voice getting louder.

  “Believe me, young lady, the last fucking thing in the world I wanted to do was come over here and see you,” he said. “No offence. I’m glad you’re happy here, and I’m impressed by your painting, but I really had hoped to go the rest of my life without seeing you again.”

  He turned then and looked out the window, took a deep breath, and let it out. “Christ,” he said. “I’m forty years old and I’m a fucking crybaby.” He wiped his eyes and turned back to her. She was looking at him blankly, her eyes wide and her mouth open.

  “I need to see Bobby and soon, and on my terms, or I’m going to the fucking Mounties,” he said. “I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m shittin’ me fucking pants. I’d be stupid not to be scared. These are hard fucking people, and I don’t think they’re going to stop until they get their cocaine. Maybe Bobby has it. I don’t fucking know, but I’m pretty fucking sure he knows more about them than I do.”

  He stopped and stood in front of Karen. “You ever see two Mexicans around?” he asked. “One old guy with a big fucking scar down his cheek, does the talking? One young guy, looks Indian, doesn’t say nothing?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, if you see them coming, I’d call the fucking Mounties if I were you,” he said. “They are bad news.”

  She nodded.

  “OK,” he said. “Tell me something. Did Bobby and Jimmy ever talk business around you?”

  “No,” she said. “I hardly knew Jimmy.”

  “Did you ever fuck him on your own, or only when Bobby and Angela were here?” he asked.

  She started crying then, with her face in her hands. Scarnum smiled briefly, and grimaced, and took her by the shoulders and shook her.

  “Don’t be fucking stunned,” he said. “I’m in fear for my fucking life. I don’t care who you fuck, but I need to figure out what’s going on.”

  She shook herself loose. “No,” she said. “I only fucked him when we were all partying together. He wanted to meet me alone, but there was no way that was going to happen. That was part of the problem.”

  “What problem?” said Scarnum.

  “Look, you probably think I’m a big whore, but we were just partying,” she said. “It was, uh, fun. Jimmy and Angela were both sexy. You know. But Jimmy wanted more. He wanted to see me alone. I told him no, but he kept asking. He called once when Bobby was out. So, we had to stop it.”

  “Bobby put a stop to it?”

  “Yeah, or he said he was going to,” said Karen. “I didn’t want to know about that conversation.” She shuddered.

  “It was probably a bad idea to party like that with somebody who works for Bobby,” she said. “I had a bad feeling about it, but Bobby really had to fuck Angela.”

  Scarnum shook his head. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

  He walked to the back of the studio and peered out the little window there up at Falkenham’s enormous house, with its soaring gables and huge glassed-in porch.

  He was about to turn back to ask Karen another question when he noticed two figures moving along the edge of the property, headed toward the wharf. It was the two Mexicans. The younger one was walking five or six paces behind the older one, looking from side to side, one hand in the pocket of his windbreaker. It looked to Scarnum like they were wearing the same clothes as the day before.

  “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He turned to Karen. “You’ve got to see this,” he said.

  She came to the window.

  “Villa and Zapata ride again,” he said.

  She looked up at him, suddenly scared. “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  Her eyes were red from crying. He lifted his arm, as if to put it around her, but stopped himself.

  “Have you got a gun here?” he asked.

  She just gaped at him.

  “The younger one has a gun,” he said. “The older fellow has a knife. Wanted to stab me in the fucking eye. These fellows is real bandidos. I’m not gonna stick around here less you have a gun.”

  She stared at him as if he was speaking gibberish.

  He headed for the door. “They likely wouldn’t cut me in front of a witness,” he said. “But they wouldn’t want to let me go again once they get their hands on me. They think I have their fucking coke.”

  “I don’t have a gun,” said Karen.

  “I’m not going to let them stab me in the eye,” he said. “I’m going to get in my boat and head downtown. Come with me. I’ll drop you off.”

  She followed him out and down the ladder, but on the floating dock she looked at his boat, and at him, and stopped. She shook her head. “Uh-uh,” she said. “I don’t think so. I’ll take the runabout.”

  He shouted to her as she got into the beautiful old boat. “Tell Falkenham I need to see him.”

  “He’s at the yacht club tonight,” she shouted over her shoulder.

  He watched her power away, red hair flying in the wind behind her.

  He was well away from the dock and out in the middle of Chester Basin when he saw two silhouettes appear on Falkenham’s wharf. He waved but they didn’t wave back.

  Scarnum tied up his boat at the Chester Yacht Club and went to the pay phone in the lobby. Next to the phone there was a poster.

  Chester Yacht Club

  Annual General Meeting and Social

  Tuesday, April 27

  Meeting: 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m.

  Social: 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m.

  Come one, come all!

  Scarnum stared at the poster while he dialed Charlie. “How you doing, old sport?” he asked.

  “Jesus, it’s Mr. Popular,” said Charlie. “I’ve got a few messages for you.”

  “Sorry to put you out, old fellow,” said Scarnum. “I hate to interfere with your rat hunting.”

  “Where’d you get to, anyways?” asked Charlie.

  “Remember those Mexicans I told you about?” said Scarnum. “Just as soon not run into them. They keep popping up wherever I go, so I waited till after dark and snuck down to the Orion. Figured they’d have a hard time finding me anchored out off Big Tancook. They don’t seem like big boaters. You haven’t seen any sign of them?”

  �
��No,” said Charlie, “and I’d be just as happy to keep it that way. Maybe you’d be smart to take a little trip, get out of here until this blows over.”

  “I might just do that,” said Scarnum. “There’s just a thing or two I have to see to. So, who called?”

  “Well, let’s see,” said Charlie. “I’ll have to ask your fucking secretary. Oh, wait. That’s me. Here we are. Christ. OK. Angela called. Said she’s where she told you she’d be, whatever the fuck that means. Dr. Greely called, three times. Last time he said it was very important that you call him. Constable Léger came by twice and called four times. Said you’d call her if you knew what was good for you.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll call her up, then. Do me a favour, though, just in case I don’t find time. Don’t tell her I called.”

  “Don’t tell her who called?” said Charlie.

  “Thanks, buddy,” he said.

  Angela answered her phone on the first ring. “Jesus, Phillip,” she whispered. “I can’t wait to get out of here. If the funeral wasn’t tomorrow, I think I’d leave right now. You got no idea what these people are like.”

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “Jesus Christ, they’re a wild bunch,” she said. “It’s like the fucking Dukes of Hazzard. There’s cars all over the fucking place, dogs running around barking, kids running around half-naked, their noses running. They got all the lobster and fish a person could want down on the wharf, but they eat junk food all the time. We had Pizza Pockets and potato chips for supper last night.”

  Scarnum laughed. “Momma Zinck doting on you?”

  “Jesus, Phillip, she wants me to move down with them,” she said. “She keeps telling me I’m a Zinck now, and I’m gonna be the mother of a Zinck. I think she wants me to take up with one of Jimmy’s brothers. Last night after we all finish watching TV, she tells Hughie to show me my room, even though I been sleeping in it for two days. I was like, ‘Uh, I think I’ll find it OK, Hughie.’ ”

  “They ask you what happened to Jimmy?”

  “Hughie did,” she said. “I told him I don’t know, but that I asked you to find out for me. Was curious about the salvage thing, how that works. Seemed to think you didn’t deserve any money from the Kelly Lynn.”

  She imitated Hughie then: “Oh da Jesus, to tink dat boy wants to get paid for towing da boat dat Jimmy was killed on. Don’t seem right to me, you.”

  “Where’d Hughie go to law school?” asked Scarnum.

  “Law school? I don’t think he graduated from Southwest Queens County Consolidated Elementary, that boy. Not a lot of books in this house. Hughie told everybody a nice story at dinner last night,” she added. “One of his cousins — a fisherman lives down the next bay — was fucking the neighbour’s wife, sneaking in early while her husband was out checking his traps. Buddy finds out about it from the boys talking on the wharf, comes home at suppertime, grabs his wife by the hair, drags her next door. The family’s eating dinner. He walks in, throws his wife down on the kitchen floor. Says, ‘You fucked ’er. You feed ’er.’ ”

  Scarnum laughed long and hard. “Jesus,” he said. “Them Zinck boys is rough.”

  She was quiet. “They loved him, though,” she said. “Jimmy was the apple of his mother’s eye. And the boys were some proud of him. They’re awful sad.”

  “Where’s the funeral at?” asked Scarnum.

  “The little Baptist church in Port d’Agneau, at the head of the bay, by the highway there.”

  “I know where it is,” said Scarnum. “What time is the ceremony?”

  “Eleven a.m.,” she said. “You gonna come up?”

  “I might do,” said Scarnum. “But don’t tell no one.”

  “Who am I gonna tell, Momma Zinck? Hughie? Jesus, I can’t wait to get out of here.”

  “If I come to the funeral, play it cool, will you?” he said. “They gonna be watching you.”

  “Phillip, what do you think I’m gonna do, make out with you during Jimmy’s funeral? You think I’m fucking stupid?”

  “All right,” said Scarnum. “I know. I just don’t want Hughie and his brothers to get it in their heads that I’m the only thing stopping you from becoming a full-fledged Zinck.”

  “Oh, I told them you were fucking me the whole time I was going out with Jimmy,” she said. “Told ’em I didn’t know if you were the daddy or Jimmy was.”

  “Jesus, Angela,” said Scarnum. “What did you …”

  Then he heard her laughing. He cursed, then laughed with her.

  Falkenham didn’t give Scarnum a second glance when he came out of the meeting room and into the yacht club bar with a couple of dozen other club members. They were a nautical-looking group, with expensive sailing jackets, deck shoes, and sailing caps. Scarnum’s lawyer, Mayor, was one of the group.

  Scarnum took his pint and walked out onto the veranda overlooking the boatyard. He leaned back with his elbows on the railing and stared at Falkenham, watching him move through the crowd, slapping backs and shaking hands.

  It was chilly, with a strengthening breeze blowing off the bay. Scarnum could see a good chop building up in the open water past the islands.

  Soon enough, Falkenham came out. He held a heavy crystal glass half-filled with amber liquid.

  “Hola,” said Scarnum. “Having a little Laphroaig?”

  He could see the beginnings of the red lines of the serious drinker on Falkenham’s nose. He carried a bit of a gut under his expensive sailing jacket and blue button-down shirt. The collar of the shirt had a little line of yellow piping and there was a little yellow sail on the breast pocket.

  “What the fuck do you want, Scarnum?” he said. “Thinking about joining the club? I don’t think you’d like it. I don’t think it’s your style. You’re more the Isenor’s boatyard type.”

  “D’you get your flask back?” asked Scarnum.

  “Yes, I did,” he said. “But I can’t say I was grateful. You scared the shit out of Karen with your bullshit story. She showed up at my office this morning, as upset as I’ve seen her. Took me hours to calm her down. I was surprised that she fell for your shit in the first place, and I told her that.”

  Scarnum looked away in disgust, into the bar. He caught Mayor watching them, although the lawyer turned away when Scarnum caught his eye.

  “The fact is that somebody stole the canoe,” said Falkenham. “After Karen told me your story, I called up and had the neighbours look. I must have left the flask in it the last time I was up at the lake. For all I know, you stole the fucking thing to fit in with whatever weird fucking scheme you’ve cooked up.

  “Whatever it is, I don’t want anything more to do with it, and neither does Karen. If you show up at Twin Oaks again we’ll call the Mounties, and you can tell them your fucking fairy tales. Do you understand?”

  Scarnum stared at him and laughed. “I wish I coulda seen your face when I hit the canoe with that goddamn battery,” he said. “Too bad you never fell into the water. I woulda laughed my ass off. Jesus, you paddled that son of a whore hard, though, when I come after you in the runabout. Oh da Jesus, you come onto ’er.”

  Falkenham just stared at him.

  Suddenly, the door to the bar opened and both men looked up to see Mayor coming out holding a cocktail in his big, soft hand.

  “Hey, boys,” he said. “I hope you’re not talking business. I’d hate to see you cut out the middle man.”

  Falkenham laughed easily and slapped Mayor on the back. Mayor was smiling, but his eyes were nervous.

  “Jesus, William, I’d never do that,” said Falkenham. “I’m looking forward to paying Scarnum here. Mind you, I might regret it if you spend your cut on new sails and you start beating me on Wednesday nights.”

  The two men laughed at that. Scarnum stared at them, his face blank.

  He interrupted them. “We was just talking about Jimmy,” he said. “He left a widow — Angela — and I was talking to Bobby here about her. Her boy’s gonna grow up without a daddy.”

>   Mayor frowned into his drink. Falkenham’s smile softened into a smile of concern, but his eyes got cold. He looked at Mayor.

  “Phillip is friends with Angela, and he’s worried about her,” he said. “It’s a terrible thing that happened. We’re all still in shock. Everybody liked Jimmy and we’ d like to know what the hell happened to him out there. I was just about to tell Phillip that SeaWater is going to do its best to make sure Angela’s baby’s looked after.”

  Scarnum stared at Mayor. “We was just having a chat here, Mr. Mayor,” he said. “It won’t take long. I appreciate all the help you gave me with the salvage.”

  Mayor started backing toward the door. “Well, don’t stay too long out here in the cold,” he said and smiled.

  Falkenham gave him a reassuring nod and a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, William,” he said. “We won’t be long.”

  He kept smiling after the lawyer had closed the door. He leaned on the rail and looked out at the bay.

  “Phillip, we used to be friends, and that’s why I told our lawyers to make you a good offer on the Kelly Lynn,” he said. “You think I like to think of you living on your shitty little boat down there in that shithole? I’ve sent some work your way over the years, discreetly, so you wouldn’t know I had anything to do with it. I’d do more for you if I thought we could do business together. You’re still a young man, and I know that you’ve got skills. Christ, there’s not too many men on the South Shore know more about boats than you do. When you’re sober, you’re the best sailor I know. Fuck. You should have your own boatyard, have men working for you. Maybe a marina.”

  He turned back to Scarnum and gestured with his glass of Scotch. “I keep expecting you to do something with your life. You probably think I got rich screwing people over. That’s not how business works. I got rich by offering people things that they wanted, creating value in their lives.

  “Look, Chester’s full of rich people with boats,” he said. “If you weren’t such a hardass and a drunk, you could make a lot of easy money off them. Use that bullshit South Shore accent you use when it suits you and they’d be eating out of the palm of your hand. But you got to make them feel good as they sign the cheques.”