Ketch entered the restaurant and ordered a dozen hush puppies and a serving of chicken tenders. After a short visit to the rest room, he also selected two large bottles of water from a cooler, and a Diet Pepsi to provide some caffeine on the drive back, and set them on the counter. It wasn't much, but it would be relatively quick and enough to tide them over. Someday when he had more time maybe he'd return here and leisurely enjoy some of the fresh and supposedly delectable seafood he'd heard this place was noted for.
And so, he thought while he waited - there was the business with the house, and now this business with toxic waste dumping... It seemed to him that his once pleasantly laid-back life was getting more complicated by the minute. And speaking of complicated, now there was also Kari - who'd flown completely out of his mind with everything else that had been transpiring. He remembered his cell phone was still silenced. He activated it and saw an incoming voice message flagged on the screen. She called, he thought; that's a good sign. He listened to the message.
"Hey there hotshot, where y'all at? Tried to return your call, couldn't get you so I dropped by your place and the boatyard when I got back, but you were nowhere in sight! Guess you're busy - anyway, catch y'all later!"
Well, at least she sounded cheerful and not upset that he'd been incommunicado this evening. And she'd tried to find him. He should call her back. But when he did, what was he going to tell her about where he'd been tonight? He could just say he'd been running errands, but that wouldn't fly this late in the day. Would she, and others as well, find out if he turned Mick and Mario in to the authorities?
He'd intended to not tell her whatever he learned about Mick, but how could he avoid it now, given the circumstances? Would his name get into the newspapers? And whether it did or not, would Mick and Mario find out it was he who'd reported them? Ketch thought he'd heard that anyone against whom a complaint had been filed had a legal right to know the identity of the complainer. Did he care? Not so much about Mick; but he was sorry Mario would know he'd betrayed him, since he considered Mario a friend.
But wait, maybe he should care about Mick - he could be the type that might seek some kind of retribution or revenge. Could he report them anonymously? Would he be taken seriously if he did that? But he couldn't just call, he'd have to show them the pictures. Could he send them a letter? This was starting to give him a headache.
"Sir? Sir?" Ketch realized he was being addressed. "Sir, your order's ready." He paid, thanked the girl, and carried the food back out to the truck.
The dog appeared happy to see him but too tired to bark; and he was panting, so he was probably thirsty. Ketch glanced around the interior of the cab, which was unfortunately shipshape as always, and saw nothing he could use as a water dish for the dog. He could go back into the restaurant and ask for the cup he should have thought to request before, but he didn't want to leave the dog again. He decided his ball cap might hold long enough for the dog to get a drink, so he removed it from his head and poured half a bottle of water into it.
The dog drank fast enough to lap up almost all the water before it had time to soak through the material, and then started sniffing at the bags. Ketch hand-fed him half of the tenders and some of the hush puppies one at a time while he himself devoured the rest, almost keeping pace with the dog. Then he filled the hat again.
He'd been exceptionally lucky tonight, he thought as he finished off the other water bottle. There were so many things that could have gone wrong - he could have been seen, he could have forgotten to silence his phone, he could have left the flash on, the dog could have barked, he could have guessed wrong and never found Mick in the first place - and his impulsiveness could possibly have gotten him injured or maybe even killed. And then what would have become of the dog, who he shouldn't have brought with him in the first place? And no binoculars, no camera, no food, no water... Not even a pot to piss in, as they say (as some mysteries he'd read had also suggested carrying). Not a well-planned or executed surveillance or stakeout or whatever, that's for sure. Some detective he'd make.
He disposed of their debris in a nearby trash can and wrung out his hat, and they finally hit the road to head for home - definitely this time, no more detours. He decided to put off calling Kari until they got there. He was tired, and for now he still had his self-imposed ban on using a cell phone while driving to fall back on. The ban was self-imposed here because unlike some other states, North Carolina only disallowed it for school bus drivers and novice drivers instead of for everyone, which he didn't agree with.
Or should he wait until the morning to call her? He didn't want to wake her if she was asleep. He knew the Sea Dog didn't generally open until noon, but she usually did her instructing in the mornings when she had a class. He remembered she'd said she had one coming up soon, but he didn't know when; though probably not tomorrow since she'd hadn't asked him to help. But then again, she didn't always ask. He sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes one at a time. More complications... At least Mick hadn't shown up at the restaurant. He decided he was overthinking this; he'd call when he got back, regardless. If it was too late and she didn't want to answer, she wouldn't have to.
He tried to relax and just enjoy the ride. There'd be nothing else to do for a while anyway, and the scenery was still inspiring to him even at night. He succeeded for a time, but then a nebulous thought started to nag at the back of his mind... Yes, Tibbleson Construction, that was it - something he'd earlier filed away for later reference, the place where the drums had originated. Where had he heard that name before? He couldn't place it at the moment, but he was sure he knew it. Or maybe he just thought he did because it sounded a little like 'Tillet', one of the names he knew of the historically prominent families of Hatteras Island, like the Midgetts, the Etheridges, the Jennettes, the Grays, and so on.
He was especially familiar with the Midgett name because a remarkable number of Midgetts had served as surfmen at the old lifesaving stations and several of them had won Lifesaving Medals; and because nowadays the name was advertised everywhere in the form of Midgett Realty, a major one that also managed over five hundred vacation rental houses on Hatteras Island alone.
Midgett Realty... HatterasMann Realty... Ingram... Tibbleson... Now he had it - Tibbleson was the maiden name of Bob Ingram's second wife, the one who'd disappeared. Could there be a relationship of some kind between Ingram and Tibbleson Construction? He'd have to remember to see what he could dig up on that. He could do it right now with his phone provided it had network connectivity here, but he certainly wouldn't try that while driving and he didn't want to stop. He'd just have to be patient.
Okay, so there were four things he had to remember to do - call Kari, check out where the boat had gone, do a web search on Tibbleson Construction, and print his pictures. 'Four' was the operative word - rather than try to remember each individual item, he'd remember the number four and then trust his brain to supply the remaining details when he needed them. This was also how he did his grocery shopping. Though he always returned with the number of items he'd set out to buy, he occasionally mistakenly ended up buying the wrong thing. But the system worked pretty well as a rule, so he filed the number away and tried to focus on the remainder of the drive.
The number resurfaced in Ketch's weary mind as they finally approached the outskirts of Avon. He doubted he'd get to any of the items tonight except for calling Kari, though he might have some more energy if he showered again. "We'll see, Jack," he told the dog, who yawned back at him. Maybe both of them would simply crash tonight instead.
He turned onto Harbor Road at the Barefoot Station intersection, then onto North End Road - again. How many times had he traversed this route in the last three years, counting both directions? Still, it hadn't gotten old yet - and if it ever did, there'd be nothing to be done about it anyway since it was the only way out to the main drag from where he lived.
When their house came into view, he didn't immediately notice the car in the driveway, and in fact came clo
se to sideswiping it in the dark. Good thing he hadn't looked away for a second, he thought, a bit shaken. Whose car was it? The dog knew, and was already up and wagging. Ketch shut everything down, opened his door, and stood aside as the dog bounded past him and up the front steps.
"Jack! Hey there, big fella!" Ketch heard from the shadows on the deck. It was Kari's car. What was she doing here at this hour? He hadn't checked lately, but it had to be after ten, at least. He hiked his shorts up, straightened his shirt, grabbed the empty Pepsi bottle from the drink holder, locked the truck, and started up the steps.
"Kari," he said, with a mixture of perplexion and pleasure - which however quickly changed to apprehension. What was he going to say to her? Before he could say anything, she disengaged from the dog, got up from her chair, and wrapped him in a bear hug. The dog went back down to the yard to water some of the foliage.
"I'm glad you're back," she breathed against his neck, then pulled away to arm's length. "I hope you don't mind. I didn't feel like goin' home, so I got somethin' to eat and then just came on over here and hung out. I figured you'd be back sooner or later. I didn't try to go in, but it's probably locked anyway, right? I don't know if you have a hide-a-key somewhere." She sat back down and repeated, "I hope you don't mind." She distractedly ran a hand through her hair and then looked wide-eyed up at Ketch.
"Of course I don't mind," he said. "You're always welcome here, you should know that now." Though he'd noted she hadn't yet asked him where he'd been, he was still a little anxious - and grubby, and still exhausted - but his concern for her outweighed everything else. She must be here for a reason.
"Let's go inside, you must be getting bitten up out here," he said. He unlocked the door and Kari and the dog obediently followed him in. "Turn that lamp on and sit down and relax, and I'll go get us something to drink."
"Okay, thanks, thank you," she said. "But no wine tonight, I had enough of that last night to last me a little while." Noticing the scuba cylinder standing in a corner, she asked, "Are you finished with that tank?"
"No, sorry, I didn't get around to that today," Ketch called from the kitchen. Figuring a little more caffeine wouldn't hurt either of them, he brought two tall frosted beer mugs of ice-cold soda - or rather, 'pop' as they called it hereabouts, he remembered - back to the living room. He handed one to Kari, who was on the undoggy end of the couch, then settled into his recliner. The dog stretched out on the blanket covering its end of the couch, happy to have someone close enough by to scratch his butt if he should require that service.
"So what really brings you here tonight?" he inquired, in an attempt to draw her out. "Not that it matters, and you don't have to have a reason." Though he imagined she probably did. "Like I said, you're always welcome here. How was your visit with your mother?"
"Well... She's okay, thanks for askin'." She took a drink. "Shoot, I guess I'm too tired to think right now, it's been a long day." It certainly has, Ketch thought. "I guess I was mostly just lonely, and I missed you. You know, since we found out last night what good friends we are." She paused again, then tentatively asked, "Listen, would y'all mind if I stayed over again? It's late and I have to get an early start tomorrow, and I don't feel like drivin' home and back."
She still wasn't asking him where he'd been - so were they still keeping things simple then? He hoped so. But then again, it occurred him to wonder, how 'simple' was going to someone's house unannounced and uninvited and waiting out on the deck for who knows how long? But he still didn't mind.
"Not at all," he replied. "And you can sleep wherever you want, in case you're wondering about that. I'm not expecting anything. I'm tired too." He stood up, stretched, and yawned. "I need a shower, though, before I do anything else. So if you'll excuse me for a few minutes?"
"Sure, no problem. A shower? I could use one myself." Brightening a bit, she added, "Hey, mind if I join y'all?" Before the slightly flustered Ketch could answer, she got up and said, "Oh, don't be shy now, come on!" and headed off to the master bedroom, beckoning him to follow.
When they came out of the shower, the dog shuffled into the bedroom and curled up on his bed, and Kari got into Ketch's bed. With a little continued encouragement that had begun in the shower, he was pleased to discover he wasn't quite as exhausted as he'd thought - though he did basically pass out almost immediately afterward. But this time he woke in the morning before she did.
And considerably earlier than the last time as well, which was good since he had a lot to do today. Although the number he'd stored the night before was already flashing in his mind, she was curled up at his side and still breathing evenly, with an arm and a leg draped across him and her face resting on his outstretched arm, so he didn't try to get up right away. Instead, he tried to relax and enjoy the moment.
But even with her rhythmic exhalations tickling his skin, and the light of the barely risen sun just beginning to poke through the blinds to illuminate the dust motes circulating beneath the slowly rotating blades of the ceiling fan, he couldn't help recalling the last time he'd truly savored an interlude like this one. Although there'd been a couple of casual flings in between over the years, it had been a very long time.
His wife had been younger and tantalizingly delightful for a while, just like this one, but the honeymoon had ended even before the birth of his son. The eventual split hadn't been amicable and she'd somehow managed to gain full custody. After his career had taken him to another state, he hadn't had as much opportunity to spend time with the boy as he would have liked, and after a while the boy hadn't wanted him to anyway. Ketch knew he'd gone to college and he should have been out a year ago, or maybe two; but he hadn't been invited to any celebrations. He wondered if the boy had actually graduated, and if so whether he'd decided to go on to a postgraduate school of some kind.
And then he decided to stop wondering. What will be will be, and the past will never change and it's pointlessly crippling to try to live in it. There are at least three things in life you can't ever get back, he reflected - words you've said, time you've wasted, and ephemeral moments like this. And maybe fine wine if you leave it where this one can find it.
He let his appreciative eyes wander down the length of the naked and now softly ochre body lying next to him in apparent blissful oblivion - and saw that an ugly-looking bruise had formed on the upper arm lying on his chest. Why hadn't he noticed that earlier? They'd only used a night light when they'd showered and then it had been completely dark after that, and granted his mind had been on other things - but still... Had he somehow done that to her?
She stirred next to him, and he saw her face contort into a frown. Her eyes remained closed, but her lips started moving. He leaned his head down a little closer to hear what she was saying. It sounded like, "I'll get it, I'll get it..." Her eyes suddenly flew open and scanned their surroundings in a momentary panic.
"Oh, hey..." she said, then smiled up at him. "Good mornin'!" She gave him a hug and sat up and stretched. Ketch thought he detected a wince as she extended the bruised arm. "I'll be right back, hear? Nature calls," she said, padding off to the bathroom. Ketch didn't know if he was supposed to stay put, but said Nature then answered that question for him and he got up as well, gave the dog a pat, and hurried out to the other bath. Fortunately there was a bottle of mouthwash in there, which he also took advantage of.
By the time he returned she was already back in bed and under the covers. "Hey, get back in here," she directed, "I'm cold!"
He was not, but he did as he was told. The blood runs thinner when you live down South, he knew. He'd seen the natives dress in layers when the temperature dropped to a point where he only considered maybe not wearing shorts. He'd thought the scuba diving season would be longer here, too, but most of them wouldn't even go in with a wetsuit until the water temperature got up into the eighties, whereas sixty-five was tolerable to him, and even less with the right gear. He guessed he just hadn't lived here long enough yet.
"That's better," sh
e said, wrapping herself around him to utilize his body heat. He responded quickly - and so did she, he noticed. "Hey, I forgot to thank you for buyin' that soap and shampoo and all. You're gettin' to be quite the ladies' man now, huh?" she teased. "Okay, so how about I cook us up some eggs? You got eggs?"
"Yes. How'd you get that bruise?" he responded.
"Oh, this here, on my arm? Don't worry, you didn't do it," she said. "I just bumped into somethin' is all." He didn't believe her, but then she threw back the covers and began to straddle him. "Life's short, dessert first," she said. "Let's just take care of this real quick, and then I'll get to those eggs. It won't take long."
She was right, it didn't take very long at all, and he could tell she wasn't faking. He was amazed - this just kept getting better and better. When they were both done she got up and pulled on another shirt from his closet.
"Okay, I'll get to work in the kitchen," she said. "Hey, you want coffee?"
"No thanks," Ketch replied. "I don't drink it. I've found I have expensive tastes. I can tolerate it if it's outrageously expensive, but even then I don't like it enough to bother with it. But you go ahead. There's a coffeemaker on the counter."
"Gotcha. Say, you probably want to let Jack out, right? When you do, could you please bring in that bag I left on the back seat in my car?"
Ketch dressed quickly and again did as instructed. When he opened the back door of her car he saw what appeared to be an overnight bag - no, more than just an overnight bag. It wasn't completely zipped, and he could see it contained multiple changes of clothing and various other sundries.
Port Starbird (Storm Ketchum Adventures) Page 11
