Port Starbird (Storm Ketchum Adventures)

by Garrett Dennis

  "Shut up," Mick said. "I don't care about all that, he still went and done it."

  "But why do we have to move this one?" Mario asked. "Why not all of 'em?"

  "Because there's something special in that one," Ketch answered from the doorway. "Something that could put people away for the rest of their lives." But who, exactly? Was one of them, or both of them, working for Ingram? Did Kari have some kind of connection with Ingram? Was Mick just a flunky, or was he the killer?

  "Get out!" Mario said. "What, is there, like, a body in there or somethin'?"

  "You can ask her about that while the two of you get them other drums off your boat and onto this one," Mick said. "She can tell you all about it. You, get back in there and set down!" he commanded, waving the gun at Ketch. The dog's snarling increased in volume. "And shut that damn dog up or I'll shoot him, I swear!"

  "Huh? I thought we were just gonna dump those other drums out here like usual. I thought we were just dumpin' garbage. What's in those other two drums, more bodies?" Mario persisted.

  "No, not yet, but there will be soon," Ketch said.

  "Shut up!" Mick said. "I told you to get back in there!" He aimed the gun above Ketch's head and fired a shot into the air. Ketch sat down, the dog howled, and Kari cringed.

  "Hey man, I didn't sign up for this!" Mario protested. "Look, why don't you gimme that gun, we can find a better way to work things out here."

  "No way! Look, you're in it now, like it or not, so just... What the -"

  Mick ducked and dodged, and the fish knife the Captain had just thrown at him sailed through the air over his shoulder, missing it by at least a good foot - or as the Captain might put it later if he lived to tell the tale, by a hair. A split-second later, the dog, who'd slipped his collar, skidded out onto the deck through the cabin doorway, leapt onto Mick, and sunk his teeth deeply enough into Mick's free arm to draw blood. Mick screamed and, staggering backward, tried to bring the gun to bear on the dog, who refused to let go; but Mario grabbed that arm with both hands and managed to divert it, and the shot went wild.

  "Jack!" Ketch yelled as he ran out onto the deck. He lowered his shoulders and dived at Mick's legs, meaning to tackle him; however, his momentum made Mick topple over backward, with Mario on one arm, the dog on the other, and Ketch's arms wrapped around his feet. The gun went off one more time, the dog yelped, and they all fell off the stern platform into the water.

  The Captain hustled to the stern. "Ketch, you okay?" he called as Kari jumped into the water beside him. Ketch was conscious but appeared groggy, and there was blood on his forehead. Fortunately, they were both still wearing their wetsuits, so they were positively buoyant. Kari turned him onto his back and dragged him to the stern, and the Captain helped her get him up onto the platform.

  "I'm okay, I think," Ketch said. "I think I hit my head, that's all. Where's Jack?" A bark from the port side answered that question. The dog paddled to the platform and Kari dropped back into the water to boost him up onto it. He had a bloody snout, but the blood wasn't his. He let out a joyous yelp and started licking Ketch's head.

  "Holy Mary mother a God!" the Captain exclaimed, leaning on the gunwale and holding a hand over his heart. "You sure you guys are okay?" He watched as Kari turned and swam out farther, toward where Mick was floating away half-submerged face-down in a pool of bloody water, then helped Ketch up and sat him on a portside bench on deck. Surveying the scene again, he noticed that Kari hadn't bothered to turn Mick face-up as she had with Ketch - while over on the starboard side of the Minnow, a sodden Mario was busy wrangling one of the drums from his boat over both gunwales of the conjoined boats. He succeeded, and immediately started working on the second one.

  "Well, I guess you're okay too," the Captain called to him, "not that anybody cares. What the hell you doin' with them drums?"

  "Hey, this ain't my fault, man. Like I said, I didn't sign up for any of this, and I want nothin' to do with these things." When he'd gotten the second one onto the Minnow, he started hastily undoing his ends of the lines that tied the boats together. "I'm sorry, but I'm outta here. I can't be involved in all this. Nice knowin' y'all." When he'd gotten his lines freed from the Minnow, he quickly started his engine, throttled up, and took off.

  The Captain saw that Kari had made it back to the stern with Mick's body, so he helped her pull it up onto the platform. "Well, I'm sorry this had to happen," he said, "but if somebody had to bite the bullet, so to speak, it's only fair it was him. Rest in peace, you worthless bastard. Where's the gun?"

  "I don't know, probably on the bottom by now," she said.

  "Okay then. There's one more thing we gotta do." He spun one of Mario's drums over to the platform. "Like Ketch said, I bet there's nothin' in here yet but some chain for ballast," he said as he unclamped the lid. "There, just like I thought. Help me stuff him in here."

  "What? Are you serious? You want to put him in there?"

  "Why the hell not? He's beyond carin'. We can't go sailin' in to port with a dead guy hangin' off our ass end, and I don't want him on deck or in the cabin and stinkin' up the joint on the way back. Come on now, before he stiffens up." She reluctantly acquiesced and assisted him with his gruesome task, and helped him move the drum out of the way after it had been re-sealed. Then she hurried to the starboard side, bent over the gunwale, and threw up into the water.

  With an unsympathetic nod in her direction, the captain declared, "That reminds me, I'm starvin'." He dragged Ketch's cooler into the cabin, popped the lid, and set the food and some soft drinks out on the table. "I'm gonna drain the lizard and go get myself a beer or three. Get on in here in the meantime, you two. We got some talkin' to do."

  Ketch still felt shaky, largely because he was cold, he realized. The water that gets inside a wetsuit during a dive helps insulate and warm the diver beneath the surface, but has the opposite effect topside after. He removed his, toweled himself off, and put his shirt back on. His bathing suit was still damp, but the hot sun was already starting to do its job and he felt a little better. He didn't speak to Kari, who was still hanging over the starboard gunwale, but he did toss a dry towel toward her. He made his way into the cabin with the dog in tow and again leashed the dog to a table leg, then removed the dog's life jacket so that both he and it could dry out. He poured some fresh water into the dog's dish and opened a can of pop for himself.

  "Well, that's better," the Captain said, returning with a can and a half of beer, the other half-can having already been consumed. He sat down at the table and unwrapped a sandwich. Kari shuffled in soon after, minus her wetsuit as well, with the towel wrapped around her bathing suit. She took a seat with her head down, and didn't speak or make a move to eat or drink anything.

  "Come on, you got to at least drink somethin'," the Captain admonished her. "A little pop'll do you good, settle your stomach. Here, drink up," he said, sliding a can over to her. She wordlessly opened it and took a sip.

  "So," the Captain said between bites of his sandwich, "now it's you that's got some splainin' to do. Start talkin', Lucy."

  "Well," she started. She was quite pale and still looked like she might be sick, Ketch saw. Too bad. He started nibbling on a sandwich. "I guess you'll be turnin' me in when we get back to the boatyard, right?" she said.

  "Maybe so. But why exactly would we want to do that?" the Captain asked. "Just because you're a dang pirate wench?"

  "Because I killed her. Bob's wife," she replied in a monotone. Both Ketch and the Captain nearly choked on their food. "That's why I told Mick about what we were gonna do today. When they autopsy that body, they'll probably find my DNA on it somewhere, maybe under her fingernails since she scratched me, and Mick's too. He was supposed to move it yesterday, but he said he couldn't find anybody to help him, that he could trust."

  "Whoa now, slow down!" the Captain said. More gently he added, "Start at the beginnin', darlin'."

  "Okay," she said, then chugged the rest of her drink. "Can I have another one of th
ose? I'm really thirsty." Ketch passed her another can.

  "Well, just before she disappeared, before I killed her I mean, Bob signed up for private scuba lessons. He wanted me to come out to the house and do it in his pool. The first time I went there, he wasn't home yet, he'd said he'd probably be late, so I went out back to scout out the pool area, to see where I wanted to set up and all. And she came out and started yellin' at me." She stopped to take another drink. "She thought we were havin' an affair, I guess because he'd done that to her before. She was drunk. She got real nasty and she started tryin' to shove me around. I shoved her back one time, and she slipped and fell and hit her head on the edge of a concrete step. And I mean hard, there was blood all over. I didn't know what to do." The Captain mutely offered her a sandwich, but she shook her head and pushed it away.

  "Mick pulled in right about then, 'cause I'd asked him to bring me some fast food, since I figured Bob would be late and I hadn't had a chance to eat. He told me I'd go to jail. I know it was a dumb thing to do, but I panicked, I didn't know what else to do at the time. Mick wrapped her up in a tarp and stuck her in the back of his truck, and he found some bleach and cleaned up around the pool. He said he'd take care of the body. I didn't know what he'd actually done with her 'til later on."

  "So you knew he was dumping those drums all along?" Ketch finally spoke up.

  "Yeah, I did, and I hate myself for that too. It's an awful thing to do to the environment - but I couldn't tell anybody, could I? I started to get worried when you found some of 'em, but I didn't know if they were ones from Mick or somebody else, or if that was the spot he'd dumped her at. I tried not to think about it much, 'til you showed me that picture."

  What she'd said so far cleared up a lot of things, Ketch thought, but not quite everything. "So what happened with Mick after that?"

  "Well, he dumped me a while back, quite a while actually - I told you the truth about that - and I figured I'd never see him again, which was okay by me, considerin'. But then he started comin' around now and again and hittin' me up for money."

  "He blackmailed you?"

  "Not exactly. He knew he'd go down right along with me if he turned me in, and I knew he wouldn't do that."

  "So why did he think you'd give him money?"

  She hesitated before answering, then blew out a long breath. "He told me he'd beat up on me and break stuff if I didn't cooperate."

  "And did he?"

  "Yeah, a couple times. He got mad at me one time last week 'cause I didn't have as much as he decided he wanted that time. That's how I got that bruise you were wonderin' about."

  "God damn!" the Captain exploded. "A piss-ant protection racket. I'd like to kill that son of a bitch, if he weren't dead already!"

  And that explained the rest, Ketch thought; but wait, not quite. "So why did you play along with all this and let me drag you all out here today, if you thought the drum wouldn't be here anymore?"

  "Well, I had to, didn't I? What else could I do? Well, I guess I could have told you about it. I should have done, I know that now." She wiped at her eyes. "But I didn't want to be at home alone, and I thought you'd hate me!"

  "I'll be damned," the Captain said. "Ketch, what do you make out a all this?"

  "I don't know, I don't know what to think," Ketch tiredly replied. He did feel sorry for her, and he'd maybe like to put that hillbilly jerk out of his misery as well if it hadn't already been done. But he was still angry with her - for today, for deceiving him, for not trusting him. For almost getting him killed.

  A couple of tears escaped from her eyes then. "I am so sorry, Ketch, I really am. I should have told you. I really do care about you, you know, I wasn't just usin' you. I didn't know you'd found her 'til Friday. I didn't know he'd be here today, and I didn't know about those other drums!" She covered her face with her hands and quietly sobbed into them.

  The Captain got up and put his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, I think that's enough for now. How 'bout if you go below and lay out for a while? Come on now, let's go." She let him herd her to his bunk, and then he returned to the table and sat back down.

  "So now what?" he asked Ketch. "What do you think we should do?"

  "I don't know, call the Coast Guard? I don't know," he repeated.

  "Oh yeah? Well, I think I know what I wanna do. We still got a few hours a daylight left. I'd like to sail on further out, locate a good deep hole with the depth finder, and drop all a them drums in it."

  Ketch perked up at that. "Are you being serious? You are? I see. So you'd let her get away with murder? And what about Ingram? I can't stand the man, you know that, but he's about to be retried for this, and he's innocent. The evidence in that drum could help his case - as could a confession from her, of course."

  "Oh, he ain't innocent. He might not a done this one in, but I still bet he done the first one. And he's a cheater and a damn crook, you said so yourself, and who knows what else he done. If they convict him this time, it likely won't be nothin' he don't deserve for one thing or another. There's the law, you know, and then there's justice, and they ain't always the same. I say justice'll be done. If they don't convict him, they'll keep him busy long enough so he'll be out a your hair that way too."

  "Okay," Ketch said after a moment's thought, "I might be able to live with that. I still think it's wrong, but you're right, he deserves some kind of punishment regardless. Maybe they won't convict him - they shouldn't, anyway, if the legal system does its job. And that isn't my problem, so okay. But what about her being a murderer?"

  "She ain't no murderer, that was just an accident! Maybe she didn't handle it right, and it sure wouldn't look good in court, but she didn't set out to kill nobody."

  "All right then, what about you? And what about me? If all this ever comes out, we'll be considered accessories, and that'll mean prison for us, too."

  "It ain't gonna come out. Mario don't know who's in that drum, and he won't be talkin' about what happened here today. He'd be an accessory too, or worse - he's the one made the gun go off. Besides, I'd lay money that ole Mexican bandit's finally gonna get to see his homeland. Anyway, we ain't ever gonna see him again around here. As for myself - ain't we best friends, me'n you? And you know what they say about that - friends help you move, best friends help you move the body. As for you, y'all ought to be willin' to do the same for her. Mick was, and you're a damn sight better man than him."

  "You are my best friend, I have no doubts about that," Ketch hoarsely responded. There was something caught in his throat, so he took a drink. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at her the same way, though. Regardless of what we do here today, I think she and I might have to be over."

  "Well, that's just plain stupid," the Captain pronounced. "Look, y'all might not want to hear this, but this is the love a your life you're talkin' about, anybody can see that. You know, everybody has secrets, I bet you do too. Hers is just a little bigger'n some, that's all. I say get over yourself and move on."

  The Captain got up from the table. "Tell you what," he said, "I'm gonna go take in Mario's lines and haul up the anchor. If your reel comes up with it, fine, otherwise the hell with it - and if the anchor won't come, the hell with that too. Neither one a you's in good enough shape for a bounce dive. Then I'm gonna head east. And then you're gonna explain things to her when she wakes up, whether you want to or not. I done enough talkin'." He left the cabin to head for the bow.

  "I'll tell you one more thing," he said through the cabin window as he passed by it. "If you're too dumb to know life's too short to pass on a good thing like that one down below, then the hell with y'all too!"

  Ketch said nothing and remained seated at the table, lost in thought. After a while he gave the dog a hug, stood up, and headed below. He was exhausted, and he thought it might do him good to go lay with her for a spell, as they would say hereabouts.

  ~ ~ ~

  19. The weather in the hurricane months is the finest of the year, when there are no hurricanes.


  It was Tuesday now, and Ketch couldn't recall when there'd been a more beautiful morning. After taking care of some business on his computer, on a whim he'd walked the dog down to the boatyard to speak with the Captain, instead of calling him on the phone. He and the dog were out in the back yard now, playing frisbee. After the dog had his dip in the sound, Ketch would take him back inside and get to work.

  Henry would be along soon; Ketch had called him to come over and mow again, and he could maybe use his help getting the TBD onto its trailer and pulling it far enough up the launch to hitch it to the truck. He probably didn't really need the boy for either task; but he still wanted to help him reach his goal, whatever it was he'd said he was saving up for.

  Red sky at morning, sailors take warning... The beauty of this morning was a false one, he knew. The storm they'd first heard about on Saturday had intensified to tropical storm status, and it looked like it was going to bypass the Caribbean and head directly for the East Coast. Landfall was projected for sometime around the end of the week, and it might be a full-blown hurricane by then.

  Kari had been right - 'Ernesto' was indeed its name. Not a name Ketch would have chosen, but not bad, not one of the more ludicrous ones on those WMO lists. Where had they dug up some of those god-awful names? What kind of people had they hired to do that, and how much had they been paid for their efforts? Not much, he hoped. Where the storm would make landfall was uncertain at this point, probably somewhere between Georgia and Virginia was all they knew so far, but Ketch wasn't going to hang around to find out first-hand - he'd be migrating inland for the duration.

  Which was a shame in a way. He'd always found storms exhilarating, maybe because of the lowered barometric pressure or the surplus of ozone or magnetic field disturbances or something like that, who knew? And if he stayed here he might possibly be able to see some rare and dramatic atmospheric phenomena he'd only read about, like the sundog, a parhelic illusion of two suns in the sky created when sunlight encountered ice crystals in the upper atmosphere; or Saint Elmo's fire, visible electrical discharges from ships' masts and church spires that used to strike terror into the hearts of superstitious souls who believed these were portents relayed to them from above. But that wasn't reason enough for him to stay here and ride it out and risk bodily harm; he could see those things on the computer if he wanted to.