A Time to Swill

by Sherry Harris

  “I’m sorry anyone ever suspected you of having a hand in your wife’s disappearance.” I’d spent many a happy evening here with him and Delores. Ralph had told me in June that they had been high school sweethearts. Both of their families disapproved of the interracial couple. They’d broken up, and Ralph married Raquel. They’d had a boy and a girl, both of whom worked with Ralph at the Redneck Rollercoaster.

  Seven years after Raquel had gone missing, Ralph had had her declared legally dead. A year after that he and Delores had married. They would be celebrating their fourth anniversary in a couple of weeks.

  Ralph gave me an intent look. “It wasn’t just me. It was Delores.” He glanced toward the kitchen and leaned in. “She got into some trouble when she was young.”

  CHAPTER 10

  I leaned back in surprise. The Delores I knew was straighter than a level. “What kind of trouble?”

  Delores brought over my po’boy and slid in the booth next to Ralph. So I was going to have to wait to hear more.

  “This looks delicious.” The sandwich was on a piece of crisp French bread roll. The shrimp was piled high and drizzled with Delores’s secret sauce. I took a bite while they looked on. The coating on the fried shrimp was crisp, the shrimp still tender and not greasy. Delores had brought a side of coleslaw, which wasn’t too sweet or too vinegary, along with the French fries. “This is so good.” I knew it wasn’t just because I was so hungry.

  “What do they think happened to the boat that disappeared with Raquel on it?” I asked between bites of food.

  “A little bit of everything,” Delores said.

  I lifted my eyebrows, hoping they’d add more.

  “There are rumors about a Bermuda Triangle–type area in the Gulf where things disappear,” Ralph said. “Some people thought they got caught up in that.”

  “What’s disappeared?” I asked.

  “A couple of big boats. Forty-five footers. One was called The Flying Dutchman and one was the Pirate’s Lady. Back in the seventies,” Ralph said.

  “Who names their boat after a sea captain condemned to roam the seas for defying God?” I asked. The Flying Dutchman was a Wagner opera—his first great masterpiece.

  “There are a lot of bizarre boat names,” Ralph said.

  “They eventually found bits of the Pirate’s Lady,” Delores added.

  “Bits?” I asked.

  “It was incinerated,” Delores replied.

  “Burned at way hotter temperatures than normal,” Ralph said.

  “What do they think happened?” I asked.

  “Smugglers. They probably boarded, stole what they needed, killed the passengers, and then burned the ship. And they used some kind of accelerant to make it burn hotter and faster.” Ralph shook his head. “It was a bad time.”

  “That’s awful. The Gulf looks so innocent.” I said it knowing how fast bodies of water could change from placid to furious.

  “We heard lots of rumors about the Pirate’s Lady being spotted everywhere from the Caribbean to Honduras,” Delores said. “But they found what was left of her not too far from her home port.”

  “Between forty and fifty yachts disappeared in a three-year period,” Ralph continued. “They think the owners inadvertently hired crewmen who were actually drug smugglers.”

  “But that was way before Raquel and the others disappeared,” I said after I finished my po’boy.

  “There’s always smugglers around,” Delores said. “They might not be smuggling drugs now. It could be people, or even fish.”

  “Small planes have vanished too,” Ralph said.

  “But couldn’t that just be normal engine problems?” I asked.

  “Everyone down here loves a good conspiracy theory,” Delores said.

  Ralph put his arm around Delores and pulled her closer. They had the kind of love my parents had, deep, meaningful. They could rely on each other. I hope I had that someday, but not yet. As far as I was concerned, twenty-eight was the perfect age for adventure; the rest could come later. I’d been engaged once and wasn’t eager to dip my toe back in that pool.

  “That was delicious, Delores,” I said when I finished.

  “Ready for dessert?” Delores stood up. She snatched up my plate and took it off to the kitchen before I could answer.

  Moments later Delores came back with two pieces of her famous Mile High Pie. This time it was key lime. There was a saying about big Southern hair—the higher the hair, the closer to God. Delores applied that philosophy not only to her red hair but to her pie.

  “Pie!” Ralph’s eyes lit up.

  “We’ll share our piece, Ralph,” Delores said.

  “I don’t care,” Ralph replied. He looked at me. “All she’s been letting me eat is salad and salmon. I’ve eaten so much salmon, one of these days someone is going to find me swimming upstream in Alabama.”

  I laughed, and Delores rolled her eyes but laughed too. Ralph and I dug in. When I was stuffed I put down my fork to take a break. “Did either of you hear anything about the man who dropped me off at the Sea Glass this morning?”

  Ralph and Delores looked at each other. “I didn’t,” Delores said.

  “I didn’t see him either,” Ralph said.

  “You have a good Samaritan you need to find?” Delores asked.

  “Yes,” I said. I gave them the same description I’d given Rhett earlier.

  “You should call the newspaper. They’d love a good human-interest story,” Delores said.

  The paper was a local weekly. “It seems to me it’s mostly human interest.”

  “Too many fools around here,” Delores said. “Most with good hearts, though.”

  “Did you hear about the guy who didn’t want to leave his alligator in his hot car, so he took it into the convenience store with him?” Ralph asked, a big smile breaking across his face. “I know the clerk, and she just about fainted.”

  “No fools better think about bringing an alligator in here.” Delores looked over at the door, as if she expected someone to do that at any moment. “It will end up on the menu.”

  I was laughing at this point. I wouldn’t mess with Delores when she was riled up. But then I thought about Ralph saying she’d been in trouble. I wondered what that was about. I put some money on the table to cover my meal and a generous tip and stood up. “Thanks for the company.”

  “Ralph, you walk Chloe to her car. It’s dark and late.”

  It was only ten thirty. If Delores knew how many times I’d walked alone in my Chicago neighborhood after dark, she’d probably faint. “It’s fine. Don’t get up.”

  Delores was already out of the booth and pulling on Ralph’s arm. “It might be fine up north for a young woman to be roaming around on her own after dark, but that’s not how we do things down here.”

  I knew enough of Delores to know I needed to give in gracefully. Besides, maybe Ralph and I could finish our conversation. “Thank you, then. The dinner was excellent.”

  “You needed it after all you’ve been through today.”

  I couldn’t argue with that either, so Ralph and I headed outside. The air was still warm, but not as humid as it had been this morning. No fog tonight, thank heavens.

  My car was only three buildings down from The Diner. During the summer I’d often had to park in the municipal lot a block away. “Getting back to our earlier conversation, what kind of trouble did Delores get into when you were younger?” Maybe I was pushing the bounds of our friendship by asking, but Delores getting in trouble was so out of character for the woman I knew.

  Ralph sighed. “She harassed Raquel when we started dating. Back in the sixties it was pretty mild stuff compared to what goes on today. Phone calls and egging her car and house. Not enough to get arrested, but enough to get the attention of the police.”

  We arrived at my car. “So when Raquel disappeared people remembered, even though it was more than thirty years later?” That was ridiculous.

  “Yes.”

 
“You’re both good people. I’m sorry.” I patted Ralph’s arm for a moment. “What about the people who were with Raquel on the boat that evening?” The big neon sign The Diner winked out.

  “That’s my signal. Delores knows how I can ramble on. That story will have to wait until another time.”

  Ralph stood by my car until I locked the doors, started it up, and pulled away from the curb. I waved and Ralph lifted his arm as if it took all his power to wave back. That made me sad.

  I was jittery and at loose ends. Maybe from the pie and the shake, or maybe from the nap. I decided to see if I could find Ann Williams. She hung out at a bar on the harbor not too far from the Sea Glass, so I drove over, parked nearby, and hurried along the walkway past the turn off to Boone’s boat.

  I glanced down the dock at Rhett’s boat as I walked. He had a light on. I might have missed dinner with him tonight, but there was always dessert. I let that thought swirl around for a minute before forcing myself on toward Two Bobs. Unlike the Sea Glass, this bar was two stories and had decks facing both the harbor and the Gulf. It had an upper deck that faced the harbor that was strung with lights. Laughter and music drifted down to me.

  Two Bobs was the last building before the waterway between the harbor and the Gulf, so the views from the decks were amazing. A lot of people came for sunset and stayed. Unlike the Sea Glass, which closed at nine, Two Bobs stayed open until the wee hours. The crowd was thinner than the last time I’d been here, at the height of the summer, but there were still a lot of people. The age range varied widely from people who barely looked old enough to be legal to sixty-year-olds partying it up.

  I made my way to the bar and ordered a local pale ale. It just didn’t seem fair to come in and not order anything. I noticed their drink prices had gone up. Last June it was rumored that they’d been buying alcohol smuggled in from Cuba and Mexico. I’d never heard whether that rumor was true or not. After I paid I surveyed the crowd but didn’t see Ann.

  I slipped around people to the staircase on the west side of the room and climbed the stairs to the rooftop bar and deck. The bar had lots of sleek, stainless-steel tables and stools. The main colors were red, silver, and black. The décor was what I called industrial chic and out of place for a beach bar. People of all ages were dancing away to music playing through speakers. However, I didn’t spot Ann.

  I went back downstairs and out onto the deck that faced the Gulf. Ann sat at a corner table with her back to the building. She had long, wavy hair that hung halfway down her back in enviable waves that were sultry instead of frizzy. Her light-brown eyes were big, with thick lashes. Although I couldn’t see it, I knew she had a tattoo on her inner ankle that I’d found out was a pirate flag. She went by the name Ann Williams, but Joaquín had told me that she was related to the pirate and war hero Jean Lafitte. As usual, she wore black, this time a light, clingy sweater and shorts.

  She waved me over as soon as she spotted me. A man who was sitting with her turned to look at me. Ann said something to him. He leaned in, saying something back. She shook her head and he leaped up and left. In a huff, if the way the scowl he tossed at me was any indication.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said when I reached her.

  She flicked her hand, as if dismissing my concern. “You did me a favor. Things were going south quickly. It was getting awkward.”

  Probably doing a favor for Ann was a good thing. I pulled out the recently evacuated barstool and sat on the edge.

  “I heard you had an interesting morning,” Ann said.

  Of course Ann knew. Ann knew a lot of things. “I did. I wanted to pick your brain about a couple of things.”

  “I don’t know what happened to Raquel Harrison.” Interesting to know, but not what I’d planned to ask. “I’m interested in finding the man who rescued me this morning. He left so quickly I didn’t have a chance to thank him.” I gave her my standard description of the man and his boat. I left out that I was curious about why he’d radioed someone other than the Coast Guard that I’d been found.

  “Interesting. Cigarette boats are very expensive. I priced used ones recently. They ran from two hundred thousand to almost a million.”

  I could picture Ann owning a cigarette boat. “That much?”

  “Yes. That’s why you don’t see many of them around here. If you want to find the man, have you checked the security cameras at the Sea Glass or the Briny Pirate?”

  Duh. “I haven’t. I’ll do that tomorrow.” After a man had been killed behind the restaurant, Vivi had upgraded our security system. Hopefully, it would give me the answer no one else had.

  “I saw you on the evening news. It looked like you’d had a rough time. Perhaps the reporter has some footage that they didn’t show on TV.”

  I’d had a similar thought about the reporter. It was disconcerting hearing I was on the news. It also made me realize that I hadn’t told my family any of this. I’d better make some calls on my way home. I didn’t want my brothers or my parents, who’d taken their RV to Northern California, to think they had to show up here.

  “Did you want something else?” she asked.

  Hmmm, that was interesting. Ann was always direct, but now she seemed almost antsy, which was unusual for her. Was she meeting someone? But the need to stay on her good side won over the need to linger to see what she was up to. “A red boat. I spotted it this morning while I was on the boat. And then again this afternoon, when Rhett and I were out on his boat.” I described it the best I could, having only ever seen it from a distance.

  She perked up at the mention of Rhett. Oh, it was subtle. The slight lift of an eyebrow. But for Ann, she might as well have leaped up and shouted his name. She had told me last June she wasn’t interested in him, but maybe that wasn’t true.

  “A red boat?” she asked. I nodded. “I might know a guy. Let me do some checking and I’ll get back to you.”

  If anything, Ann was a woman who kept her word. Every time I’d asked her for help with something she was on it. So I trusted her now to do what she said. I stood. “Thank you.”

  I walked back through the bar to leave. I saw a man who resembled the one who had rescued me. The beard was shorter, though. He stood against the wall, looking out over the crowd. The lighting was dim, so I might have been wrong, but I headed toward him anyway. When I was about ten feet away, he spotted me. I waved. His eyes widened and he took off. Out the door, beer mug in hand.

  CHAPTER 11

  What was that about? I hurried after him, but by the time I got to the walkway that ran along the harbor he was gone. I twirled in a circle, but nope. I didn’t even see anyone hurrying away. Then I heard the low rumble of a boat and noticed one of the slips designated for Two Bobs boat parking was empty. I know there wasn’t a cigarette boat parked there when I arrived, but boats came and went. I ran east along the walkway toward the waterway between the harbor and the Gulf.

  There it was. The cigarette boat zooming faster than it should in the no-wake zone. But at this time of night it didn’t matter so much. There was little boat traffic. I darted to my left, running in the sand, trying to catch him. I didn’t see the boat’s name on the side or back, which was unusual in itself.

  “Hey,” I yelled. “I just want to thank you.” But either he didn’t hear me or he ignored me. I ran to the edge of the water and stood, hands on hips, wondering what was up. It was then that I realized Ann never said if she knew the man I’d described or not.

  * * *

  I walked into the Sea Glass at eleven on Wednesday morning. By that time I’d slept well, taken a run, unpacked, shopped for groceries, and put things away. I’d even talked to my brothers and parents. I’d also checked the local newspaper and TV to see if there were any stories about the ghost ship, its contents, the red boat, or the man who rescued me. I didn’t find any new information, which was frustrating.

  The Sea Glass was quiet now, but I bet by this afternoon a good crowd would be in here and out on the beach. I
t was a glorious day, in the eighties with low humidity.

  Vivi looked me over. “I thought we agreed you’d take today off.”

  “I didn’t agree.” I didn’t want to start a fight on my first day back. Vivi and I were still prickly around each other on occasion. Joaquín had gotten better at stepping out of the middle. He’d throw up his hands and mutter in Spanish if it wasn’t important. Sometimes, though, he’d weigh in when we each pleaded our case to him.

  Joaquín, dressed in his usual Hawaiian shirt—this one pink with sailboats and swordfish—threw his arms around me and hugged me until I thought he would crack a rib.

  “Joaquín, you just saw me yesterday,” I said, hugging him back.

  “We have to celebrate every day.” He twirled me in a dance move I could never pull off on my own. He finished by dipping me dramatically. Enough so that Vivi laughed and he’d postponed any argument.

  “I’m heading out to talk with a liquor distributor. They’re doing a sampling of a new tequila some celebrity is promoting,” Vivi said. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  Not long after she left, a group of five men came in and swarmed over to a high top near the doors that opened to the deck. They were all laughing and nudging one another. I was surprised to see Rhett and Ralph with them. Rhett rarely came in because of what everyone down here called a feud between Vivi’s family and Rhett’s. Personally, I thought the whole thing was ridiculous, but what did I know?

  I ran my hand through my hair and tugged down my shorts.

  “Are you going to wait on them or just stare like they’re your next meal?” Joaquín asked.

  I snapped my mouth—which I didn’t know was open—closed. “Wait on them.”

  “You look cute, Chloe. Like you always do.”

  I smiled at Joaquín. He was the best, because I know cute wasn’t how I looked yesterday.

  “Go.” Joaquín shooed his hands at me. “Rhett won’t bite. Unless you want him to.”

  I tried to give Joaquín an evil glare, but I couldn’t ever stay mad at him for more than ten seconds. Especially when he was teasing me and what he was saying was absolutely true. I laughed.