Dead in the Water

by Matthew Costello

  “So you weren’t coming back. Not really.”

  He nodded. “Yup. Really just here to close up the Goose, sell it–”

  “And not say goodbye to any of your friends here?”

  Some of that edge had slipped back.

  “Getting to that. Shall we walk back?”

  And with a nod from her, Jack turned away, the lights on the other river boats coming on, like fireflies in summer.

  Save for the Goose. Dark.

  As if Jack had already left.

  11. Tea on the Goose

  Sarah was still trying to get her head around the fact that Jack was here – bloody here! – and then the fact that he was leaving.

  And soon.

  And that felt worse than when he’d left, so quickly, a year ago.

  And now he walked alongside her quietly, Riley to the left of his master, the two clearly a pair again.

  She nudged him for the promised explanation.

  “You were about to say something.”

  “Right. So, I must have written five, six emails to you, about what I’d been doing, my decision and–”

  “Never got them.”

  “Yeah. Well, never sent them. The words, just didn’t seem right. And to tell you like that… in an email…”

  “At least I would have known.”

  “Touché. But I felt after all we’ve done – well – I wanted to tell you face to face. Like this.”

  “No. No. I doubt you meant it to be like this. With me surprising you here, and you trapped, explaining.”

  “Okay, right. But doesn’t that at all make sense to you? Was just doing some of the most urgent repairs to the Goose. But before I went back into the village – showed my face anywhere – I would go to you. Tell you what I was going to do.”

  “I guess that won’t happen.”

  “No. But least you know what I wanted to do. It’s not just like I’m leaving, bye-bye, no biggy. Because it is a biggy for me. Thought it might be one for you too.”

  “My kids have missed you.”

  “And me them.”

  More silence.

  And though she still wished he had sent the damned email, she could understand what he said, almost as a sign of how important their friendship was.

  And that was good.

  And maybe it was time to let him off the hook.

  Not the first guy she’d known to make a dumb decision.

  “Okay, I get it.”

  She turned to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “And, that said, it’s good to see you again.”

  He grinned, suddenly reprieved.

  “Then a hug is in order.”

  And Jack gave her such a strong hug, as if he might squeeze all the air out of her.

  But what a good hug.

  And it had her laughing. She was so busy these days – laughs were few and far between. And she had an idea. As long as Jack was here…

  For as long as Jack was here…

  “You still know how to make a cup of tea?”

  He laughed. “Yup. Have not lost my touch.”

  “How about a quick cup. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Good thing I still have gas for the stove. Tea by candlelight?”

  “Deal.”

  And they continued walking back to the dark boat.

  ***

  “I have to say, Jack. That wasn’t bad. I guess you did keep up your tea-making skills in – what do they call it? – LaLa land.”

  Jack smiled.

  She had been tough on him but now, it just felt good to have him here; she wanted all that anger to fade away.

  Even though she was already struggling to accept that Jack might in fact leave again.

  “Didn’t see much of that side of it. Mostly Pasadena. Where they live is almost a village. Far from Hollywood and all that stuff.”

  “And the Goose? Is the damage bad?”

  “Could have been worse. Just a small leak that Ray should have caught.”

  “Ray missed something? Amazing.”

  Jack laughed. “Okay. I knew I hadn’t selected the best guardian for the boat. But, he was here, eager… I didn’t have much time. Remember? That day…”

  Sarah did remember.

  “So, repairs under way?”

  As if… how long will you be here?

  “Yup. But parts need to be ordered. Pete Bull will do some of the work that’s beyond me. So – for now – the Goose has no power. But the gas is on. I will need to solve the martini/ice problem.”

  “One of the shops in Cherringham should have cold boxes – bags of ice. After all, we’re supposed to be nearly at the height of an English summer.”

  “Good idea.” Then Jack looked at her, nodded. “So – you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about?”

  She hesitated. There was so much to catch up on.

  But it felt natural to talk to Jack about what she was doing.

  “I’ve been working on, well, maybe a case.”

  His grin broadened. “We’ve had those before. Start out as nothing, then–”

  “Right. Can I tell you about it?”

  “Sure.”

  And then she told him all she knew up to this point: about the death of Josh, the still-secret information about the drugs, her interview with the school head, and the young teacher Maddie.

  Then at some point, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small spiral notebook.

  And at that, Jack laughed.

  “I see you still take notes. Very good.”

  Sarah flipped through the pages.

  Had she left anything out, anything important?

  “Oh, and Louise, the new head? She was called in because the school seemed to be slipping. Attendance, test scores, other things–”

  “Imagine that can happen when you introduce drugs into a school. What’s your take on her?”

  She paused a moment.

  “Sharp. Smart. Tough. But also concerned. Knows she has a tricky job to do here.”

  “And maybe… not knowing what she’s up against?”

  “Precisely.”

  Then: “Any thoughts?”

  “Well,” another smile, “I’m a tad jet-lagged, but…

  Jack had looked away.

  That look he always took on when thinking. Then he pointed at her.

  “One thought. I mean, it’s early days and it may be simply what it looks like…”

  “Yes?”

  “Thinking you need to focus. What are you looking at here? The problem of drugs in the school? Or the fact this teacher was on drugs and died? May be two different things.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. One of Jack’s key lessons.

  Know exactly what problem you are looking at.

  Helps steer your questions. Otherwise – smoke and mirrors – you could get lost or distracted.

  “Good point. To be honest, I’m not sure what I am looking at.”

  “Exactly. Just something to keep in mind.”

  Then, as Sarah thought of Jack’s words, she wondered if he knew what was coming next.

  I bet he does.

  Still – he was doing nothing to make that easier for her. So, after another sip…

  “Jack – now that you’re here, for a while – you think, maybe… we could work on this… together?”

  Jack nodded, keeping his eyes on Sarah.

  He had to know I’d ask, Sarah thought. Had to…

  Then he stood up.

  “Refill time, I think.”

  And he turned to the small stove in the Goose’s dark galley.

  12. Drugs, Death and Cherringham

  Jack had expected Sarah’s question. Not at all hard to see that coming.

  And now – question asked – he wasn’t at all sure.

  He brought two new cups of tea to the small wooden table.

  “I see you still like to take time to think things over.”

  A smile. She knew how he
ticked. Back in their days together it was something he liked. Now, on the dark Goose, he was feeling a bit trapped.

  He sat down, the twin cups of tea sending up wispy plumes of steam. The sun had set. He’d have to light a candle soon, or maybe get the Coleman lantern he kept on deck.

  Instead – he had a different idea.

  “Take this topside? Still a little light out. While we’re here…”

  “Sure.”

  He could tell that Sarah was waiting on his answer. More the reason to take care with responding.

  Riley had stood up at the word “topside”.

  The dog now hanging on his master’s every word.

  Sarah led the way up, Jack and Riley behind. Two wooden chairs sat on the river side of the boat, facing west.

  Above – the sky was turning dark, but there was still a purplish glow to the horizon above Cherringham.

  “Beautiful night,” he said.

  “Yup.”

  She wants her answer.

  They sat down. And though Jack would have loved a martini right now, this conversation was probably better instead with a steadying cup of Earl Grey.

  “You’re doing great, Sarah. And if I got involved, not knowing when I’m going to leave for good, it could just confuse things.”

  She responded quickly, as if she had been preparing her arguments.

  “But Jack, you know the village. You know the people. For as long as you’re here, it would be a great help. I wasn’t even sure I would agree to do this on my own. I’m still not sure it makes sense.”

  He shook his head. “It makes sense. Trust me.”

  “Okay. Then it makes sense for you to help me. Maybe not like the old days, getting the band back together and all that…”

  Jack looked away, his plans, which had seemed so simple and straightforward, now going in a bunch of different directions. The Goose not ready to go up for sale. Sarah trying to get him back into things here.

  No quick dash to the Cotswolds and then back to my daughter – her family – for good.

  “I don’t know, Sarah. People would have expectations. If you do it, they know it’s you. You live here. Your village… But what happens if one day I’m asking a lot of questions, and the next I’m on a plane to LA?”

  “They’d deal with it, Jack. I’d deal with it.”

  He could feel his resolve slipping.

  “And Jack, we’ve had a lot of cases, handled lots of different things, but this… it’s drugs, in that school. In the school Daniel and Chloe go to.”

  And with that, Jack knew he was beaten.

  He looked forward to seeing those two kids soon. And how could he face them knowing something bad was happening in their school, and yet he did nothing?

  He put his hands up.

  “Okay – I surrender.”

  And Sarah literally clapped her hands together.

  “Best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

  “We’ll see,” Jack said, not at all sure.

  Then Sarah said something that, once again, showed how much she really knew him.

  “So how about we ditch these cups, and have a ‘welcome back Jack’ martini?”

  He was about to correct her.

  After all, it wasn’t a “welcome back”.

  But instead…

  “Great idea. No ice, but hey – we’ll survive.”

  “And maybe we can plan?”

  He shook his head, grinning.

  “I have trained you well, haven’t I?”

  And he went back down to The Grey Goose’s galley to gather shakers, classic martini glasses, the vodka, and vermouth.

  And, he had to admit, despite his best attempts to dodge this, it all felt somehow… just right.

  ***

  “So – I know you got to go in a bit. And I must see the kids soon.”

  “Dinner at our new place tomorrow? Can’t wait for you to see it, Jack.”

  “Perfect. So – looking at your list, how you want to divide it?”

  The Coleman lamp had been lit – the yellow glow above them, warming.

  Sarah looked at the names they had written down. Like any of their cases, this first list of people to talk to: small.

  But with all that questioning, who knew who else would pop up?

  “Well, we have Tim Wilkins, Maddie’s fiancé. He was there at the Ploughman’s.”

  “And Alan,” Jack said. “Be good to see what the police are thinking.”

  “And you think Ray may have some information?”

  Jack smiled. “As an aficionado of the ganja, he may know people we could talk to.”

  Then Jack seemed to hesitate.

  “I have another name to add. You may… not like it.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Chloe.”

  Sarah didn’t see that coming at all.

  “Chloe? Why?”

  “She goes to the school. She may have heard things.”

  “Think she tells me everything.”

  “Then, she would be the first teenager in the universe to do that.”

  Sarah looked away. The idea hadn’t occurred to her. But it made sense.

  Louise had said that the students were out-of-bounds, even if they might know something – without her specific approval.

  But her own daughter?

  “Okay. You’re right.”

  “She may know nothing, Sarah. Still–”

  “Yup. So… tomorrow?”

  “How about I visit Alan? Maybe I’ll drop in on Ray tonight…”

  “And I can try to set up a meeting with Tim Wilkins. We need to speak to Billy at the Ploughman’s too. He might have seen something. As to Chloe… I’ll need to think about when – and how – I do that.”

  “I imagine so.”

  Jack tilted his martini glass, empty.

  “Refill?”

  “One is my limit, Mr. Brennan. And I need to get some food on the table. Summer nights… the kids stay out a bit; but their stomachs do eventually summon them home.”

  She stood up. Took a step onto the ramp that led off The Grey Goose.

  Jack had stood up as well. So had Riley – who now looked up at Jack, and then back to her.

  “Ah,” she said. “What do we do about Riley?”

  “Guess it’s your call, Riley,” said Jack, looking down at his dog.

  Riley whimpered and looked away – as if embarrassed to have his loyalties made so public – then shuffled over to Jack and lay down by his feet.

  “His master’s voice,” said Jack, shrugging. “Must admit – I’ve missed him.”

  “Hey,” said Sarah. “He’s your dog – we never forgot that.”

  “I know.”

  She walked the gangway to the riverbank, then turned and looked at him.

  “Thanks.”

  “For?”

  “For, well… being here. And yeah, yeah… I know you’re not really here. And thanks for agreeing to help with this.”

  “Glad to do it,” he said.

  Though Sarah guessed that wasn’t exactly true. Still – she had her partner back. And with that thought, she knew she’d sleep better tonight than she had in a while.

  She walked down to the path leading back to the village.

  “Night, Sarah.”

  And in the dark, she looked over her shoulder at Jack, just a shadow backlit by the lantern.

  “Talk to you tomorrow.”

  And, giving him a wave, she thought: were there any better words to hear?

  13. All is Forgiven

  Jack heard music coming from Ray’s boat as he walked along the river’s edge holding a six-pack of Newcastle Brown Ale.

  Ray didn’t see him until he stopped beside the ramshackle boat. Was he sleeping maybe? Or just zoned out while the Grateful Dead sang about the importance of truckin’?

  “Yo, Ray,” Jack said.

  With the moon up, and the light painting Ray’s face a milky white, Jack saw his friend’s eyes pop wide open. Then
Ray rubbed his eyes.

  “Jack. Um. Hey–”

  Jack knew that Ray didn’t get many visitors. Perhaps any visitors. Jack raised the six-pack up.

  “Thought I’d bring a few ales over. To thank you.”

  Ray’s just-opened eyes still had that startled look as Jack, not waiting for the official and formal invite, walked up the creaky (and possibly untrustworthy) plank of wood that led to Ray’s boat.

  “Yeah, I mean sure,” said Ray, scratching his chest under his sweat-stained T-shirt. “Just thought you were a bit mad at me and all. Me missing that leak and stuff. On the old Goose.”

  Truth was, Jack was still annoyed at that.

  But he knew that to expect much more from Ray would be holding the bar way higher than someone like Ray could ever attain.

  “Nah. Got a handle on the fix. Anyone could have missed that…”

  Which was not entirely true… Anyone, that is, who didn’t spend their days propping up the bar at the Ploughman’s, or their evenings smoking homegrown out on the deck here…

  “She’s still afloat. So – think a thank you is in order. Not the Ploughman’s – but hey, we can still do that another day.”

  Jack put the six-pack down on the boat deck, slipped out two bottles, and handed one to Ray.

  Ray finally smiled, his eyes resuming their normally half-attentive glaze.

  And Jack thought: Ray may not be terribly ambitious. But he does seem to be content.

  “Thanks, Jack. Really good to have you back here – I mean, for as long as you stay.”

  Jack pulled the wooden crate close that served as Ray’s guest chair. Then flipped the top off his beer and took a swig. Ray had already sampled his.

  And though Jack guessed Ray didn’t see it coming, this little “thank you” visit had a whole other agenda.

  But for that – and those questions – Jack could wait a bit.

  “Warm night, huh?” said Jack, glad he’d managed to dig out an old pair of shorts.

  “Very sticky, Jack. Very sticky.”

  ***

  Sarah slotted the last of her books onto her brand new shelves, dragged the empty crate into the corner, and stood back to take in her office.

  Getting there.

  With its own French windows onto the garden, wood-burner, window-seat, and one whole wall with floor-to-ceiling books, this room was well on its way to being her dream fulfilled: her very own nest, writing place, refuge.