When I entered, I said, “Looks like we’ve got live music tonight, huh?”
Mack turned and glanced out the window briefly. The Jensen’s Taxi boat had just pulled in, loaded with amplifiers and instruments and musicians.
“John Mooney’s playing with the Trouble Starters. Jim Morris is back from Key West, so he’s going to sit in. Danny Morgan, too. Ought to be quite a party.”
I said, “I’ve got so much work to do in the lab, I can’t stick around for long. But I’ll be able to hear the music, no problem.” I waited for a moment before I added, “You’re going to be there, aren’t you, Jeth?”
He grunted, shrugged, said nothing.
Mack ignored him. “Your sister stopped by. Said she could play the steel drum if we found one for her, so Jimmy Jensen scared one up. And that she’d get a limbo line going. I really like her, Doc. But you know what you might suggest to her? Don’t use that outside shower of yours. Not during daylight, anyway. She was out there showering this afternoon and two of the rental boats collided. One of them’s going to need fiberglass work. Plus old Mister Wells—the nice old gentleman who leads the Audubon tours? He fell off the dock and twisted the hell out of his knee. She’s got some amazing body, your sister does. Isn’t that right, Jeth?”
Jeth grunted again and held the magazine a little higher in front of his face.
I reached behind the counter, lifted a cardboard box full of my mail and began to sort through it. I told Mack, “She’s not my sister, she’s my cousin,” before I said, “Hey, there’s something I need to discuss with you guys.”
I told them that, for the next couple of weeks, they should be wary of any stranger who came asking for me, of anyone who called and wanted to know where I was. To notify me right away. I told just enough about the scene on the dock with the Rastafarians, and Jeth showed some interest for the first time.
“I wish to hell I’d of noticed it going on,” he said fiercely. “I’d’a beat the crap out of both of them. They come up here like they own the place and attack you like that? On our island, the bastards. Ca-ca-call me next time, Doc. I’ll make them wish they was never born.”
He had a lot of anger in there bottled up, no mistaking it. I’d never heard that intensity in his voice; had never guessed he possessed even the slightest potential for violence.
I said, “If you see them, notify me or call the cops. That’s all you need to do. Or if anyone stops by or calls trying to find me. Give me a heads-up.”
Mack seemed uneasy. He was a newspaper reader, a CNN junkie, but even if he had no interests beyond the borders of Sanibel, he would have known about the kidnapping attempt on Guava Key. News travels almost as fast as gossip among island people. Even so, he was prudent enough not to ask if there was a connection. “Thing is, Doc, I wish you’d told me earlier. This morning, I had two calls. Both from men and about half an hour apart. They wanted to know how to get in touch with you, where your place is. I saw no reason not to—”
I said, “Perfectly understandable, Mack. You didn’t know.”
“Well, what I was going to tell you is, one of them had an island accent. So it may have been one of the Rastafarians who paid you the visit. The other man, though, he had a Spanish accent. Cuban, I figured, but maybe not. I wouldn’t know the bloody difference.”
I didn’t like the implications of that, but I made an effort not to let them see that I was concerned. “Did he identify himself?”
“Nope. Just asked about the marine biologist who lived here, mentioned your name, and said it was important he contact you. I figured he wanted to place an order.” Mack was done with the receipts. He folded his calculator and began to put everything away.
Outside, through the window, people were already beginning to circulate on the docks, freshly showered, drinks in hand. Ransom was out there wearing the kind of short, clingy dress that might be called a chemise—black satin material that hung from her shoulders on two thin straps, showing the inside of her thighs when she moved those long legs of hers. She was wearing white beads in her hair now. Had three . . . no, four men standing around her, all of them listening intently as she spoke, wanting her to see how interested they were in what she had to say. Three of the four had to be ten, fifteen years younger than her. Didn’t matter. She already had her own little flock of admirers.
Time to go out and join the party.
Mack stood as he said, “You want, I’ve got a couple of spare bedrooms at my house. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. Or maybe we should get the chief of police over here. Invite him to the marina for a drink and ask if his people can keep a watch on your place.”
I was shaking my head. I didn’t want anything to do with involving the police. Not now. I told Mack, “I can handle it myself. But help me keep an eye out for anyone who wants to contact me for the wrong reasons.”
“No worries, Doc. If we don’t take care of our own, who will?”
“Exactly.” I had my box of mail under my arm and said to Jeth as I was walking out, “You don’t mind, I’d like to talk with you for a minute. About how my fish did while I was away.”
He still had his face in the magazine. “There’re fine. You had a sea horse die, a couple of pinfish, that’s all. I dah-da-didn’t miss a feeding. You know you can trust me.”
“The stuff I want to ask you about is a little more detailed. Outside?”
“I don’t see why I’ve got to go outside just to—” He looked up for the first time and saw the expression on my face. He folded the magazine with the reluctance of a difficult teenager. Said, “Okay. You’ve got questions about your fish. Whatever.”
Jeth accompanied me down the shell road toward the path to my house, not wanting to follow but I left him no choice by walking as fast as I could, talking, asking questions at the same time, so it would have been rude to stop, and Jeth is never rude.
I kept him on the subject of my aquaria. Had he seen the sharks actually eat, or had he assumed they’d eaten? What about the largest of the immature tarpon in my tank? I’d noticed some scale damage on her. Had someone done something to spook her; caused her to slam into the wall of the tank? “You know how careful I am with those tarpon,” I told him. Then I switched the subject to the netter who brought me fresh mullet and thread herring three times a week. Maybe there was a better, more dependable source over on Pine Island. Saint James City, maybe. Or Bokeelia.
“Might be a more cost-efficient supplier,” I said.
I could see that he was bored with the subject. Didn’t want to be there listening to it. Tolerated it only because we’d been friends so long. He did a lot of heavy sighing. He ended several sentences with, “That’s about all I can tell you . . .” meaning he was ready to head back to the marina, probably his one-bedroom apartment where he’d spend the evening alone, moping upstairs in his room while the Friday night party raged outside.
I didn’t let him. I continued to bore him with questions about my fish until we got to the locked gate, which is right next to the path through the mangroves that leads to my boardwalk. I stopped there, leaned my weight against the fence and looked at him for a moment before I said, “I heard about what happened between you and Janet.”
“Boy oh boy, that’s just what I thought,” he said severely. “You didn’t want to talk about your fish tanks. You got me out here alone to talk about her. But, damn it, I’m not gonna talk about that woman. Not to you or anybody else.”
“At least listen to what I have to say—”
“Nope. End of dah-dah-discussion. Far as I’m concerned she doesn’t even exist. Like she’s dead. I don’t want to ever hear her name again.”
“Her name’s Janet, and she’s not dead. She’s an important part of your life and you need to deal with what happened.”
“You’re starting to piss me off, Doc! Seriously. It’s none of your business. I don’t go asking you nosy questions. What the hell gives you the right to do it to me?” He folded his arms across his chest,
eyes glaring. Defensive posture.
“Jeth, I’m asking you as a favor. You, Janet, me, we’ve all been friends too long to—”
“If you’re my friend, you’ll drop the goddamn subject! I not only don’t want to talk about it, I don’t even want to think about it! Which is why I’m gonna take my ass back to the marina and pretend like you didn’t pull the tricky deal you just pulled.” He turned to leave, but I caught him by the shoulder. It stopped him. Stopped him not because of the grip I had, but because I’d crossed a very dangerous boundary. With someone like Jeth, verbal manipulation is one thing, physical contact with the implication of force is another. He looked at me, his face turning crimson, then looked at my hand. “Let me go, Doc. Get your hand off me. Now.”
“Nope. Not ’til we talk.”
“I mean it. You’re pushing way too hard. Don’t think you’re safe just because you got that arm in a sling.”
“You want to hit someone, Jeth? Go ahead and hit me. But after I pick myself up, you’re going to stand there and listen to what I have to say.”
“That’s enough!” He whirled and, in one motion, used his elbow to knock my arm away before he grabbed my shirt collar in both hands and jammed me hard up against the fence. “I warned you. I told you to get your fucking hands off me!”
I didn’t fight back, didn’t struggle. Let him hold me there, looking into his bulging face, his crazed eyes. Waited while the fury moved through him and slowly, slowly dissipated. Waited and watched as he took a big shuddering breath, then shook his head as if just awakening from some nightmare. “Christ, Doc. I’m sorry. But you just wouldn’t quit. You had to keep pushing and pushing and . . . shit!” He yanked his hands away and turned his back to me. “I can’t talk about it,” he said miserably. “I won’t talk about it. Not after what she did.”
“Is what she did really that bad?”
“You’re goddamn right it is! You didn’t have to sit there like an idiot and listen to that phone tape. First couple of minutes, I couldn’t even figure out what the hell was going on. It scared the devil out of me because I knew it was Janet, and I thought she was hurt or kidnapped or something, that’s why she was moaning. Once I realized what the hell it was, though, I couldn’t stop listening. It was like some sick thing in me wanted to hear. I still don’t know why.”
I said, “We all do things that, later, we simply can’t understand.”
He turned to face me again, eyes teary but some of the anger returning, too. “Don’t make excuses for her. Don’t you dare! The guy she was with—Mikey, that’s what she called him, this guy she’d never met in her life before. I’d kill the sonuvabitch if I could find him. You know what the woman I planned to marry did for Mikey?”
“Knock it off, Jeth. I don’t want to hear the details, and there’s no reason to put yourself through it again.”
His voice grew louder; had acquired the thin edge of hysteria. “You wanted to talk about it, so let’s talk! You didn’t hear the tape, so how else can you know? Janet and her new boyfriend, Mikey, on the recorder, they were both breathing and moaning and he says, ‘Jan Ba-bah-baby, why don’t you slide down there and make me feel really good.’ And Jah-ja-ja-Janet tells him, ‘Oh baby, I want to do that anyway,’ and then I could hear what she was doing, the sound of it, and that’s when I ripped the fucking phone out of the wall, ran it down to the docks and threw the goddamn thing into the water. Know what I did then, Doc?” He shuddered massively once more, pressed both hands to the sides of his head, eyes closed, as he said, “I vomited.”
I hesitated, then stepped to him and put my hand on his shoulder. Gave him a little shake and said, “You need to talk to her. You don’t have to forgive her. You don’t have to make up with her. You don’t ever have to speak to her again. But you need to allow her the chance to apologize. Person to person, face to face. You know her past, what she’s already been through. Yeah, I know, it’s a bad time for you, but it may be a dangerous time for Janet. As in very dangerous. This time, she might not fight her way back. Grace is what she needs right now. Grant her some grace. She’s a good person, a good woman. She’s my friend and she deserves that.”
“A good woman! That’s a laugh.”
I squeezed his shoulder, wanting him to listen. “I didn’t want to have to use this, but I’ve got no choice. Three or four months ago, it was around Halloween. I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a jog. It was way after midnight when I got back, and I saw you in your skiff. You and that little waitress, the new one from Boston who tends bar sometimes at Sanibel Grill. Mary Kate? I didn’t come over for a close look, but it was pretty obvious what you were doing.”
He raised his head, turned as if to face me, then thought better of it. “You . . . you were there? You never mentioned that to me before, dah-da-Doc.”
“I’ll never mention it to you or anyone else again. I promise. If you just cut Janet some slack.”
“The little brunette who works for Matt. I . . . what I think we were dah-dah-da-doing was just talking. She stopped by the marina and it was kinda late.”
“Hey—this is me you’re talking to. You and the girl on the casting platform. Want more details?”
He shook his head, still not able to look at me. “Ah-h-h-h shit. I was hoping no one would ever know . . . that I could forget what an idiot I was. The night you saw us, I’d been at one of Duke Sells’s all-day duck-and-oyster parties. I don’t know how I ended up with her. She’s always been kind of a flirt. Told me I had nice eyes. I bought her a couple drinks. After that, I cah-ca-can hardly remember what happened.”
“I imagine Janet’s memory is pretty foggy, too. Could be it’s one of those if-a-tree-falls-in-a-forest deals. If no one’s around to remember, maybe it didn’t really happen.”
“I was so drunk. That’s what I mean.”
I heard a car pull around the last curve of the shell road. I looked up to see Janet’s little Ford pickup. I hardly recognized the woman inside. Janet’s hair was a stringy mess, her clothes were wrinkled, her face sunken around the two dark and haunted holes that were eyes. I clapped Jeth on the back. I said, “So right away, you and your former girlfriend have something in common,” as I watched her step out as if in a daze, eyes seeing nothing but Jeth. Then I gave him a little push toward her. Watched just long enough to see her walk . . . then run into his slow, reluctant arms, the two of them holding each other in a silence that was more like mutual shock, and then one, then both of them, were sobbing.
I turned and walked down the boardwalk to my stilthouse... then I began to run, too, when I heard the phone ringing.
I answered just before the recorder took over, and heard Lindsey Harrington’s voice say, “Doc! I was about to give up on you, big boy. Man, do I miss that bod of yours!”
14
Lindsey said it’d been a crazy couple of days. She’d never been through anything like it in her life. That now she knew what it must be like to be President. Or a big-time rock star, the way they’d choppered her off the island, everything done in secret, to some airport she’d never seen before.
Hal Harrington had been there waiting, and flew her in a Learjet north, but her dad wouldn’t even tell her where. Then it was into another helicopter, and finally a waiting limo which drove them for more than an hour or so, and by that time it was dark, so she really couldn’t say for certain where she was even now. Didn’t even know for sure what state she was in.
“Woke up yesterday morning,” she said, laughing, “and I’m like, where the hell am I? Looked out the window and there were mountains all yellow and silver with aspens, and fresh snow on the ground like you see on calendars or Christmas cards. I mean, it’s a totally awesome place. Like my own ski lodge with a rock fireplace that covers one whole wall, and I’ve got a bird feeder outside, which I’m keeping full so I can watch the cardinals. Because what else do I have to do except read or watch TV?”
The worst thing, though, she said, was that I wasn’t there to share the place with h
er—she said it wistfully, in a way I found touching, a girl with a crush—and it’d be especially great having me around because she’d been alone since this morning when her father had to fly back to Colombia on business. Except for the two bodyguards her father had hired, of course. They were always around but kept their distance. “Dad thought Gale was a little too chummy, and that’s not gonna happen again.”
I was standing at the window, watching the band set up on the docks. I was using my home phone, not the new cell phone. I stood there watching the sky turn tropical fruit colors, from pale mango to orange to citreous yellow, then purple . . . the anvil shape of a spent thunderhead smoky gray in the distance. I could see Ransom tapping a steel drum experimentally, four men around her now, plus Mark Bryant’s ancient golden retriever, Shadow, his tongue hanging out. There were probably fifty people out there, socializing on the docks, and Ransom was the only one who’d drawn a crowd. I turned my attention from the window for a moment and noticed a white envelope on the Franklin stove, with a note attached to it.
As I listened to Lindsey telling me about how weird it was, wearing a thong bikini one day, earmuffs the next, I saw that the envelope was the letter sent to me by my late uncle. A letter I’d seen but had yet to open and read. I saw that the note was from Ransom to me, the handwriting on both envelope and note very similar. I read the first sentence of the note, “My brother, It’s hurting my heart that you still haven’t read Daddy Gatrell’s letter to you. . . .”
I folded the note for later, as Lindsey told me, “The first thing my dad did, when he met Gale and me at the first place we landed—this was right after we left the island—he about squeezed the wind out of me, he was so relieved to see I wasn’t hurt, then he took Gale aside and fired her ass. I don’t know what he said to her, but you know how there’s a type of person you can’t picture crying?”
Shark River Page 20
