Ben shrugged. “Beats me.” He scratched his head, ran his hands through his beard.
“Mind if I clean up?”
Ian’s face brightened, then dimmed, as Ben headed for the bathroom.
He’d thought Ben meant clean up the house.
***
They had been put in beds beside each other in a curtained area of the emergency room. Hy had dozed off but woke up when she heard a stirring in the next bed. She looked over. Dot was awake. She pressed the buzzer to alert the nursing station, and Ed trundled down the hall, lighting up when he saw Dot sitting up in bed.
“Now take it easy. I’ll get the doctor to come and have a look at you.”
Dr. Diamante and his fascinating eyebrow arrived, and he checked Dot over.
“Rest,” he said. “Plenty of rest.”
That’s not what happened when he left.
“Out with it,” said Hy. “What on earth has been going on?”
“Before I left, I knew what he was up to. It was all over his browser history on the Internet.”
“Yes, we saw that. On the backup.”
“He wiped the computer clean, but I already had a backup just in case. I left it where I did, hoping it would be found, if something happened to me.”
“He was after the fish.”
“Yes. I knew it a few days before, so I left ahead of him. Left Dottie with cousins in Halifax and came back to stalk him, make sure he didn’t get into any trouble.”
“How did you stalk him?”
“You mean…?”
“Get around. How did you get around?”
“I took my jeep to Halifax. I threw a bike from home in there just in case. Left the jeep in Winterside, and since then it’s been cycle and walk – as you know. You followed me.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
Dot laughed. “You obviously don’t know Abel.”
“That’s true.” Hy grinned.
“I couldn’t stop him, for two reasons. One, I couldn’t stop him, literally. I’d have had to hold him down. And two, I couldn’t break his heart. He’s over ninety. It was the one thing he wanted in the world, to chase down that fish.”
“Cod only knows why.”
“The thing is, I screwed up at the start. He took off before I expected. I tracked him to the fisheries building. That’s where I scooped the hat.”
“The hat, but not him.”
“No. He went…or was taken… I don’t know where. I lost the trail, what there was of it. So I came back to The Shores, out to Big Bay, on the off chance he’d land there. I have no idea why he went to Winterside – or was taken there.”
“I followed the hat. Only it was you in the hat. I thought it was Abel. Did you mean for me to follow you?”
“I was thinking about letting you know, asking your help. I circled your house a bunch of times that night thinking about it then decided to strike out on my own. I didn’t even know where Abel was.”
“But he was at Big Bay.”
“Yes. I thought I’d found him, but I lost him again.”
A look of despair clouded Dot’s face.
“How could he possibly have survived on that little inflatable boat?”
“David and Goliath?”
***
Time reeled back thirty years, as Abel tried to land the giant cod. It looked like the same fish; it had the same telltale smudge on the stripe down one side. It had the same fighting instincts. Abel was thirty years older than he had been, but he was still a fighter as well.
***
Finn was standing in the shelter of Ian’s front porch, staring at the van, wondering what – or who – might be inside. Now that Ian had raised his suspicions about the possible cargo, he wanted to keep the van in sight. He continued to try connecting with Jamieson. He continued to have no luck.
Jamieson was on her way back to The Shores. She’d hauled Murdo out of April’s comfy kitchen with the wood range fired up, into a steady stream of new rain, the aftermath of the storm. Murdo had fetched the cruiser from Ian’s driveway some time before Finn got there. He’d “manned up” and driven it into Winterside to fetch Jamieson. Murdo hated driving in the rain, his sight was so poor. It was a secret Jamieson kept for him, or he’d have been put on a desk job. Then, he might actually have had to work.
On the drive back, she had taken over the wheel. When Finn finally got through and told her about Ferguson’s assault on Ian’s parrot and house, she pressed hard on the accelerator and squealed around the tricky curve coming off the causeway.
“I’m on my way,” she told Finn.
When he told her about Nathan’s van and Ian’s suggestion that Abel might be dead inside, she wanted to be in three places at once.
“I’ll be right there. Don’t touch anything.”
“I haven’t. Well, I drove the van, but – the back doors are roped shut.”
Jamieson didn’t like the sound of that.
Finn didn’t like the sound that came from inside the van.
A thump.
Followed by a groan.
“Someone’s groaning in there.”
Could it be Abel? Dying?
“I’m on my way.”
Jamieson put the accelerator to the floor and screeched along the Island Way. Murdo couldn’t see a thing, even though his eyes were wide open.
***
Visibility was poor. The sky was grey. The sea was grey. The rain was coming down in a sheet of grey. There was one dot of white on the water.
A gull?
Not likely. The gulls had gone inland for shelter before the storm. They hadn’t come back yet.
The white dot was on the water. Bobbing.
Bobbing.
Suddenly the blob stopped bobbing and began streaking across the water, heading from Big Bay to Mack’s Shore.
Something being dragged –
Dragged –
By a fish.
A huge fish.
Abel had hooked the big cod. But the battle wasn’t over. For two cunning old men of the sea, this was only the beginning. They had exchanged moments of being in charge – Abel yanking back on the line, the cod stalling, then pulling forward. Until it was all forward, all cod power, heading for the run. The run and the pond; safe haven in the storm.
The sluice gate yawned wide open in welcome.
Chapter 37
“And who the hell are you?”
Jamieson and Finn had loosed the rope and swung open the doors of the van.
Seamus was scrunched up inside, stuffed like a sausage too big for its casing.
A woman and a thin man. Could he outfox them? Make a bold leap forward, punch through them and run. Run? Who was he kidding? He hadn’t run since he was five years old.
He knew the jig was up when Murdo loomed behind the other two.
“Seamus O’Malley,” he squeaked.
The email man. No wonder she hadn’t been able to find him.
“Did you steal this van?” Jamieson entered the name on her phone. It came up immediately. The fisheries department had notified police to detain O’Malley for questioning if they found him. Something about misuse of resources and funds.
She looked up from the phone.
“Well, did you?”
“No. Yes. I borrowed it.”
“It seems you’ve borrowed some other things, too.” She’d have to question him – about that and about Abel. “I’m taking you into custody.”
How was she going to do that?
She nodded at Finn, and he understood right away. They each slammed a door of the van, and Finn tied the rope.
Seamus screamed, in terror of being locked inside again. He’d always had a touch of claustrophobia, but this experience had made it worse.
&nb
sp; “Water. Water,” he called out pitifully.
Jamieson nodded at Finn, and he went into the house to get it.
Murdo inspected the cab and took down details, including license plate number, registration, and year and make of the vehicle – an automatic routine he had not lost the habit of, though he hadn’t threaded a stitch of police work in at least a year. He’d never even cleared the crabs from the hall. April had done it for him.
Jamieson made a call for reinforcements – cruiser and cops. She ordered Murdo to wait for them – outside.
Inside, Finn forgot all about the water when Ian and Ben told him about Ferguson’s seafood switch. Finn cocked his head for a moment, thinking, and said:
“Of course.”
Finn’s words, fortunately, didn’t trigger Jasmine. She had been in a subdued state since Ferguson came after her.
“He did kill her.”
Jamieson came in the door.
“Who killed who?”
“Ferguson killed Letitia. By changing the lobster to a crab dinner purposely – he was exploiting her crab asthma. Intentionally. If you need intent to pin him down, you’ve got it.”
“Back up. What’s this all about?”
“Ben says Ferguson switched from lobster to crab on purpose. Ferguson said the lobster wasn’t available, but Ben says it was. He switched it for crab, purposely.”
“I don’t get it.” Ian was missing something.
“The Lung,” Jamieson said by way of explanation.
Ian still looked puzzled.
“She likely had crab asthma,” Finn explained. “He probably called it a lobster dinner in the first place but planned for crab all along. The crab steam, but not lobster, releases a protein that’s toxic. It can kill you if you’ve got The Lung. An asthmatic allergy to crabs. I’m betting that Ferguson changed the food on the menu with the intention of killing her.”
“And succeeded.”
“He’s got a lot more to answer for then than this.” Jamieson looked around the room. There was still glass everywhere and cardboard taped to the big front window.
***
When Ben came out of the bathroom, he confirmed to Jamieson that Ferguson had purposely made the menu change, that he was never out of lobster, as Ferguson claimed, but that Ferguson had made the switch on purpose.
“If you don’t mind, seein’ as you’re all here, I’ll head back home. Don’t think we’ll be out fishin’ today, though.” He looked out on the dark sky, the dark clouds, the dark water – and the dark expressions on Finn and Jamieson’s faces.
The Annaben.
“About that,” Jamieson put a hand on Ben’s shoulder. Hard as a rock.
“There’s been a small problem…”
Small problem? What, was she an idiot? Embarrassed by her own inability to communicate, she steered Ben away from the interested faces of Ian and Finn. Ian, because he didn’t know what she was talking about. Finn, because he did and wanted to know how she’d break the news.
“Hy took it out on the water last night.”
Ben looked startled, eyebrows rising.
“Rough weather last night.”
“Yes. The thing is, it’s beached.”
“Beached?” His eyebrows rose higher. “Where?”
She told him.
He went tearing out of the house.
He came tearing back in.
“That’s Nathan’s van in the driveway.” He was pointing, and his eyebrows were on permanent rise.
“Yes, we know, Ben.” She wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Shall I take it back to him?”
“Not yet.” She thought of Seamus O’Malley inside. She’d have to deal with him later. Right now she had bigger fish to fry. Murder trumped missing.
“We need it for the investigation.”
“Stolen vehicle.”
“Yes, well that, too.”
Ben left, scratching his head, wondering what Nathan’s van had to with an investigation other than the fact that it had been stolen. He patted the vehicle on his way by – and was surprised by the high whine that came from inside.
***
Jamieson could hardly believe it. Detachment had actually sent the reinforcements she requested.
The officers, Tommy Fyshe and Brad Martin, were the same novice summer replacements, who’d seen – and lost sight of – Abel when he’d cycled out of The Shores days ago. They didn’t know there was anyone out here. They didn’t really know where they were.
Jamieson came to greet them and told them their man was in the van.
“Take him into custody and charge him with…with…they’ll know in town.”
They wouldn’t know all of it yet. She didn’t know either. Besides misuse of funds, of stealing a van, he would face charges of kidnapping.
If they found out that’s what he’d done.
The two officers opened up the van, and Seamus, at the ready, burst out. Three hundred pounds of human is hard to restrain, but they managed. Mostly because Tommy put a hand on his gun. Rested it there. That, he had been taught, would quiet down all but the worst of offenders.
It worked on Seamus. He let his shoulders drop down and lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender. Martin patted him down – and removed from his pocket a wad of thousand-dollar bills. The cops eyed their suspect with interest.
Then the Mountie did another thing he’d been taught, and for which he had a particular talent.
He handcuffed Seamus. With amazing speed. Tommy was legendary for that ability in police training. It would remain his claim to fame in the force until he retired – given, not a gold watch, but a pair of silver cufflinks shaped like handcuffs.
Brad and Tommy shoved Seamus into the back of the cruiser and returned to the welcome familiarity of town. Seamus found himself in a claustrophobic but uncluttered jail cell.
***
Now Jamieson had only two places she needed to be. Looking for Abel. And looking for Ferguson. She weighed her options. Abel had continued to be elusive. She had no idea where he was. Out on the water – or in it. Not just gone, but long gone. Two boats had already been sacrificed to that pursuit tonight, and boats were not something she knew anything about.
“Any idea where Ferguson may be?” The question was for them all – Ian, Finn, and Ben.
“Sorry, no.” They chorused.
“He can’t get far,” Ian said. “There are only a few roads that lead anywhere on this island.”
“There’s only one that leads off.” Finn turned from looking out at the water.
“You’re right.”
“Bad weather for a road chase,” Murdo observed.
“Never mind,” said Jamieson. “I’ve got it. You keep an eye on Ian in case the bastard comes back. We could have a killer on the loose.”
“Watch those roads.” Finn’s voice was full of concern. It touched her, but, after a brief pause, she was back to business.
“I’ll be fine.” She turned and stalked out into the rain, got in the cruiser, and fired it up.
The passenger door opened, and Finn slipped in beside her.
She opened her mouth to object. He leaned over and closed it with a kiss.
“Now let’s get moving,” he said, when it ended.
It was wrong in every way, she thought, but she was silent. Silenced by desire, a feeling alien to her body and mind.
“Right.” She engaged reverse, her porcelain cheeks flaming red.
The rain hammered down on the car, a fresh blast of a storm that had not given up yet.
Not quite yet.
***
Like a child gnawing on the details of a bedtime story, Hy questioned Dot over and over about her pursuit of Abel.
“You must have wanted to stop him?”
; “No. I thought I could stop him – maybe – but I didn’t think I should. He needed to do this. At ninety-two, why not? If he died trying to fulfill a lifelong dream, what harm was there in it? But I did want to keep him out of danger.”
“That ship has sailed.”
Dot winced. At both Hy’s comment and the fact that she’d just put pressure on her elbow, trying to shift her position. She hadn’t broken any bones, but she was badly bruised.
“Not much I can do now.”
“Even if we knew where he was.”
Dot motioned toward the north shore.
“Out there somewhere is my guess. I hope he’s safe. That he’s weathered the storm.”
“Better than you, anyway. Maybe he’s tackling that fish, as we speak.”
Dot grinned. “Yup. One more round.” She lay back and covered her eyes with her good arm. In a few seconds, she was breathing deeply, fast asleep.
Hy lay back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rumbling, the edge of the storm pouring down sheets of rain in some places but clearing in other places, clearing of thunderclouds and of that oppressive smoke that had ruined these last weeks of summer. Maybe it was gone for good.
Dot had woken as easily and instantly as she had fallen asleep. She was staring at Hy, who was staring out the window into a black dawn.
“Penny for your thoughts,” said Dot.
Hy smiled as she met cliché with cliché. “Let’s blow this pop stand.”
***
At Big Bay, a fat wave flowed over the sandbar, and the Cape Islander came unstuck. Like a trained horse that knows its way back to the barn, she rode the waves into the harbour and slipped into her berth. Her rope wound itself around the structure of the pier. Will Fairweather would never know she’d been out to sea without him, nor the adventures she’d had.
The Annaben would not return so gracefully to harbour. She’d be hauled off the beach later in the day by Ben, in another boat borrowed from a buddy. Like Dot, she’d been badly bruised, but nothing was broken.
***
Abel.
Gus could sense him all around her, as if he were there. Did that mean he was alive, or did it mean he was dead?
She glided back and forth on the purple recliner and felt herself floating toward him, in the grey smoke descending over The Shores like a shroud. She was drifting…drifting…
Cod Only Knows Page 25
