Vineyard Deceit

by Philip Craig

  I looked at Spitz. He shrugged.

  “There’s no reason that this issue needs to be pursued,” said Wapple, suddenly suave. “I’m sure that all parties will benefit from, say, three days of circumspect activities regarding the whole matter of the Padishah and last weekend’s unfortunate occurrences. I suspect, Mr. Jackson, that at the end of that time your Chief may be more understanding of this morning’s incident.”

  It was clear that he didn’t know the Chief, who did not like his officers screwing up their work or his department’s reputation.

  “The Padishah and his party are scheduled to return to Sarofim in three days,” explained Spitz unnecessarily.

  I got out my wallet, took out my brand-new badge, and put it in the Chiefs hand. He took it without hesitation. “Sorry it didn’t work out,” I said. I looked at Mr. Wapple. “If you think you can hang an arrest on me, hop to it. By the time you manage it, if you manage it, the Padishah will be long since home in the family harem. And while you’re trying to scare me with your law-and-order presidential plank, ^you might give some thought to who’s going to testify against me about this morning’s adventure. Zee Madieras? Ha! Those Sarofimian college students? They know that Zee can hang a kidnapping charge on them if she decides to. I don’t think they’ll testify to anything. Helga Johanson? Hell, if I did something illegal, she was in on the whole thing.” I walked over to Wapple and put my nose close to his. “I already had one threat hanging over my head before you decided to wave yours at me. I don’t like threats or threateners. They tend to make me edgy. I get uncooperative. If you’d gotten Jasper Cabot to ask me to back off, I’d probably have done it. But now I think I’ll stay with it. You fly back and tell the President to send somebody else to see me the next time he wants me to do him a favor. Now get off of my land.”

  I turned away and winked at Spitz, then spun back at Wapple. “Off! Go bully some little kid or kick a dog or something.”

  Wapple’s face was white. The Chief turned away and coughed.

  “Come on,” said Spitz, taking Wapple’s arm. “You’ve done your best, sir. I’m sure Mr. Jackson will cooperate. Let’s give him a chance to cool down. Come along.”

  “These negotiations in Washington are important,” cried Mr. Wapple as they led him to the cruiser. “National security could be involved! Don’t you forget that, you . . . sir!”

  “A pox on your negotiations!” I shouted. “And another one on national security!” I thought that had a fine theatrical ring to it.

  They drove away. I went inside and found a Yuengling and washed Mr. Wapple out of my mouth. As someone once observed, life is just one damned thing after another. I felt pretty good and realized that the badge had been a weight I was glad to be rid of. It was too tempting to use it exactly the way I’d used it, and I’d not been pleased with the way I’d felt afterwards. Good riddance.

  I looked at my watch. Zee would be off work in a couple of hours. If I was right about Colonel Ahmed Nagy being the foreign threat to her and me, I only had three more days to worry about her. I went out into the yard and stepped over the chicken-wire fence into the garden. The Bad Bunny Bunch hadn’t found a way through yet, but they were an ever-present danger. Maybe I could sic Mr. Wapple on them.

  I did some weeding and checked on my latest planting of green beans. In not too long I’d have another mighty beanfest to share with Zee. I could make a whole meal out of nothing but fresh-picked green beans boiled and served with a just a bit of butter and salt. Fresh vegetables almost never need much help to be delicious.

  By the time my bottle of Yuengling was empty I had come to my cauliflower row. I have an annual fight with cauliflower and rarely produce much that’s impressive. This year was no different, but I did have a couple that were doing very nicely. I admired the bigger of them and suddenly had an irresistible yen for fried cauliflower. I went inside and got another beer and phoned the hospital. The lady who answered the phone in the emergency room took my name, said just a moment, and a bit later said that Zee was busy.

  Sure. Zee had been a little irked this morning. Maybe she still was. I went out to the garden again and harvested the head of cauliflower that had caused my tastebuds to leap into action. Inside, I washed it and cut it up into handy nibbling-size pieces and put it in the fridge. Then I got into the LandCruiser and drove to the hospital. On the way I passed Ocean View Lane. Were Anwar and his friends still there, or had I scared them across the Sound to America? I parked in the emergency room parking lot and went inside through the glass doors. Zee, looking terrific in her white uniform, was standing at the reception desk writing in a folder.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’ve come to invite you to share a deep-fried cauliflower with me.”

  She looked up, then looked down again and wrote some more. “Just the three of us, I presume.”

  “Just the two of us. I can explain everything.”

  “I’ll bet you can. You’ve had all day to think up your story.”

  “I come in peace,” I said. “I know you’re mad, but you shouldn’t be. There’s a perfectly sensible explanation. I want to give it to you.”

  “All right, give. I’m listening.”

  The receptionist on the other side of the desk gave me a matronly smile and listened without apology. I wondered if she was the one who had answered the phone.

  “I’d prefer to give it over a chilled glass of Absolut and a hot plate of fried cauliflower,” I said.

  Zee said nothing.

  “Sounds good to me,” said the receptionist. “If she doesn’t want to listen to you, I will!”

  “Okay,” I said. “And tomorrow you can pass the message on to Mrs. Madieras, here, if she wants to know it. What time do you get off?”

  “I’m out of here at six.”

  “All right, all right,” said Zee, “I’ll come for cauliflower.”

  “Shucks,” said the receptionist. “Now I have to go home to Homer and the kids. Maybe next time you’ll ask me first?”

  “Sure. You might try getting Homer to fix your cauliflower for you.”

  “Homer’s idea of a sophisticated meal is a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich. I don’t think he knows how to boil water.”

  “See you in a bit,” I said to Zee. I gave her a big smile. She lifted her chin and walked away. She had wonderful legs. I watched them go around a corner and out of sight, then raised my eyebrows at the receptionist. She gave me a friendly look. I went out to the LandCruiser. So far, so good.

  25

  I put two glasses in the freezer beside the bottle of Absolut and got ready to fry up the cauliflower. Oil in the wok, some milk in one bowl, some flour in another. Not too much later, Zee’s Jeep came down my long driveway, stopped, and produced its driver.

  The first thing she said was, “Did she have to wear my clothes?”

  “Yes.” I puckered hopefully, and she reluctantly allowed her cheek to be kissed.

  I handed her an icy glass of vodka. “Sit. Admire the view.” I escorted her to my best white lawn chair, salvaged from the Big D, repainted, and as good as new. Archie Bunker’s chair was next on the repair list. “I shall return,” I said.

  The only people who don’t like fried cauliflower are the kind you really shouldn’t hang around with anyway since sooner or later they’ll corrupt whatever good taste you have in other areas of your life as well. Like a lot of excellent recipes, the one for fried cauliflower is simple: get your oil hot, dip your cauliflower in the milk, then the flour, shake off the excess flour, and drop the cauliflower into the oil. As soon as it’s golden brown, take the cauliflower out, drain it, lightly salt it, and eat it! None of it ever goes to waste at my house. I made up a plateful and took it out to Zee.

  She sniffed the aroma. She looked at the plate.

  “If madam is not pleased, the chef will be charmed to commit suicide in a manner of madam’s choosing.”

  “Madam is not pleased yet.”

  “Then it will be my pleasure to
begin the suicide immediately after I have had a final meal of this most excellent vegetable.” I went back inside and cooked a plate for myself, then returned, plate in one hand, vodka glass in the other. Zee’s plate was half empty. I wasn’t surprised. A small nurse can eat a large horse at the end of a working day.

  “You can delay the suicide for the time being,” she said, munching.

  “Madam is too kind.”

  “Well,” she said as I sat down. “Let’s have it.”

  I told her the truth about my adventures with Helga. By the time I was done, her cauliflower was gone and she was eating mine. I got up and went inside and cooked up what was left. I brought it out with the Absolut bottle.

  I poured. We sat and looked out over the pond to the Sound. Sailboats, white against the darkening water, were trying to catch a whiff of evening wind to take them into harbor. Along the spit of sand separating the Sound from the pond, the parked cars were thinning out as the August people reluctantly abandoned the beach.

  “All right,” said Zee. “You were right. There was an explanation. But it felt funny seeing another woman in my pants.”

  “No one can fill your pants but you, dear,” I said.

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “I think you should stay with your Aunt Amelia for a couple of days. You have the weekend off, and I’d like to do some fishing. Maybe we could go up to Lobsterville and try for weakfish.”

  “My gear’s at home. Are you protecting me again?”

  “You’d both have a good time visiting. You can tell her all there is to know about being kidnapped.”

  “I’ve talked to her on the phone and told her everything about that. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I didn’t like it. I hated being tied up. I think it’s made me claustrophobic.” She suddenly shivered in the warm evening air.

  I felt a shaft of pain in my soul. I wanted to hold her so tightly that she would lose all of her fear. But before I could move she seemed to reach inside of herself and find some of that secret, unsuspected strength that women discover when they must have it, the strength that takes them through the deaths of parents, sisters, lovers, children, through the sicknesses and betrayals and cruelties of life, and allows them to endure and even find joy when many men, equally afflicted, would either go mad or turn to stone or die.

  She sat up straight. “But I think it’s also made me a better nurse,” she said. “Now I understand better what it’s like to be totally helpless, like some of my patients. I thought I understood before, but now, having had no arms or legs or eyes for all that time and never knowing if I’d ever have them again, I understand better. Having someone take me to the bathroom, having someone feed me, never hearing a voice, all that . . . was for the good. I should probably be grateful. I hated it, but I should probably be grateful.”

  I didn’t think I would be, in her place. I thought that the hate and fear would be all I could get out of it.

  “I don’t want you alone for the next three days,” I said. “On Monday the Padishah and his gang are headed for home. After that I don’t think we’ll have to worry about what the guy on the phone said.”

  “You really think somebody will try to hurt us?”

  “I don’t know. The Padishah has a bad reputation at home. People he doesn’t like end up dead. I just don’t want you to be alone this weekend.”

  “Don’t worry so much about me.”

  “Tell the sun not to shine.”

  “I’ll be very careful.”

  “We’ve been through this before. You don’t know who’s coming after you, so you might not know he’s there until . . .”

  “Until it’s too late? After surviving being tied up for three days, I don’t feel very afraid of the Padishah.”

  “Nagy’s the one to be afraid of, not the Padishah.”

  “Well, let’s ask the Chief to keep an eye on Nagy, then. He can have a man keep an eye on him over the weekend. No Nagy, no trouble. Simple. I can go home, and you can stop worrying.”

  “Except for one thing.” I told her about Wapple and his request from the White House. “Everyone’s cooperating,” I said. “Everyone’s being very discreet. Everyone’s agreed not to ruffle the Padishah’s feathers. Orders from headquarters. I doubt if the Chief will see fit to put a man on the Padishah’s personal bodyguard.”

  Zee looked out into the evening. On the Sound a bit of wind from the southwest had answered the sailors’ whistles, and the white boats were leaning toward Edgartown. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “I know you. If I go home, you’ll probably camp in my driveway with one of your dad’s old shotguns.” She looked at me. “Won’t you?”

  “It would be best if you went to Amelia’s. You’d be safe there.”

  “I think I’d rather stay here.”

  Surprise and a rush of desire stopped my speech. I took a sip of icy vodka and willed my brain to control my hormones. “It would be better if you’d stay with Amelia.”

  “You’re a real flatterer. I make you an offer you can’t refuse and you say no. I must be losing my touch.” She looked at my face, saw something there, and nodded. “Ah, I get it. If he comes here after you, you don’t want me under your feet.”

  “He’s not coming here,” I said as convincingly as I could.

  “Then I’ll stay. You can be manly, and I’ll be right here for you to protect. Or vice versa, as the case may be.” She got to her feet. “Home first for fishing gear, then back in a flash.” She came over to me. She was like a dark sun shining. “If we get to sleep soon enough, we can be at Lobsterville at daylight. What do you think of that plan?”

  I got up from my chair. The top of her head came just to my chin. She put her arms around my neck, tipped her face up, and pulled my lips down to hers. Our kiss was long, and when it ended we were breathless. She laid her head against my chest. “Maybe I don’t have to go home,” she said. “We can stop by my place in the morning and pick up my gear on our way.”

  My brain was no longer in the fight. I couldn’t think of a single argument against her revised plan. My eyes discovered the vodka bottle on the table. “You’re Absolut-ly right,” I said. I picked her up in my arms and walked into the house.

  There was no best time to make love with Zee. Every time was the best time there ever was. In the fading evening light I carried her to my bedroom and stood her on her feet. She put her hands to her head, and the dark hair that had been pinned up for her day of nursing came tumbling down, thick and blue-black over the white collar of her uniform. A flock of goats moving down the slopes of Gilead. I put out my own big hands and unbuttoned her blouse. Her skin was tanned and smooth. Her lips were like a scarlet thread and her mouth was lovely. She dropped the uniform on the floor. I touched her throat. Her breasts were firm and sleek. Like two fawns that feed among the lilies.

  My own clothes were off, and she came smiling and naked and pressed herself against me, arms around my waist. Such sweetness. She was all fair, my love; there was no flaw in her. We lay on the bed, and that long hair flowed over me like liquid night. She ravished my heart with a glance of her eyes. Love sweeter than wine, lips like nectar, love like a well of living water from which we drank until we could drink no more.

  Afterwards Zee poked a finger into the little depression that contains my belly button and smiled a lazy smile. She put the finger into my mouth. “Taste that.”

  “Salty.”

  “Sweat. You have a little puddle of it in the middle of your belly. Maybe you haven’t been getting enough exercise lately.”

  “I have no one to blame but you. Besides, you’re a little slithery yourself.”

  “You’re quite right. Time for a shower. Come on.”

  We got off the tumbled, sweaty sheets, found beach towels, and went out into the night and showered together under the stars.

  Then we went back inside and went to bed. Zee curled herself against me and was asleep in minutes, her arm around my waist, her knees tucked up against the back o
f mine, her skin smooth and warm against my own. I lay awake and thought about Colonel Nagy, Jake Spitz, and the stolen necklace. I listened to the night wind in the trees and to the rustle of nocturnal creatures moving through the leaves under the oak brush. Everything sounded normal, and finally I too went to sleep.

  At five we were at her house in West Tisbury. While she collected her fishing gear and put her rod on the roof rack, I wandered through and around the house and found no sign of anyone having tried to enter. An hour later, on the Lobsterville beach near the only parking spot that Gay Head’s xenophobic citizens allowed along the road, I landed a nice weakfish just after Zee lost one she almost had in.

  “I’m refraining from saying that fishing is really a man’s game,” I said. “I hope you appreciate that.”

  “Oh, of course. It’s a real pleasure to fish with one of the few males who’s totally free of sexist inclinations.” She made her cast. I watched the lure arc out and splash into the water. It was a lovely cast.

  “We’re a rare and vulnerable minority,” I said, “but there are some of us around. Say, do you want me to show you how to do that right?”

  We fished until an hour after the sun came up over the Chilmark Hills and the water began to dance with light. Before we decided it was time for breakfast, we had nailed four fish, two each.

  “Tell you what,” said Zee. “We’ll go to my place and you can cook one of these guys up for breakfast along with some eggs and toast and coffee. I’ll pour the orange juice. And afterwards you can wash up while I read the paper. What do you say?”

  “Suits me. You can fillet the other fish while I’m cooking.”

  “That’s man’s work,” she said.

  “I don’t think you’ve got this role stuff down, yet. I’m Nimrod, the mighty hunter, and you’re Vesta, goddess of the hearth. I bring home the bacon and you cook it up in a pan and never let me forget I’m a man. God, I love that song!”

  “I think you’ve got your myths mixed up about as bad as they could be. Okay, I’ll fillet the fish. I do it better than you do, anyway.”