“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Cathy stood and the movement triggered a motion sensor that switched on a pair of lights situated on either side of the doorway.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked.
She still had on the jeans she’d worn when we were out dancing but she’d added a snug-fitting white sweatshirt with a picture of Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer on the front.
“Waiting for you. I felt bad taking off on you like I did this evening. I walked down to your boat and knocked. When you didn’t answer I came up here to wait. I was just about to head home.”
I noticed an abstract dusting of something dark on the shoulder of the shirt, and without thinking, I brushed it away, and she stepped in close to me. “You’re walking like you’re in pain. I noticed it earlier too, when we were dancing.”
“I had an unexpected visitor last night.” I gave her a quick rundown of what had happened after I left the restaurant.
“Who was it?”
“I think he was a local guy by the name of Fish Conners, but I can’t swear to it.”
Cathy reached out and placed her hand against my chest. When I winced she drew a breath and whispered in a hoarse, excited voice, “Let me see what he did to you.”
The cold air nipped at me as I started to pull up my shirt. She pushed my hands away and lifted the edge herself. “Jesus,” she said.
Her hands were icy, the air cold, and a shiver ran down my body as she unbuttoned my shirt. She touched the largest bruise that started at my belly button and traced it with her finger up across my left nipple to where it ended just below my neckline. “Does it hurt?”
“Not right now,” I said. My heart raced as she opened her hand and placed her palm against the skin of my chest. She moved her lips up to mine and leaned in to kiss me. Her lips had a faint, salty taste.
My body tingled and I returned the kiss. An electric charge ran down to my knees, making them feel weak and useless. Her hair brushed my nose. It tickled and carried the scent of apple blossom shampoo and lingering cigarette smoke from the bar. When she pulled away I swayed as if I’d just chugged a bottle of strawberry wine.
“Come on. I’ll walk you down to your boat,” she said.
Afraid that anything I might say would break the mood, I just nodded. When she took my hand I let her lead me down the dock and into the cockpit of my boat.
As I removed the washboards that covered the doorway she took off my shirt and began to unbuckle my belt. After that it took a conscious effort on my part to snap the plastic door cover in place, and as we entered the cabin she began tugging at my shorts like a playful kitten.
We fumbled with each other’s clothes between kisses, and then stood in the center of the cabin among our scattered clothing, entwined in a hungry embrace. When I couldn’t stand it any longer I put my hands on her shoulders and guided her to the front berth where I watched her appreciatively as she climbed naked into my bed.
I did my best to ignore the pain that racked my body as we made love twice that night. The first time was quick and peppered with wild shouts and energetic maneuverings. The second time was long and slow and tender, and afterward we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
I awoke to a soft knocking on the hull of my boat. “Hold on just a minute,” I called out as I slid off the berth and searched the floor for my shorts. I started to shiver as soon as I moved into the cockpit. I wished I’d grabbed my sweatshirt.
“Hey, Rusty.” I pushed the plastic door covering closed behind me and longed for the warmth of my bed and Cathy’s naked body beneath the covers. Still, I wanted to be neighborly. “I can put on a pot of coffee if you want?”
“No thanks.” He looked down from the dock at my bruised body, and then shifted his attention to meet my eyes. “I’ve got to get going, but I picked up some information on Fish Conners I thought you might like to have.”
I started to reply but hesitated when I saw Rusty’s eyes widen. At the same time, I felt the plastic door cover shift behind me, and Cathy stepped out into the cockpit, crowding me forward.
“How you doing today, Rusty?” she asked. He nodded a greeting and frowned at her.
“Here,” she added, handing me the shirt I had worn the previous evening. “You’ll freeze to death dressed like that.”
I turned to look at her and saw that she was dressed in one of my t-shirts. Her nipples were hard from the cold, and I lost all interest in Fish Conners, or Rusty, for that matter. “You should talk,” I said, as she ducked back into the cabin.
“I didn’t know you two were an item,” Rusty said, as I threw on the shirt.
I made a slight motion with my shoulder, a noncommittal shrug. “Things happen,” I said. “But I’m not sure you could call us an item at this point.”
Rusty shook his head. “Whatever. All I know is that this is going to be prime scuttlebutt for the rumor mongers up at the round table.”
“Cathy must not be too worried about it,” I said. “She didn’t have to come out here and let you see her like that.” I was beginning to feel uncomfortable standing there under his scrutiny, so I shifted his attention back to Fish Conners. “Did you say you had some information for me?”
“Yes sir, I do.” Rusty cleared his throat, turned his head, and spit into the river. “I heard Fish hangs out at a little dive of a bar not far from here. Place called Darlene’s. Friday night’s raw oyster night. Way I hear it Fish loves them, especially when they’re free. Course I also hear tell he drinks enough to more than pay for them.”
“Want to take a ride down there with me tonight?” I asked.
“Sorry, no can do. I gotta go to Biloxi today. Be gone 'till tomorrow, but you’ll have no trouble finding the place. I wrote down the directions.” He reached over, handed me a slip of paper, and spit out of the corner of his mouth again before turning and sauntering down the dock.
“What was that all about?” Cathy was standing in the doorway and to my disappointment she was dressed and looked like she was ready to leave.
“Oysters,” I said. She frowned at my flippancy, and I added, “Rusty knows about this trouble with my cousin and all and he knew I was looking for Fish Conners. He told me where I might be able to find him.”
Cathy slid around me as I moved out of the way. “I’ve got to get going,” she said.
“I was hoping we might get a chance to talk a little before you left,” I said.
“About what?”
I pointed a finger at Cathy, and then at me. “Us. What happened.”
Cathy shook her head and ran her fingers like a comb through her mussed hair. She sighed, plopped down on the cockpit seat, and patted the space next to her. I sat down.
She took my hand and held it on her lap. “Look, Wes, I like you. Obviously I find you attractive or we wouldn’t have ended up in bed together. And the sex was very, very good. But to be honest, I’m still in love with my ex-husband.”
“You could have told me that before we went out.” I knew when I spoke it wasn’t the right thing to say, but I was irritated and couldn’t help myself.
“You know, when I agreed to go out with you it wasn’t exactly a lifetime commitment. I like bad boys, and the ex is a bad boy,” she said. “Actually, he’s an actor. They don’t always work steady. He sold some pot to a couple of other actors and got busted. He’s getting out of jail tomorrow.”
“Sorry,” I said. I’d been chastised. “And last night?”
She stroked my hand, brought it up to her lips and kissed it before looking me in the eyes. “Last night you were my bad boy.” She reached out and touched my bruise through my shirt. “You told me about your fight, showed me your pain, and I melted. I’m not saying it can’t happen again. But I’m being honest when I tell you it will be for fun, not forever. If you can accept that, then we can get together again. If not, then we end things right here.”
I nodded, but I knew it wouldn’t work for me. I just couldn’t say that to her.
“
Good,” she said. “Now I’ve got to get going.” She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, letting her lips linger for just a moment. We broke apart and both stood at the same time, as if our actions were choreographed.
I didn’t watch her leave, just swayed with the quick movement of the boat as she stepped onto the dock. I felt strangely calm for a man who’d just had his ego deflated by a very sexy woman.
Chapter 7
I’ve suffered on and off from depression ever since a young girl died because of a mistake I made. Celine Stewart still came to me in my dreams. She never spoke, she just pleaded with me through sad eyes, silently accusing me of screwing up.
When I’d first been diagnosed, my doctor recommended Prozac, but the idea of using any kind of mind-altering drug had little appeal to me. I rejected his offer of medicated bliss and instead turned to my lifelong love of sailing for relief. Still, on occasion, I suffer episodes of darkness where the light dims and threatens to go out. This is often followed by roller coaster flights of fancy and bravado. Today, all I wanted to do was sleep.
A distant beat tore me from dark dreams where that ghost taunted me. Looking around the room I felt dazed until I realized that the music was the call of my cell phone.
I reached over, picked it up, and when I saw the number, put it back down. The last person I wanted to talk to was Jessica. I rolled over and went back to sleep.
Once again it was my phone that woke me. Once again it was Jessica.
I flipped it open. “What do you want?”
“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day.”
“I was sleeping.”
“It’s after five.”
“Did you call for a reason, or just to check on my sleeping habits?"
I felt a twinge of guilt as I listened to her breathing on the other end. When she spoke again there was a sharp edge to her voice. “I wanted to see how you were doing and to find out what our next step is.”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m done. Let the old man handle things. He seems competent.”
“Uncle Roy? I never expected him to show up last night. He doesn’t really want to get involved.”
“Neither do I.”
“You can’t back out now,” she said.
“Watch me.” I switched off the phone and flung it across the cabin where it bounced off the settee and landed on the floor with a dull thud. I knew I was being irrational, but with dead bodies came responsibility. I didn’t want to be responsible for another girl’s death, especially a relative I barely knew.
I thought about going back to bed. I thought about the warm inviting beaches of the Bahamas. I thought about untying the boat and taking off. Instead, I headed down to the marina store for a cold six-pack.
I paid for the Miller Lite and left the building by the side door leading to the gathering area. I couldn’t stand the thought of drinking alone on my boat but wasn’t sure I was up to idle chitchat either.
I’d met most of the locals the first afternoon I spent at the marina. Bob Preston, known around the marina as Cajun Bob, saw me and waved me over. Cajun Bob lived on a steel trawler he built himself and worked some kind of construction job. He was short and in his mid-thirties. He kept his long black hair tied back in a ponytail, had a thick, weightlifters body, and an even thicker Cajun accent, which earned him his nickname.
Bob seemed to be the name of the day in these parts. In the short time I’d been at the marina I’d also met Motorcycle Bob, Too Tall Bob, Lil Bob, and a generic Bob who had apparently not earned a nickname yet.
I sat down across from Cajun Bob. Phil Hamlin and his wife, Renee, were seated to his right. Phil was a potbellied, balding, retired stockbroker. Renee, thin, with bottle-tinted red hair and disapproving eyes was the marina gossip. She tended to dress in garish skin-tight pants that accentuated her bony frame, and spoke with a husky, sexual voice that fit neither her body nor her personality.
They’d come down from Illinois on a thirty-seven foot Beneteau sloop with the intention of sailing around the world. That was three years ago and marina rumor had it that they’d never had the sails up on the boat and never even run the engine since arriving at the Dog River.
“What’s this I hear about you and Cathy?” Cajun Bob asked. He wore a knowing smirk on his face, and I wanted to reach out and snatch it away.
“Don’t put much store in what people say around here,” Phil said.
“Waitresses tend to be slutty.” Renee was knitting something that could have been a sweater, and didn’t bother to look up when she spoke.
“You were a waitress in college,” Phil said.
“For only two weeks.” She looked up for a moment and cast an evil look at Phil. “You know I quit because I didn’t like hanging around with those girls.”
“I thought the boss fired you because you were too slow,” Phil said.
Again Renee looked up from her work. Her eyes found Phil’s, and she held his gaze for a full count of ten before turning her attention back to her work. This time the look must have worked. Phil picked up his beer bottle and took a deep slug before setting it back down. The silence between the two was more telling than their verbal sparring.
“I took a swing at the lady myself,” Cajun Bob said. “We just haven’t been able to get together yet.” He watched me for a reaction and when I didn’t jump at the bait he continued. “Course if you two have something going I’ll step back out of the running.”
“That’s nice of you, Bob.” I was saved further discourse by the arrival of my cousin Jessica. Her car skidded to a stop at the edge of the parking lot. I sipped my beer and watched her throw open the door and spring from the car.
She wore white jeans with a tight white blouse and her breasts bounced madly as she strode up to where I was seated. “You’re a son of a bitch, Wes Darling.”
“You move pretty damn fast for someone who’s only been here a few days,” Cajun Bob said.
I thought I detected a tone of approval in his voice. It was a sense of regard I could do without. He was a shallow man with a shallow agenda. “She’s my cousin,” I said.
“This is Alabama,” Cajun Bob said.
I turned and glared at him. “Shut up, Bob, before I get really pissed and do something I’ll regret.”
“I was just….”
“Didn’t you hear the man?” Jessica asked, without looking away from me. “If Wes doesn’t take a swing at you, I just might.” Her anger was directed at me as much as at Cajun Bob.
“You want to take a ride?” I asked.
“Sure.” She threw me her keys and added, “Why don’t you drive?”
I pushed the remaining beers into the center of the table, said, “Help yourselves,” and followed Jessica out to her car.
Neither of us spoke until we were out of the parking lot. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“We’re going looking for Fish Conners.”
I glanced her way and read the confusion on her face. “What made you change your mind?” she asked.
“I find Cajun Bob to be a bore. Besides, Fish Conners has pissed me off more than you have in the last couple of days.” I turned the car onto Dauphin Island Parkway and reached into my pocket for the directions Rusty had given me. I drew them out and handed them to Jessica. “You navigate,” I said.
It was starting to get dark so Jessica turned on the dome light. After a minute she tucked the paper into the visor and switched off the light. “I’ve been to Darlene’s,” she said. “Make a left at the next light, then a left at the stop sign and follow the road around. You can’t miss it. What makes you think Fish will be there?”
“Rusty Dawson told me Fish goes out there on free oyster night. That’s tonight.”
“What do we do if he’s there?”
I pulled into Darlene’s lot, parked the car, and got out without answering her question. Truth of the matter was, I wasn’t sure what I wa
s going to do. I just wanted to see the guy up close. Maybe ask him why he tried to kill me.
The bar’s décor was a mix of vintage pub and modern sports bar. The jukebox looked like it was from a fifties malt shop, but it had been converted to play CDs. The wood floor was scarred and polished by years of foot traffic. The bar appeared to have gone through a recent facelift. Three television sets hung from the ceiling above the bar, and new wood tables with vinyl-covered chairs were scattered about. I suspected it wouldn’t be long before the owner managed to kill the Southern ambiance and replace it with anywhere USA dull.
The place was packed and I took one of only two empty seats at the bar, next to a tall redhead dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with the words “Hell Bound” stenciled across her abundant chest. She looked over at me, picked up her beer, and tipped the long neck in my direction. I nodded, and then watched her glow evaporate as Jessica took the seat next to me.
Jessica put her lips close to my ear and exhaled, sending a pleasant chill down my back. “They’re probably fake.”
I spun the bar stool to face her. “I didn’t notice.”
“Right. And you just happened to sit in the seat right next to Miss Jumbo Tits?”
“There were only two empty seats at the bar.”
“I noticed you left me the seat next to Sasquatch.”
I looked over at the bearded giant seated next to her and laughed. “So, all right, maybe I did choose this seat because of the scenery, but we’re not here for fun. Do you see Fish Conners around?”
Jessica was peering over my shoulder while I studied the room behind her. After a few moments she poked me in the arm. “Over there, by the jukebox.”
I followed her gaze and watched as the man who’d tried to kill me sat down at a table. He was dressed in khaki Dockers, wore gold chains around his neck, and had left the top three buttons of his shirt undone. If he was the man who had attacked me on the dock, he was also much bigger than I remembered him.
I swung my barstool around and slid off at the same time he noticed us. He grinned and pushed back his chair, jumped up, and hustled toward the back of the bar. We followed, weaving our way between clumps of bar patrons. He beat us to the rear door by a half dozen steps and pushed through it, letting it swing closed behind him.
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