2 Dog River Blues

by Mike Jastrzebski

  The boat was beautiful, expensive, and locked. A quick search of the deck turned up a boat hook and I used it to pry open the sliding doors. Boats are not made to keep people out and it was a simple task to spring the latch without doing any damage to the door or the lock itself. Once I was inside, I relocked the latch and began my search.

  Switching on my flashlight, I moved throughout the boat, pulling curtains and drapes closed before proceeding. The boat was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Rich, well-varnished teak had been used in abundance for the walls and cupboard doors. Some of it was carved, although the uncut areas were beautiful in their simplicity.

  A large circular window dominated the wall that separated the galley from the main salon. Shining my light on the window brought out the lines of a dolphin etched into the pane, giving it an eerie glow.

  I started with a cursory search of the galley. I checked drawers, cupboards, even the refrigerator, no manuscript. Then I took my search into the main salon.

  Again, there was an abundance of beautiful teak. The thick, creamy carpet was sculptured, and spotless. The ivory leather settee cushions were smooth and tanned. Not the most practical choices for a boat. Keeping everything clean in a boating environment would have been my biggest concern.

  The boat had two staterooms. The largest came equipped with a queen-size bed, two dressers and a large bathroom with a three-quarter-size bathtub.

  I found the manuscript in the third drawer of the starboard dresser, tucked under a pair of jeans. It was wrapped inside two large zip-lock bags. Stifling the urge to inspect the book, I grabbed it and ran back through the boat.

  As I reached the galley the boat rocked. The door rattled and metal doorframe on metal sliders alerted me that someone was on board. Scurrying back into the bedroom, I returned the book to its hiding place under the jeans, and slid the drawer closed before slipping into the bathroom. Just in time. A rising cacophony of voices trailed through the boat and then Rusty stepped into the stateroom.

  “I can’t believe you left the book here,” Rusty said.

  “I thought it would be safer, what with Wes being at your house.”

  I could hear the drawer opening in the other room and I froze in place, afraid that any movement on my part would give my presence away.

  The drawer closed and Rusty said, “You’re lucky it’s still here. Wes could have found it so easily.”

  “He ain’t got the cajones to break in here after what we’ve put him through,” Fish said.

  “Don’t kid yourself. He’s been right on our tail since he started looking for the manuscript. Somehow he’s managed to get out of our sights twice when we had him prisoner. He may have the biggest balls you’ve ever seen, Fish.”

  “Bullshit. If I see the bastard again, I’ll shoot him. I’ve still got his gun.”

  “Just so he doesn’t take it away from you,” Rusty said. “Why don’t you drive your truck back to the house, I’ll bring the boat along. And leave that gun here in case Wes has a little more backbone than you give him credit for.”

  The boat shifted and then gave a little bounce as Fish climbed off. Voices buzzed, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. When the engine started the boat vibrated beneath my feet. I had found the manuscript, but was on the verge of losing it. If I was lucky, I could grab the book and slip from the boat while Rusty was busy.

  I crept from the bathroom to the stateroom, opened the drawer, and felt around inside. Nothing. Rusty must have taken the manuscript with him, or given it to Fish to take back to the house.

  As I moved through the boat I listened to the sounds above me as Rusty walked about the pilothouse. Along the way I searched for the book. When I reached the galley I heard Rusty start down the steps. Dropping to my knees, I crawled under the table and drew back into the shadows.

  The door slid open with a metallic groan. The acrid stench of cigar smoke filled the room. The galley floor creaked and bottles rattled. This was followed by the tinkle of a bottle cap tossed onto the counter. Then Rusty stepped back outside. He walked along the deck and I heard him whip the dock lines from the pilings. A moment later we were floating free.

  Rusty hurried back up the ladder to the controls, put the motor in gear, and backed out of his slip. It was time for me to get the hell off this boat.

  The odds were stacked against my retrieving the manuscript at this time, so I rolled out from beneath the table, scrambled over to the door and out into the cockpit just as we rounded the no wake sign. I looked up at the pilothouse and could see that Rusty was busy watching where he was going. I steeled my nerves, took three steps, and vaulted over the rail as Rusty poured on the gas.

  The water shocked my system, driving away my breath and leaving me stunned. It felt thick and resisted my efforts to pull myself upward. When I broke through to the surface I treaded water for a moment, took my bearings, and set off toward the dock and my boat, which was a hundred yards away.

  My swimming style was a modified breaststroke. For every foot my arms drew me forward, my shoes and clothing tried to drag me back. I breathed a prayer of thanks as the current and outgoing tide pushed me along, and in a few minutes I slammed up against one of the pilings. I grabbed on and held tight, fighting to regain my breath, hoping I had enough strength left to pull myself from the river.

  Help arrived in the guise of Roy. “Wes.” He called out from above. “I’m going to throw you a rope. Tie it around yourself and we’ll help you out of the water.” I didn’t know where he had come from, and I didn’t give a damn. I was shivering so hard I didn’t think I’d be able to get out of the water by myself.

  The rope splashed off to my left and I called up to him, “Back a little.” Roy retrieved the rope and this time when he tossed it, it slapped against me.

  As I grabbed for it I lost my hold on the piling. With the end of the rope clutched in my right hand, I let myself drift to the next pole, wrapping my legs around the post. I used a bowline knot to tie the line around my waist. Reaching up, I grabbed onto the dock and let my legs float free.

  Two sets of hands grabbed my arms and the rope tightened around my waist, dragging me up and out of the river. Lying back, fighting for breath, I looked up into the worried eyes of Jessica, Cathy and Roy.

  “You dumb shit.” Jessica dug her toe into my side. “What the hell were you thinking, jumping off a moving boat like that?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said.

  “You could have been hurt,” Cathy said.

  “I’m a good swimmer. Rusty has Roy’s Colt, and I’m not in the mood to face any more guns. I did get my hands on the manuscript though.”

  “Where is it?” Jessica pushed her foot into my ribs again.

  “That hurts,” I said. She didn’t seem to hear me.

  “You didn’t take it into the water with you, did you?”

  “You think I’m stupid?”

  “After that stunt, yeah,” Jessica said.

  Ignoring her I sat up and began working on the knotted rope around my waist. The bowline is designed to secure a heavy load, but can be untied under the most severe of conditions, including when wet. Despite my numb fingers, I picked it loose and tossed the line onto the dock.

  Roy moved alongside of me and reached his hand down. I took hold and he levered me to my feet. “It’s on the boat then?”

  “I had my hands on it, but Fish and Rusty showed up before I could get away with it.”

  “Did he know you were on board?”

  “No. I hope he didn’t see me get off either. It’s why I jumped like that. I didn’t want Rusty to know that I found the book.”

  “I don’t think he saw you, he was up in the pilothouse watching where he was going,” Cathy said. “The only reason we did, is because we were watching for you. When Jessica and Roy showed up I told them you had gone to check out Rusty’s boat.”

  “I’ve got to change,” I said through chattering teeth. “I’m damn tired of being cold.
”

  “Go ahead,” Roy said. He picked up the line and handed it to me. “I took this off your boat. We’ll meet you down in the parking lot. I think it’s time for an all out assault on Rusty’s house. I’m tired of this shit.”

  It took five minutes to change my clothes, and I had to settle for a paint-stained pair of sneakers I kept around for working on the boat.

  When I came out of the boat I found Cathy seated on the dock, feet hanging over the side, staring into the dark depths. Roy and Jessica were nowhere to be found and I assumed they were waiting for me in the parking lot.

  I figured they could wait a minute and sat down next to her. “Something wrong?” I asked.

  She swung her feet for several moments and then looked over at me. There were tears in her eyes and her voice caught when she spoke. “When I saw Fish and Rusty climb on board that boat I thought you were a dead man.”

  “You were watching?”

  She nodded. “I was worried. It scared the shit out of me when you went flying off the boat.”

  “Worried for a friend?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m confused about my feelings.”

  “And Rob?”

  “More confusion.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’ve been telling myself I’m still in love with Rob. I thought you were Mr. Nice Guy. Now I’ve seen a little of your rough side and I guess I’m more attracted than I want to admit.”

  I put my arm around her and when she looked up I kissed her. It was a tentative kiss but when she didn’t pull away I kissed her again.

  Cathy returned the kiss and with unexpected strength she pushed me down onto the dock and reached for my belt buckle. I tugged her shirt out of her pants and ran my fingertips over her breasts. Our kisses became more heated, and then Jessica’s voice called out from the darkness.

  “Maybe the two of you should get a room, or at least go back to one of your boats,” she said.

  “Shit.” I pulled away from Cathy and fumbled with my belt. “What the hell are you doing sneaking up on us like that?” I asked.

  “I wasn’t sneaking up.” The dock vibrated as Jessica walked over and stood above us. “And I don’t want to interfere in your love life, but Roy sent me to find out what was taking you so long.”

  I jumped up, held out my hand and helped Cathy to her feet. “I guess I got distracted,” I said.

  “I’ve got to get going,” Cathy said. “Call me in the morning, Wes.” She gave my hand a squeeze and skipped past Jessica, leading the way down the dock. When we got to the parking lot she shot me a quick glance over her shoulder and ran off toward her boat.

  Roy was closing the trunk to Jessica’s car when we got there. He held out a set of keys. “I’m going to leave my truck here for you to drive,” he said.

  As I put the keys in my pocket he unclipped a cell phone from his belt. “Jessica told me you lost yours. I’ve used this thing maybe six times since I got it. Use it until you can replace yours. Jessica’s number and my home number are in the contact list.”

  “Thanks.” I said. “We’d better get going if we want to catch Rusty.”

  We drove in silence and as we turned onto Hamilton I said, “Turn onto the service drive for Range Line Road.”

  When we came up to Rabbit Creek Road, Roy pulled over at my direction and cut the engine. “He’s just down the road,” I said. “If we get any closer he might see us.”

  Roy jumped out of the car and ran to the trunk. He reached in and came back out holding two hunting rifles. He handed one to Jessica and one to me, and then he pulled out the assault rifle.

  “No games this time,” he said.

  “What’s the plan?” Jessica asked.

  “We hit 'em before they know we’re here,” Roy said. “Jessica and I’ll go in the front door. Wes, you hit the back. How’s that sound?”

  “It can’t end up any worse than the last time,” I said. I was tired of pussy footing around. It was time to put an end to all this nonsense and get the damn manuscript back. I checked to make sure the safety was off on my gun, and struck out toward the house followed by Roy and Jessica.

  Chapter 18

  As we started up Rusty’s driveway Roy took the lead, followed by Jessica, with me in the rear. The order had not been pre-arranged, but was rather the pecking order established by our previous outing.

  Roy stopped and we crowded around him. “I don’t see Fish’s truck,” he said. “You’ve been here before, Wes. Is there any place where it could be parked that we can’t see?”

  “I don’t think so.” I pointed up the hill toward the house. “He was parked behind Rusty’s Cadillac before. He must not be here.”

  “That makes it easier,” Roy said. “Lights are on so I say we go in and get the damn book. Wes, why don’t you go around back, Jessica and I will hit him from the front. If we’re lucky the doors will be open, but I’m crashing in if they’re not. You ready?”

  Bent low, I took off running at an angle across the yard toward the back of the house, not stopping until I reached the back wall. When I poked my head around the corner I noticed the boat was gone. No truck. No boat. Maybe no one was at home.

  Pressing my body against the siding of the house, I slid over to the door, reached out, and found it locked. A moment later I heard a crash from the front of the house as Roy broke through the door. I stepped back, let out a kick, and threw my shoulder against the cracked doorframe.

  Holding my gun pointed in front of me I ran through the kitchen and out into the living room.

  Jessica spun around as I burst into the room and lowered her gun when she saw me. “Uncle Roy’s checking out the bedrooms,” she said. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed with excitement.

  “I don’t think he’ll find anything,” I said. “The boat’s gone.”

  Roy walked into the room in time to hear me. “Wes, I know you saw the manuscript on Rusty’s boat. But we should still do a quick search of the house. I suspect Rusty keeps it with him, but we’d be nuts not to look. Why don’t you take the kitchen? Jessica, you stand guard and I’ll check out the bedrooms. We’d better be quick about it though. The last thing we need is for the police to show up.”

  I scoured the kitchen, but once again found nothing. I headed for the living room where I found Jessica leaning against the wall, peeking out from behind the curtains.

  “All clear so far,” she said.

  “I’ll go check on Roy,” I said. As I turned toward the bedroom I caught sight of a cell phone sitting on the arm of the sofa.

  “I’ll be damned,” I said. Plucking the phone from its resting place I flipped open the cover and shook my head.

  “What?” Jessica dropped the corner of the curtain and moved over to join me.

  “It’s mine.”

  Roy walked into the room. “We’d better get going.”

  Tucking the phone into my pocket I unclipped Roy’s from my belt and held it out for him. “I don’t need two of the damn things. One gets me into enough trouble.”

  Roy grabbed the phone as he crossed to the front door. He cracked it open, looked around, and stepped out into the night. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  As we drove back to the marina my thoughts turned from the manuscript to my new family. Jessica and Roy were no longer strangers from a strange land, although I had to admit Alabama had its share of strange.

  When we arrived at the marina, Jessica parked the car and turned to face me. “If you go chasing around by yourself again, I’ll kill you myself. That is if Fish and Rusty don’t beat me to it.”

  “I think she means it, son.” Roy slid out of the back seat and stood by the passenger door, waiting for me to get out. When I did, he put his left hand on my shoulder and drew a nine-millimeter pistol from his coat pocket. “You’d better take this.” Then, in a fatherly fashion he added, “Try not to lose this one. And you should listen to Jessica. The book isn’t worth your life, or any of our lives f
or that matter. Understand?”

  I slipped the gun into my waistband. “If I hear, see or feel anything, I’ll call.”

  “We’re here for you Wes,” he said. “Just remember that.”

  Something in the tone of his voice drew my attention to his weathered face. His eyes were filled with genuine concern and without thinking, I said, “Would the two of you like to come down to the boat and have a drink before you head out?”

  Jessica switched off the engine and was out of the car almost before I finished asking. “Let’s go,” she said. As she swung around me she grabbed Roy’s arm and headed toward the dock.

  I watched the two of them for a moment, and then I hurried along, trailing them out to my boat. I was dead tired again and couldn’t for the life of me understand what had possessed me to extend this invitation.

  The night air had a salty feel to it. In the distance the engines of a large ship echoed across the still bay, bound for ports unknown. I was beginning to get itchy feet, and I wished I was tagging along beside that behemoth, riding the waves instead of chasing an old book around Mobile, Alabama. I longed to once again be carefree and headed for nowhere.

  We paraded onto Rough Draft and down into the cabin. I made a waving motion toward the empty berths as I stopped at the galley and opened the cupboard where I kept my extra mugs. “Sit anywhere. I’ve got Miller Lite or rum and Coke. And if you’d prefer, I think I can rustle up some pineapple juice to go with the rum.”

  “Rum over a little ice for me,” Roy said.

  I pulled the gun from my pants and laid it on the counter. “I don’t have any glasses,” I said. “Just plastic mugs. Glass and ceramics don’t hold up well in a storm.”

  It took me a moment to gather three mugs together. One of the drawbacks of living on a boat is limited space. Livaboards, as those of us who live on a boat are called, tend to bury unused items beneath seats or in corners, often under items used every day. Since I live alone, I only keep two mugs handy on the oft chance another boater might drop by. Finding a third was a chore.

  I tossed three ice cubes into a mug, topped it with a hefty splash of rum, and handed it to Roy. They were both seated on the starboard sofa.