2 Dog River Blues

by Mike Jastrzebski

  Jessica’s car was parked in front of the truck and as we approached the vehicles Roy stopped and held out his hand. “Why don’t you give me my keys. You can drive with Jessica and follow me.”

  Jessica didn’t talk at all as we drove. I didn’t know if she was mad at me or just concerned about Cathy. It was just as well, I was worried too and the quiet suited me.

  The motel lot was dimly lit and in need of paving. Jessica slowed to a crawl and swerved to avoid a pothole while Roy plowed ahead to the closest parking space to the motel office. He was waiting at the door, tapping his left foot impatiently when we walked up.

  “I didn’t see Fish’s truck,” he said. “Did you?”

  Jessica shook her head and I asked, “Is this the only place to park?”

  “He could have driven it down by one of the cabins,” Roy said. “Come on, let’s go into the office and see what Leroy has to say.”

  The interior was paneled with smoke darkened knotty-pine planks. A leather couch and sofa, cracked with age, faced a small television set. A nineteen seventies era Mediterranean style hanging lamp cast a shadow along the walls, and an artificial palm tree stood next to the counter. A sign read: ‘If you don’t see me, try the buzzer’. In parenthesis, and capitalized, was the word ‘ONCE’. An arrow pointed to a small button behind the palm tree.

  Roy pressed the button. Somewhere, further back in the building, the buzzer reverberated like an ailing bullfrog. I looked at my watch and was surprised to see that it was almost three in the morning. No wonder it had been a battle keeping my eyes open on the trip over here.

  After perhaps five minutes I reached over to press the button again but Roy caught my wrist. “Didn’t you read the sign, boy?”

  “I figured he must have gone back to sleep,” I said. “Can’t hurt to give it another try, can it?”

  “You people come down here from up north and I swear ya’ll are wound so tight I keep expecting you to start spinning around in circles as you walk. Leroy said once, he means once. Leroy’s not a patient man. Ring that bell again and it just might piss him off. Then he’s just as likely to tell us to get off his property and go to hell as help us.”

  “Not a very prudent way to run a service business,” I said.

  Roy shrugged. “Leroy doesn’t need a lot to live on. He once told me that what he likes about working for himself is that nobody can make him work if he doesn’t want to. Says he can invite the devil to dinner or tell him to go back to hell, and nobody sits around in an office and calls him on the carpet for doing it. He’ll be out here shortly. That’s a Southern shortly, not a Northern shortly.”

  As if he’d been waiting off stage for his cue, the door behind the counter opened and a small man in his mid-to-late fifties pushed into the room, bringing with him the fetid smell of stale tobacco and whiskey.

  A fading tattoo of a naked woman ran the length of his lower left arm. He wore a pair of bib overalls that looked like they might have survived the Civil War, and although his arms and legs were pole bean skinny, he had one of the meanest beer guts I’d ever seen.

  He nodded in our direction. “Roy. Whatever possessed you to think you could come out here and haul my ass out of bed at this time a night?”

  “I’m looking for Fish Conners. Mick Conners’ boy.”

  “I know Fish.”

  “He been here?” Roy asked.

  Leroy scratched his belly. “Every once in awhile Fish comes by. Usually he wants a favor. Course I get a little scratch when I do him a favor.”

  Roy nudged my foot with his, held up his hand and rubbed his thumb across his fingertips. “Got any cash on you?”

  I took out my wallet and drew a twenty from within. When I placed it on the counter Roy glared at me. He reached over and slid out another bill, which he placed on top of the first one.

  Leroy picked up the bills, stuck them in his pocket, and said, “Ol’ Fish, he come in here around ten this evening and told me he needed a cabin. Said he wanted to entertain a female friend and his place was a mess. I rented him number three out in the woods. Fish likes his privacy.”

  “You got a spare key to that cabin?” Roy asked.

  Leroy licked his lips and tapped a finger on the counter where the two twenties had sat a moment earlier. “That boy’s got a mean streak and he don’t even bother trying to hide it,” he said. “I’m not sure I should help you.”

  “We’re just playing a little joke on the man,” Roy said. He nudged my foot again and nodded toward the counter.

  I took out another twenty and when Roy prodded me again, I added one more to the pile. Spreading the wallet I said, “That’s all I’ve got.”

  Roy’s voice hardened. “You heard the man, Leroy.”

  Leroy licked his lips, and then grabbed the remaining bills. Crumpling them into his fist, he stuffed them into his pocket with the others. Then he shuffled back through the door and returned a moment later with a key on a plastic holder.

  Tossing the key on the counter, Leroy said, “You been there before, Roy.” He pointed to the door. “When you’re finished, just leave the key in the box over there. I’m going on back to bed now. Try not to make too much noise out there, Roy.” He gave us a sleepy nod, and then he walked out of the room, letting the door slam behind him as if to say he was through with us.

  I pushed past Roy and Jessica, swung the door open, and went outside. A dense mantle of fog had settled over the area. It rose in thick tendrils from the ground, thinning only when it reached the uppermost branches of the surrounding trees. The air smelled as if it had been washed with pine scented soap. The parking lot was buried in a misty cocoon, and the cars moved in and out of focus like spectral derelicts in an ocean of opaque fleece. “Where to?” I asked, as Roy strode past me.

  “Just follow me,” he said, moving off into the thickening mist. Jessica joined me and before he could fade away I took her hand and hurried after him.

  When we caught up to Roy, Jessica slipped her free hand through his arm, forming a chain.

  “Can you find the cabin in this shit?” I asked.

  “Quiet,” Roy said. “I know where I’m going, but we don’t want to give ourselves away if Fish is still here. There’s no way we can spot his truck in this fog.”

  I shut up as we snaked our way across the parking lot and into the woods.

  A low wattage light burned over the cabin door and inside a soft light cast a glow on the shaded window like Tinkerbell searching for the lost boys. Painted on the peeling door was the faded number three. Aware that Fish might be within, and unable to see whether his truck was parked nearby, we crept up to the door.

  “I left my damn rifle in the car.” Roy had lowered his voice to a whisper. “You got that nine millimeter with you?”

  “I do.”

  He slapped me on the back. “Atta boy. So, either you go in first, or give me the gun.”

  I pulled the gun from my pocket, shouldered my way past him, and pointed at the lock. He reached over, inserted the key, and turned the knob.

  I’ve done this plenty of times in the past. It never gets easier, and I’m always scared shitless. Taking a deep breath, I tried not to think about the consequences as I kicked open the door and dove into the room. I executed a quick shoulder roll and came to rest flat on my stomach, in the middle of the single room. Watching and listening, I lay there for the count of ten. A small nightlight, plugged in near the floor next to the bed, cast a weak beacon across the battered wood floor. I could make out the bulk features of the room. The bed, a small sofa, a table.

  Something stirred on the mattress. I snapped up to one knee, pistol extended in front of me, and looked into Cathy’s terrified eyes. I wanted to go to her. Instead, I got up into a crouch, gun in front of me, and edged across the room to the only other door. It stood ajar, and when I came closer, it revealed an empty bathroom.

  “It’s clear,” I called out as I ran to the bed. Cathy’s mouth was covered and she was bound hand and foot
with duct tape. Gazing down at her I could read the relief in her eyes. Reaching out, I fingered the edge of the tape covering her lips. Someone snapped on the overhead light at the very moment that I stripped it from her lips, and I cringed at the look of pain that crossed her face as she screamed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “There’s just no gentle way of doing that.” Reaching out I touched her cheek, and as her sobs shook her body I sat on the bed and held her while she cried.

  “He said he’d be back for me. I could tell he didn’t mean it in a nice way.”

  As I comforted her, Roy went to work on the tape holding her. Cathy cried out several times when he pulled the tape loose, and once he had finished she tucked her face into my neck and wrapped her arms around me. Along with the warmth of her tears against my cheek, I could feel her body tense.

  I gently disengaged. “We’ve got to get out of here,” I said. “There’s no telling when Fish might come back.”

  She jumped from the bed as if I’d stung her with a cattle prod and stumbled across the room, tripping and almost falling with each step. Jessica crossed over to her. “It’s cold out there,” she said. Removing her coat she handed it to Cathy and added, “You’re going to need this.”

  “What about you?” Cathy asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” Jessica said. “I’ve got a sweater out in the car. Come on now, put it on.”

  As she took the jacket from Jessica, Cathy lowered her head. I walked over and touched her arm and she flinched.

  “We’d better get going,” Roy said. He led the way out of the cabin and back through the fog to the car.

  Roy took his truck and Jessica drove the car back to the marina. I sat in the front seat and kept glancing back at Cathy. She made a pointed effort to ignore me. When we arrived back at the marina she began to whimper. “I can’t go back there,” she said. “That’s where he found me. I was walking to my boat when he jumped out and grabbed me.”

  “You can come home with me,” Jessica said.

  Cathy considered the invitation for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll need some things from the boat.”

  “I’ll walk you down,” I said.

  “I can help,” Jessica said. She stepped forward but Roy reached out and took hold of her elbow.

  “We’ll wait here for you,” he said. “Jessica, why don’t you wait in the car?”

  “But….”

  “Please,” Cathy said. “I’d like a few minutes alone with Wes, if you don’t mind.”

  “We’ll be here,” Roy said.

  I took Cathy’s arm and led her toward the dock. The closer we got to her boat the more drag she exerted on my hand until she stopped dead in front of her boat.

  “He was waiting for me inside the door,” she said. “I’d just run down to the marina store for a few things.”

  “You wait here,” I said. “I’ll check it out.”

  “No!” She gripped my hand hard enough to cause me pain and I looked down at her, waiting for her to tell me what she wanted me to do. “I don’t want to be left alone,” she said. “I’ll come in with you.”

  I went in first, while Cathy stood at the door. When I gave the all clear she rushed past me to the bedroom. I sat down on the sofa and waited, listening to Cathy’s activities at the other end of the houseboat. I wasn’t too worried about Fish returning. I knew Roy would be watching from the parking lot.

  Cathy dragged a suitcase and a backpack from the back of the boat and left them lying next to the sofa while she went to the galley and opened the refrigerator. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, as she pulled out a beer for herself.

  “A Pepsi, if you have one.”

  “Just diet,” she said. I nodded and she took out a can, popped the top and carried it and the beer over to the sofa and sat down next to me.

  I leaned toward Cathy. “What now?”

  “Know of anybody who might want to buy a houseboat?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I studied her face and waited for a response.

  She took a sip of her beer and looked away from me. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe here again. Even when this is all over, I’ll be looking over my shoulder every time I walk out to the boat, waiting, never knowing who might be out there watching me.”

  “So what’ll you do?”

  “I don’t know.” She took a final slug of the beer, set the bottle on the floor, and eased up from the sofa. “For now, I’m going to take your cousin up on her invitation. We’ll have to see what tomorrow brings. Come on, let’s go.”

  I stood, set my Pepsi can on the table and reached around her for her bags. “I’m going to have a little talk with Fish Conners,” I said. “When I’m done with him I don’t think he’ll bother anyone again.”

  She gave me a look I’d never seen in a woman before. “I hope you cut his balls off and make him eat them,” she said. “Then kill the bastard.”

  She took a final look around the room and noticed her cell phone on the counter. She grabbed it and flipped it open. “Give me just a minute while I check this message.”

  She was close enough that I could hear a man’s voice echo from the phone.

  “Hey, cutie,” he said. “I finally managed to get away. I’m looking forward to seeing you and holding you, it’s been way too long. I’ve got my cell phone on and I’ll be driving straight through, so if you get this message you can call me anytime during the night. I should be down there by noon tomorrow. Love ya.”

  I watched Cathy’s shoulders slump as she listened. She closed the phone, tucked it into her back pocket, and wrapped her arms across her chest. Her body language seemed to say, “Damn,” but when she looked up her eyes were lit, her lips pursed into a diminutive smile. I knew right then that she was going to take her ex back. As I led the way down the dock I wondered how long it would take her to realize she was making a mistake.

  The fog had spread from the low-lying edges of the bay to wrap the marina in its nebulous grip. We would have walked right on by the car if Roy hadn’t called, “Over here, Wes.”

  Cathy let out a little gasp at the sound of his voice and clutched at my hand.

  “It’s all right,” I said. We changed direction and walked up to the car. I tossed Cathy’s bags into the open trunk and slammed it closed. As Roy helped Cathy into the back seat, Jessica took her hand for support.

  Roy and I drifted toward the driver’s door and he handed me the truck keys. “We’ll all go in the car.”

  “The fog’s getting pretty thick,” I said. “Maybe you should wait on my boat for it to clear.”

  “It’ll clear up once we get away from the river,” he said. “We’ll be fine, but what about you?”

  “I need some sleep,” I said. “Then we can figure out our next move. Let’s talk later this morning.”

  “They’re planning to sell the manuscript sometime today or tomorrow,” he reminded me.

  “I know. But I can’t function right now.”

  He shrugged. “Your call. I’m at the point where I almost don’t give a damn about the manuscript.”

  “Me too,” I said under my breath as he got into the car and started it. As they drove away I realized that the whole thing was becoming very personal.

  Reaching inside my pocket I took great comfort from the cold touch of the pistol. There would be no more endangering my cousin, or Roy, or Cathy. I might be tired, but it was time to deal with Fish and Rusty. And I was going to do it by myself, and in my own way.

  Chapter 21

  It began to rain, the temperature was climbing, and I knew that the warmer air, combined with the misty drizzle, would soon eat away the fog. My footsteps rang out on the dock like little muffled thunderclaps in the thick air, and after a moment I became aware of a faint secondary echo that didn’t quite match the beat of my walk.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I stopped. Slipping my right hand into my pocket, I closed it around the grip of the automatic.

&
nbsp; Spinning on my toes I crept back in the direction I’d come from. I just managed to stop short of drawing the pistol as Cajun Bob appeared out of the fog. He wore a maroon jogging suit, and had a cigarette in one hand, and an oversized mug of coffee in the other. He was studying his feet as he walked and talking to himself, unaware that he was not alone.

  I let out a slow breath, eased my hand out of my pocket and said, “What are you doing up this early, Bob.”

  He jumped, swung his coffee mug in a defensive motion toward my face, and almost fell as he tried to step back away from me. “Jesus, Wes. You 'bout scared the shit right out of me.”

  I chuckled. “Sorry. I guess we were both taken by surprise.”

  “No shit.” He took a long swig of coffee, sucked some smoke into his lungs, and then flicked the butt into the river. “This place is like Grand Central Station this morning.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Rusty was here not ten minutes ago. Looking for you.”

  I slid my hand back around the grip of the gun, cocked my head away from Cajun Bob, and listened for any movement around us. Drawing comfort from the fact that the fog was beginning to disperse and it was unlikely that I would stumble into Rusty, I asked, “Is he still around?”

  “Nah. He walked up and down the dock for a few minutes, and when he couldn’t find you he came back up this way. Then he took off in his boat.”

  “In this soup?” I asked.

  Cajun Bob took another sip of coffee, and then dumped the dregs into the river, shaking the cup as if for emphasis. “I told him he should wait 'til the fog lifts. Said he has a good chart plotter and radar so he wasn’t worried. Besides, he was just going up the river a couple hundred yards and was going to drop an anchor and hang on the hook until daylight.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and backed away from him. With my hand resting on the gun in my pocket, I turned and walked down to my boat. The fact that Rusty was searching for me had me pissed off. I had put myself in the role of hunter and I didn’t like this reversal. Expecting Fish to materialize at any moment had me on edge. I pulled the gun from my pocket and walked with it held at my side.