Thorn had another sip of his beer.
Judy Nelson was deaf in one ear now. Hearing the chime of a shovel against her skull every minute of every hour. And Philip Albright passed on the week before Christmas. Thorn felt guilty admitting it, but Doris Albright had looked beautiful in black. The blond hair, the pale skin, those legs. Maybe if Sugarman wasn't going to take her dancing, Thorn would have to.
Sugar said, "There's an eight-foot hammerhead cruising around down there. A leopard ray. And a school of yellowtail you wouldn't believe."
"I'm happy right where I am, Sugar. Right here. Getting a little sun. A nice buzz."
"It's because of Darcy, isn't it?"
Rochelle looked up. Thorn tore loose the paper label on the damp beer bottle. He rolled it into a ball, dropped it into the garbage bin.
Sugar said, "You don't want to go underwater again because it's spooking you, isn't it? You can't do it 'cause you think about her. About not getting to her in time. That whole thing comes back and it's making you give up one of the things you've always loved."
"Jesus Christ."
"It's true," Sugarman said. "You know it's true. I asked my counselor about it. Guy I'm seeing about my Jeanne-Doris situation."
"You asked your shrink about me?"
"That's right, Thorn."
"He gonna bill me?"
"What he said made a lot of sense. You're punishing yourself. Not doing the thing you like the best. Like masochism. Marquis de Sade and all that."
"Marquis de Sade?"
"Masochism, sadism," Sugarman said. "Two sides of the same coin. But I don't know. I may not have that part a hundred percent right."
Rochelle was smiling to herself. Wearing a black one-piece. Very conservative. Trying to cover some of that body, though it wasn't completely working. A towel draped over her shoulders as she carved skillfully with the fillet knife. She had freckles on her back. Not as many as Darcy.
"Hurting myself to feel good. Like that?"
"Yeah. That's it. Like I am with Jeanne. Going back for more, over and over, even though it's all fucked up. Dog crawling back to the master that beats it. Same thing as that."
"We got the same problem? You and me?"
"That's right."
"Then you go snorkel, Sugar. And I'll sit here and drink beer. See which way cures the problem first. A little controlled experiment."
Sugar took his mask off, spit on the glass, rubbed it around and put the mask back on, pushed it up on his forehead again.
"What do you think, Rochelle?"
She jerked her head up, looked at Sugarman.
"You want to know what I think?"
"Yeah. You're a smart woman."
"Oh, smart," she said. "Yeah, I'm smart all right."
"I meant it as a compliment," Sugar said.
"Problem is, Sugar, smart doesn't count for much with things like this. Matters of the heart. Hell, I think being smart might just be a major drawback in most undertakings. There's so much racket going on in your brain all the time, it's hard to hear what your heart is whispering."
"Well, I sure as hell don't have that problem," Sugar said. "I've never been burdened by extra IQ."
" 'A temporary stay against confusion,' " said Thorn.
"What?"
"It's a line from a poem." Thorn shifted the deck chair so he was out of the sun. "I don't remember what the poem's about, but I like the phrase."
"You like the phrase," Sugar said. "He likes the phrase."
"A temporary stay against confusion," Thorn said. "That's the most we can hope for. To pretend that the temporary is going to last a while. 'Cause we know damn well it's still going to be temporary, no matter what we do to make it last."
"You understand what he's talking about?" Sugarman said to Rochelle.
"Yes," she said. "God help me, I think I do."
Thorn smiled, looked up at Rochelle, and she held on to his gaze, not smiling, not frowning either.
"I been thinking," Sugarman said, looking across the reef at the lighthouse. "Maybe I should get out of the detective business. Find a less messy kind of work. What's your view?"
"Give up Quidnunc Enterprises?"
"Maybe go back with the sheriff's department. Get the old job back. It'd make Jeanne happy."
"How about Doris, what's she think?"
"She doesn't care. She's happy if I'm happy."
"A sensible position."
"So take a stand, Thorn. I'd like to know where you come down on this particular issue. Think I should quit?"
Thorn considered it for a second.
"I never saw you happier than sitting in that office, eavesdropping on the beauty parlor."
Sugarman put his mask back in place. Turned around and faced the water.
Thorn stood up, stretched. Sugarman had his snorkel in his mouth, finding the right bite on it.
"Christ, Sugar, you're giving up Quidnunc just as I was about to volunteer to be your Sancho Panza from here on."
Sugar spit out the snorkel, turned his head to stare at Thorn.
"My what?"
"Your partner."
"Don't shit me, Thorn. You? A job?"
He smiled at Sugarman.
"Well, yeah. When you put it that way, it doesn't sound real appealing."
"I don't need a partner, anyway. Christ, it's all I can do to make ends meet now."
"And by the way," said Thorn. "In case you're interested, I cast my vote for Doris."
Rochelle made a noise in her throat. A warning uh-oh.
"Yeah, I know. You didn't need to tell me. But it's more complicated for me. I mean, hell, even though I'm unhappy with Jeanne, and it never has been that great, I still love the woman for some reason. It's just not a simple thing."
"Love hardly ever is."
Rochelle kept her eyes on the hunk of grouper she was cutting free. Sugarman reset his face mask.
"So," Thorn said. "How big was that hammerhead?"
"Big," he said. "Damn big."
"Well, hell. Let's go on down there, see if the thing wants to wrestle."
"Now you're talking, Thorn. Now you're saying the words."
He watched Sugar splash feetfirst into the water. In a moment Sugar resurfaced and peered down at the coral and the fish. Then he took a breath and dove.
Thorn sat on the rear gunwale and pulled on his flippers and cleaned his mask. Then he swiveled around and looked out at the other boats bobbing above the reef. A couple of teenagers in white T-shirts were sitting side by side on the stern of one of the open fishermen. They were kissing, arms thrown around each other.
He looked back at Rochelle. She was watching the kids too.
"You coming?"
"In a minute," she said. "When I'm finished with this."
"Whenever you're ready. Whenever."
The breeze was warm and seemed drenched with cloves and nutmeg and the sweet, dizzy eucalyptus of distant lands. Visibility was almost unlimited. He looked again at the teenagers, lost in their embrace, melting into each other. This morning was going to last forever. That kiss. Nothing bad was ever going to happen to those two. Nothing. Ever.
Mean High Tide (Thorn Series Book 3) Page 34
