by Rick Boyer
I turned again to see a long, pale shape sliding through the dark water toward my boat. As it grew closer, I could see the rhythmic stroking of the arms, and heard the raspy sputter of the swimmer's breath.
"Jim? Jim, is that you?" I called in a whisper. But he couldn't hear me because his head was underwater. So I'd just go below and get another mug for him. Or did he want a beer? Knowing Jim, it would be a be—
"Hiya, hunk," said a soft voice at the gunwale. Not Jim. I looked over the side at Janice as she flipped her head, sending spray from her long hair to get it out of her eyes. She was wearing a light-colored bathing suit. Was it one piece, or two?
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"Going for a swim; what's it look like? I was sitting out on deck—couldn't sleep—and I saw your cabin light go on. Permission to come aboard, Captain?"
"Well, I don't know. I think maybe—"
But her hands came up with another splash and grabbed the cockpit combing. Her grip slipped a bit, and she held one hand up and waved it.
"C'mon muscles, give a hand."
I took her hand and pulled her halfway up. She put one leg over the combing, and was perched for an instant, half over the boat, half over the pond, and I got a good look at her in the faint light. Uh-oh.
"Janice!"
"What? Oh, c'mon, Doc. Don't tell me you've never been skinny-dipping."
"Yeah, but not with strangers."
"So I'm a stranger, huh? Well I like that."
"You know what I mean. Look Janice, I don't like this. I mean, what if somebody came along and—"
"Oh bullshit," she said softly, and began to ease over the gunwale, heading for the cockpit. I released my grip on her arm, and she fell back into the pond with a loud splash.
"Thanks a lot!" she sputtered.
"Shhhhhhh! You'll wake everybody up," I said in a hoarse whisper.
"C'mon. It's four in the morning, who's gonna know?"
"Jim, for one. Mary, for another. There's two good ones for starters. I'm not taking you aboard, Janice; I'm afraid of what might happen
"Fraidy cat, fraidy cat," she teased in a soft, purring voice. "Doc is a fraidy cat—"
She treaded water, right off my transom. I could see her arms fanning out, and the pale, squiggly lines of her legs working to keep her head up.
"Gee, Doc, this makes me feel so young. Makes me feel like I'm back in high school or something. I jus—hey, what's that?"
"What's what? I don't hear anything."
There was silence, broken only by the sputter and quacking of the feeding mallards. Then a soft voice sang out:
"Chaaaarlie? Charlie, are you out there?"
My blood froze in my veins. Then I was half-standing, half-crouching in the wide, shallow cockpit, looking down the dock and past it to the dimly lighted dormitory building. A dark figure was padding across the grass . . . coming out onto the dock now. Oh Jesus . . .
"Charlie?" came the calling whisper again. I was wishing I were someplace else now. The Ross Ice Shelf would do nicely.
I heard Mary's cork-soled sandals on the wooden pier, thumping closer and closer.
Janice stopped treading water. "Oh shit—I heard her say to herself. Then she took in a deep breath, like those women in japan who dive for sponges, and went under. In the dim light, I could see, for a millisecond only, the sight I had so longed for all these years: her round, luscious, plump rump, wet and shiny, as it broke the pond surface. After her dive, I saw a faint luminescence, a long pale shape, sliding beneath the water toward the middle of the pond. I then turned to see Mary approaching the Hatton.
"Couldn't sleep either, I see. Is there any more coffee?"
"Sure. Almost a whole pot. You want a sandwich too?"
"No. I want a beer too, I guess. And do you have any aspirin aboard?"
We sat together on the cushions, sipping the hot, strong coffee. I lighted a cigar and, between puffs, kept glancing back over the stern. No doubt Janice had already surfaced for breath a few times and was now back behind Whimsea, out of sight, climbing back aboard. Close call.
"What was that splash a second ago? A fish jumping, or what?"
"A fish for sure. Place is lousy with fish."
"Why was it so loud? Must've been a big fish, huh?
"Very big. This pond holds some of the biggest fish around."
"Then why do they call it Eel Pond?"
"Eels are fish. Long, skinny fish."
"Are you nervous, Charlie?"
"Huh? 'Course not." I glanced around again. Boy, she was a quiet swimmer. I had heard no noise at all.
"Charlie, I know the reason we're not sleeping. We're thinking about Jackie up there. Is he in a jail cell?"
"No. Remember what Joe said? He's under the direct recognizance of an officer of the law. He's in Joe's safekeeping. They're up in Joe's apartment right this instant, sawing logs after a big home-cooked meal. I bet Joe cooked lasagna. Or maybe manicotti."
"I just hope Jackie's all right. Charlie? Do you think the judge will be satisfied with Jackie's statement? Or will he call a grand jury? And if he does, do you think they'll . . . puthiminjail?"
The last four words ran together fast, in a tiny voice that squeaked with fright. Mary clenched her teeth and made the strangled throat sounds of a bursting sob. I put my arms around her and held her tight while she cried.
But after about thirty seconds I let her go, my gaze looking skyward. Why had I let her go? What was . . .?
...no noise at all...
I jumped up, leaving Mary stunned on the seat cushions. I stood up and looked over the pond. All was still and dark. The water showed not a ripple in the night.
"Janice?" I called.
No answer. No noise at all.
"Charlie! You'll wake them up! What the—"
"Janice!" I shouted. "Janice!"
I kicked off my shoes and dove in, skimming the bottom, looking for her.
THIRTEEN
BRIGHT AND EARLY next morning I was down at Eel Pond aboard the catboat, going over NOAA Nautical Chart #13230, Buzzards Bay. I had the big chart spread out on the cabin top and weighted down against the breeze with smooth beach rocks. I was going out for a day cruise. I wanted be alone, away from Woods Hole and especially Swope Dormitory. It would be evening before we heard any word from Joe up in Boston, and Mary was on the warpath. I was irritable, uneasy, and in a bad temper generally. I don't like being blamed for things I haven't done. As it turned out, Janice DeGroot, the Midnight Mermaid, had been in no danger of drowning the previous night. She was fine, having swum back to the Whimsea a silently as a wraith after her surface dive into the dark pond. But I thought she was in trouble, and so jumped in after her. And so spilled the beans. And so got in Dutch with Mary, and so on.
And now Jim and Mary were furious with both of us, mainly because Jim discovered his wife's bathing suit was bone dry and made the logical inference. I even got a little lecture from Tony on sexual mores. Tony, mind you. The guy who toted around enough rubbers to supply the Brazilian navy. Is there no justice? Nope. Hard cheese, old chap.
And soon, my son Jack was going before a judge to make his statement. It was now eight-thirty. I'd be back by one or two at the latest.
"Where you going?" asked a voice behind me. I turned and looked up at Tony, who was standing on the dock watching me.
"Over to the Vineyard for an hour or so, then back. I just want to get away from here for a few hours."
"Yeah. Don't blame you."
"There really was nothing going on, you know."
"Yeah, I guess. But see, Dad, Mom caught you with Mrs. DeGroot before. Remember that time in the phone booth when we had that big party and—"
"Yeah yeah yeah yeah. I remember. Who could forget?"
"You left that time, too. You went all the way to North Carolina."
"Uh-huh. Well, events have a way of, uh, snowballing sometimes. All I'm going to do now is just slide over to Vineyard Haven for the morning u
ntil your Mom cools down a bit."
"Aren't you even going to say goodbye?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Who knows? I'll tell you, sport, I don't like being accused of things I haven't done. And I don't like Mom not believing me. And I don't like Janice getting me into trouble. I guess with this mess Jack's in it's just . . . it's just too, too much right now. Know what I mean?"
"Uh-huh. Can I come along?"
"Well, sure. But, hey! Don't you have to work?"
He jumped aboard and joined me on the cabin top.
"They just called me and said they were laying me off. The place was damaged in the storm and they're having to close part of the inn for repairs, so they don't need a full staff."
"Well," I sighed, "ordinari1y, that wouldn't be good news. But the way things have been shaping up here, it'll be good having the family as close as possible."
"That's what Mom said. Deep down, does she believe you?
Does she believe you weren't skinny-dipping with Janice?"
"Who knows. I hope she does. But let's face it, chum, it doesn't look good. I seem to have a knack for getting myself into messes like this one. I hope that neither you nor Jack have inherited this unseemly quirk."
"Naw, don't worry. We're not that stupid.”
I did my best to ignore this little barb, hunkering down over the chart and pretending to study crosscurrents, eddies, and tidal rips. But the little sucker stung, that was a fact.
"And I hate to admit it, but you're right, Tony. Mom's having trouble believing me because Mrs. DeGroot and I have been in this situation before. The phone booth episode, as you have correctly recalled. So you see, I've queered my reputation with her, and now I have to pay for it. You listening to this? Okay. There's a lesson to be learned here, son: don't get a bad reputation. In sex, in financial matters, in sportsmanship, business, or—hey! Where're you going?"
He had jumped back up onto the dock. Looking past him, towards the campus road, I saw a succulent young thing in faded cutoffs and a cotton sweater strolling along the pond walk. From behind, she looked wonderful. Tony called to her, and she turned. Even better. Her eyes lit up in a smile and they walked off together. Oh well, I thought, you can lead a horse to water . . .
"Be right back!" he yelled as they walked off together. I plotted a tentative course in my head and started the little diesel engine and let it warm up, staring down at the chart. I'd better be careful there around East Chop, I thought to myself, and before that, watch myself around Great Ledge.
"Going someplace? " said a husky voice above me that was cold as ice. Gee, who could that be?
I looked up to see Mary standing there with her hair pulled back, dark glasses on (those French mountain-climber jobs that cost seventy bucks), snug white canvas shorts, and a small white halter. The white clothes looked positively iridescent against her deep brown skin. Looking good. But not so hot in the personality department.
"So where the hell do you think you're going?" she repeated.
"Tony and I are going over to the Vineyard. I assume it's a stupid question to ask if you'd like to come along?"
"You're going over to the Vineyard with our son in custody on a murder charge? Swell, Charlie. just terrific."
I could tell by her tone that this promised to be an extended engagement. I wished Tony would come back so it would end.
"You really going over to the Vineyard? You were going without me, without even saying goodbye?" She hopped down into the cockpit.
"No, I guess I was going to say goodbye, directly or indirectly."
"Well you'd better be back by three. That's when Joe's calling."
I nodded. She propped up the sunglasses on her head and looked at me hard and level with those big obsidian eyes.
"Tell me, Charlie, and no screwing around. As God is your witness, did you touch Janice last night?"
"As God is my witness, and on my immortal soul—if, by remote chance, such a thing exists—I swear I did not touch her."
She leaned forward and planted a wet one on me. Felt great. "And how about any other time? Did you tou—"
"Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! You only get one question."
"Bullshit; I get all the questions I want."
"If you tell me about the Old Days, I'll tell you everything. Deal?"
She pondered this awhile, and shook her head sadly. "No, Charlie. I mean, it's very personal, and happened a long time ago. It's true Mexico was involved. And those gold trains and cattle drives. The men coming down from the mountains, riding those stallions, their spurs jingling. Saddle lean, rock hard, and dark. And very, very horny . . ."
"Mary!"
She gave her shoulders a big shrug. "Hey, sorry. What can I say?"
She went back up onto the dock and began walking back. She walked with a soft, swinging glide. Saddle lean . . . rock hard . . .dark . . . and very, very—
"Where are you going?" I shouted after her.
"Well," she said without turning around, "I was thinking of Mexico. But I guess I'll stay here until you two get back." She walked to the end of the dock, then turned and faced me.
"Remember: three o'clock."
A few minutes later, Tony returned and said he was ready to depart. We cast off, and within minutes, we'd cleared the tiny drawbridge and were out in the passage again. Then we left Juniper Point behind and were heading out to West Chop, the island of Martha's Vineyard a big, purplish mound on the horizon.
"How do you think Mom's doing?" I asked the young, bronzed helmsman as he took the Hatton into a slight heel, the spray breaking over the gunwale on the leeward side. "Your mother, otherwise known as Tampico Belle?"
"Huh? Tampico Belle?"
"Just a joke," I said, adjusting the jib sheet. "I think."
* * *
Despite the good southwest wind, it took us over an hour to get to Vineyard Haven. We were bucking the tail end of an ebb tide running against the wind off West Chop and the water was "lumpy," as they say. So we scooted around between the dual lighthouses at West Chop and East Chop, lighting all that fast water, then going into the inner harbor and looking for a roost behind the breakwater. There was none; the place was filled. So we tacked back out past the breakwater and anchored in the wide outer harbor, where the wash from ferryboats and big yachts kept us gently pitching.
Tony said he was hungry and asked me if I'd ever been to the Black Dog Tavern. I said no, observing that it sounded like something out of Treasure Island. We decided to go there for lunch, motoring over to the beach just north of the steamer wharf. We hit the sand running, centerboard up, and jumped out, hauling Hatton's bow up onto the beach as far as we could. As we landed, I had a vision of myself as a high school kid up in Frankfort, Michigan, sailing with luscious Patty Froelich over to the far end of Crystal Lake and beaching the sailboat on a deserted stretch of sand near the town of Beulah. There was nobody there but us. The sand was hot in the sun, but cool underneath the pines and sumac bushes. We gave each other back rubs, then she took down the top of her one-piece, black jantzen suit—the kind with the flap of cloth called the modesty panel in front, so her good, Catholic crotch couldn't be seen—so I could rub her better. Which I did. Then we were both naked. I remembered how white her skin looked where her tan stopped. And how cold her skin was where the wet suit had been. I got on top of her and kissed her . . . Seventeen years old . . .
"What's going on?" asked Tony as we walked up the bluff to town. "Why are you grinning like that?"
"Oh . . . nothing. I was just thinking about something that happened a long time ago, when I was around your age."
"Yeah? Must've been a long time ago.”
Shut up, kid, I thought as we padded up the beach toward town.
* * *
Tony and I had a fun time on the island. We rented bicycles and rode the slow, tree-lined curves of the quiet place. It sure was a refreshing change from the clogged highways of the Cape, which are nearly bumper-to-bumper all summer long. I wore a happy face, but inside I wa
s anxious. I had a bad feeling about what was happening up in Boston at the courthouse. I regretted we hadn't gone up there with them, but Joe had been adamant in saying that it was a private affair, and we weren't allowed into the chambers no matter what. It was just a sworn deposition in front of a judge and stenographer. I would feel better after his phone call. A little after one we returned to the boat, hoisted sail, and started back.
Mary must have been watching Eel Pond because she was at the dock to meet us as soon as we tied up.
"I wanted to say I'm sorry, Charlie, for getting mad at you. I guess this thing with Jackie has me on edge. I had a long talk with Janice after you left. She swore on a stack of Bibles that nothing happened."
"'Course not. I told you the truth."
"I know you did. I remembered something. You wrote me a note last night and left it near the bathroom sink. That's how I knew where to find you."
"Uh-huh."
"Well, I figure if you had planned that meeting with Janice, you wouldn't have left me a note telling me the meeting place, would you?"
"I wouldn't think so, Mare. That sounds even dumber than usual."
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."
"This mean I can come back into your room now?"
"Yes. And I- hey! I forgot. Look what I found in our room when I came back before lunch time—"
She took a manila envelope out of her handbag and handed it to me. I opened it and out slid my badge and wallet. I looked at them in disbelief. The badge had been mutilated, struck repeatedly with, it appeared, a ball-peen hammer. The state seal and the lettering, which were done in enamel, were all chipped and cracked. The badge had been ruined, deliberately. And the leather folder had been burned. I turned it around and around in my hands. Somebody had soaked the leather in a flammable substance, maybe lighter fluid, and then set it ablaze.
"You didn't tell me you'd lost it," said Mary. "And what do you suppose happened to it?"
"What happened? Lionel Hartzell was angry with me and he mutilated it, that's what. Oh boy, wait till Joe sees this. And Keegan, too. If this doesn't incriminate him, I don't know what will. You found it in our room?"
"Uh-huh. After I saw you off I went for a drive, then returned to the dorm just before lunch time to shower. It was right there on the carpet inside the door."
