Edith slips down the hall; returns in seconds. “It’s silk,” she says draping it across his shoulders.
Leroy grabs it and dashes outside to the barn and bed. “Night, Miz Edith,” he says, hollering as the screen door slams behind him.
* * * *
The next morning, storm clouds gather, but the water is calm.
“Gonna be a great day to drop a line or two,” Leroy says, heading out to the dock. Experienced in the creeks and channels near the campsite, ocean fishing is new. He’s excited to figure out what lures and bait will work best, and what he might catch.
Maybe Miz Edith will take me to the main pier. I’d love to hang around the fishermen there and see what they’re catching.
Leroy fills an old pail with sea water, then wades knee high to troll for small fish. Scoop and dump. Scoop and dump.
Once he’s got a pail of bait, he carefully hooks one of the live little fish on the end, plants himself on the dock, casts his line, and waits.
Ma. He giggles, trying out the name. Mother. He wrinkles his nose. None of them sound right for Miz Edith. Mo-Mo. Another giggle. Moo-moo. He laughs. His feet dangle into the water, the sun is overhead, his dark hair lifts and his forehead cools. Altogether a perfect day. Or would be if he could just get a nibble.
A tug on his line. Excitement. Let it out. Slowly reel it in so it doesn’t break free. He tries lifting it but the bend in his rod is too much. Face down on the dock, he lifts the line, hand over hand. “Whoa, you’re heavy.” Finally, he has the sea creature out of the water. “You’re huge. Gotta be four pounds easy.” When he holds the fish up, his arm tenses in the challenge of hanging on while the creature fights and twists to free itself from the hook.
“Whoo-eee.” He crows with excitement. Its silver scales glisten, the fin along its muscled back is split, and at the edge of the tail fin is a black dot.
“I wonder if I can catch another one.”
The vibration of boots on the dock causes Leroy to turn. He’s still grinning at the joy of catching such a mighty fish.
“Whatcha got there kid?” says Otis, Zeke two steps behind.
The grin fades. He shrugs and drops the fish in the bucket.
Otis peers in. “He’s got a little redfish, Zeke.” Otis reaches down and hooks the fish’s gills with his fingers, lifting it out of the bucket again. “A nice one, too.”
“Hey, put that back. It’s mine.”
“Make a fine fish fry. Whadda ya say, Zeke. Feel like fish for supper?”
Leroy leaps, trying to grab his fish. Otis laughs, and kicks over the bait bucket. “These are too small for eating. Runts like you.”
Leroy looks at the small fish flopping in the spilled water and leaps again at Otis, trying to get his fish.
“Seems like he’s mighty fond of this fish,” Otis taunts, holding it high and just out of reach, waving it. “Maybe he wants to kiss it. Whadda ya say, kid. Wanna kiss the fish?”
Zeke grabs his arms, and Otis shoves the fish at Leroy’s face. “Kiss the fish, kid. You love it so much.” The two men laugh.
Leroy yells, twisting his head. His feet slip and slide on the wet dock, stepping on the small bait fish. He keeps his mouth shut tight.
The bullies laugh and jeer.
“What the heck is going on here? I can hear you all the way inside.” Edith is at the end of the dock, her shotgun in her hands. She glares at the two men.
“He took my fish and won’t give it back,” Leroy says, shaking off Zeke’s grip. His face is flushed and there are tear tracks on his cheeks. His chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath.
“That’s enough. Put Leroy’s fish back in the bucket, right now.”
Zeke and Otis look at each other. Otis glares back at Edith and opens his hand. The fish drops to the dock.
The redfish flops around and Leroy lunges for it, putting it in the bucket.
“That’s it. You’re both fired,” Edith says grim faced, aware of Leroy sniffling, but she doesn’t take her eyes off Otis.
He brushes past her, knocking her aside with his shoulder. “We was going to quit anyhow, you stupid bitch. Come on, Zeke. We’re outta here.”
Zeke, head low, follows Otis up the path.
Edith keeps her eyes on them until they clear the side of the building before turning to Leroy.
“You okay?”
Leroy wipes his nose on his arm and nods.
“The fish okay?” Edith asks.
There’s a small smile and he nods. “These small ones are squished but the big one is okay.”
“Good. Cause the potato salad is in the fridge and I’m counting on you for the rest of dinner.”
Leroy gives another shaky grin and grabs his rod, which had fallen onto the dock. “I’ll see if I can catch another.”
* * * *
Later that night, the storm breaks and rain lashes against Gator Joe’s. Edith is in the kitchen listening to the radio when there’s a tap at the back door.
“Miz Edith, you got a sec?” Zeke asks. Water streams off his hat and his shoulders are drenched.
“I thought I told you and that no-good brother of yours to clear out.”
Zeke, still on the other side of the screen, nods. “I just wanted to apologize. Otis gets outta hand sometimes.”
“I don’t care. There’s no excuse. Leroy’s just a little boy.”
“Please, Miz Edith. Just a minute and then you won’t ever see me again.”
Edith looks at the rain and then nods. “Fine. Come in.”
Zeke pulls out a chair and sits. Rainwater puddles around him on the floor.
“Miz Edith, Otis and I been talking. We’re going to head ‘round the coast to Tampa. We got an uncle there that wants to do a bit of rum running and needs our help.”
“Terrific. Glad for you. Are you done?” she says, frowning.
“I was wondering if you’d be interested in the Rex? You’ll need a boat and I’d give it to you cheap.”
“What would I want with a boat?” I could go out to Rum Row on my own.
“You live next to the ocean. You need a boat.” Zeke looks at her. “Most dames don’t drive boats. I guess you’re not interested.” He stands and Edith stands.
“How much?” A price is negotiated.
“Deal,” says Zeke and Edith goes into her hidden stash and hands over the money.
“You can pick her up at the main pier in Coconut Grove in the morning.” He turns to leave.
“Zeke? You did a good job on the roof. Good luck in Tampa.”
Edith turns off the lights and checks the lock on the door. I guess I’m going to have to find somebody who knows about rum running and can help out around here. Someone who’s not lazy. Somebody that I can trust. How hard can it be to find someone like that?
From the doorway to her bedroom, the light in the hallway outlines a dark shape on her pillow. Another dead rat.
Shaking, Edith backs out of the bedroom into the hallway. The sight of the grisly rat lying on her pillow makes her gag. They were here, inside Gator’s.
She forces herself back in, strips the pillowcase, and holds the pillow to her face, sniffing it for rat. With a shudder, she tosses the pillow into the hallway. I’ll be burning that tomorrow.
* * * *
As dawn breaks, two shadows lurk along the dock, between the boats bobbing at the main pier.
“Shh.”
“Shh yerself. There’s no one around.”
Boarding the Rex, Otis goes to the diesel tank.
“You said you wanted to get your stuff, Otis. What are you doing?”
“Just a little payback. I’m fed up with her, her snot-nosed kid, with Buford and all the rest of them Rats, with the Boss, with this dump of a town. I left her a little parting gift while you were talking to her in the kitchen,” Otis says, syphoning most of the diesel out of Rex’s motor.
“Hey, that’s just being a jerk, Otis. She’s paid us more than a fair price for the Rex.”
Otis sh
akes off Zeke’s hand on his arm. “I never liked her attitude, brother. It’s not natural, a woman running a blind tiger like she is.” He screws the cap back on. “Come on, Zeke. Tampa awaits.”
Chapter 35
“W hy are you burning your pillow, Miz Edith?” Leroy asks.
“It had a funny smell. Must have been the damp. We’ll get a new one later. And maybe a few other things. We’re going to start sprucing this place up. I’m tired of feeling like a squatter.”
”You think this is squatting? You should see Cassie’s camp in the ‘Glades. At least you got electricity and a radio.”
“I take your point. Say, I have a surprise for you. Guess what? I bought a boat. It looks like you’re going to have a chance to do a bit of deep-sea fishing, Leroy.”
Leroy jumps up and cheers. “What boat? When are we going fishing? Can I drive the boat?”
“Slow down. I bought Zeke and Otis’ trawler.”
“The Rex? That’s a big boat. Who you going to get to drive it?”
“I will, of course. How hard can it be?”
“I think it might be harder than it looks, Miz Edith.”
Edith laughs. “True enough. I’m going to ask Harley to teach me. And he goes out to Rum Row all the time. I’m sure I can get him to help me out in the short term, until I find someone else. See, we won’t even miss those two jerks.”
“I never said nothing about missing them. Good riddance. Them two was so dumb, if they had a brain between ‘em it’d be lonely.”
Edith chuckles and turns back to her bonfire. “I’ve got a couple of errands to do today and I’m expecting Harley Andrews to drop by sometime this afternoon.”
As she burns the pillow, her temper heats up. All the crazy stuff going on. Is this how Mickey would play it? Cowering and being afraid? Not bloody likely. Courage is as much a decision as anything else and I’ve got to get a handle on this. If I don’t feel safe, then fix it.
With her newfound resolve, Edith slips in and out of town quickly. Now, sitting on the kitchen counter are two large deadbolt locks, the best money can buy. You don’t spend the best years of your life with a powerful gangster and not learn a trick or two. Tucked into her purse is also a small handgun she bought—and she knows how to use it.
She’d chosen the Colt 1903 because of its size. It has a four-inch barrel, and the position of the hammer is covered—hidden from view under the slide. She’ll be able to carry it in her purse or pocket and still draw it smoothly, without snagging. And a .32 still packs a wallop. Mickey would be proud.
Edith has some time before Harley is due, so she grabs the screwdriver and starts work on installing the stronger locks. Leroy passes tools and chatters about the nonsense that entertains ten-year-old boys—opossums, fishing, baseball, his favorite radio shows, as they work on the kitchen door.
Growing bored, Leroy heads outside while Edith installs the twin on the front door. Through the screen, Edith sees him mucking about down near the water. Suddenly, she’s picturing Buford holding him, then his little boy’s body lying still on the floor. Her hand shakes so badly she drops the screwdriver.
Never again. She clenches the screws between her lips. I’ve got the handgun in my purse, and there’s a reason I bought a shot gun and keep it loaded beside my bed .
Edith finishes the work and checks her work by shaking a locked door. That should do it.
With her tools away, she surveys the barroom. At night the place is full of patrons, full of energy, full of possibilities. It’s the way Edith likes to think of herself and her world. In daytime, it’s a vacant room; a bit lost, a little sad. I’d better not be as pitiful as this room looks right now. The empty shelves behind the bar cry out for stock. She squares her shoulders. It’s up to me to get a handle on this as well. More liquor means heading out to Rum Row.
A knock on the edge of the doorframe interrupts her brooding.
“Hello, Miz Edith. You was looking for me?” Harley Andrews is on the other side of the screen door, cap in hand.
“Harley, come in. Can I get you anything? A beer? A soda pop?”
“Coffee would be fine if you got some made.”
Edith brings two cups of coffee to a table by the bar.
“Zeke and Otis have left. Headed to Tampa to work with family there. I was wondering if you could make a trip out to Rum Row for me? Gator’s is running low on inventory, and I need to restock. I especially need to bring in some rum for one of my favorite customers.”
Harley rubs the back of his head. “Ha. Being able to get a rum around here would be good. And golly Miz Edith, I would sure enough do that for you. No trouble at all, except that my boat isn’t running right now. I haven’t been out myself the past day or two. I’ve got parts on order, but it could be a couple more days. When do you need me to go?”
Edith points to the empty shelves. “Yesterday.”
“I’m sorry about this, Miz Edith, truly I am.”
“Don’t you worry, Harley. I’ll figure out something else.”
“Want me to ask around to see if somebody else can go?”
Edith tilts her head to one side. “You know, Harley. I bought the Rex. You could take her out to Rum Row.”
Harley blows out a lungful of air and scratches the back of his head. “You put me in a difficult spot, Miz Edith. I know the Rex, and I’m going to have to take a pass. I don’t want to be caught with illegal cargo in anything but my own boat. I trust her, you know. I’m not so sure I can trust the Rex. She’s got some miles on her. I’m not even sure she’d make it Rum Row, let alone handle being chased by Coast Guard or pirates. I’ll do a run for you any time after I get those repairs done.”
“I understand, Harley. And not to worry. I am in a bit of a jam, though. Could you bring back the Rex for me? It’s over at the main pier. And maybe give me a lesson or two on how to drive it?”
“Sure thing, Miz Edith. I can do that. How about we go now? You come with me and we’ll do some practicing on the way back.”
* * * *
Edith strides into the barroom, grinning from ear to ear. “Leroy, I brought the Rex back. All by myself. Okay, Harley helped me, but it was really easy. Not like driving the truck, but not as hard as I thought.”
“That’s great. Can we go fishing now?”
“I’ve got an even better idea. How’d you like to take the Rex out to Rum Row? We need to go during the day, because I can’t shut the bar at night.”
Leroy gulps. “You and me going out to Rum Row?”
“Sure. Do you think we could do it ourselves?”
“Well, it’s a long way and I don’t know how to get there. Do you?”
“Harley told me about headings and how to use the dials on the Rex. And I mean, it’s a long line of schooners and other big ships. I’m sure we can find it. And maybe we can find the ship that the famous Cleo Lythgoe is on. I’d love to meet her. Reggie says she has the best stock. That’s the ship we want.”
“I don’t think heading out to Rum Row is such a good idea. Why not just call that fella in Miami? Like you did last time?”
“Because I want to do it myself. If I’m going to be successful at running a bar in Florida, I should know how to do it. I mean, how hard can it be?”
“Okay. I’ll come. You shouldn’t be out there by yourself. Especially the first time.”
“It’ll be fine, Leroy. The last thing we look like are rum runners. We’ll putter out. Nobody will suspect a thing. Bring your fishing gear. If the Coast Guard sees us, I’ll say we’re fishing.”
“Maybe we can actually stop and go fishing?”
“Maybe, once we get close to home. Not way out there where the Coast Guard patrols. I don’t want to get caught with a boat full of booze.”
Within the half hour, Edith babbles directions to Leroy of what to untie. She runs through the checklist of starting procedures, then goes over what they’re going to pick up on Rum Row, double and triple checking that she’s got the money with her. Sh
e’s a steam kettle on full boil, and whistling. The Rex rolls as Edith bounces from foot to foot, her hands clenched around the wheel.
“Easy there, Miz Edith. You’re jumping around like a duck on a June bug,” Leroy says as he finishes untying the lines from the dock. Fishing gear clutched in his hand and a jar of bait already on board, he climbs in.
The motor catches on the first try and Edith slowly eases the boat out away from the dock. With a big laugh that eases to a giggle, she gives Leroy a thumbs up.
Leroy grins. “Whoopee,” he says, his head thrown back in laughter. “Look out fish, here we come.”
What Harley hadn’t got around to mentioning was how different open seas were from slowly cruising back along the coast from the main pier. It’s a lot emptier. The waves are bigger. And there’s nothing, no landmarks, no coastline to guide you. Nothing but an unmarked expanse of water.
Edith and Leroy wrestle to keep control of Rex as waves buffet it, tossing it around like a cork.
“I think we should go faster, Miz Edith.”
“I think we need to slow down.”
“Don’t stall the boat.”
“I won’t,” Edith says as the boat coughs and slows.
“More throttle, Miz Edith.”
Edith grits her teeth and pushes the throttle. The Rex dies. She tries to restart it. Nothing.
“Maybe we’re outta gas, Miz Edith.”
“What?” Edith’s heart starts to pound. She looks at the gage and feels sick. Empty. Harley had said she’d need to pick up some diesel.
Edith looks around. “Help me find where the gas tank might be.” Her voice is sharp and Leroy keeps a wary eye on her while he looks.
Lifting the hatch, she sees what is probably the tank for the diesel. She sniffs. Nothing. She knocks the top of the tank. It echoes.
“We’re out of gas.”
Edith stands at the stern looking out over the water. No one knows they’re out here.
“Do we have a radio?” Leroy asks, his eyes wide and alarmed. “We could call for help.”
“No, we don’t have a radio,” Edith snaps back, hands clenched. “Why didn’t you check the gas? Do I have to do everything myself?”
Gathering Storm Page 19
