She ignored the instruction for silence. “Tom, thank God. Wyatt’s gone. Come get me out of here before this scow goes under.”
“You’re alone? Where’s Wyatt? Are you all right?”
She rolled her eyes. “I am alone. Wyatt went to town to buy Chinese food and bump off a Mafia assassin. I am not all right, however. I am about to frigging drown, so please, a little assistance if you do not mind.”
He restarted the motor, ran the fishing boat the fifty yards to the houseboat, and secured it where a ladder for getting to and from a skiff was hanging on the side.
The houseboat, once he was on its deck, was smaller than he’d thought. The door in the bulkhead was small too. It looked like you could get stuck right there, forget a porthole. He peered in the main cabin as Beth yelled, “Hurry, Tom!”
The ceiling was frighteningly low, but the room was at least twelve by thirteen feet. He could handle a room that size. The problem was she was further to the front, in one of two tiny sleeping cabins, accessed through an even smaller door. As he approached, he saw that the space the bottom half of her was in was impossibly, dangerously small. She couldn’t have gotten stuck out on the open deck now, could she, he mused bitterly.
“Tom!”
“I’m here. Look, I think I should pull you through from the outside, cool?”
“Not cool. I’m looking at the bloody outside, and there’s no way you can pull me through, nowhere for you to stand or brace yourself. Get in this cabin.”
“You’re sure you can’t sort of wriggle through?”
“Oh gosh, why didn’t I think of that? Oh, I know, I thought it’d be fun to hang here for an hour. Get your pathetic, claustrophobic butt in there.”
She could be bitchy if pressed hard enough. He took a deep breath, forced himself into the trap of a cabin, and grasped the bottom half of her. “I’ve got you, Beth.”
“None too soon, I can almost lick up lake water. Push me through. Not too fast. Watch the left ankle. I screwed it up bad.”
He followed all those instructions as best he could, but he had to put one hand to her crotch to move her. If she felt violated, she held her tongue. He put full force into a mighty push. She screamed and popped out the porthole. He looked out and saw her in the water, clutching a gallon jug. Yes indeed, truly a strange girl. He raced to the deck, prepared to dive in after her, but she waved him off. “I think I can get up the ladder.”
With the houseboat tilting down to her side, it was possible, although painful, for her to hop up a step at a time. They rested on the deck, he feeling triumphant, but their time of glory was short-lived. The boat had begun to level out a bit. Tom suspected that was due to water he could hear running into the bilge. Maybe Wyatt had cracked the hull on a rock; maybe it was only seaworthy enough to sit in the marina with the bilge pump running on reliable U.P. Power Company current. Regardless, the deck being dead level would be of little comfort if the boat were sitting on the bottom of the lake.
He probed her foot and leg carefully. “I don’t think it’s broken.”
“No. It’s sprained. I’ve done it before.”
“We need to get you into that fishing boat. Can you do it?”
“And leave all this?” she said with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, sure.”
Once he had her safely in his boat, he said, “I’m going back on the houseboat to see if Wyatt left any information, anything about Tony that we can use.”
“I looked earlier. There’s nothing. I hear a motorboat. He must be coming back.”
“Good. I’m still going back on the houseboat. Row this thing around to the rear out of sight. He will board here because the other side is too high. Then I’ll nail him.”
Tom clawed his way up the deck, peeked over the starboard gunwale, and received a new shock. The visitor motoring cautiously toward them was not Wyatt Stone, but judging from the build and hair color was Marvin Sartorelli, Tony’s remaining brother. Tom waited as Marv slowed his boat to come around the bow of the houseboat, and then moved to hide on the narrow deck on the starboard side of the cabin. He clutched the outside wall with both hands to steady himself as the mobster clambered on deck and entered the main cabin.
Tom had seconds to act. He rushed the door, slammed it, and latched it. Marv must have been across the main cabin and in the bedroom already, because it was another two seconds before Tom heard a guttural “Hey, who’s there?” and a banging on the door.
Not pausing for polite conversation, Tom slid down to portside, water now lapping over the gunwale. “Beth,” he said in a stage whisper as she oared the skiff into sight. He climbed down to the skiff and heard glass shattering as Marvin broke out the window in the main cabin.
Tom untied Marvin’s boat from the houseboat and tied it to theirs. Only then did he pull the outboard starter cord. The diminutive motor sputtered, and then it coughed to life. It was not loud enough to cover the noise of Marvin screaming and wood splinters flying. Wood shattered as Marv shot his silenced gun through the bulkhead door, describing Tom and his mother in vulgar canine and anatomical terms. The tilt of the houseboat was more extreme. Something heavy might have shifted in the bilge.
Tom steered the skiff in a long run away from the window until he thought they were out of gunshot range, and then he headed for the shore. Even so, he saw a couple waterspouts a hundred feet behind them. Marvin shooting at them. As they reached the marina, they saw the bow of the houseboat rise skyward. The rear deck was under water.
Once on dry ground, he placed Beth on a bench, massaged her ankle and cursed Wyatt and Marv, and then went to the payphone to call the B&B. Dani answered with a surprisingly polite but nervous, “Hello, Kessler’s Inn.”
“Dani, this is Tom. I’ve got Beth, she’s going to be fine. Wyatt gassed her in Mildred’s driveway and he really did have her on a houseboat like your mystery caller said. We’re at the marina.”
“Oh wow, honey, that’s fabulous. That skinny dork actually kidnapped her all alone?”
“I’m afraid so.” He kept an eye on his patient. “Beth says he’s some kind of detective. Are Gary and Robert out looking for her?”
“Yeah. They should phone in soon and I’ll call them off. Hey, they found where Wyatt’s been staying; he’s at that little campground down the road from Aunt Mildred’s.”
“I know where it is. I’ll pay it a visit. Dani, telephone Mildred and tell her Beth is safe. We’re on our way home. Are you there alone?”
“Yup, but I’ll be safe for now. The cops are running up and down the road watching the place looking for you. I expect them to park a cruiser at the door any minute. Oh, and he’s not here now, but remember that a new guy is staying here, the one Renada checked in last night. She did more than that with him, I suspect. She was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Poor Robert, earlier today he took her home to stay with his mother and she’s cheating on him. Tom, are you really all right?”
He was, actually, much better than all right. He had managed irrational fear and recued Beth. He had outwitted Wyatt and Marv, at least for now, and most importantly, Beth was safe. “We’re all right, Dani, but after Wyatt left and I got Beth, Marv came to the boat. So he is very much alive.”
“Marv? You’re sure?”
“Uh-huh. While he was inside we locked him in and got away with both our motorboat and his. The houseboat’s sinking. He shot at us from it, and by now he’s probably crawled out a window and is swimming in here holding his gun in his teeth.”
“Oh, Tom, Marv can’t swim. None of the brothers can. Angelo took lessons, but I don’t think he got the hang of it either. You’ve probably killed another of Tony’s brothers. He’s going to start to get pissed.”
****
On reflection, Harold concluded it wasn’t the end of the world. Wyatt had reported Harvey Sartorelli was dead by electrocution. From what he’d just observed, Marvin Sartorelli had gone down with the rented houseboat, unless he’d learned to swim in the last year. Tony was in jail.
>
Perhaps Wyatt didn’t see Hawk and the girl return safely to the marina and the befuddled kid didn’t know that Marv was fish food. He could spend the rest of his days looking for Marv and it would suit Harold fine. He could murder a hick grocer and get life in a Michigan prison and that would be fine too. After all, he had killed a priest.
Harold went to Marv’s green Suburban and found it unlocked. Papers and maps were scattered haphazardly in the back seat. Organization was not Marv’s strong suit. One paper was a poor photocopy from a Houghton realtor describing a “romantic” Lake Superior cottage. Grainy picture inserts showed a run-down cabin under some power lines. There were driving instructions that Marv had annotated. He wouldn’t be using them again. Harold cleaned out the Suburban and put the stuff in his Cadillac.
He needed the cassette tape and he had to find out if Hawk or Danielle had it. The best thing was to go back to the B&B as an innocent guest. In his spare time he’d make sure Hawk continued to lie low until he went home to testify. He’d plumb the mysteries and the flesh of Renada Schneider.
After he had the tape, after Tony was convicted, he could forget Hawk and Danielle too, but that was days or weeks away. He decided he had only cursed aloud because the big caretaker with the wrench had unnerved him, and he didn’t need to send any money to Reverend Timmy-Bob.
****
Seeing no cop car near the B&B, Tom took a shaken Beth home to Dani’s care and rushed to the campground. He flogged the Nash mercilessly and the temperature gauge was in the red when he reached Blissful Bass Bay Campsites. An ancient tree trunk of a woman with a thick Finnish accent admitted him after he lied to her about which campsite he was visiting. He drove within view of Wyatt’s site. The Firebird was there. He approached stealthily, Renada’s little pistol drawn. Twenty feet from the tent he heard sobbing. Wyatt was sobbing.
Gun still in his hand, he tentatively pulled open the tent flap. Wyatt lay alone on the floor in a fetal position nervously twisting a length of rope. He eyed the gun more with anticipation than fear. “You’ve come to shoot me. Go for it. Or, I’ll do it myself if you give me the gun.”
Yeah right, that’s going to happen. Tom sat on a camp stool. “How about some explanations, Wyatt?”
“I killed her. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Tom anxiously scanned the crowded tent for a body before realizing he was probably talking about Beth. “What do you mean?”
“I was trying to protect Beth and you, so I, um, took her. I rented this houseboat where I put her. But I had to leave and go after Marv and Gary too, because he was bad-mouthing me.”
“You mean you kidnapped and imprisoned her and left her alone.”
“Have it your way. Anyway, once I had her on the boat, I came back to shore to kill the gangster, the one they sent after you.” His tone had turned accusatory.
“Wyatt, I need you to give me your gun.”
“I left it on the houseboat.”
“You went to kill Marvin and maybe Gary and you forgot your gun?”
“Beth was being mean to me. This detective stuff isn’t easy. When I came back to the marina for the gun, I saw the boat sink. My life is over because I’ve killed Beth Kessler, the purest person I’ve ever met, and it doesn’t even matter now which one of us she would have chosen.”
Tom wasn’t ready to let him off the hook yet. “What’s with the rope, Wyatt?”
He looked down as though seeing it for the first time. “Oh, this. There’s a poplar tree behind the tent, the kind that’s easy to climb. I was going to hang myself but I had to piss. It was nerves. You have to piss first if you want to avoid a humiliating suicide, you know.”
Tom became acutely aware that he needed the use of a urinal himself. “Yeah, so I heard. But something stopped you.”
“No, I did take a piss.”
“Something stopped you from hanging yourself, Wyatt.”
“Uh-huh. I started sneezing real hard the minute I touched that tree. I came in here to take a couple allergy pills, and I got sort of emotional, and you came. Does this rope look strong enough, Tom?”
Lord in heaven, Robert Matthews totally had his crap together compared to this poor kid. Tom put on a sympathetic expression. “Wyatt, look at me.”
“Huh?”
“Beth is alive. She didn’t drown on the houseboat.”
“Beth is alive?”
“Yes. She’s safe at home.”
Wyatt’s face glowed with understanding, burst into a beacon of light. “Oh thank God! You’re not going to shoot me, then?”
“I’m not going to hurt you. And Gary hasn’t been bad-mouthing you. You got that wrong.”
“I guess you’re actually a good person, Tom. I guess I was mistaken about you. Maybe you’ll put the gun away?”
“Sure. Look, I really have to take a leak myself. Start packing up. We’re going back to Beth’s B&B together, fair enough?”
“Go with you?”
“Yes, to stay with Beth.”
“With Beth?”
“That’s right. I need you to give me your wallet and your car keys.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I can’t watch you while I’m in the latrine pissing.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Let’s say you need my help. You are probably working for some California gangster but don’t know it. You nearly drowned Beth. You’re holding a rope with a noose in it. You made the noose wrong, by the way. Come on now, partner, give me your wallet and keys before I wet myself right here.”
“I guess I have no choice. You’ve got sort of a sarcastic tongue, you know.” He handed him a wallet and a key to the Firebird.
Tom searched the tent and car. Wyatt had told the truth. There was no gun. The first time this poor lad encountered a real bad guy, he would be dead meat. He told Wyatt he’d be right back.
Entering the communal bathroom, Tom looked at the stalls. Walls to near the ceiling, dark color. He waited for the gut reaction and none came. He entered the closest one, closed the door and stood still. Peace. It was tolerable. It was about as small a place as a person could be in, and it was tolerable. Something good happened in that tiny boat cabin besides rescuing a special woman. He was free!
Seconds later, standing at the urinal, looking contentedly at the forest through those high screened windows, he thought about Wyatt. Poor helpless kid, he had screwed things up, endangered Beth, and yet Tom felt sort of like a big brother. He felt good about dealing gently with him, making a connection. Maybe he could help Wyatt to freedom from his own fears. As he reached for his zipper, he heard a car starter motor and a powerful engine coming to life. Oh, shit, not the Firebird!
He streaked heedless past the sign telling him to arrange his clothes and wash his hands, and got to the camp road in time to see the Firebird brake lights flash at the entry gate. Who’d have thought a kid who was that disconnected would have an extra car key, but not keep it in his wallet like everybody else?
Chapter Eighteen
Tom drove the Nash—not the cool Firebird but the despicable Nash alone, not with Wyatt—back to the B&B. He saw no police cruiser so he drove up the drive. He panicked for a moment when he saw a large dark car, but it was a Cadillac, and police cars were never Cadillacs. He parked out of sight of the road and went into the house. Beth, Dani, and Gary waited for him in the foyer. Beth, leaning heavily on a cane, motioned him into the kitchen and the others followed. He took her in his arms and kissed her, not caring that they had an audience.
Gary closed the door. Beth said, “Tom, keep your voice down. I’ve got a new guest, a real nice man named Mr. Harold. He’s upstairs.”
That was all they needed, a stranger in the way. “Have the police been here?”
“Yup. Right after you dropped me off. I told them I got lost in the woods picking berries and had just found my way home. I stonewalled them about Angelo. Gary told them he still thought Horst set the store fire and asked if the body might
have been his. They wouldn’t answer. We claimed we have no idea where you are. I don’t think they believed any of it, but they didn’t cuff me or Gary and take us in, either. They’ll be back once they officially identify Horst, maybe sooner. Where’s Wyatt?”
“I lost him.”
They stared blankly at him, this man of towering, monumental incompetence. He needed to steer the attention off of himself. “Where’s Robert?”
Dani shrugged. “After you brought Beth home, he went back to his mother’s house in Calumet. Renada’s making nice with him again. They seem to be talking Mother Matthews into some kind of business deal. Tom, we’ve got a bigger problem than Wyatt or Robert. I called my sister at her office in L.A. They’ve released Tony.”
“No. They couldn’t.”
“They did. The DA told the ADA he couldn’t proceed without your testimony. Tony’s out and accusing you of the oven murder. He’s claiming a conspiracy against him and his brothers. If we go back, he’s going to find a way to kill me, you, and anyone else he sees as a threat.”
Tom grabbed the refrigerator door handle to steady himself. The door came open. There was lots of beer in there. Gary stepped toward him and closed the door.
“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled.
“Hey, no problem. We were talking while you were gone, and we’ve got a new plan. We’re going to engage Tony on our turf and at our time.”
“Engage him? How?”
Dani explained. “You and I are going to telephone him, tell him what an asshole he is, and invite him here. We’re going to make him overconfident by making him think Harv and Marv are still alive. We’ll be watching the airport when he gets here and it’ll be four on one. We’ll totally take him down.”
Hiding Tom Hawk Page 21