There was a pause and then.
-Crap. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. I’m on.
-I’ll be on in a sec.
-Cool. I’ll wait for you at the tavern.
A new message pinged on his phone and he saw he had an email. He grinned as he read the note that his bid had won the auction. The blade was his! Hot damn, he thought, this day is getting better and better.
Barry grabbed his headset and logged into his Bladehammer game. His excitement grew, as did the bulge in his pants. He was getting aroused just thinking about having his way with Riley…and he wasn’t thinking about sex. He was thinking about his new blade and her lily-white neck. The thought of cutting her thrilled him. He might even spring for overnight shipping.
If he got it tomorrow, he could have her by Sunday night. He started thinking about how he’d lure her over to his place. As the magical world of Bladehammer came into view and he took on the form of the orc warlord, Tryon the Tyrannical, he felt better than he had in days…better than he had since the night with Dana and Kim anyway. He stomped his way down the dirt path toward the tavern to meet Riley.
9
Now That’s A Knife
Troy finally felt good when the sun came up after his bowels had completely emptied themselves. He swore off Thai food and doused the flames in his gut with a couple of fresh ice-cold Coronas he’d grabbed from the 7-11 last night. The gentle rocking of his boat wasn’t as comforting as usual, but it wasn’t quite enough to upset his tender belly. The warmth of the day on his skin made him feel so good, he decided he might just hang out on the deck doin’ nothin’ all day. But a distant rumble and a dark mass on the horizon told him that the fishin’ had to get done before the storm came.
He tugged on the ropes attached to his lobster traps, but then hesitated. The last time he pulled them up, they’d had two severed heads in them. Slowly, he dragged the cages out of the water and thankfully, they didn’t have any body parts in them, but they didn’t have any lobsters either.
“Dangit,” he muttered.
Another rumbled sounded and a cool breeze hit him. He figured the storm might bring a few schools of red drums from down south. If he was lucky, he could grab a few big ones before the squall came.
He ambled down below, grabbed a couple of his reels, dragged a bait bucket out and tossed a few minnows in. As he took the steps up, a horn blared startling him. He almost fell back down, but managed to save himself. His bucket of minnows toppled over and the squirming fish flopped around on the hardwood floor. The horn blared again as he grabbed the bait and tossed them back into his bucket.
“Alright, alright,” he called out and hopped up the ladder. “Hold yer horses, I’m comin’ as fast as I can.”
As his head poked out, he saw a smaller fishing boat sidled up against his. A man in a tie-dyed bandana was holding on to the other boat’s rail smiling broadly across the closing gap between them. Jamaica Jack’s yellowed teeth opened in a laugh.
“Brother, you look like a hammered sack o’ shit,” he bellowed.
“Thanks,” Troy shrugged. “Had some bad Thai food last night.”
“All Thai food is bad,” Jack, shirtless and leathery, laughed as he said it. “You look a little green in the gills, my friend. I hope you ain’t too sick to get a little fishin’ in.”
Troy held up the bucket and his rods.
“Perfect.” He waved Troy over. “Drop yer anchor and let’s head out. Got a guy who’ll pay a ton of money for a swordy.”
“Swordy?”
“Swordfish. Wants it for his mantle. Offering big bucks. I’ll split it with ya if we get one big enough. We can toss out your lines too.”
Troy shrugged. He handed Jack his rods and his bait bucket. He tugged his anchor to make sure it was secure and glanced out at the horizon.
Jack saw him look and said, “Not to worry. We’ll be back long before that storm gets here. C’mon, time’s a waistin’.”
“You got any beer over there?”
Jamaica Jack nodded his head. “Yup. Bought some of those sissy beers you like to drink.”
Troy smiled and took the man’s hand as he hopped over. As he landed, Jack was already handing him an open Corona. He took a long sip. Much better, he thought.
“Hold tight,” Jack strode back toward the wheel as he said it.
In seconds, they were planed up and flying out toward deeper water.
Half an hour later they had a line down and were cruising. Jack was behind the wheel with a beer in his hand and humming along with some sort of island music Troy didn’t recognize. He had his shirt off and his hard, round belly looked like a dark brown basketball sitting in his lap. After a time, he took one hand off the wheel and swiped away the copious amounts of sweat forming on his chest.
Without preamble or so much as small talk, Jack grinned at him. “So? What did they look like? Perky? Petite? Softballs?”
“What in dang hell are you talkin’ about, Jack?”
“Aw, don’t gimme that.” He formed his hands into two cups and mimed a squeezing motion. “You know. The boobies. The PI. Didja get a look at them boobies?”
“Jack, you are a dadgum hoot. No, I did not get a look at her…her chest.”
“Well, shit, man. What the hell you waitin’ on?” Jack slapped his hands back on the wheel and shook his head. “I mean, you gotta strike while the irons are hot, bro.”
Troy didn’t say anything; he just smiled and took a sip of his beer.
“Wait.” Jack jerked his head around and squinted his eyes at him. “You don’t like other dudes…do you? I mean, it’s all good if you do. I just didn’t figure you for that. Hell, I don’t mind tellin’ you straight up, that fella Matthew McConaughey’s a right good lookin’ fella. But I don’t swing that way…just sayin’.”
Troy couldn’t help but laugh. An image of the drag queens in Savannah popped into his head and he realized just how long ago that had been. He stood up and walked up behind Jack’s captain’s chair and slapped him on the back.
“Brother, if I was into guys, I’d be all over you.”
Jack’s face froze in shock.
“But lucky for the female population of the world,” Troy continued, “I’m a straight shooter.”
“Well, then what the hell? Why didn’t you get at least a little peek?”
“Thai food kinda spoiled the evenin’.”
“Ohhhh, gotcha.”
Jack considered this for a second and then added, “You’re gonna see her again…right?”
Troy winked at him.
“Oh, hell yeah.” Jack snorted it out. “Then you’ll tell me all about it, yeah? Or, wait, better yet, take me a picture when she ain’t lookin’.”
“Dang, Jack. You know I’m not goin’ to take a picture of Meira’s breasts for you.”
“Not even a little side-boob?”
“Nope.”
“Damn, bro. You sure know how to hurt a guy.”
Troy opened his mouth to say something, but the line next to him jerked hard and the electric reel kicked in. Slowly, the braided rope began to reel in. The rod bent down in an arc that threatened to break it.
“Ease that, Troy. Slow down the reel!” Jack yelled as he pulled back on the throttle.
Troy pulled a lever on the electric winch that was trying its best to collect the line with what had to be a massive fish on the hook. He peered over the edge; harpoon in hand, ready to spear the huge swordfish when it surfaced.
“Back up, Troy,” Jack warned. “You don’t want that thing flyin’ up outta the water and spearin’ you in the face.”
Troy jerked his head back and waited. Inch by inch, the line spooled on the reel. Jack stopped the boat completely when he was sure the line was going to hold. He jerked on a pair of protective gloves and grabbed a large hook. With one hand on the line, he looked down into the water, waiting on the beast.
When it finally broke the surface, Troy fell backward as it gnashed up at them. A
huge gaping jaw full of razor sharp teeth let them know immediately that they hadn’t caught the swordfish they were after. This was a shark. It was a sleek, gray, shark that thrashed hard against the line and slammed its body up against the boat. Its jaw worked open and shut, crashing together with furious force.
Troy regained his balance, got to his feet, and unsheathed his knife, preparing to cut the line.
“No, no, no!” Jack held up a hand to stop him. “We gotta bring this big guy in and tag him.”
“Are you freakin’ crazy, Jack? This guy’s gotta be ten feet long!”
“Exactly, he’s a potential danger to the beach. Help me get him up and get a tag on him.”
“I think we’re gonna need a bigger boat.”
Troy fumbled underneath the side rail of the boat and finally found the rope. He waited for the shark to slow for just a second and slipped it around his tail. Between the line in his mouth and the tightened rope on his back end, he was caught. Jack produced a short stick with some kind of needle on the end. He jabbed it into the shark and dropped it.
“Got him. Now, let’s get that hook out.”
He took a pair of long plier-looking things from his back pocket and leaned down toward the shark’s mouth.
“Hold him tight, Troy. I reckon we got about thirty seconds before he starts feeling bad about bein’ caught again.”
Troy pulled on the rope. Jack thrust his hand and the pliers dangerously close to the shark’s mouth and gave a quick jerk on the line. The hook came free and blood sprayed out in a bright red fountain. The shark gave another thrash and then lay still.
“What happened?” Troy asked. “What’d you do?”
“I dunno,” Jack whacked the shark firmly on the snout.
It didn’t move. The round, black eyes, rolled back into its head and the shark went limp. It began to list over and go belly up.
“Ah, shit,” Jack cursed. “We must’ve held onto him too long. Poor bastard didn’t make it.”
“That don’t seem right,” Troy said. “He wasn’t ever out of the water.”
Jack sighed and laid a hand on the shark’s head.
“Shit, he’s losin’ blood like crazy. Hook must’ve hit an artery or something. When I pulled it out, he started bleedin’. Guess he bled out.”
“Have you ever heard of that happening before?”
“Nope.”
A crack of thunder surprised them both and Troy looked up to the horizon. The storm that had seemed so far away was now dangerously close.
“We better get back,” he said.
Jack nodded. “We’ll haul this guy in and check him out. He’s still a good catch if we can keep him in the water.”
They rode back slowly under darkening skies, neither man saying much. The pier was empty, except for a few die-hards with lines still in the water. Jack pulled them in and tied off his boat. A half hour later, they had the Mako hanging up for measurements and pictures. Neither of them smiled.
“Okay, then,” Jack said. “You wanna help me clean him?”
“Clean him?”
“Yup. He’s a fair catch. We can sell the meat to somebody…maybe the Fish House would want him?”
Troy shrugged. “I can call and check.”
“Cool.”
Jack pulled out a blade about the size of a machete and started a long slit down the shark’s belly. His knife clanged against something about halfway down.
“What the hell?”
He tapped it a few more times.
“This guy’s got something metal in his gullet. God knows what he’s swallowed. Here, Troy, I’ll pull him open, you see if you can reach in there and grab it.”
Troy arched an eyebrow. “You want me to do what?”
“It’s probably a license plate or a hubcap or something. See if you can get it outta there.”
He took a deep breath. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he slid his left hand into the slit Jack was holding open.
“Dangit!” Troy yelped and jerked his hand back.
His thumb was cut and oozed fresh blood.
“What the hell?” Jack pulled the slip open wider.
Troy peered into the hole. He eased his hand in and carefully pulled on something. Inch by inch, a sword came out of the shark, blade first.
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” Jack wheezed. “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that before.”
Troy was lost in thought. Something echoed in the back of his mind about the kind of blade Sam DeFur, Chief of the Nags Head Police Department, had speculated might’ve been used to kill Dana and Kimberly. Troy had a strong hunch he was looking at the sword that had done it.
“Dangit, Jack. It’s the knife.”
“That ain’t no knife, brother. That’s a Chinese sword of some kind. Razor sharp too.”
Troy looked at the cut on his hand.
“No, I mean, it’s the knife that killed those two girls.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“Think about it, Jack. They had their heads cut off and put into the traps on my boat. The beds were full of blood, but with no bodies. I think they were dumped into the water…probably along with this sword here. And our Mako smelled the blood and swallowed the dang thing.”
For a second, neither man said anything. Jack slapped his hands together.
“Okay, then. Here’s what we’ll do.” He reached down and carefully picked up the sword. “I’m gonna clean this bad boy up. Get your fingerprints and blood off it and then I’ll deliver it to the police.”
“But how will you say you found it?”
“Same story of catchin’ the shark, only you were never here.”
“But—.”
“I said,” Jack interrupted him and waggled a finger. “You were never here. If this so happens to be the murder weapon, you don’t want nothin’ to do with it. You don’t wanna be around it. You don’t wanna touch it. Hell, stop lookin’ at it already.”
Troy took in a long, slow breath. “You’ll take it to the cops?”
Jack nodded. There was something strange in his eyes, but Troy couldn’t place what it was. It was like the man had a secret that he almost couldn’t keep. But he did have a point. It would probably be better if the discovery of the sword had nothing to do with Troy.
“Okay. Sounds like a plan.”
A few raindrops spattered on the pier and thunder rumbled around them.
“We better get you back to your boat.”
Troy nodded and shook off the feeling that things were about to get out of control.
10
Deep Cuts
“Your full name?” Sam DeFur asked staring into the young man’s eyes seated across from him.
“Barry Olsen Barron”
The kid was tall, scrawny, and pale. Red freckles dotted his face and shocking orange hair swirled on top of his head. His left leg bounced up and down constantly, but that wasn’t a sign of any wrongdoing. Some folks just got nervous when they talked to the police. But something else troubled Sam.
“And you worked at the…” he looked down at his yellow pad of notes, “Austin Fish Company?”
“Yes, sir. Still do.”
“And you were friends with Dana and Kimberly?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say we were friends.”
“But you knew them pretty well.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“And from what we can tell by your punch card, you were working with them on the night they were murdered?”
“Uh, I dunno. What day was that?”
“It was on Thursday last week. You don’t remember that?”
“I dunno. The days just kinda run together now.”
“Uh huh.”
Sam let the pause in the conversation linger. Sometimes people felt the need to fill the silence and that was where he found details that might otherwise not come up. Barry’s eyes flitted around the room and he tapped both hands on the arms of the chair.
&nb
sp; It was a special chair. Sam had spent a lot of time sitting in chairs in office supply stores. He wanted one that seemed okay at first, but the longer you sat in it, the more uncomfortable it became. He’d settled on one that had wooden arms that were only slightly too narrow to rest your arms on them for more than a few seconds at a time. It had a cushion of vinyl that was about an inch thick. In the first few minutes, it was reasonable, but after that, it flattened to put your butt straight on the hard wood seat. The genius of it all though, was the back. He’d chosen the chair immediately when he realized that the cushion-less back was just low enough that leaning back on it did not support your spine. It was perfect. From the looks of things, Barry was way past the comfortable stage.
“Yeah, I guess I worked with them that night before the party.”
“Party?”
“Uh huh, the bitches—I mean, the girls hung out after work with Troy. Eatin’ shrimp they screwed up on purpose. They used to do that all the time.”
“Shrimp they screwed up?”
“Yeah, they used the wrong seasoning, so we couldn’t sell it to the customer. Instead of trashing it, the owner sells it to us for cost. But I never got to buy any. They’d always screw it up and offer to buy it immediately. All a big scam.”
“I see.” Sam scribbled a note on his pad. “And this…made you mad? Pissed ya off, eh?”
“Oh, well, I mean, ya know,” Barry stammered. “Not like real mad. Just annoyed.”
“Uh huh.”
More empty silence. He found that sometimes the scratching of his pencil on the pad was enough to break most people. What was he writing? What does it mean that he’s not talking? Am I going to jail? All good questions for opening up their mouths.
“So, uh, can I go now?”
“You have somewhere to be, Mista Barron?”
“Work.”
“At Austin’s?”
“Nah. I’m at the pier today.”
“The pier?”
“Yeah. I hang out down at Jennette's Pier. Lots of people bringin’ fish in that they don’t wanna clean. I can usually clean ‘em in a few seconds. Sometimes they pay me, sometimes they just give me the extra meat.”
The Complete Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Collection Page 95