by Boyd Craven
“Yeah, but I mean, why he quit going on the bigger boats, that kinda stuff. We all thought when he worked with Franklin, eventually on his bigger charter boats he'd... I don't know, turned the corner. My Aunt wanted to convince him to move onshore.”
“She sure seems to like him,” I said, almost with a trace of sadness.
She was sweet on him, probably loving him in her own way for a long time.
“She does,” Carter said, “but Irish John doesn’t know my family connection,” he explained.
“I was all for telling him,” Page cut in, “but our family swore us to secrecy.”
They were both smiling, in an easygoing manner that put me at ease. For so long I had a quiet anger inside of me. An anger that infected my personality until I lost control and hurt Mina’s… guy friend… and wound up in prison. I had a healthy respect and fear of any law enforcement officers. Since I had come to Crystal River, I’d been mentally and emotionally disarmed by how warm and open everybody seemed to be. These two FWC agents for example… At first I had thought they just liked to harass the old man, but they used their jobs as an excuse to keep an eye on him. He wasn’t a charity case, but they cared. Miss Josephine cared.
“I get that. How long do you think it’ll take to run the numbers?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.
“Oh, probably a few minutes. It’s a modern boat, but not new. Mid nineties. Seen a lot of use. Commercial fishing boat if I had to guess. Bottom needs to be scraped and painted, but what boat out here doesn’t,” Carter said.
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I asked agent Carter.
“Well, Florida doesn’t recognize salvage rights per se like you read on the internet,” Page said, “but I’m guessing you’re hoping you can keep this hull for yourself? Maybe sell it someday?”
“That thought did cross my mind,” I told them with a grin.
“We see this kind of stuff all the time,” Carter said, taking the handoff smoothly. “Something changes, the boat goes to shit and there’s no money to fix it up, or the mooring fees are ungodly and somebody’s hobby boat is suddenly costing more than the mortgage when finances take a hit. Sometimes it's insurance fraud. People panic. In this case, I didn’t see any waypoints that suggested this thing was anything other than a fishing boat.”
“So, you think…” my words trailed off as I saw Sheriff Williams walking back down the dock, a cell phone in his ear.
“That was faster than expected,” Agent Page said, noting where my gaze was.
“I hope that means it’s good news, not bad news,” I said, biting my lip.
We waited, hearing snatches of conversation.
“How about you show us below more?” Agent Carter said. “There’s an internal hold we have to check to make sure…”
“Yeah sure,” I told them, “I figure it’s under the bed behind that right-side door?”
“Right side door?” Agent Carter asked me with a grin.
“I’m not a sailor,” I said with a shrug.
“You want to be?” Deputy Williams asked loudly, holding the phone away from his ear.
“Uhhh, yeah?” I answered as the FWC agents went to the front of the boat and started their last-minute search of things.
The deputy started talking into the phone again, walking past the boat toward the end of the dock. I could hear snippets of the conversation.
“…get that paperwork here. No, I won’t have to arrest him if… I know, I have a dumbass kid myself… no, this is what you have to do…”
“Mister Delgado,” one of the agents called from within.
I cringed and walked up front, both afraid and anxious.
“Here,” I said, noting I could only see one of the agents, the other was in the hold under the bed, by the sound of his voice.
“You got commercial fishing gear here. A canvas top that transforms the back deck to covered to keep the worst of the sun off of you. There’s a couple of hammocks down here and some twenty-year-old spam. I’d keep everything but the spam if I was you.”
“I can use it as bait,” I said jokingly.
“Hey, that isn’t half a bad idea,” Agent Page said, coming out of the hold. “This is also access to your plumbing, and there’s a narrow spot to get to your main bilge pumps. Electrical and steerage are under here, but more toward the back. It’s connected to the engine compartment, but I’m not sure a guy your size can fit back this way.”
“Mister Delgado!” Deputy Williams called.
“Sir?” I called, walking back toward the back of the boat.
“Just got off the phone with the former owner’s wife,” he said, wiping his brow. “Apparently the former owner, her husband, passed away last fall. Her son took over the boat, but I guess he bit off more than he could chew. He was keeping it for… sentimental reasons. His mom thinks he might have sort of… tried to get rid of it? They haven’t put a claim into the insurance agency on it yet, they say, but I’m going to double check that. If it’s a case of panic and nobody wants to buy the boat… You want it, right?”
“Sure,” I said, all smiles.
“That’s what I told her. If you didn’t, I’m sure Franklin would. I know the side hustle you two have been doing. He’s been a fixture at the auctions forever and has connections to sell scrap hulls and parts.”
“I uh… thank you,” I said, shocked. “What do I have to do?”
“I told the widow she should sign the paperwork over to the person who kept it from sinking, and who also is putting something in the forty to fifty-foot range in dock… I mean, she wants to keep her kid out of trouble, neither was trying to sell it hard. She just wants it gone and doesn’t want to pay your dock fees and emergency maintenance… uh… costs,” he finished with a grin.
“So, she’s going to mail me the paperwork?” I asked them.
“No, sounds like she’s driving down today with it. She’s desperately afraid her son is going to get in a heap of trouble over this.”
“Isn’t he?” I asked them.
“He’s young. Twenty? Twenty-one? I don’t know. I ran his name after I called her from the Bronco. His record is clean, except for some parking tickets. I don’t want to ruin the kid’s life over this.”
My respect for these guys went up, again.
“You know, it’s more paperwork, but you can transfer your commercial license to this boat and count your other one as tender, right boys?” he asked the FWC agents.
“It’s a little more complicated than that, but we’d be willing to help him sort through the paperwork,” Agent Carter said.
“Good, then I think I’ll head back to the office and write this up on my end. If that widow doesn’t show up today, give me a call,” he said, tossing a card on the ledge.
“I will, thank you!” I called, seeing him walking quickly back toward his vehicle. He waved over his shoulder.
“I’ll help make sure you get the right paperwork signed and sorted,” Agent Carter said, “but I’d consider it a personal favor if you could try to convince Irish John to come shore side for the hurricane season?”
“I can ask him,” I said, “but what if he says no?”
“I don’t want to force him, but I’m afraid one of these days that doing a wellness check, he’s going to… you know…” he said, his words trailing off. “Aunt Joe would never forgive me.”
“She makes the best cookies,” Agent Page said, grinning.
Chapter Sixteen
I had a boat. Not only did I have a boat, I had one I could live on. My head swam. This wasn’t the same as having a hull I slept in, I had… a boat. I debated for half an hour on whether I wanted to keep it or sell it once the paperwork had been dropped off at the front gate. I had taken the paperwork from a grateful widow and a solemn faced guy who had to be the young son. They had both said a quiet thanks and gotten the hell out of the area.
I knew I should sign and get the paperwork filed right away, but I sat instead and brooded. I had
just made my mind up to keep it when I heard somebody honk. I checked my phone and saw I had missed a call. Carly. I stuffed the registration paperwork in my pocket and hurried toward the front of the boatyard, fishing the keys out of my jeans. The horn sounded again just as I got there. I hurried and unlocked the gate, opening one side. She drove in and gave me a cheesy smile.
Was I forgiven?
I closed it behind her, locking it. Ha Ha! Now she’s walked into my trap!
I scratched my head, not knowing what was going on. My feelings were suddenly in turmoil again and I chalked it up to my whimsy of being excited to see Carly. So, I could show her my new boat.
“Hey stranger,” she said, getting out of the truck and putting her arms around me.
I went in for a kiss, but she turned her head at the last second, kissing me on the cheek.
“Hey stranger,” I said, stepping back, puzzled.
“Sorry, I… Listen, I don’t want this to be weird, but I missed you and I wanted to talk to you. Face to face,” Carly said.
“You could have done that whenever you wanted,” I told her.
“I was mad, and wasn’t ready,” she said with a shrug, “but things change.”
“What changed?” I asked her.
“Mina left town,” she said.
“Oh.”
I didn’t have anything else to say to that. Evil incarnate had left the building. Exit stage left—
“I… You know, I was angry at you for how you treated her.”
“I sort of figured that,” I told her. “She’s not one of my favorite people. She set things in motion that got her guy friend hurt, and me in prison.”
“I know, she… she admitted as much. I also thought she was being sincere when she was apologizing to you.”
“At first I wasn’t so sure, but she did seem to be—”
“But she wasn’t,” Carly said, plopping down on my picnic table.
“Oh?” I asked her.
“I… we… started hanging out. I don’t know why, but I mean, we’re about the same age roughly and we both had you in common, and I was angry with you. We talked. I thought she was a good friend.”
“So, what happened?” I asked her.
“She asked me to meet her at the bar two nights ago, and since I’d just closed the pawn shop up, I headed over. She wasn’t there yet, and I was early. I ended up in a stall—”
“Wait, you’re about to indulge me with some toilet humor?” I interrupted, watching her face turn red.
“No… just shut up, ok?” Carly asked, kicking at me playfully. “Mina comes into the bathroom, talking on the phone. I don’t know who it was, but she was telling the other person that she was sure she’d run me off and she’d be bringing you back home. Wherever the hell that is.”
“Damn,” I said after a minute. “That sounds like the sort of evil manipulation she’s known for. She had me fooled, I even called to apologize to her for being such a shit.”
“That’s just it, she had me completely fooled too. I came out of that stall like a bat out of hell, screaming, swinging, swearing. Mina about shit herself. She started crying, and by the time the cops came in, we were talking.”
“Wait, somebody called the cops on you?” I asked her.
“Girl fight. Mostly they watched at first, but I was the only one fighting, and she was begging forgiveness when the locals showed up. They uh… made us both promise to go home. In Mina’s case, she had to leave town, or face charges. She called me the next day, letting me know she left. I drove by her Airbnb last night, and the owners were there changing the sheets and cleaning it. It looks like she’s really gone.”
I sat there, sort of shocked. I didn’t know what to say. The silence stretched, and I could tell Carly wanted me to say something. Anything. I just. Didn’t. Know. What.
“Say something,” she said.
“I actually apologized to her for how I treated her. Now I find out I never should have. I should have trusted my instincts and cut her out of my life then. Now? You’re back here, after being mad on her behalf. Now I find out I had been right all along. I… I don’t know what to say.” I started walking toward the dock.
“Hey, where are you going?” she called as my emotions bubbled and fermented somewhere in my chest.
“To my boat,” I called over my shoulder. “Coming?”
“Your… boat?”
I heard footsteps behind me.
“When you said boat, I thought you’d put that wrecked hull behind this boat,” Carly said after coming aboard.
“Nope, this one,” I told her. “Just got the paperwork a half an hour before you popped over. Probably why I missed your call.”
“How did you…? I mean, this is as large as Franklin’s…”
“Kept it from sinking and fixed it enough to get it to shore. Owner wanted to sign it over instead of dealing with the FWC and Sheriff’s department.”
“There’s more you’re not telling me,” Carly said, her hand running across the dash.
“I… yeah. There is. When I saw you, I just wanted to kiss you and things would be back to normal.”
“But...?”
“Dammit Carly, I’m angry.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I don’t know. The fact my girlfriend suddenly was taking sides against me when I thought she’d have my back? It sort of smacked me in the face after hearing your story,” I said, trying to keep the snarky tone out of my voice - and failing.
“I… I’m sorry Tony,” she said quietly.
“I just… Shit. Ever since my dad died…”
I had always been quick to anger, quick to apologize. Apparently, I was also quick to cry. I was frustrated.
“Shhh,” she said, pushing me gently into the explosive heat of the interior and making me sit at the small couch.
Somewhere in the middle of comforting me, clothing was discarded, and my new boat was christened.
We had both fallen asleep in a tangle on the couch. I was used to the heat by now, sleeping in the other boat, but I woke from the added body heat of Carly on top of me. I got out from under her and started opening hatches and portholes. The mosquitos were always bad, but they rarely bothered me. I hoped the fair skinned redhead was the same way, because I needed to get the boat aired out some if I had any chance of falling asleep again.
I found my shirt, and the paperwork. I put the paperwork in the cupboard over the sink so I wouldn’t lose it, then sat down at the small table. I was debating between coffee or bourbon, or a combination of both, when I saw a flash of light; dawn had arrived. Watching it come up was something I tried to never miss. It was also a good time to go fishing, something I hadn’t done yesterday. If I wanted to keep my customers happy, I needed to get out on the water.
“Hey,” I said, nudging Carly gently.
“Muurphglorb,” she mumbled back.
I grinned and decided to let her sleep. I remembered the last time she had been over. Almost nothing woke her up. Her pawn shop didn’t open for another four or five hours and she seemed like she needed the sleep. Our unusual makeup session had worn the both of us out. I went ashore to get a shower and clean clothing. When I was done, I headed to the hull I usually slept in and got the small coffee pot going. While it perked, I sat up top, watching the sun rise. In the distance, a fish made a swish in the channel, big enough to see at a distance.
I fixed my coffee and got my phone charger from the box truck. I had forgotten to charge it last night and it was nearly dead. I would get it fixed up while I fished. Then I headed to my aluminum boat parked on the other side of the dock for the moment. It looked tiny compared to my new boat. I’d have to figure out a name for it. For both of them, honestly. And I needed to learn the names of the sides. Port, stern, starboard and something else. Aft? Daft? I wasn’t a sailor. Yet.
But I was a fisherman, and fishing I had to get to. I wrote a quick note and put it on the table of the new boat, planting a kiss on Carly’s forehead. Sh
e barely stirred, but managed to get one eye open.
“Going fishing,” I told her quietly.
“That’s what all the guys say,” she said, surprising me with being awake enough to joke. “Call me when you’re on your way back in. I want to talk some more.”
“Sure thing babe,” I said, kissing her on the lips this time.
“Tony…” she said as I had already turned to climb out of the cabin.
“Yeah?”
“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” she asked.
“No,” I told her.
“Good. Fish, then come find me. Dinner at Fowler’s later on?”
“Sure thing.” I smiled.
She collapsed back on the couch and started breathing funny within a few moments. I grinned and went to do my second most favorite thing in the world after girls. Fishing.
Chapter Seventeen
I had fired my motor up as soon as I hit the middle of the channel and then headed with speed out. I only stopped once to throw my cast nets a few times. Baitfish were bunched up and I got a half a bucket full in no time. I had cut bait, chum a little bit, and hopefully get on something big and worth it’s weight in coin. Instead of heading out to deeper water where I liked to fish, I stopped in at Deadman’s Cay. I cut the motor ten feet from the beach, letting the momentum and waves push me up on the sand. I jumped out, pulling my anchor rope behind me, wrapping it around a tree.
“Who ‘dis asshole who on my island?” Irish John called from the distance.
“I have a hat for you to shit in, old man,” I called back.
“Tony!” I heard him call happily.
“Hey Irish John,” I said as he broke through the sea grapes.
“I catched some crabs for breakfast, you hungry?” he asked.
“I… sure,” I told him.
I filled him in on the last two days’ worth of things, but mostly about the boat. He stared at me thoughtfully and nodded where appropriate. He had made more of the crab rolls, and it was hard to keep the conversation going with that level of ambrosia being served up. I also mentioned Carly staying over.