"He has backers?" Ketch asked.
"Oh yeah, I mean he's got money, everybody knows that, but not enough to do all that all by himself. So the marina might have to be put on hold. And I'll tell you what, I'm thinkin' it probly won't happen at all, 'cause guess what! Some police officers showed up at our place not but two hours ago, and they told him he has to surrender himself first thing Monday mornin'!"
Ketch felt like he imagined he might if he'd grabbed onto a live wire. Was he dreaming? He considered asking Kari to pinch him. "So that's why he told me I might have to stand in line," he said.
"Huh?" Joette said.
"Wow! Hey, do you know if you'll still have a job?" Kari broke in, saving Ketch from having to explain his remark. Thank you Kari, he thought; she must have remembered his desire to avoid spreading that part of his story around.
"Well I don't know, I hope so," Joette said. "Maybe I should start lookin' around."
"Hey y'all!" the Captain's voice blared at them from behind a nearby waitress, who almost lost the tray she was carrying. "Hey, foxy lady, how you been?" he said to Joette. Seeing that all the chairs were taken, he swiped an empty one from another table without asking and dragged it over. "Am I late? What did I miss - besides the beer?" He regained the attention of the startled waitress and bellowed, "Ahoy there darlin', bring us two more a whatever he's got, if you please!"
"Joette was just tellin' us that Bob Ingram is gettin' arrested," Kari informed him.
"You don't say! I heard somethin' 'bout that just this mornin'. So they're really gonna retry him, huh? I'll be damned... Ain't that somethin', Ketch?" he said, casting Ketch a sly look. "Gimme the scoop, Jo, and don't leave nothin' out!"
While Joette repeated her tale, Ketch excused himself to go to the rest room, and almost chose the wrong door. He thought he might be in a mild state of shock. The extent of the relief he suddenly felt made him realize just how much of a strain he'd been under lately. Were his troubles really over at last? It seemed too good to be true - but being the optimist that he was (not), he figured he'd still better hedge his bets. If anything, investigating the contents of that salvage drum now seemed even more urgent to him. If there was any doubt about how that retrial might turn out, he could erase that doubt if he was right.
When he returned to the table, Joette was gone. "Well, how 'bout that?" the Captain said to Ketch. "Between this and nailin' him for dumpin' toxic waste, sounds like you might be out a the woods after all."
"We'll see," Ketch said. "Let me show you the reason why I asked you to come here." He set his laptop on the table and started to fill the Captain in while it booted up. Kari sipped silently at her wine while he showed the Captain the picture and explained his theory, including what he thought it might all mean in light of Joette's news.
"Well," the Captain ruminated, "seems like a stretch to me - but it could be, who knows? It's as good a theory as anybody else ever come up with. You gonna call the Guard?"
"No, not right away. I don't want to embarrass myself and waste their time if it turns out to be nothing," Ketch said. "Captain, I know you're busy tomorrow, so I want to hire your boat on Sunday. I want to go out there and raise that drum and see what's in it. If it's what I think it is, then I'll radio the Coast Guard."
"You and who else?" the Captain asked. "I don't dive - and I wouldn't leave my boat unmanned even if I did, unlike this other dang fool I know."
Kari finally spoke. "I can go. I usually close the shop around noon on Sundays. We can go after that."
"Are you sure?" Ketch said, carefully watching her. This was a rhetorical question to him; she had to go, and he would have tried to make her see that if she hadn't seen it on her own. She seemed to be reacting to all this better so far than she had at the shop earlier - unless that truly had been due to some kind of illness. "That would be a big help. I don't have much experience with lift bags."
"That's right, you don't," she said. "And you also haven't taken that class yet, mister solo diver, so you're not gonna do that again on my watch," she sternly added, but with a tempering smile. "I think you should come to the shop tomorrow mornin' so we can do some plannin'. If we have to shop for somethin', it'd be better to do that tomorrow since the day after is Sunday."
"Well okay, I'm game," the Captain said. "And don't be talkin' 'bout hirin' the boat, just chip in for the gas and let me do some fishin' on the way back and I'll be happy. And oh, hey - what you gonna do with them floats now?"
Ketch had already decided about that, so this answer was easy. "I'm going to install them anyway. Who knows what'll end up happening? I don't want to count my chickens. That way, I'll be covered if Ingram is still able to go on somehow, and if another one just like him comes along someday. Besides, what else would I do with them? I doubt I can return them, and I'd have to sell them dirt cheap on eBay or whatever."
"That's what I like most about this character," the Captain laughed. "He's the most optimistic fella I know!"
It had been long enough since he'd had anything to really celebrate that Ketch couldn't help insisting on treating them all to dinner again, and then buying Kari what he thought was a rather fetching sundress at the gift shop. Though she'd still seemed a little edgy partway through dinner, the mood appeared to have dissipated by the end of it.
When he and Kari arrived back at the house, they let the dog out and decided to relax on the deck for a while with a couple of beers - and another of Ketch's joints, at her suggestion. He didn't mind; he had no other use for them and wasn't saving them for anything, and he didn't intend to make it a habit. When they were gone, they were gone, that's all.
They hadn't lit the tiki torches, but had left all the lights off except for one back in the kitchen, to hopefully avoid attracting insects; and maybe the ganja had also helped with that. Not that either of them would have noticed them much unless they got really bad - he was somewhat buzzed, and she seriously so. After Ketch had fed the dog the dinner scraps he'd saved for him, the dog got bored with the two of them and Ketch let him go inside.
"Thanks again for the new dress," Kari said, removing it from the bag, "I like it a lot. It's nice to know you're not about to stop spoilin' me," she beamed.
"You should try it on and make sure it fits."
"Yeah? Okay," she giggled, and starting stripping off her top.
"I didn't mean right here," he said, glancing around apprehensively.
"Relax, it's dark and there's nobody around. Here, hold these for me," she said, and flung her undergarments at him. "Fits just fine," she declared as she slipped the dress on. She pirouetted in front of him. "So what do you think? No, never mind, I know exactly what y'all think, or at least what you were thinkin' when you showed it to me at the gift shop. You were thinkin' it looked like somethin' you'd like to do me in, right?" Ketch was struck dumb. "Well hey, you ever tried doin' it in a hammock?" He mutely shook his head. "Me neither! So come on around here." She took his hand and pulled him toward the side deck.
He finally found his voice. "You truly are something else," he said. He might not have gone along with this under normal circumstances; but between the beer and the weed, he was not currently normal. "This is crazy, this is crazy..." he started to intone.
"Vacation!" she gleefully responded. "We should go see a movie sometime, we hadn't done that yet." She stretched out on her back in the hammock. "So," she challenged him in her best Christie Brinkley voice, "are you gonna go for it?" He slipped his shorts off and cautiously climbed on top of her. "Just don't get too wild and dump us out, Sparky. Careful now..."
~ ~ ~
17. The best way to learn whether you can trust someone is to trust her.
So he wouldn't be taking the dog hiking in Buxton Woods this morning after all. Kari was right, it would be best to inventory and assemble their gear today, rather than risk being stuck needing some essential and possibly hard-to-get item on a Sunday morning. He didn't know if the dog would remember him mentioning going to the woods last night;
and to be honest, his own memory of last night was a bit hazy and he wasn't sure he had in fact mentioned it. But he tried to apologize anyway.
"I'm sorry, boy, no walk in the woods today," he said to the dog. "We'll do that some other time. But you like to go see Kari, right? Let's get ready to go for a ride and go see Kari!" The dog responded with enthusiasm as he always did, which made Ketch feel better.
He re-provisioned his backpack again, this time with biscuits, a fresh bone, the leash, and the dog's water dish in place of that Hardy Boys detective kit he'd cobbled together earlier in the week. Who had he thought he was when he'd done that? Still, he decided to toss in his notebook and a couple of water bottles just in case, though he didn't anticipate needing them. Better safe than sorry. And his phone was just about fully charged, good. As an afterthought, he added the dog's football and frisbee to the backpack. Maybe they could play out in back of the shop later on.
Kari had left for the shop a while ago, wanting to get an early start she'd said. His work crew should be here soon. Mario had surprised Ketch by phoning him to say he and Len were on their way, and it had only been seven-thirty or so - amazing. He heard the rattle of Henry's bike outside, and shortly thereafter the rumble of the truck. He grabbed the backpack and he and the dog went out to greet everyone.
"Mornin', Mister Ketchum," Henry said. "Hey, Ketch!" the other two called. "Bet you're surprised to see us this early," Len grinned.
"I am indeed, and thank you again. Good morning, Henry. I have to go out this morning, but you boys just go on and get started. I'm leaving the front door unlocked, and you know where the drinks and the bathroom are, so feel free. Henry, that goes for you as well, so don't be shy. I'll bring some pizza back with me for lunch." Gidget's, to be specific - the best in town in his opinion, and surprisingly some of the best he'd ever had anywhere, including his city's Italian neighborhood back north.
"Thanks, Ketch, we appreciate that," Mario said. "Don't worry, man, we got things under control here. Hey, where you headed? You goin' out with Don today?"
"No, just running some errands."
When Ketch arrived at the shop, Kari was ready for him. "Hey there, Clark!" she said with a wink. "And hey, Jacky, how you doin'?" She started talking business while she was still hugging the dog.
"I wish I had more in case one springs a leak, but I've only got two hundred-pound lift bags on hand, which ought to be enough though - but just in case, I also have two fifty-pounders we could carry with us. If all that isn't enough, then there's somethin' else in that drum other than what you're thinkin'. Don had a stern line on his boat last I knew, but I don't know if it's long enough, so I threw in a coil of anchor line I had layin' around. I'm pilin' it all up over there in the back," she said, pointing. "I stuck a couple of good lights and some heavy-duty hooks and clips in there too, and I set aside some tanks though they're not all filled yet, two rental regulators for fillin' the bags, and some extra weights. Except for the lift bags, that all might be twice as much stuff as we'll need, but it's good to plan that way in case somethin' breaks or somethin' else goes wrong. I did some calculatin', and we shouldn't need more than one tank for the bags..."
"Whoa there, slow down," Ketch laughed. "Seriously, thank you for doing all that already, I'm impressed. I hope you're keeping track of how much this is costing you, so I can make that right." The dog was nosing around looking for something to do, so Ketch gave him the bone he'd brought.
"We'll figure that all out later," she said, waving him off. "And me and you'll talk out how we're gonna do the job later on, that's important too. I don't want either of us gettin' hurt, and there's ways that could happen. I was thinkin' about how to fasten the bags and the line to the drum and keep the whole mess stable, and I thought about a fish net, maybe a five-hundred-pound-test knotted lift net, but then I thought a chain sling might be the way to go. Since you said it's a metal drum, that should work, since it'd be rimmed on both ends."
"What's a chain sling?"
"Here, I'll draw it for you." She started rummaging around for a blank piece of paper, and Ketch saved the day with his trusty notebook. "Oh good, thanks. Like they say, a picture's worth a thousand words," she smiled, finally starting to lighten up a little. "We tip the drum on its side, see, and the grab hooks attach to each end, and the horizontal drum and the sling make a triangle. It's made of steel chain so it can handle a load, but it's not too heavy and it's adjustable. But I don't have any of those."
"No problem, I'll run down to Hatteras and see if I can find one." It would have to be Hatteras, as there were no other marine supply outlets anywhere else on this island.
"Two," she said. "Remember, redundancy is part of a good dive plan, especially when you're playin' at tec divin'. You can take one back later if we don't use it. The grab hooks are the most important part - if you could find a couple of those and some chain, we could make our own sling."
"Okay, I'll go do that now. Mind if I leave Jack here? I don't like to leave him in the truck on a hot day."
"Course not! We'll be all right, won't we boy?" she said to the dog, who was lying on a throw rug behind the counter and happily gnawing away. "Oh, and see if you can get one more hundred-pound lift bag. They might have one down at Outer Banks Divin', since you're goin' to Hatteras. I hate sendin' you to a competitor, but I'd feel better if we had one more just in case."
Ketch was able to find everything he was looking for in Hatteras, which was a good thing as he'd otherwise have had to drive up to Nag's Head or Roanoke. It wasn't lunchtime yet, so he couldn't make the most efficient use of his time and gas and stop at Gidget's which was on the way back, but that kind of thing bothered him only a little now.
Kari was satisfied with his purchases and decided the gear collection for the following day was essentially complete, except for packing their individual gear bags. "And except for goin' over the dive plan," she further qualified. "Pull up a chair here by me and take some notes in that handy-dandy little notebook of yours. By the way, is that your detective notebook? I saw some cute scribblin's in there."
"Oh, you thought they were cute, did you? Well, I guess you're easily amused," he said, though in a friendly tone. "Go ahead and make fun of me if you must, I don't mind."
"Nah, I'm good for now, thanks anyway. Hey, I had the weather on the marine radio before. They said there might be another tropical storm brewin'. We'll still be okay tomorrow, though, it's nowhere near here."
"I wonder what they'll name this one if it gets big enough?"
"I think 'Ernesto' is the next one up on this year's list. Yeah, I've got the lists up on the wall here. Ernesto is what it'd be."
What 'it' would be, no longer what 'she' would be. Ketch knew that the World Meteorological Organization mandates names for Atlantic tropical storms and hurricanes in the form of six annual lists of names, which are used in rotation and recycled every six years. They also have similar lists for storms in other parts of the world. If a storm is deemed to be of historic import and severity, its name is retired and another is designated in its place. When they'd first started naming Atlantic storms back in the Fifties, they'd only used familiar female names; but now there were both male and female names in the lists, including some Jewish ones mixed in with the Christian ones, and there were English, Spanish, and French names, and some from other parts of Europe. Ketch thought a hurricane should have a strong name - and yes, a female one at that, and preferably mythological if he could have his way; 'Hurricane Fred', for example, which was actually on one of those lists, sounded just plain ridiculous to him.
When they finished discussing Kari's dive plan, it was time for Ketch to call in his pizza order. He decided he'd leave the dog here at the shop again, drop off two of the pies back at the house for the guys, and then bring the third one back here. He'd miss that Yankee game even though he wasn't diving today after all, but that was okay and it was being recorded. He could fill the tanks that needed filling and load the pile of gear into the back of
his truck, whose bed was capped and lockable. Not the tanks, though; they'd get too hot in there, so he'd just rig them today and load them tomorrow. Then maybe he could play with the dog and let him cool off in the canal behind the shop, and go pay off his helpers at the house before dinner - at home for a change? - and then maybe she'd watch the game with him tonight. Maybe he'd pick up something to cook at Risky Business, his favorite local seafood market; it was pretty much fresh off the boat there.
The rest of the day played out mostly as he'd planned, except for the typical daily (at least!) wrestling match with Kari, which occurred after another joint (the last one) and some more of his fancy wine. They stayed away from the hammock this time, thankfully, but it was the first time he'd done anything like that while watching the Yankees - which didn't seem right, but he'd enjoyed it nonetheless. As well as the quickie encore at bedtime. She seemed almost compulsive about the sex, he thought, and maybe also with the substance abuse lately, more so than he'd ever been aware of before albeit from a greater distance. Maybe she was just wilder than he'd known, maybe she just had a strong sex drive; or maybe she was trying to escape from something, which he still suspected might turn out to be the case. He wasn't about to complain just yet, though.
He woke before she did on Sunday morning and was able to leave the bedroom without being asked to perform for a change. He fed the dog on the side deck (the one with no hammock) and let the dog explore out back along the waterfront while he relaxed at the table with a hot buttered bagel, a glass of juice, and the Sunday paper. The stacks of foam blocks in the back yard were more depleted than he'd anticipated; the boys had managed to put up twelve of them yesterday, considerably more than he'd expected. They were all taking the day off today.
And today was the day, finally. Joette's news flash Friday night had relieved him of some of the pressure and urgency he'd been feeling, but he was still anxious to get out to the dump site and wrap up that particular mystery at least - and maybe help put Ingram away for good in the process. The weather looked decent enough so far and the forecast was favorable, that developing storm notwithstanding. If it amounted to anything, and if it ended up coming this way, it wouldn't get here for a few days at least. So all the omens looked good - unless one considered the thirteen blocks that were now installed on the underside of his house. Thirteen... It's a good thing he wasn't superstitious.
Port Starbird (Storm Ketchum Adventures) Page 20