Minus Tide

by Dennis Yates

  Minus Tide

  Dennis Yates

  Dennis Yates

  Minus Tide

  Chapter 1

  “It’s your first dead body, Ann. Don’t worry. You’re not going to get hooked or anything.”

  “I wouldn’t say this counts. A severed appendage is hardly a body, Mitch. And no, I don’t care for a cigarette.”

  Mitch Young lit one up and dropped the pack back into his shirt pocket. His hands were shaky.

  “So I guess you’re already hooked?” Ann said.

  “I suppose I am. On cigarettes anyway.” Mitch had found that nicotine calmed his stomach. He’d taken up smoking his first week on duty, after arriving at the scene of a grisly car crash and immediately losing his dinner of chicken fried steak. It was obvious that neither occupant had bothered to buckle up. There was blood-stained windshield glass scattered all over the place. Like thrown wedding rice, he’d thought, except these folks were getting hitched with death. He’d set out flares on the dark road and waited for Sheriff Dawkins. The sheriff, a consummate chain smoker, had tossed him a spare pack and warned him to mind the spreading pool of gasoline.

  “I don’t care what you think. An arm still counts in my book,” Mitch said.

  “Tell me then, at what point does it not count? If it’s only a baby toe for instance?”

  Ann ducked her head beneath his smoke and took a step upwind. Her black hair curled over her shoulders like a shimmering wave. Mitch couldn’t stop staring at her or grinning either. Ann was always so quick. Her appearance had changed a lot in just the three years since high school, when she’d kept her hair cut short and spiky, used makeup that made her look like a pale doll. Her skin was now lightly tanned and the bone beneath created pleasing angles to the eye. She had the face of a woman, he thought. But when I see myself in the mirror every morning I’m still that punk in junior high…

  “I don’t know Ann, that’s a good question. Let me think on it for a while.”

  A heavier wind kicked up and began to throw sand. Smelling faintly of salmon and snow, it seemed as if it had slid down directly from Alaska. Ann hugged herself and shivered.

  “How much longer is the sheriff going to be?”

  “Do you want to borrow my jacket?”

  “I can’t stay all day waiting for him. By the time he gets here the tide will take that arm away.”

  “We can go back to my car. I’ve got a thermos of coffee.”

  Ann stared at the jumping nerves in his hands. What had happened to the cool operator she’d known for so many years?

  “No thanks Deputy Young. I know all about you and cars. But I think I’ll take you up on your first offer.”

  Mitch shrugged out of his jacket and handed it over. His face had turned red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ann.”

  “I think you do.” As soon as she pulled up the zipper of Mitch’s heavy jacket she felt better. Her legs were numb but she could deal with it for a while longer. I should stop teasing him, she thought. Maybe it’s how we’ve always gotten along, but today it just feels wrong.

  “I guess I did have a reputation back in the day,” Mitch said, glancing at the sky for a break in the clouds. He noticed a strand of blue over the horizon, no thicker than fishing line. “But I’m a happily married man now.”

  “I believe you, Mitch.”

  “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just wondered why you’re busting my chops.”

  “I was only teasing.”

  “Well it’s not very funny. I’ve got an image to uphold these days.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I guess this whole thing has put me in a bad mood and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. All I wanted was a nice run to clear my head before work. Then I trip over somebody’s stupid arm. And instead of pretending I didn’t notice I make the mistake of stopping to call you guys.”

  “So it doesn’t matter to you if the owner of this arm could have been murdered?”

  “I hate to break it to you, but Nancy Drew and I parted ways at a yard sale many moons ago. And what makes you think it was murder and not a fishing accident?”

  “Because I’ve already checked with the Coast Guard. They’ve got no reports of anyone missing.”

  “Have you ever seen such ugly tattoos? And what’s with the Cyclops?”

  “Cyclops?”

  “You remember reading Homer’s Odyssey don’t you? The cannibal giant with only one eye in the middle of his head?”

  “Sorry. I guess I was too busy getting my skull crunched on the field.”

  “Well whoever was attached to this hairy chunk of ink meat was probably some badass who had it coming. You ought to just bag it up and toss it in the trash.”

  Mitch took a final drag off his cigarette and grinned. “My goodness, Ann. You’ve turned judgmental with age.”

  “I bet you’re not surprised.”

  “I guess not. After all the stuff you went through while we were back in school. But hopefully the past is the past now.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “It never really is, Mitch.”

  Mitch flicked the cigarette into a bonfire ring piled with dead coals.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  They walked over to a cedar log and sat down. Ann found a stick and began drawing in the sand. She’d never had anything against Mitch. He just seemed painfully average when he wasn’t getting attention on the football field. Near the shoreline a raven pecked at a dead fish. Gulls circled above, but the raven ignored their bullying cries to move on.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Mitch asked.

  “I guess it’ll kill some time.”

  “Did your stepdad ever try to contact your family?”

  “Duane? In his own way he did. On Christmas eve he’d call from prison and sing Silent Night into the answering machine.”

  “He didn’t talk to anyone?”

  “No. I picked up once and he hung up on me. I guess it must have ruined it for him.”

  “Did your aunt go to the cops about it?”

  “What could have been done? He hadn’t broken the law. There’s got to be more to a harassment charge than singing badly to someone once a year.”

  “But it must have made you feel nervous.”

  “Maybe the first couple of times. Then it sort of became a sad joke.”

  “Do you wonder if he would’ve come back here when he got out on parole?”

  Ann watched Mitch’s fingers play with the brim of his hat. She noticed the dirt under his nails, just like the first day they’d met in school.

  “I don’t think he was that stupid. There’re a lot of folks around here that wouldn’t have hesitated using him for crab bait if he’d tried.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Duane had to get his start somewhere, didn’t he? Before he got comfortable pointing a gun at people he’d rip them off other ways. Sneaky stuff that didn’t pay all that much. He was always on the lookout for new suckers, smooth talking them into parting with their money. Most folks were too embarrassed to do anything about it when they realized they’d been taken. But a few caught up with him, took what he owed in teeth. I guess that might be why he started holding joints up. His mouth was a mess. He couldn’t talk smooth anymore.”

  Mitch shook his head. “I guess I hadn’t heard that about him. But you know how stories get told around here. Sometimes a big piece gets misplaced. People forgive when it becomes easier than holding a grudge.”

  “Well there are still grudges out there, believe me. Maybe not so strong now. I sense their roots to the past are dying.”

  “So what made you stay here with your aunt? I thou
ght you were all set for college.”

  “Believe me I was hoping to get out. Then my aunt almost lost her store when she got sick and had no one else to run things. I just want to be sure she’s back on her feet again before I make a move.”

  “She’s lucky to have you here. But I also know you belong in college. You’ve always had the brains. There wasn’t a day in school that I didn’t see you carrying an armful of books. I still don’t know how a person could read that much.”

  “It was my only way to cope after mom was gone. I don’t know if I’d still be here if books hadn’t kept me company.”

  “I guess everyone needs a way to escape when things get rough.”

  “Even you? I thought life was nothing but easy street for Mitch Young-star quarterback, married to the Prom Queen, an exciting career catching the bad guys.”

  “It’s hardly easy. If you only knew…”

  “Then tell me about it Mitch. Tear down my misconceptions.”

  “It’ll have to wait until another time, Ann. Sheriff’s here.”

  Chapter 2

  Ann stayed to answer the sheriff’s questions and watch them prepare the arm to be sent to a forensics lab in Portland. The sun had burst through the granite colored clouds and warmed up the beach. Passersby gawked from a distance, but all they saw was a large cooler, the collection kit and a small shovel. A couple of wet dogs wandered in too close and had to be shooed away. Afterwards, Ann decided it was time to leave and handed back Mitch’s jacket. When the sheriff paused in cutting tape with a knife she sensed his eyes turning up toward her. A cold ball of tar dropped to the bottom of her stomach. She never did feel comfortable around the man. Back in school he always had a way of turning up at every girl’s carwash fundraiser with more caked-on mud than normal. And you knew he was around by the waft of his aftershave-heavy, like dead cow lilies steeped in tequila. Behind his back some called him Lady Dawkins.

  “I need to ask you a favor, Ann.”

  “What is it, Sheriff?”

  Dawkins put a cigarette in his mouth. But each time he tried lighting it, a gust would blow out the flame. Ann watched the movement of his hands as they tried to outwit the wind. After several attempts he set them on his knees and waited for a break. Ann noticed the lack of a pinkie finger on the ruddy hand holding the cigarette. A waxen nub stood in its place. The rest of the digit had been lost since before she was born, when there’d been a mill down on the bay and the sheriff was still a pimple-faced boy saving up money for his first car.

  “I’m hoping you’ll not talk to anyone about what you found this morning. It could affect the investigation if you did.”

  “I understand.”

  “It might take weeks before forensics has a chance to get to it. Small towns like us aren’t exactly at the top of their list.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.”

  “I’ll have Mitch let you know later what we find out.”

  Grunting, Dawkins shifted around on the log until his back faced her. She heard the snick of his lighter and curses at the wind, Mitch’s stifled laughter coming from behind. She was surprised by how much more she liked Mitch now, wondered if he ever really was the stereotypical jock she’d once pegged him for.

  “You don’t have to keep me in the loop, Sheriff,” Ann said to the slumped figure. “I’m really not that interested.”

  But she wasn’t even sure if he’d heard her.

  Chapter 3

  About a month after Ann had found the arm, Mitch stopped in her aunt’s store and paid for cup of coffee and a pack of gum. She hadn’t seen him for a few days. He seemed to be in a hurry.

  “No cigarettes today?” Ann asked. “Or did you already quit?”

  Mitch walked over to the counter where they kept the condiments. He started tearing open packets of sugar and dumping them into his cup. Ann knew there’d be five in all, followed by six containers of cream. She noticed his hands were shaking badly, and there were some bloody bandages wrapped around the knuckles of his right hand. Mitch’s pants weren’t pressed as usual, but wrinkled badly at the knees. His leather boots were scuffed with white marks instead of waxed a shiny black.

  “I thought we were on good terms since we hung out at the beach together. Aren’t you going to talk to me?”

  “Sorry Ann. I’m running late. Sheriff needs me to be somewhere right now.”

  “How’s Tammy doing?”

  “She’s working at the 101 today. She’s been working extra shifts lately, trying to save up money for when the baby comes.”

  “I heard about it. You two must be excited.”

  “We are. But we don’t get to see each other much. Have to keep telling ourselves it’s not a permanent thing and that we’ll get through it.”

  “Well, I wish you all the best.”

  “Thanks. And to answer your question, I did quit smoking.”

  “How? Getting too expensive?”

  “There’s that… But it was really coach Burn’s doing. He caught me lighting up the other day and gave me hell. Said he didn’t care if I was even on duty, he’d kick my ass anyway.”

  “And it worked?”

  “Coach Burns doesn’t make threats, Ann. I’ve spent too many years on the field with him to think otherwise.”

  “Looks like he must have slapped you around some.”

  Mitch glanced at his hand, lowered it behind the counter. “That wasn’t coach. I slipped on the jetty the other day and went slam dancing with some boulders.”

  “Did you break anything?”

  “Naw, just cut up some. Could still be a little infected.”

  “What happened to the boy?”

  “Dumb kid would have inner-tubed to Japan if we hadn’t gotten there in time. He was cold and wet, but alive. Had that look in his eyes that told me he wouldn’t be going into the water again for a long time. Well, I think I ought to get going now.”

  “I’ve been wanting to ask. Did you ever hear anything back about who that arm belonged to?”

  Mitch pressed the lid down on his cup of coffee. He glanced around the store to see if anyone was listening in. Old Walter was in the back, carefully picking out his tomatoes. Fifty years working for the railroad had taken away most of his hearing.

  “Nothing but the guy’s age and stuff like that. Of course if his finger tips hadn’t been nibbled off they could have taken prints.”

  “And the Cyclops tattoo?”

  “They’re still looking into it. I think as far as the sheriff is concerned, finding the owner of that arm is a low priority right now.”

  “That’s too bad. Seems to me there could be something important getting missed.”

  “You never know what will turn up eventually. I thought you weren’t all that interested?”

  “I wasn’t. But mysteries have always been that way with me. If I’m inconvenienced by one I get annoyed and won’t give it my attention. Then one day I’ll suddenly remember it and I’ll want to know what happened.”

  Mitch zipped up his jacket and peered outside. He had dark shadows beneath his eyes and up close Ann thought she saw a deep bruise healing were the shadow of his hat covered his upper forehead. She wanted to ask him if he’d gotten that while saving the stupid kid.

  “I wouldn’t waste any more time thinking about it, Ann.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Hey, if you feel like it maybe you’ll want to stop in at the 101 and say hello to Tammy. With me being gone a lot she’s been pretty starved for talk.”

  “She doesn’t get her fill at the 101?”

  “Only chit chat, you know. She’s always liked your company, Ann. Told me that she misses those days when the two of you used to go out kayaking together.”

  “Maybe I’ll stop in. I’ve got to run an errand first.”

  “Mrs. Notham?”

  “You got it.”

  Mitch forced a smile. “When I worked for your aunt that one summer, I probably went out to her place four days a week. Can’t say i
t wasn’t worth it, she always tipped me with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.”

  “She’s still at it.”

  “It’s a good thing some things don’t change. Well, I better get moving.” Mitch grasped the brim of his hat with his good hand and hunched outside. It was still early afternoon and yet the distant mountain range was darkened as if it were much later. The rain was coming down sideways, warmed by the tropical trough from which it had descended. Ann watched Mitch get into his patrol car and pull back onto the highway. She wondered what the sheriff needed him for. There was something changed in his voice. His normal, easy-going tone seemed replaced by a poor imitation, and Ann had sensed that he was hoping she wouldn’t notice the difference. He’s trying to cover up his stress, she reminded herself. They’ve got more on their plate than I can possibly imagine.

  Ann thought about Tammy, of how they’d drifted apart. At one time in their lives they’d been inseparable. When you were young, she thought, you had that feeling that you and your friends were like passengers on the same ship cruising into the future. Boyfriends would come and go, but you’d always be there for each other in the aftermath of tears.

  In their junior year they’d both taken up kayaking. It was their way of getting away from everyone and clearing their heads. Some weekend mornings they’d launch from a pebbled beach into thick fog. The tide would be coming in and they’d paddle with it for hours. And then as the fog cleared, they’d find themselves far up a river that fed into the bay, surrounded by forests busy with kingfishers and bald eagles and they’d come onto shore and eat lunch and talk until it was time to put in again and let the changing tide pull them back to the sea. That was what made fighting the current all worthwhile-lying back in the sun and letting it take you on its silver back to wherever your mind wanted to go.

  Chapter 4

  After Ann helped carry Walter’s groceries to his car, she returned to the register and sat down with the local paper to finish an article she’d started earlier about minus tides. An extremely low minus tide was expected in two days, exposing places along the coastline and the bay that hadn’t been seen for years. When the last one occurred the remains of ancient trees had been unearthed-tar-black, seaweed-bearded stumps mostly-as well as the bleached skeletal remains of an old ship had been discovered. Ann was no stranger to the low tides, and when she was younger she would set her alarm clock so she could get down to the beach and see what she could find. The sensation was always unusual-to be able to finally walk around starfish-covered boulders and tide pools that were normally inaccessible.