Ms. Anna

by Bill Lockwood

  Greetings and handshakes were shared all around.

  “You try some of the bean dip yet, Uncle Fred?” Max asked.

  “Max always brings bean dip for Thanksgiving,” Uncle Fred informed the others. It was something they all knew.

  “We have a question for you,” Cousin Tim said before Max could ask if any of them now owned a boat.

  Cousin Jack asked the question. “Max, how’s it going with the CIA?”

  Max laughed. “Naw, I was just kidding about that.” He held up his glass. “Too much of this red wine that Thanksgiving…”

  They all laughed at that.

  “Now I teach history and music in a community college. I swear that’s all I do.”

  Cousin George frowned as he tried to remember. “Weren’t you the drummer in some rock band that went belly-up in Europe, and you were stranded in Malta for a while?”

  “Bad memories, for sure.” Max smiled. “This year I’m actually not teaching any classes. I wrangled myself a research assistant assignment to this professor who’s doing a study of the comparative history of rhythms in the Caribbean and North American jazz. Drumming, music, and history, it’s all my thing.”

  Uncle Fred’s eyes lit up. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. “I’m sure you could get a little time off to take a trip for us.”

  “Maybe a week.” Max shrugged. “Maybe a little longer. I pretty much set my own schedule for this job.”

  Uncle Fred looked at his watch. “The turkey won’t be out for another half hour, Max, so come into the study with us for a moment.”

  Max shrugged again. Uncle Fred had raised his curiosity. They all followed along.

  The men always gravitated to the study in Uncle Henry’s house after Thanksgiving dinner. They always shared a glass of cognac, and those who smoked did cigars. It was certainly a ritual left over from the days when the men of the family were lumber barons and then owners of whaling ships. It felt strange to Max to be in the room before the big dinner.

  They stood in a loose circle in the middle of the room. Max glanced around with a questioning look at them.

  Uncle Fred spoke up. “Max, we need your skills for this…” He thought a moment, struggling to come up with the proper word. “…mission.”

  “Ah!” Max smiled.

  Cousin Tim spoke earnestly in a hushed tone. “Max, you probably heard that the family now has money in a tuna canning plant down in Puerto Rico.”

  “Lot of salsa music there,” Max said. “That’s a place I’m probably going to go for my study.”

  Tim continued, “There are some strange things going on down there.”

  “At the new tuna canning plant?” Max asked. “Those romantic days of whaling must be gone.”

  “No, no romance in tuna,” Uncle Fred agreed. “At least I don’t think so where you’re going to go.”

  “Mayaguez,” Cousin George said. “Third largest city on Puerto Rico. It’s known as the tuna canning capital of the world.”

  “They got that Santería down there,” Cousin Jack said, “mix of Christianity and voodoo. People leave crosses drawn with chicken blood in doorways and on gravestones, all that sort of stuff.”

  “Rough place to be a chicken,” Max tried to joke, but only he laughed. In his mind he recalled that the woman on the plane had said something about the dead being very present where he would go.

  “It’s what’s going on with the plant that’s got us worried,” Uncle Fred said. “We got a letter from an informant, signed her letter ‘Ms. Anna,’ and it had the return address of a Mayaguez bar. She says something is going on with the tuna boats, organized crime of some kind, and it’s tied in to our factory.”

  “Tuna boats, huh?” Max said. “The family owns tuna boats?”

  “We don’t own the boats,” Cousin Jack replied. “Just like with lobster and stuff here, we buy the tuna for our canning plant from contractors who own the boats.”

  “Our source doesn’t really know what’s going on. She just suggests we check it out for our own good,” Cousin Tim said. “There’s a Señor Cofresí who works for us. He was working for the prior owner. We don’t know if he’s involved or not, but we’d better not trust him till we know for sure.” He shrugged. “That’s all we know.”

  “What do you think, Max?” Uncle Fred wanted to know. “You willing to take a little trip down there and look things over for us?”

  “And sail on a tuna boat?” Max asked.

  “Whatever it takes,” Uncle Fred said with a shrug. “This Ms. Anna should be easy to find. She gave us a phone number at the bar. We’ll call and tell her you’re coming. You can start with her.”

  “We’ll also tell that Cofresí guy you’re coming to inspect the plant for us. We won’t want him to be suddenly surprised that you’re there. You can see him, too, and pretend to be doing something official as your cover.”

  “Any of you been down there?” Max asked.

  “Your Uncle Henry and I went there for a night or two when we looked over the plant before we bought it,” Uncle Fred said. “This Cofresí fella took us to the place that Ms. Anna gave as her return address, the La Salida bar. A little seedy, but it seemed a pretty decent place. They treated him like he was one of the regulars there.”

  “So you know Cofresí,” Max said. “Why don’t you guys go back down there?”

  “We know about business and investing,” Cousin George said quickly. “What needs to be done here isn’t at all our kind of thing. You’ve done things like this for us before. As always, we’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Good time to go,” Cousin Tim added. “You’ll beat the winter tourist crowds. Maybe you can listen to a little of that Caribbean music and put it on your expense account for that study of yours, as well.”

  Max laughed. “You guys got all bases covered here, for sure. But I doubt there’s much tourist crowd on the tuna wharfs. Of course I’ll do it for you.”

  Uncle Fred’s face lit up with a warm smile. “Great,” he said, and he extended his hand for a deal-sealing shake with Max.

  Then they all looked around as Uncle Henry entered the room. “Ah, Max,” he said. “Looks like the boys are filling you in on the little project we have in mind for you.”

  “We already have,” Cousin George said with a nod. “He’s already agreed to be our man down there.”

  Uncle Henry’s face lit up with a similar smile, and he extended his hand as well. “Only one question,” Max said. “When might you want me to do this?”

  “Monday, at the latest,” Cousin Jack said. “This is something we’d better get on right away. I think there’s a direct flight from Portland to San Juan every day. You have to then take a puddle-jumper to Mayaguez. It’s on the west coast, at the far end of the island.”

  “Gives me the weekend to get my shit together,” Max thought out loud. “Why not? Sure, book me for a flight on Monday.”

  Uncle Henry consulted the gold watch on his wrist. “Claudia’ll be calling us all to the table in about ten minutes,” he said. “Max…all you boys, go have Uncle Nate refresh those drinks you’ve got there. Then, after dinner, we’ll all come back here, and we’ll have a drink to the success of our secret agent Max, here.”

  “Hear, hear,” Uncle Fred said, and they all raised their empty glasses to Max.

  He said, “Guess now I’ll have to switch what I’m drinking to rum.” And the men laughed all around.

  Guess it was a tuna boat that woman on the plane was talking about, Max thought as he followed the cousins out of the study. I guess they have women down there who pilot tuna boats. But what was that thing she said about carrying a dead man’s bones?

  Chapter 3

  Anna finished her Friday shift at the La Salida bar, and she made herself her usual strong, dark Puerto Rican coffee. Captain Jim and her father had stopped by, and they were at their usual table drinking beer. Anna sat down and stashed her tip money in her backpack as she always did. This day there was an unusual, smug
grin on her face.

  “Goodness, what are you smilin’ at?” Captain Bob asked.

  Captain Jim laughed. “Some promising young executive must have asked her out.”

  “No, nothing like that.” Anna shook her head. “I got a phone call today.”

  “A phone call?”

  “Yes, here at the bar. I gave those tuna plant people in Maine the bar number.”

  “They called you?”

  “Yes.” Anna’s smile had not changed. “Not only did they get my letter, Monday they’re sending a guy here to the bar to talk to me.”

  “Oh, my God!” her father exclaimed. “That’s amazing.”

  “See, it never hurts to try,” Anna said triumphantly.

  “Now, you don’t have a job runnin’ their plant yet,” her father reminded her. “You’re going to have to be careful what you say to this guy.”

  “We should have a few drinks with him, too,” Captain Jim suggested. “Give him some of the island’s good black label rum. Get him in a receptive mood.”

  “Yes,” Captain Bob agreed. “That 151-proof stuff usually makes ’em receptive to just about anything. That might have been why I bought that damn boat of ours.”

  Captain Jim laughed. “I’m sure that’s the rum Señor Cofresí’s pirate ancestors drank all the time. Just the kind o’ guy we were talking about getting into a card game…”

  “Daddy, I don’t know if that’s so wise.”

  “Why not?” her father asked. “We’ve done really well with unsuspecting mainlanders before.”

  “Suppose this one’s not so unsuspecting, or so dumb?”

  “We’ll have your saints and gods to protect us,” Captain Jim said.

  “Not my saints and gods,” Anna objected. “They guide my navigation; they don’t do card games.”

  “All the same,” her father said, “you do the navigation and leave the card games to us.”

  Anna was no longer listening to them. She had just seen Señor Cofresí enter the bar. He was dressed as always in his white suit and straw hat. He paused a moment just inside the door, caught sight of Anna and the two men at their table, and crossed directly to them.

  Captain Bob looked around. “Ah, Señor Cofresí, good to see you.” He smiled.

  “Ah, Señors y Señorita, que bueno. It is so good that I have found you all here together. I have something important to ask of you.”

  “Sit down.” Captain Bob offered him the remaining empty chair at the table. Anna moved her backpack closer to her on the floor so he would have room for his feet by the chair.

  Captain Jim stood up. “Señor Cofresí, give us the honor of getting you a beer. In fact, I will get fresh ones for us, as well.”

  “Gracias.” Señor Cofresí smiled.

  “De nada. It is our pleasure,” Captain Jim said. Then he looked at Anna.

  “I’ll pass on the beer,” she said with a wave of her hand.

  Captain Jim kept looking at her, and then Anna understood. She rolled her eyes. Then without a word she leaned over and reached into her backpack for her wad of tip money from her day’s work. She handed a couple of bills to Captain Jim. He smiled, tipped his captain’s cap, and headed off to the bar.

  “Señor Cofresí, you look a little stressed,” Captain Bob said.

  “Oh, those new owners of the plant,” Cofresí said with a wave of his hand. “Monday they are sending a man down here to inspect my plant. Times have been hard enough. The tuna catch is good, but the market has been slow.”

  “Surely they can’t blame that on you,” Captain Bob said. “I’m sure the workings of your plant will be totally shipshape for them.”

  “I don’t know.” Cofresí shrugged. “The old owners never came to see anything. I met them once, and they seemed like decent people. But I do not know what to expect of them this time. What does this guy want to see?”

  Anna remained silent, but the conversation had her full attention.

  “Is it one of those two guys you brought here one night when they came down to look at the plant before they bought it?” Captain Bob asked. “They seemed like nice people to me when you introduced them.”

  “No, this is some Max something-or-other they are sending down. I told them I have meetings. I got them to put it off till Wednesday for him to visit the plant. I will have time to clean everything, check the books…”

  Captain Jim returned with their beer. The three men each took a glass, and they toasted each other. Anna joined them with her coffee mug.

  “To your success with the mainlander.” Captain Bob smiled.

  “Gracias,” Cofresí thanked him.

  “Max,” Captain Bob said as if he were thinking. He turned quickly away from Cofresí and winked at Anna. “Isn’t that the name of the guy who called the bar today?”

  “Umm…” She couldn’t be more noncommittal.

  “Yes, that’s the one,” Captain Bob continued. “Told her the guys who came down here before told him this was a great bar. They loved the rum drinks she made for them. He wanted to make sure he had directions from the hotel, just in case the hotel desk didn’t know how to direct him here. He should be in here Monday afternoon, and Anna can make a good strong rum drink for him.”

  “He wants to come to this bar?” Cofresí asked as if he could not possibly understand why.

  Captain Bob talked right over him. “In fact I have an idea.” A sparkle lit up the old captain’s eyes. “Señor Cofresí, you come Monday afternoon too. I introduce you, and we all have a drink together. You know, get used to each other in an informal atmosphere.”

  Captain Jim spoke up in support of the idea. “On the mainland, a man you have a drink with usually becomes your friend.”

  Cofresí nodded. “That is our way here as well.”

  “Right,” Captain Bob agreed. “And how can a friend send a bad report back to the lobster people in New England? Once this Max fella is your friend, I bet a good report to the owners is guaranteed. Maybe he’ll even get those owners to send you more working money for the plant. Maybe you can hire more tuna boats full time, like maybe ours…”

  Cofresí sipped his beer and thought for a moment. “Si.” He nodded. “It is all possible. Captain Bob, I like your idea. I will come meet him here Monday afternoon.”

  “And I have even another idea,” Captain Bob continued. “This Max is a mainlander. I’m sure he must be a New Englander too, like the rest of the family. Why don’t we tell him it’s an island tradition here that a newcomer who drinks with us must also join in a poker game with us, as well. He was probably one of those prep school kids. Probably has no skill at poker, but he’ll agree. He won’t want to be a bad sport to the guys he’s drinking with.”

  “Of course he won’t,” Captain Jim agreed. “That’s a prep school thing. Besides, when I used to hang out in the casinos in Havana, we would always beat the New England prep school boys at poker. You can trust me on this one, for sure.”

  “We’ll take him for all he’s got,” Captain Bob predicted. “We’ll make him really humble by the time he gets over to take a look at that plant of yours. You might even have to lend him some money. Then his ass will be all yours…”

  Cofresí smiled. “Si.” He nodded. “Captain Bob, I very much like your idea.”

  Captain Jim raised his glass. “To good ideas,” he said, and the other two raised their glasses, too. Anna just smiled and nodded. She knew it would be futile to disagree.

  A silence fell for a moment. Then Cofresí spoke up. “But that is tomorrow. That is not why I came here to speak to you today.”

  “Oh, right,” Captain Bob said. “Yes, I remember. There was something you wanted to ask us when you came in.”

  Cofresí set down his glass, and he suddenly became totally serious. “I need to hire your boat for a special trip again.” He looked over at Anna. “What I especially need are the skills of your pilot, Anna, of course.”

  Anna smiled at him, nodding.

  “Of course
,” Captain Bob agreed. He lowered his voice a bit. “You know we are available to go out and meet the…I mean, your friends at sea, any time you want us to. Day or the darkest of night, our Anna can find them for you, no problem.”

  “Si, I know that.” Cofresí nodded. “But this is a little different kind of trip.”

  “But still, I bet, not a trip we’d bring our lobster fishing guest on,” Captain Bob said, and both the captains laughed. Cofresí didn’t laugh, nor did Anna. She was intent on what Cofresí had to say.

  “I need a boat that flies the US flag to take a cargo to Key West,” he said. “We must meet a boat that will transfer a very precious cargo to us.” He looked over at Anna. “That is where I need you. This boat will come from Cuba, and we will meet it in the night at sea. A boat with a Cuban flag cannot just sail into Key West.”

  “And,” Anna asked, “what is this precious cargo you speak of?”

  Cofresí looked upset. “It is the remains of my sadly departed brother.”

  “Your brother died in Cuba?” Captain Bob asked.

  “Si.” Cofresí nodded. “Our parents and most of the family fled Cuba for Key West when Castro came to power. My aunts and uncles are buried in Key West. They want to bury my brother there too.”

  “So the governments won’t even allow that?” Captain Bob asked.

  “It is much easier to meet a boat at night,” Cofresí said with a shrug. “I will pay you three times what I pay for a meeting with my friends. A plane would have to take him to Mexico, or some other country. Then he would still have to go through customs with all manner of documents, all in good order. A Puerto Rican boat is as American as those boats that catch lobsters in New England—no customs, no papers. It is worth every cent to my family.”

  “That does make sense,” Captain Bob agreed.

  Anna thought out loud. “It’s eight, maybe nine hundred miles from here to Key West. I’d say three days and two nights, if the weather is on our side.”

  “I want to leave at night,” Cofresí said.