I found Nellie sitting with Sandralene and Stan outdoors. They all were laughing uproariously. When Nellie recovered herself, she said, “No, dude, try again. ‘What’s happening?’ Kuzé ki sta fladu?”
Stan’s mangled repetition of the phrase sounded like “Cozy keister flew-do.”
“Oh, man, you ever visit Cabo Verde, you are going to get eaten alive! You will pay twice as much as any other tourist, just for butchering kriolu like that!”
“Fuck it! I’m always happy to let my money talk for me.”
Nellie jumped up when she saw me. “Glen! You finally done with that stupid computer? Let’s go for a swim.”
“Sure. In a little while. But I want to check in with Tighe, see how he’s coming along.”
“Okay, I’ll go get my suit on!”
Nellie trotted off to her room. I watched her go, admiring the sweet, swaying symmetry of her walk. When she was out of sight and I turned back to Stan, he was grinning like a bettor who just cashed in winning tickets on all the Triple Crown trifectas. Sandralene’s smile was more restrained and enigmatic. Buddha-like.
“So, you finally took my advice,” Stan said.
“What advice?”
“The advice I gave you on the drive back from Schreiber’s: if you wanna relax, loosen up and bust a nut in some warm cooze.”
I felt my face flushing, though apparently I needn’t have bothered about Sandralene, who registered no embarrassment whatever. I could hardly imagine the even filthier things she heard when she and Stan were alone. The notion of their bedroom talk actually began to get me aroused. Nellie was sexy, but Sandralene was sex itself. Nevertheless, I should at least sound offended.
“Jesus, Stan, have you no shame or dignity, no sense of decorum?”
“Oh, come off it. There’s no harm in boning that girl. She’s all right. And you were never gonna get in Vee’s pants anyhow.”
This lateral swerve knocked me right off my pins. “Me and Vee? What the hell are you talking about? I never …”
“Christ, Glen, do you ever even take a look around inside your own head? Or is it too fulla fog? I thought prison mighta taught you something. Lots of time for contemplation in a cell. You been hot for Vee since the day she got here. Don’t know why you’d fall for a cold fish like her, but damn if you didn’t. It’s a losing cause, though. You’re a shitload better off with Nell.”
I found I couldn’t contradict Stan with any semblance of honesty. “Okay. Maybe you’re right. Let me ask you something, then. If you knew I was interested in Vee, she probably did, too. How do you think she’ll react to me and Nellie being together?”
“Oh, on the outside, she won’t show a thing. Inside, who the hell knows? That woman is a puzzle wrapped up in a mind-fuck inside a Secret Santa present.”
I looked at Stan with befuddlement. “Are you actually paraphrasing Churchill?”
“Who’s that, now?”
“Never mind. So you think Nellie and I can show, like, public displays of affection and it won’t freak Vee out? She’s got a big part to play, after all, once Nancarrow shows up here—if he ever does. She’s got to be totally focused.”
“Nothing you can do will tip that iceberg. So quitcha worrying.”
Nellie was walking up, a yellow terry-cloth robe over her bikini.
“C’mon, Glen! I want to swim!”
She linked her arm in mine, and we headed toward my room to get my suit.
I looked back at Stan and Sandralene, and they were grinning like parents who had just succeeded in marrying off the homely daughter.
Me.
24
The old filtration unit stood in the grass outside the shed, looking more antique, punier, and more corroded than it had in the cobwebbed shadows indoors. Elbert Tighe’s truck was parked nearby, its tailgate down and packing materials strewn about. Sounds of activity came from inside the pump house.
I went inside. Tighe had rigged up a utility light, turning the already broiling interior into a sauna and filling my nostrils with the smell of creosote. The fancy new equipment filled the place to bursting, but somehow Tighe had made it all fit. Flat on his back and half concealed by the machinery, he stuck out his hand and said, “Pass me that nine-sixteenths box-end, Kirwan.”
A wiry young black man in a green first-rate well drilling T-shirt quickly found the proper tool and put it in Tighe’s outstretched hand. After a few moments of muttered profanity, Tighe emerged from the tangle of pipes, dripping with sweat. He stood up and brushed himself off.
“What do you think, Glen? Told you it would take most of a day to install, and I was right. Hope you folks were okay using bottled water all day. Same thing tomorrow—I still have to extend that intake pipe.”
“Elbert, you’ve done the impossible,” I said. “This job would have taken me six months and I’d still get it wrong.”
Tighe’s sober face showed no obvious pleasure, but I got a sense he was proud of his skills and didn’t mind the praise.
“Oh, by the way, meet my assistant, Kirwan Allen. Still got a lot to learn, but smart as a whip. Kirwan’s brother married my niece, so he’s practically a nephew.”
Kirwan grinned. “Uncle Elbert, right. From the plantation side of the family.”
I said, “Looks like you two could use a break. Kirwan, you think the boss can get by on his own while you go up to the lodge and bring back some drinks and a snack?”
Tighe gave a nod, and Kirwan said, “Absolutely.”
I left them and joined Nellie down at the water’s edge. She had dropped her robe and was sitting on a mossy fallen log. This beach was going to take a lot of restoring to be ready for customers. But then I caught myself and thought, Yeah, if we were staying to do what we pretend to be doing.
When I came near, Nellie sprang up effortlessly and splashed out into the Lake.
“Catch me, você preguiçoso!”
“What did you call me?”
“You slowpoke!”
I dashed after her, into the welcoming waters. She outpaced me, hurling herself under, surfacing, and stroking for the center. I caught up with her eventually, but probably only because she let me.
Having a younger girlfriend was either going to leave me in fine physical condition or kill me with pleasure.
We hugged and kissed and felt each other up, treading water longer than I would have thought possible. Then Nellie broke off the fun and pulled away a little. Droplets glimmered in her long lashes, and she looked so gorgeous that if I could manage without drowning us both, I would have jumped her bones right then and there.
“I told my folks all about your plans,” she said. “How you want to hire some of our people to work here. They’re so excited, you will not believe it! They’re spreading the news in the community. When do you think you’ll start with the interviews?”
Holy shit. Things were moving too fast. Sure, I could conduct fake interviews and then stall the applicants. But I suddenly realized that our instant and unannounced departure upon selling this fake gold mine to Nancarrow would be the ultimate betrayal of Nellie. Somehow, I had assumed, even if only subconsciously over the past twenty-four hours, that when it came time to split, if we were still together, I could just tell her the truth and get her to run away with me to Cape Verde. It was her ancestral home, after all. But now that happy outcome seemed a lot less likely.
Nellie kept looking at me with those dark, luminous eyes, her beautiful lips that I had just been kissing quirked in expectation. What could I say? Once again, I had to rely on the same capacity for on-demand plausible bullshit that had been such a mainstay of my misbegotten career.
“We need to get all the other vendors in place first. Then, in about a week, we can start interviewing for staff. We won’t need a huge workforce, don’t forget—say, seven, eight, ten people. And that’s counting all the shift
s.”
She beamed. “That’s ten more jobs than exist now! Oh, Glen, this is so great!” She grabbed me by both shoulders. “Let’s go back to your room and celebrate. I’ll teach you a couple of new phrases, very handy.” She stuck her hot little tongue in my ear, then whispered, “Mas dibagar and mas dipresa.”
My swim trunks were rapidly becoming a pup tent. “What’s that mean?”
“Slower—and faster!”
We got out of the water, and Nellie put her robe back on, leaving me wishing I had one to hide my current condition. To my relief, Kirwan and Tighe had ended their break and were busy again in the shed, so I had no immediate cause for embarrassment. Not that it required much explanation, given Nellie’s luscious appearance.
I could hardly believe that I was about to have sex for the second time in twenty-four hours—well, third time, depending on one’s definition. Not bad for a guy who had resigned himself to never making love again.
My door on the lake side of the lodge was still locked, as was Nellie’s, so we came around the corner—and stopped dead.
Parked next to the other vehicles was a black-and-white police car. And standing by the front fender was a cop, talking to Stan.
25
I tried to keep my voice level and unbroken. Any thoughts of sex had evaporated like spit on the sunny side of Mercury.
“Nellie, I think you should go change clothes and check with Sandy about getting supper ready. I’ll see what Stan and the officer are talking about.”
Nellie’s face showed concern. “You don’t need me to help you, maybe? I don’t think anything can be wrong. I recognize that cop, and he’s okay. Not a jerk. Sheriff Broadstairs, from Centerdale. He coached my brother’s basketball team.”
Duh. I hadn’t fastened on to the fact that Nellie’s being a local might help ingratiate us. Also, the way she was dressed, any straight male cop would have a difficult time concentrating.
“All right, thanks. Let’s see what he wants.”
We approached slow and easy, although it had to be obvious that neither of us was concealing any weapons.
Sheriff Broadstairs continued talking to Stan but was eminently aware of our presence. In his late forties, he was nearly as tall as Stan, but less massive, with a face as blandly unpretentious as tapioca pudding. He wore a regulation uniform of khaki shirt and olive-green trousers, and the usual range of gear and weaponry on his belt. The only personal touch was the decidedly nonregulation leather Aussie digger hat with a band of silver conchos.
When we drew up next to Stan, Sheriff Broadstairs politely doffed that unconventional lid to Nellie. His Gary Cooper-ish voice had the same old-shoe affability as his face. I instantly pegged him as a dab hand at putting suspects off their guard. All those reruns of Columbo in the prison common room were not for nothing.
“Is that little Nélida Firmino? My cats, but you have gotten to be a real lady now! I recall when you weighed about sixty-five pounds and had no more curves than the baseline from home to first. How’s your brother Roberto doing? Still got that wicked layup?”
So much for Nellie’s disarming looks. For all the sexual tension on display, Broadstairs might have been her dad.
Nellie smiled with broad sincerity. “Nossa Senhora! At least you didn’t claim you used to change my diapers! Yes, Sheriff, Roberto still plays well. He’s away at the community college this year.”
“That’s good to hear. And what about you, kid? Last I heard, you were working in town. Some fast-food place, I think.”
I knew without a doubt that Sheriff Broadstairs was already fully informed of Nellie’s change in occupation. He had probably learned about it within hours after it happened. And he knew that I knew. And all that unspoken knowingness between the two of us meant, I may be a cop from the sticks, but you boys have got to get up pretty early to put one over on me, and you’d be wise to remember that.
“Not anymore, Sheriff! I got something way better! I’m here to help these new friends of mine get the lodge open for business again. They’re going to hire all Caboverde people, you know!”
“Well, now, that is pretty spectacular. I think you might have hitched your wagon to a rich star, Nélida. That is, if it’s not just one of those burn-up-quick shooting stars.”
Stan spoke up for the first time since I arrived. I was relieved to see he looked unworried. “We’re here to stay, Sheriff. You can bet your last bullet in a gunfight.”
Nellie asked the question I had been dying to ask. “But what brings you out here, Sheriff? Not just to check on me, I hope. Like you said, I’m a big girl now.”
Sheriff Broadstairs lifted his hat just enough to scratch his scalp, then snugged it back down. “Well, even though this might be a tad embarrassing to speak of in front of your new employers, Nélida, I have to admit I’m here—officially, that is—just to convey a certain message from a friend of theirs in town. That would be Wilson Schreiber, their parole officer.”
If Nellie was disconcerted by the sudden revelation that we were ex-cons, she didn’t let on. “And what does he say, Sheriff?”
“He wants to congratulate these two entrepreneurs on such a speedy installation of their new water system. Elbert Tighe has handily kept us abreast of progress. But Will also wants to remind them that this stage has to proceed swiftly to the next—namely, lining up all their suppliers and employees. And that brings me to the unofficial reason for my visit.”
Stan said, “If you can handle a Frialator, Chief, we estimate we’ll be going through about two hundred pounds of potatoes a day, once all the cabins are rented. Nice after-hours part-time work for a man in your position.”
The look Broadstairs gave Stan could not be construed as vicious or hateful in even the mildest sense of those words. But neither was his look jovial or humorous or harmless. I settled on coldly calculating as the proper description.
“Well, I surely appreciate that offer, Mr. Hasso, though I fear I must decline. These old flat feet would not take stand-up duty without complaining. But your willingness to consider me for employment makes me hope you’ll be agreeable to what I have to say. Why don’t we get out of this sun, though?”
We went to the picnic table. Under the canopy, the air seemed much cooler. Without being asked, Nellie said, “I’ll get some cold drinks. Is beer okay?”
“Well, Nélida, I see now that you learned from your mama how to be a fine hostess.”
We sat. With Nellie gone, Stan leaned in aggressively closer to the sheriff. “All right, let’s have it. What’s the shakedown gonna cost us?”
“Mr. Hasso, that is the worst possible interpretation you could put on my words—which I haven’t even spoken yet. Maybe you’ll do me the honor of listening. After all, you two wouldn’t be happy if I jumped to a lot of conclusions about your actions here, based just on some superficial observations, would you?”
Stan huffed, then sat back ostentatiously, folding his arms across his chest.
“Are you boys familiar with the Centerdale Chamber of Commerce? As strangers to these parts, you could not find a better guide to commercial enterprises in the region. All our members are certified to be honest and talented experts in their fields. Now, it just so happens that, what with sheriff being a quiet and underpaid job hereabouts, yours truly has time also to serve as president of the Centerdale C of C. And as such, I feel it is my duty to present you two with some friendly guidance on hiring.”
The sheriff unbuttoned a shirt pocket and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. He laid it flat on the table and smoothed it out. “Now, here we have a handy list of the best businesses in the area—just the types of firms which your enterprise will be requiring. Any name you pick off this list will offer total satisfaction at modest prices. Not rock-bottom prices necessarily, but totally fair. I think you’ll agree that you get what you pay for and that the tradesman is worthy of his hire. I can vouch
personally for each and every one of these folks—especially this gent, who happens to be my brother-in-law.”
The sheriff’s finger indicated Golden Touch Roofers.
“Now, I hope you realize just how much time and effort this list is going to save you two. There’s no need to waste hours conducting your own research, making a million phone calls, and such. Instead, you can plunge right ahead, just the way Will wants you to, without worrying about getting stuck with some loser or incompetent or fly-by-night. So what do you say?”
I took the paper from the table before Stan could erupt. “Sheriff, we really appreciate this guidance, and we will start calling these fine tradesmen as soon as we get back the lab results on our drinking water.”
“Excellent! I knew you’d appreciate the offer of honest help.”
Nellie came up then with our beers, and we lifted them in a toast to the success of the lodge.
“And to lifting the bottom lines of so many fine local businesses,” Sheriff Broadstairs added.
26
The sheriff had gone. Elbert Tighe and Kirwan had gone, with a promise to return early tomorrow and finish the job. A muted greenish-purple dusk was turning the treetop canopy into dark, mysterious vaults and bringing with it a refreshing coolness. Birds were making their settling-down noises. Savory smells emanated from the cook shack, where Sandralene and Nellie labored. Vee was setting the picnic table with the paper plates and plastic utensils and paper cups that we were using tonight to avoid trying to wash dishes without running water. (The lodge had been sold to us with much of the kitchenware, including large quantities of clunky old-fashioned china and flatware.) Surprisingly, she was actually humming something, though it sounded like one of Wagner’s more melancholy passages. Ray was half reclined in a lawn chair with his iPad, listening to the quintessentially American sounds of a sportscaster narrating a baseball game. During this timeless summer moment, the play-by-play might have been coming to us through an old cathedral-style Philco.
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