Game of the Blues

by Kenn C. Kincaid

  While Gary was giving his statement, the dispatcher advised Artie the Coast Guard had followed the tug to a small freighter. According to the Canadian Navy, it had drifted into U.S. waters. The USCG invited the Canadian Navy to join the boarding party. Ten million dollars counterfeit was confiscated along with the tug. The freighter of Greek registry would be detained. Thirty-eight crewmen were pending official charges.

  The trio sat on the roadside taking turns relaying their specific part in the adventure to the investigators. Gary was last. Returning to Arty’s cruiser he commented, “That about raps it up. They said our stories meshed.”

  “Meshed?” Dan chuckled as Arty walked up. “Arty, your boys give you any advice on handling us loose cannons.”

  “There’s no problem, guys. You know how it is with a fatal shooting; by the numbers, no loose ends.” He walked to the driver’s door. “Let’s get out of here. Where’re you staying?”

  “Angler’s Camp,” Gary replied pulling a door closed.

  “Somebody will be out to take you to the Sherrif’s office for formal statements in a few hours. Get some sleep,” Arty advised on the way back.

  By the time they reached the cabin, Rick’s anxiety attack was over. He reveled in reliving the event in every detail. “From the beginning, I knew it’d be exciting,” Rick said walking through the cabin door. “Never dreamed it so exhilarating!”

  “When I get back to work Monday, I’m going to score those thirty-eight felonies on my sheet,” Dan boasted. “It has to be a record.”

  “You can’t score ’em. You’re out of jurisdiction,” Gary laughed.

  “Well, I can take assists, can’t I?”

  “Okay with me, anything to mess Hess’ stats up!”

  “You guys have this much fun every day?” Rick asked.

  “No, just on vacation,” Dan answered.

  “As late as it is, morning’s gonna come fast,” Gary warned from the bunk’s edge. He flipped his shoes off, heel-to-toe. Still dressed, Gary flopped on the mattress as the second shoe hit the floor.

  “I hear that,” Dan said following suit.

  “You guys aren’t gonna undress?” Rick asked.

  “Hey, it’s the way stakeouts work. Down time’s short. You don’t waste it.”

  Rick pulled his shoes off and lay back on the bunk. “Boy, that was something else!”

  No one answered they were already asleep.

  It was a short nap, and not even Rick wanted to respond to the alarm. Nevertheless, they rousted, packed, and were on the stoop when a sheriff’s car arrived.

  “You guys Black, Follert, and…” the driver hesitated trying to read a paper.

  “That’s us,” said Gary.

  I’m Allen Tremont. Call me Alibi, everyone does. Short for Alibi Al. Great bust! Secret Service already showed up.”

  “They tell you we’re buying breakfast?” Dan asked.

  “Nope, my orders are to fetch you straight to the Sherriff’s Office,” Alibi replied.

  “Deputy, are we under arrest?” Dan asked.

  “Of course not! This is a courtesy.”

  “Then we’re going to breakfast first. Like I said we’re buying.”

  “Sorry, Sherriff Labide’ll have kittens I take that long!”

  “Well, we aren’t going peaceful until after breakfast. You joining us?” Dan said walking away.

  “Hold on! I have to bring you in. If you won’t go and I can’t arrest you, I have to deal. If I let you all take me to breakfast will you come in peaceable?”

  “Got our word.”

  “Don’t see I have a choice. I have to complete my mission.”

  “Alibi Al fits you, Com’on.”

  “So, where we eatin’?”

  “Ginger’s!” they responded in unison.

  “Think she’ll be there?” asked Rick.

  “No doubt,” said Gary.

  They were barely seated, when a rough voice trumpeted from the kitchen, “Y’e ol’ sea dogs! Best not b’ dragg’n no more sinkin’ sewage scows in t’ m’y gall’y!”

  They all looked, but saw no one. Alibi Al’s face showed confusion. “Was that meant for us?”

  Before they could answer the kitchen doors burst open propelling Flo toward them. Her hint of a limp was gone. She skipped like a flat rock across a pound. “Sees da law’s ridin’ y’u close. Suits me fine, it do. F’r one, I’s still not ov’r the nerv’us twitches. Ye dang ne’r gots me kil’ded, ya did!”

  “Flo, meet Deputy Alibi Al,” Dan said.

  “Y’u fits ’em, ‘Ale-bi’. Watch ’em closer ‘an hawk her ’yungins.”

  “We’re kinda in a hurry,” Gary said. “Thought we’d do breakfast before we take on all the reports you got us into.”

  “Y’us was at the helm, sailin’into dat storm. As for breakfast, ain’t holdin’ this pad for not.”

  “Sorry, we haven’t checked the menu yet.”

  A bell sounded from the service window and Larry yelled, “Number seven!”

  “Y’us jus’ ain’t n’er gonna learn,” she said turning away to deliver the order for another table.

  “Who’s the character?” Alibi asked.

  “Talk later. Order now,” Gary said shoving a menu card at him.

  “You see that ‘cat got a mouse’ grin?” Dan asked. “As she’d say it, ‘h’r main sail’s, still bittin’ in t’ a full wind’.”

  “Who is she?” Alibi asked.

  They didn’t answer, because Flo was back, “Y’us ready yet?”

  “Coffee all around,” Dan said. “We’ll order when you get back.”

  Y’us d’ ones got da scurry on,” she said heading for the coffee urns. Flo picked up the coffee pot and returned without stopping. Everyone flipped their mugs over and she filled them. “Ready yet?”

  “Two eggs sunny side, crispy bacon, hash browns, and toast,” Dan rattled off.

  Flo nodded, “Ex-press num’er three.”

  “Bowl of oatmeal and a grapefruit,” Rick said.

  “Y’u puttin’ m’ on, mate? And we’s done rode d’ riggin’ together?”

  “I don’t like fried eggs, too runny.”

  “Num’er six, for da ol’ salt!” she yelled back.

  Rick didn’t reply, but Gary did, “Right on Flo. That’s what he’s tryin’ to say.”

  “And, I’ll have a six also,” Gary said.

  Flo nodded and looked at the deputy, “Y’us eatin’ or just comp’ny?”

  “Give me what he got.”

  “Uh-uh,” she grunted and left. “Two m’re sixes!”

  “Ocean Charlie 21,” the deputy’s radio broke in. “Your ETA for the Sherriff.

  “Ought-O, Sherriff’s tracking me,” Alibi muttered before keying his mike, “Ocean Charlie 21, ran into a snag. Be thirty to forty minutes.” Then turning back to the threesome commented, “I’m gonna half to dance all around this. It better be worth it.”

  “It will,” Dan promised, “Even though I’m not sure what you ordered.”

  “Same as you.”

  “Maybe, but when you said ‘what he got’, you didn’t specify which, ‘he’.”

  They all laughed at the consternation of Alibi.

  “Don’t worry Alibi. We’ve never had bad food here,” Gary assured.

  Flo floated to the table with newfound energy and orders stacked up both arms. Rick’s number six was poached eggs. The whites were solid, the yoke firm. Alibi’s order was the same as Dan’s.

  “Flo, you’re psychic, and you’re kitchen’s magic,” Gary said.

  “Take a coffee break. Pull up a chair and join us,” Dan offered. “Wanna discus your adventure.”

  “Y’u alls got d’em bottom feedin’ scallywags, didn’t y’us?”

  “Sure enough and we couldn’t have done it without you,” Dan said. “Wanted to stop in and thank you.”

  “Shucks,” she said bowing her head, “twern’t not’in’ much. Then raising her chin added, “When I gonna get m’ fift
y back?”

  “Right now,” Dan said, pulling fifty dollars from his wallet. “I’ll put a voucher in for it.”

  “Plugging the tail pipe was a smart trick. Key to the whole shootin’ match,” Gary said. “It stalled them long enough for the calvary to get there.”

  “Fixed der wag’n good, did I?”

  “You’re a courageous, fast thinking lady,” Dan said. “We’re all proud to know you.” The others chimed agreement. “Tell me, how you’re holdin’ up, now it’s over. Sometimes the aftershock’s worse than the real thing?”

  “I’m good, long as ’em Argonauts is chained in da hold.”

  “Argonauts?” Alibi asked.

  “Don’t ask,” Rick said.

  “Yeah, ’em vag’bo’nd bottom dredgers. Ought t’ be drown’d in da bilges?”

  “You put them out of circulation for some time, Flo,” Dan encouraged.

  “Good ‘nough. Gots m’ tables t’ get backs t’. Remember, when y’u’re in this port, it’s Tex-Rex; d’ grubs on me.”

  They ate quickly. Gary, Rick, and Dan each left ten bucks on the table. The Sherriff’s office was nearby.

  The depositions and paperwork took most of Sunday morning. The “commandeering” was forgotten at the urging of the deputies. They learned Arty submitted Flo for a Citizen’s Bravery award, which was accompanied by a certificate and a hundred dollars.

  Sheriff Abel Labide personally bid them farewell, “You boys put us on the biggest bust in years. Have to give credit. Well done. Sharing it with us was the smart move. Can’t help feeling you’d have preferred dropping it on my doorstep all wrap up in a pretty bow. So, if you cowboys ever play rodeo in my county again I’ll lock you up in a dungeon so deep the fires of Hades will warm your toes, and feed you bread and water till your beards drag the floor.”

  Dan chuckled as they left Labide’s office.

  Gary asked, “What you so happy about? Other than not getting locked up?”

  “Sheriff Labide really makes you feel right at home.”

  Chester chauffeured them back to their fishing camp. He wasn’t as talkative as Arty on the short trip back, but after they debarked he rolled the window down. “You know, me and Arty got called on the carpet by the Sheriff, but considering the results he couldn’t make it stick.”

  “Sorry about that,” Dan apologized. “The brass hats are the same everywhere.”

  “Wanted to tell you, we both think it was worth it. I had the best day of my career! Don’t expect to ever top it.”

  “I appreciate you telling us, Chester,” Dan replied.

  “You headed back right away?”

  “Soon as we can get packed,” Gary replied.

  “You come back any time. Look us up. We’ll ride any trail you pick. And, don’t worry about Labide. He doesn’t have a dungeon.”

  The cruiser slowly pulled away, flashed its beacon lights and disappeared around the corner.

  “Well,” Gary said, “time to head for the peace and quiet of home.”

  Dan was looking forward to returning home, but chuckled at the thought of ‘peace and quiet’. There’s no escaping. Crime is everywhere! Peace is just a word in the dictionary.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Convictions Come Home

  The trip home seemed longer than going. Dan attributed it to sleeping going and war stories returning. When the Professor pulled into Dan’s driveway, Dan was slow to exit. “How much is my part of the gas, Rick?”

  “We’re good, forget it.”

  “You guys want to catch some grub before we split up?”

  “Better not. Need to get caught up and ready for classes tomorrow,” Rick replied.

  “Well, guess that pretty much puts the lid on it,” Dan said stepping out of the car and opening the tailgate. “Gary, want to help me drag this grip and cooler in?”

  “Sure.” He jumped out and they carried it to the garage.

  “I’ll drag it in later, thanks. All things considered—a great time,” Dan admitted slapping Gary on the back. “Let’s do it again soon.”

  “The fishing part, okay!”

  Dan returned to the car and went to the driver’s side. “Appreciate you driving. I enjoyed adventuring with you,” he said pumping Rick’s hand through the open window.

  Dan watched the car disappear before dragging the heavy cooler into the kitchen. He crammed the fish in his freezer by removing half a quart of ice cream, several packages of freezer burned hamburgers, and microwavable pot pies past expiration. I’m hungry. What I wouldn’t give for one of Flo’s fish hoagies! Oh well, I’ll get a pizza, but first, better check on Trouble.

  He went to the porch and found Trouble asleep in his cage. Great! They’ve worn the fur-ball out. He clicked the television remote, and the screen brightened with an advertisement for LaRosa’s. Going to the phone he decided he wasn’t in the mood for pizza, and went to the kitchen.

  Nothing here, and I don’t feel like cooking.

  A short time later, Dan parked his Harley at the Sunbright Diner. He found an open booth at the front and slid in. A plump middle-aged woman with bleached, flax-colored hair waddled over on bowed legs. A long curled lock bounced as she approached.

  “Evening Anita,” Dan said. She reflected his smile and offered a menu. “Don’t need it. Fish hoagie with double fillets, lettuce, pickles and heavy mayo, onion rings, and a Dr. Pepper. Tell Delaney one slice of cheese.”

  At the service window, Anita slipped the ticket under a clip, “Danny B’s got wild hair tonight,” she said then returned with the drink.

  As Dan sipped the cola, he noticed a well-groomed middle-aged man nearby watching. Somebody with a grudge? was nondescript except for a primitive jaw, cold eyes, and weathered complexion. Maybe I locked him up once, but can’t recall. Dan avoided eye contact to no avail. The stranger rose and approached.

  Standing at the table he spoke softly, “Officer Black, you probably don’t remember me.”

  Dan’s defensive nature had brought him to his feet. “No I do not. Can I help you?”

  “You already have.” He reached into his back pocket, and Dan instinctively dropped his hand to his off-duty. The man withdrew a small black book from his pocket. “You gave me this in Box Town. It helped me get my life together.”

  Dan stared at a small New Testament. “Join me. I’m curious to hear how that got you out of Box Town.”

  “Thanks Officer…”

  “Call me Dan, I’m off duty.”

  “I’m Theodore Roerink. Ted, works fine.

  “So, tell me, Ted, how’d you up and leave Box Town?””

  “Most of us sat around laughing about your Handbooks. went in the fire, but three days later I was sitting on the sidewalk with my hat at my feet. I was sick of people looking at me sideways. I started reading it. Can’t say why, but the words captured me and I read for days; several times through it. I got up and went back to my old firm, and asked them for a position—any position. I’m not a C.E.O. anymore, but I’m getting my life back, and reestablishing ties with my family.”

  “What did you read that changed your mindset?”

  “It wasn’t anything specific. No one thing I could put my finger on. It was the whole thing. It gave me my purpose back.”

  “How? Where in there does it reveal our purpose?”

  “It made me see the big picture.”

  “The big picture? I don’t understand my place here, let alone the ‘big picture’. Sure would like to.”

  “You gave me this book, and you don’t know? What do you believe?”

  “I believe the world didn’t just happen. Further, I believe we have a purpose.”

  “That’s where I started.”

  “I don’t have all the answers,” Dan admitted. “Doubt I ever will, but I believe they’re in that Handbook.”

  “Me either, but Dan, I found this out. Here isn’t about here, it’s about the hereafter.”

  “How can I understand that?”

&nb
sp; “When you understand the hereafter, you’ll find your answers about here,” Ted said standing to leave.

  “Ted, you’ve only given me another riddle!”

  “Read the Book. It reveals what was, what is, and what will be. In that, you’ll find the wisdom you seek and no man can give.” The man turned and walked out of the diner. Dan rushed out behind him, but he was gone. Returning to the booth, Dan found his food on the table. He ate, left a good tip and went home.

  All the way home the words echoed in his mind, Here isn’t about here, it’s about the hereafter. garage door closed behind him and he went through the kitchen grabbing a Coke. The telephone surprised Dan. It seldom rang after supper. Let ’em talk to the machine.

  “Dan, it’s Rick. I’m missing my research papers. They’re in a manila envelope. By chance find it in your gear, call me.” returned to the garage, checked his duffel, found the envelope, and returned the call.

  “Hey Rick, I’ve got it. Don’t know why it’s in my stuff. What you want me to do with it?”

  “I gave it to Gary to put in my duffle. He probably put it in yours by mistake. I need it tomorrow. Mind if I come get it?”

  “No, just sitting around.”

  The ‘lived in look’ didn’t embarrass Dan. His domestic service cleaned on Thursdays so there was little time to make a mess before he went fishing. When the doorbell rang, things were in order. Dan opened the door, “Come on in, and sit awhile. I can offer Coke and cookies.”

  “Why not? I’m curious about your ferret anyway. Can we visit with him?”

  “You’ll have a hard time keeping him away from your cookies.”

  “Just the Coke, then.”

  “Sure,” Dan went to the kitchen, “Wanna glass?”

  “Can’s fine.”

  Dan returned and motioned to the front porch. Rick followed choosing the Adirondack chair. Dan released Trouble then took the swing. The ferret scurried off to pounce on the Wiffle Ball cradled in a pile of old towels.

  Rick laughed, “Looks like a washing machine agitator escaped its housing.”

  “He’s perpetual motion,” Dan said.”

  “Something bothering me, Dan,” Rick admitted. “I can’t seem to settle my mind.”