Harsens Island

by T. K. Madrid

  “That is a very noble sentiment.”

  Sam groaned.

  “Listen. I don’t need you in the middle of whatever this is. You’re too confusing and improbable. If you’re in danger, you’re better off missing. And if you’re a danger to me or anyone else, dumping you buys me time. So be smart and lay low until whatever this is has blown over.”

  “You cannot leave me here! I am nowhere!”

  “You’re on an island,” she said irritably. She gestured. “North, south, east, west.”

  She went to the driver’s door.

  “Samantha!”

  His every word – no matter how big a lie or how great a truth – would be an enticement, a seduction of time.

  “Samantha! Do not leave me, Samantha!”

  She put the gun in the glove box and drove away quickly. In her rearview mirror, she saw the little man doing jumping jacks.

  (18) Even Eden Had Snakes

  She rolled into Redsky’s driveway and came to rest in a weak cloud of dust. The pale-yellow house had a screened-in, wrap-around porch. As the dust settled, she focused on the porch. A man rose from a couch; another man remained sitting, staring at her. She imagined the glare of sunlight on her windshield prevented them from seeing her. She waited in the truck for a few moments, giving them time to assess.

  To the left was a dirty-white, six-car garage and each door was up and each stall was filled: a black, late model Mercedes, a vintage, gray Chevrolet El Camino, a blue Chevy Tahoe or perhaps a Yukon, two others she couldn’t distinguish, and Redsky’s white Escalade. Parked adjacent to the house was a Ford pickup with a snowplow, an ancient John Deere tractor, and various farm implements. Beyond that was an acre or more of tilled land dotted with weeds and summer-dead grass.

  The front lawn was a radiant green. On it sat wood chairs, benches, and tables painted yellow and orange. A children’s play gym was tucked in the far corner, sheltered by the trees separating them from Tecumseh Road. Two tire swings hung on another tree.

  She stuffed her purse under the passenger seat and went to the house. It was hotter and more humid now, and her tee was stained with sweat. She heard music coming from the porch, a radio, or stereo, playing Beyoncé.

  She slowly cocked her head upward and spotted a third man positioned at a second floor window. He was sitting, an elbow on the windowsill, facing her squarely, and watching each step.

  The steps leading up to the porch were six-feet in length and it was then Sam absorbed the grandeur of the home. It was of the Victorian style; she imagined it was over one hundred years old.

  Redsky opened the screen door, and waving her up playfully asked, “Do you ever change clothes?”

  “Only after my Saturday night bath. How are you, Chief?”

  “I’m fine, thank you for asking. Please come in. What a pleasant surprise. Are you hungry? Can I get you a drink?”

  “Water would be great,” Sam said.

  Redsky didn’t offer any insight on the men on the porch. One was perhaps thirty-years old and had black hair; the second was a few years younger and had a shaved head. They glanced at her in a neutral way and then resumed watching the road and driveway. A compact stereo rested on a short bookcase lined with CD’s.

  The house was at least 25° cooler inside. The windows were double paned and tinted. They used a wide hall to walk through the center of the house, passing several spacious, open rooms, each sparsely but beautifully furnished. On each wall in each room hung one outsized photograph, oil painting, or lithograph. The floors were real wood; area rugs dotted each room. There was a hushed quality throughout the space and it carried a distinct sense of respect and order.

  A few steps from the kitchen, the hallway narrowed; Sam stopped to examine a framed print of black paint strokes on faded paper or vellum.

  “Is this a Picasso?”

  Redsky, over her shoulder, retrieving a glass from a cabinet, said, “Yes. We own several of his works. Did you see the Lichtenstein?”

  “He was the one who did the comic book stuff?”

  “Not quite the best way to describe his work, but yes. We bought a Hopper some years ago, two Ansell Adams, and other works, all authentic and original, of course. We prefer art, if you know what I mean. Landscapes and portraits with the occasional contemporary. We had an opportunity to purchase a Jackson Pollock but no one liked it. It was too unorganized.”

  Sam entered the kitchen.

  “I think that’s the appeal. The randomness.”

  “Yes, yes, jazz and beatniks and rubbish endorsed by New York intellectuals.”

  The ceiling was composed of ornate, copper squares. The counters and appliances were commercial grade. The floor was composed of eighteen-inch squares of Italian marble.

  “Ice?”

  “No, thanks. Big place you’ve got here.”

  “Technically, it’s not my home, if that’s what you’re thinking. This is a public house. On my ascension, my successor will move in. My personal rooms are on the second floor. Please. Sit.”

  Redsky gestured to the kitchen table. There were eight chairs around it. Evidence of a consumed lunch was scattered over it.

  “Cheers,” Redsky said, handing her a glass.

  “Cheers,” Sam said.

  “I’m glad to see you,” Redsky said. “Did you have any trouble finding us?”

  “I missed you on the first run and got lost on a back road, but no, nothing too serious. It’s beautiful country.”

  “Our land really is a summer gem. The winters are less enjoyable but home is home, isn’t it?”

  “Are you going to the fireworks?”

  “Oh, no. We see them quite well from here. Did you know this is the only night ships are prohibited from passing? They’re fired from a barge in the middle of the river, so naturally the shipping lanes are blocked for a short time. It’s all very carefully choreographed.”

  “Bada-bing, bada-boom,” Sam said.

  “Exactly,” Redsky said. “One wayward spark and we’ll be picking shrapnel from our asses for the next two hundred years.”

  “I can imagine. Some of those tankers are giant.”

  “One more monster under the bed. What are you doing tonight, by the by? Any plans? With Mr. Rowland perhaps?”

  Sam liked her subtle play, the fast wink coupled with the pretense they were two girls dishing the dirt, gossiping about a cute boy.

  “I’m having a party at my house.”

  “Oh, good for you! New friends? Old friends?”

  “No one’s been invited, actually.”

  Redsky tilted her head, looking at her curiously.

  “I don’t understand.”

  She embellished Flora’s story.

  “Last night I overheard a couple of men from your family discussing a plot to rob my home. I didn’t get the gist of it so I thought I’d mention it to you. You know, face to face. I was hoping you could locate them and have a word on my behalf. I’d hate to see anyone be hurt for something as trivial as money.”

  “Now, how would I know who they are? It seems to me you should’ve confronted them or brought it to Rowland’s attention. He’s chivalrous enough.”

  “They didn’t look like the friendly type. And that aside, I try to handle my own affairs.”

  “Still, bird in hand...”

  “Well, that’s a minor consideration and not my reason for stopping.”

  “Oh, excellent! Does this mean you’ve come to join our merry band?”

  “Never gave it a thought,” Sam said, smiling broadly. “But I was thinking of getting cats.”

  “Fifteen would buy many cats.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Fifteen thousand dollars up front, yours to keep, if you assist us in helping remove Moon. Non-refundable of course, yours to do with as you like no matter the outcome.”

  “That’s a lot of cats for a one-night appearance.”

  “You could call it a good-faith deposit or retainer. Something to whet the appe
tite. Last night I wasn’t prepared to discuss numbers, but after watching you shatter Mickey I concluded it would be gauche not to extend an offer. Do you handle a gun as well as you fight?”

  “I don’t use guns.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Your father was a very accomplished man. He didn’t care for knives as I recall. Not that I blame him. They’re too messy.”

  Sam avoided lies the way politicians avoided truth, but she also understood a plausible lie was the simplest to remember and act on, and that a plausible lie might yield an unexpected truth. Her lies and misdirection’s were purposeful; from them she hoped to yield truth.

  Sam gestured, moving one hand up.

  “Tell you what, Chief, I’ll consider it. And before I forget to mention it, Snake claims he shot Bill Catanzaro on my back steps.”

  Redsky’s eyes narrowed. Her words came slowly.

  “Elon shot Bill?”

  Sam sensed curiosity but no concern.

  “I’m sorry, but I thought you would’ve heard by now. I mean, with your ties to the community I naturally assumed…”

  Redsky drifted for a few seconds before speaking again.

  “I heard a rumor of unpleasantness but I hadn’t heard specifically what happened or to whom it happened. Did you see him shoot Bill?”

  Sam shook her head.

  “No. I came home and found Rowland, his crew, and a detective named Haberski knocking around. Do you know Haberski?”

  “Yes, of course,” Redsky said. “How do you know he shot Bill?”

  “He told me he did.”

  “Really? When was that?”

  “About half an hour ago,” Sam said.

  Redsky leaned against the table. “That was on Harsens?” she asked, her voice harder, her eyes expressing a glint of anger.

  “No. Here on Walpole,” Sam said, and gestured over her shoulder. “He was hiding in the rear of my truck. He said he wanted to talk with you before he turned himself in. But after we crossed, he ordered me to pull over. He said he wanted to clear his head.”

  “Ordered you?”

  “He’s armed, remember?”

  “That was not the smartest decision for either of you,” Redsky said. “He tells you he attempted murder and you set him free on my land?”

  “I was hoping you’d be able to help me determine his motivations. Plus I was under duress.”

  Redsky repaid Sam’s straight face with a mocking smile.

  “Are you feeling better now?”

  “Much, thanks for asking.”

  “What did you tell Rowland and Haberski?”

  “What I knew – nothing. I’m as curious as they are.”

  “They don’t know about Elon?”

  “They didn’t then. They might now. Why do you think he wanted to visit you?”

  “I have no idea,” Redsky said. “But I must say the two of you are making interesting choices.”

  “Chief, all I want to know is who killed Hunter. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “What did he say about Bill? Exactly?”

  Sam, thinking of the missing money, spoke another lie.

  “He claims Bill was breaking into my cottage and that Bill fired a round at him. He claims he fired in self-defense.”

  Redsky settled back in her chair.

  “That doesn’t sound at all like either man.”

  “Everything is possible in this Twilight Zone. Multiple murders, an alleged murder attempt, a woman feigning madness and everyone with a story crazier than the next. Pretty amazing stuff for a place that sells itself as paradise.”

  Redsky showed her teeth as she smiled.

  “Even Eden had snakes, didn’t it? And you forgot about the daughter of the assassins.”

  “She’s tangential.”

  “Perhaps the most interesting tangent. We were content before your arrival. In fact, none of this would be happening if you hadn’t intervened.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Sam said. “Everything you’ve told me happened or was happening before I landed here. And you have a heavy hand.”

  Redsky’s voice was husky and intimidating.

  “I don’t care for the insinuation.”

  “Sorry, but murder makes me less amicable,” Sam said.

  “Without knowing all the facts, my first thought is we don’t positively know he shot Bill, do we?”

  “No,” Sam conceded. “I suppose not.”

  “But we do know Elon isn’t what he claims to be.”

  Sam shifted forward, her hands lapping, elbows akimbo.

  “Houle claims he didn’t know Hunter had traveled to Harsens.”

  Redsky smiled.

  “It’s called plausible deniability.”

  “Her visit to me was a pretense, wasn’t it? She was brought in to complete whatever deal you arranged without alerting Hannibal. Hannibal is a player in this melodrama, correct?”

  Redsky rested her elbows on the table and intertwined her fingers.

  “Let’s just say Clayton has an active interest. Then, regarding our Mr. Houle – I wouldn’t be surprised if you were used as a deception.”

  “So why kill Hunter?”

  “Persistence is a virtue,” Redsky said, smiling broadly. “But, sincerely, what difference at this point does it make?”

  Sam smiled and placed both hands flat on the table.

  “I appreciate the afternoon Zen,” Sam said. “Thanks for the water.”

  Redsky knocked twice on the table with her right hand and said, “Check.”

  The women stood and shook hands.

  “A pleasure, Samantha. Would you like a bottle of Evian to go?”

  “I’d appreciate it, sure.”

  “It’s too hot to be without water on a day like this.” Redsky opened the refrigerator, removed a bottle, and handing it to Sam said, “I hope Elon is managing. Where did you say you dropped him off?”

  “Village center. If you catch up to him, remember he has a gun.”

  They exited the kitchen. As they passed through the house a second time, Redsky gestured to various artworks, pausing to say a few words about each.

  When they reached the front door, Redsky held it open for her. The men on the couch glanced at them but said nothing. A wave of heat swept in.

  “At the risk of appearing rude, I’ll let you brave Death Valley.”

  “Okay, Chief.”

  She took one step forward, stopped, and turned back to Redsky.

  “You know, I meant to give this back to you.”

  She reached into her pocket, withdrew the quarter-shaped audio bug, and gave it to her.

  “What is this?” Redsky asked.

  “I thought about it and realized you did a slight of hand last night,” Sam said. “I thought I’d let you know I got the joke. Thanks again for the water, Chief. I’ll be seeing you.”

  Redsky’s eyes narrowed a fraction, and nodding, examining the device, said nothing.

  She got in the Bronco, started it, and turned around. At the end of Redsky’s driveway, she turned left. She drove a half-mile before she pulled into a driveway posted with a “No Trespassing” sign. She pulled up to the backyard of a dilapidated house.

  She angled the truck left and saw a nude woman sunbathing on a plastic lawn chair. The woman lolled her head to Sam; her eyes blinked lazily. A bottle of Tequila rested on the ground next to her; a whirl of smoke lifted between the fingers of her closest hand and she exhaled a similar cloud. She gave the woman a brief wave and casually put the Bronco in reverse. The woman waved back.

  Sam rolled to the front of the house, stopped shy of the road, and waited until a gray Chevrolet El Camino sped by in the direction she had been traveling.

  She counted to ten. Then she pulled far enough into the road to see the Camino’s brake lights as it stopped before turning right toward the ferry.

  Sam followed and quickly caught the El Camino, two cars ahead of her, waiting to board the ferry to Algonac.

  All of the cars
inched forward, restless feet tapping brakes, and eventually they all boarded. The operator directed cars to both sides, ensuring the weight was balanced and that as many cars as possible were boarded. There was no foot traffic.

  She killed the engine and paid the fare.

  (19) A Kiss and a Wink

  Sam followed the El Camino drove through Algonac at a safe distance. They arrived at Mule’s Ferry. Flora waved the cars onto the ferry. The El Camino parked kitty-corner from her; she confirmed its occupants were the two men she’d seen on Redsky’s porch. They were at the midway point of the vessel, almost dead center.

  After collecting the fares, Flora returned to Sam, and apologized for the self-invite to Sam’s house.

  “It was rude of me,” she added.

  “No need for the apology, Flora. We’re good.”

  “Thanks,” Flora said. “Whew!” She motioned as if wiping sweat off her brow.

  Sam tilted her chin forward.

  “Do you know those two in the El Camino? I think they’re from Walpole.”

  “Yeah, I know them. I mean, I’ve seen them before, but I don’t know them, know them. They’re a couple of mean-looking dogs, aren’t they? Maybe that’s their greeting party up ahead.”

  Sam slid her sunglasses to the tip of her nose.

  There were four cruisers at the ferry dock.

  “Looks like a regular rodeo,” Sam said. “How long have they been there?”

  “Heck, not long. They pulled in as we left. They weren’t lit up, no sirens or lights, so we knew they weren’t trying to stop us.”

  “What do you think they’re after?”

  “Oh, they probably got a hot tip on a smuggler, or maybe it’s to let the tourists know we’ve got real police. Last year this bozo tried to walk away from a car accident, thinking Emily Dowicki was a rent-a-cop. Drunks, you know? Plus, being a woman, she doesn’t get as much respect.”

  “Huh,” Sam said. “They ever do this before? A show of force like this?”

  “Not that I know of, but, like I say, there was Em.”

  The engines reversed as they drifted to the dock. The land gate swung up, the orange-painted, steel ramp attached to the boat, and the ferry gate rose. The cars began to roll off.