2 Dog River Blues

by Mike Jastrzebski

  I jumped at a sudden movement in front of me and the haunting cry of the startled heron had me lifting the gun. Cold shivers of excitement racked my body as I stepped onto my boat. I felt like I was living on the edge of a well honed knife.

  The fog was still thick, so I made a circuit of the upper deck before climbing into the cockpit. My mind seemed in tune with every creak of the dock, every lap of water against the pilings.

  I had taken to locking my boat after being surprised by Fish and I was relieved to find the padlock intact. I willed my shoulders to relax, opened the lock, and pulled out the hatch boards.

  I should have been happy to be back on board my own boat. I should have been ready to crawl into bed. I was neither. Instead, I began to lay out my plans for going after Rusty and Fish.

  After what had happened to Cathy, I decided to go on the offensive. If Carpe Diem was anchored nearby, I’d find her, board her, and confront Rusty and Fish. If I were lucky, it would all happen before they knew what hit them.

  Keeping the gun within easy reach, I stripped off my damp clothes and pulled on a pair of heavy, dark sweatpants, a matching sweatshirt, and my rain jacket.

  I grabbed a bottle of Captain Morgan and took a stiff swig, then moved to the cupboard and dug out my dive knife and its scabbard. I had never killed a man with a knife, but double armed was double prepared. If someone had to die today, it wasn’t going to be me.

  With the blade strapped to my right calf, I headed back out into the cockpit. Closing up the boat I gathered my thoughts and paused to look around. The beauty that surrounded me as the fog dissipated was breathtaking.

  I was very aware of the night sounds of the marina. The occasional early morning car on the parkway. The soft lap of the tide against the dock. The snap of a flag in the freshening breeze. In another time, another place, I would have basked in the peacefulness of it all.

  Instead, I climbed over the side of the boat, boarded my dinghy, and grabbed the oars. The motor was out of the question. The noise would carry too far in the quiet of the morning.

  A sense of exhilaration was building inside of me as I untied the boat and pushed off into the river. The wind, blowing from the south, helped to carry me out into the middle of the river. It was a struggle to keep the dinghy pointed up river as the current and the tide fought my every stroke. The only thing that made it possible for me to row was the quickening breeze at my back, and my determination to force a showdown.

  By the time I’d traversed the length of a football field, the fog had thinned enough so that I could make out the outline of my boat. Another few minutes of rowing, and a quick glance over my shoulder revealed Rusty’s trawler. It gave the illusion of having been cast adrift among the clouds.

  Exhaustion set in as I pulled the dinghy up to the transom. The strain of rowing and the wear and tear of too many nights without enough sleep left me weary. Tying off to the swim ladder, I leaned back against the rubber tubes of the dinghy and took several deep breaths. I needed to clear my mind and revitalize myself before I could take on Rusty and Fish.

  The scent of burning diesel fuel and the soft vibration of Carpe Diem’s generator were heavy in the air. A helicopter moved over the bay and the deep bellow of a ship’s foghorn broke the stillness of the night.

  The rain began to fall harder turning the fog into patchy apparitions. I could hear no one stirring on the boat so I reached up and grabbed the ladder.

  I figured I had a good chance of getting aboard unseen. From my previous search I knew Rusty’s bedroom was in the front of the boat and the flybridge was on the upper deck.

  I inched my way up the ladder, swung my leg over the rail and stepped into the cockpit where I tripped over something large and pliable.

  I stumbled back to my feet as a large spotlight snapped on, blinding me. As I turned my head away from the light I saw what I’d tripped over. Fish Conners.

  A gaping gouge oozed above his ear and a trail of blood ran down his face. The rain turned the blood into a pink stream that flowed along the deck to the cockpit drain. I thought he was dead, and then he let out a loud groan.

  “I’ve been expecting you,” Rusty said from up above. The light shifted and fixed on Fish’s face. “I’m afraid Fish got a little greedy.”

  I looked up and tried to see where he was standing, but the bright spot shifted and once again I was blinded as the light hit my face.

  I raised my left hand to shield my eyes and moved the right to the butt of my gun. “Bodies are starting to pile up, Rusty.”

  “You’ll be dead before you can get that gun out,” Rusty said. “As you said, the bodies are piling up. One more won’t make a difference to me.”

  “Fog’s lifting,” I said. “People are starting to move about on shore.”

  “I have another proposition for you, Wes. But first I need for you to get rid of the gun. I want you to take it out very slowly and drop it overboard. Or I can shoot you and dump your body with Fish’s.”

  Rusty held the upper hand again, so I pulled out the gun and held it in front of me.

  “Okay,” he said. “Now reach out until your hand is over the water, and then drop the gun. I want to hear it splash.”

  As I dropped the gun overboard I couldn’t help but wonder how Roy was going to react to my losing another of his guns.

  Rusty interrupted my thoughts. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “It was a small gun.”

  “Let me see your hands,” he said.

  I held my hands out in front of me and then jumped as something hit the deck next to where I was standing. It made a dull, hollow thump as it hit, and I looked down as Rusty trained the light on a half empty roll of duct tape resting against Fish’s leg.

  “Use that on Fish,” he said. “I have a feeling that neither of us will be very happy if he wakes up. I’d just as soon not have to worry about him coming after me.”

  Dropping to one knee I snatched up the tape, and using my teeth pried the edge from the roll. My scalp itched and I had visions in my mind of a giant target painted on my back. The idea that Rusty might shoot me where I kneeled spurred me on and I wrapped several layers of tape around Fish’s wrists before moving down to his feet.

  The man’s legs were monstrous and I was only able to put two wraps around them before the roll of duct tape came to an end. Tossing the empty spool to the side I rose to my feet and turned back to face Rusty as Fish began to stir at my feet.

  “Done,” I said, turning away from Fish.

  “Good. Now, haul your ass up the ladder. Keep your hands in sight, and when you get up here, move to the back of the deck and sit down on the bench seat. If you try anything, I’ll shoot you. If you call out, I’ll shoot you. Hell, if you make me nervous I’ll shoot you.”

  The metal steps were wet and slippery. As I started to climb, my foot slid and my shin banged hard against the next step, making a dull ringing sound in the night. I cursed, and continued to pull myself upward. Rusty scurried away from the edge of the stair and flashed the light back into my face. With exaggerated care I felt my way along the deck rail to the seat.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “Now we have to make a decision,” Rusty said. “The man I’m selling the manuscript to is not a pleasant person. I know him from some past business dealings. He’s not above trying to take the book away from me. I was counting on Fish to be my backup.”

  As he spoke, Rusty got busy. He turned on a set of deck lights, set down the spotlight, and without turning his back to me started the boat’s engine. He then switched on the windlass, and as the anchor chain was dragged up from the water it made a loud rattling sound that reminded me of an angry castle ghost in an old B movie.

  “Let me get this straight, Rusty. Are you suggesting that I be your backup?”

  “The thought has crossed my mind.”

  “And given what’s happened over the last few days, what makes you think either of us can trust the other?” I asked. I was dumbfoun
ded at the suggestion and couldn’t wait to see how he was going to rationalize this decision.

  “It’s not a question of trusting each other.” Rusty set the gun down on the pilot’s seat and with his back to the control panel swung the wheel and turned the boat. A couple of minutes later we passed under the Dauphin Island Parkway Bridge and headed out into Mobile Bay. “I have the gun, and the fact that I haven’t killed you will have to be enough for you. The alternative is I kill you, here and now.”

  “Maybe if you’d put the gun away I’d feel differently.” I slid my feet underneath my body and pushed myself up from the seat. Nudging my foot a step toward him, I asked a question that must have been on his mind. “After all that’s happened, how can you possibly trust me? I know I don’t trust you.”

  Rusty grabbed the gun and pointed it at me. He appeared to be deep in thought as he swung the boat around the number seven buoy and pushed the throttle forward.

  “I have a plan,” Rusty said.

  “So far your plans have not turned out very well,” I pointed out. “And everyone who gets roped into your plan eventually turns up dead. I’m not sure I can afford to join you in your plan.”

  “Just hear me out,” Rusty said. “If you don’t like the plan, I can always shoot you.”

  He had a point. “I guess it doesn’t hurt to listen,” I said.

  “All right, here’s the deal, Wes. I have a digital camera that I keep up here to take pictures of fish I catch. I’m going to let you toss Fish’s body out into the bay while I take your picture. For insurance purposes, if you know what I mean. I’ll also throw in what I promised Fish.”

  Chapter 22

  It was brilliant in its simplicity, and I could only see one problem with his plan. “What’s to keep you from using the pictures to blackmail me out of my share of the money?” I asked.

  “I’ll let you take pictures of me shooting Fish before you toss him over,” Rusty said. “We’ll have each other by the balls. We’ve got a couple more hours before we’ll be where I want to dump the body, so sit back and relax. After that we’ll head to the rendezvous where we swap the book for the money.”

  “How much are we talking?” I asked.

  “Twenty-five grand.”

  “Plus the ten you promised me earlier,” I said.

  “I can live with that. But don’t get too greedy or you’ll be joining Fish with the fishes.” Rusty chuckled at his weak joke. He set the autopilot and took a seat where he could shift his attention between me, and the bay before him.

  I watched Rusty for several minutes trying to gauge whether I had a chance to get the gun away from him. As I waited he reached for the wheel, swung it to the left and then back again. Something hit the side of the boat with a sharp jolt and I jumped to my feet.

  “Just a log in the water,” he said. “I didn’t see it in time to avoid it. There’s a lot of shit out here. They must have had some storms up river.”

  I eased back into my seat. It seemed Rusty was more alert than I was. Since I had no intention of helping him kill Fish or sell the manuscript, I decided to try to rest until we got to where we were going. I’d look for an opportunity to get the gun then. I took one final look around the boat, leaned back in the chair, and drifted off to sleep.

  The damn spotlight tracking across my face woke me. A thin red line was spreading across the horizon, and the stars were fading from the sky. Behind us, the glowing crescent of the moon appeared to be nestled on the bay.

  A thumping below where I sat told me that Fish was also awake. Stretching, I stifled a yawn. “I’m getting pissed off about that light in my eyes.”

  Rusty shifted the light a little to my left and I caught a glimpse of his gun pointing in my direction. “We’re about an hour away from our rendezvous. It’s decision time, Wes. Either you’re with me, or you’re with Fish.”

  “Does Fish know what you’re planning?” I asked. Beneath me the pounding grew in intensity and I figured that if Fish didn’t know, he suspected.

  “No more questions. We need to get rid of Fish before it gets light.”

  “I’m stiff as hell, Rusty,” I said. I stretched once again, this time grabbing my ankles and pulling my shoulders and head toward the floor. “But I’m with you.” When I bent forward I reached up my pant leg with my right hand and palmed the dive knife, tucking it up my sleeve as I stood and walked over to the stairs.

  I looked at Rusty and gauged my chances. There was maybe four feet separating us and I knew this was as close as I was likely to get to him. He let the pistol hang in one hand and held up a camera in the other. I was pretty sure he could raise the gun faster than I could strike with the knife.

  “Do we have to kill him?” I asked.

  Rusty slapped the automatic against his leg, and then did it again. Before I could do anything he jumped up and moved toward me with his gun pointed at my gut. At this range there was no way he could miss, and I couldn’t defend myself. “Get down there,” he said.

  As I started down the steps Rusty swung the gun over the railing and fired two shots. Before I could move, he had me covered again.

  Below, Fish Conners had gone still.

  “So much for matching incriminating pictures,” I said.

  “It’s not a problem.” He held out the camera and pointed the gun down the steps. “We’ll go down below and while I point the gun at Fish, you can take the damn picture. We’d better get a move on. It will be light soon.”

  I continued down the steps. When I reached the bottom I looked up and waited. He started to follow me down, paused, and shifted the gun away from me. As he searched for a handhold, I slid the knife from my sleeve and lashed out at his leg. I caught him in the calf and felt the tip of the blade scrape against bone. Rusty let out a yell that sounded more like a battle cry than a sob of pain, and warm blood dripped on my hand.

  Rusty kicked out with his good leg and caught me on the side of the head, stunning me. At the same time he dragged himself upward. I shook myself and made a half-hearted grab for the hilt of the knife. My hand was slippery with his blood and the blade slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor before bouncing out of sight.

  I crept up the steps, listening for any sounds from Rusty. When I poked my head through the opening I saw that he had moved over to the far side of the boat. His hip rested on the rail and he was twisting his belt around his bleeding leg with one hand and pointing the gun at me with the other.

  “I should have killed you right away,” he said, raising the gun. There was no way he could miss.

  I was thrown off my feet when something big hit the boat, passed under the hull, and hit the propeller. When I looked up Rusty was gone, tossed over the rail by whatever had hit us.

  I jumped to my feet, ran to the control console, and shut off the autopilot. As I eased back on the throttle I glanced over the side and tried to spot Rusty. No luck.

  The sky was a palette of red and purple and the edge of the sun was just becoming visible as I turned the wheel and went back to search for him. A large tree trunk about a foot in diameter with a tangle of roots shot to the surface off the port side of the boat. I spotted a gaping cut in the bark where the prop had hit, but no Rusty.

  I made a half dozen passes around the tree trunk, driving the boat in ever-widening circles. Once again, I failed to find Rusty or his body. When I’d convinced myself I wasn’t going to find him, I turned the boat in the direction we had been headed earlier. I set the auto pilot, slowed to near idle speed, and went below.

  Fish’s unseeing eyes were open. Stepping over his body, I moved into the cabin. I wondered if the manuscript was cursed. How many men had died for this book before my grandfather took possession? Would Rusty be the last?

  The manuscript was hidden in the same drawer where I’d found it earlier. It was wrapped in several plastic bags and nestled under the same pair of jeans. I grabbed the book and headed for the main salon where I stopped at the chart table and spent several minutes figuring
out where I was headed.

  We were a couple of miles from a small cove listed as Prince Cove, just off the Intracoastal Waterway. I figured that if I took my dinghy into the cove, I could call Roy and have him drive over and pick me up.

  Entering the cove, I was glad to see that there were no other boats anchored there. I chose a spot not far from the shore and lowered the anchor. As soon as I had Carpe Diem secured, I pulled out my phone and called Roy. When he answered, I filled him in on what had happened, emphasizing the dilemma I was in.

  “I’m on my way,” he said. “Take me maybe an hour to get there.”

  “I’m taking my dinghy into shore. I see a boat ramp and the road. I’ll meet you there.”

  “I know where it is. Do you want me to call the police?”

  I looked down at Fish’s body and said, “No. I’ll explain when you get here.”

  I hung up and ran below. I’d seen a hand held VHF radio sitting on a shelf over the navigation table when I was checking my position. I turned it on, switched it to the local weather channel and was relieved when the mechanical voice of the announcer came in loud and clear. I could use it to notify the Coast Guard of Carpe Diem’s location after Roy picked me up. Sticking the radio in my sweatshirt pocket, I pulled out my handkerchief and began wiping down the boat for fingerprints.

  It was full blown daylight by the time I was ready to leave. As an afterthought, I took a minute to grab a fishing pole out of the rack near where Fish’s body lie. It had a small lure already attached, and I hoped that if I ran into anyone I could use the fishing pole as my excuse for being out on the water so early in the morning.

  I climbed into the dinghy and untied the two registration boards and tucked them under the seat. I didn’t want anyone to be able to identify my dinghy. Finally, I drew my sweatshirt hood around my face and reached out to start the motor.