Circle of Bones - Kling Christine - Страница 41
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“I don’t give a flying fuck. It’s our boat. Leastwise it is now.” They headed up the wharf to where it intersected the village’s main street. Spyder wanted to get this errand done quick. He didn’t trust that Thor dude on his boat all alone.
“He’s got a sat phone,” Pinky said when they arrived at the intersection. “I saw it. And he won’t eat that crap you bought. He wants some decent food and wine and he gotta make a phone call.”
After Thor had settled in the master stateroom, he came out into the galley and started opening lockers. A quick check of their supply of cocktail sausages and cheese puffs, and the neat freak asshole had demanded they take the big boat in and tie up to the main dock. That way they would be able to run the AC without running the generator.
Spyder reached into his shorts pocket for the money and shopping list Thor had given him. “It’s the middle of the fuckin’ night! I can’t even read what he wrote on here.”
“It’s okay. The French stay up late. That’s some kinda’ grocery store just up there.” Pinky pointed toward the center of the town.
Spyder counted the bills. “Two hundred. Looks like there’s enough for a tip for us, bro.”
“You go. I wanna walk. I’ll be back in ‘bout a hour.” Pinky turned and plodded off down the sidewalk that led away from the lights and sounds of town.
Spyder stood in the middle of the deserted street and watched the eery white outline of his brother’s silhouette as he slid off into the darkness. The bushy Afro, long-sleeved shirt and cotton pants, all white, made him look like a freakin’ ghost, and there wasn’t much Pinky liked better than skulking around outside after dark. Spyder was used to his brother’s weird behavior, but it still creeped him out sometimes. He knew there were two main reasons Pinky loved the night; for one, his skin just couldn’t take the daytime sun, and second, when it was dark, people couldn’t see him, didn’t laugh at him, or point and call him a freak.
The place Pinky had called a grocery wasn’t much of a store. Inside the small shop, a runt Frenchman with Coke-bottle-bottom glasses stood behind a counter scooping ice cream out of a bin for a kid who wasn’t even tall enough to see through the glass. The two of them were jabbering in French. In the middle of the single room, there were four standing shelves with a mish-mash of wine, school supplies, and packaged goods. Spyder saw some meats in the freezer next to the ice cream and after the freezer, a small cooler held bottles of beer and wine. At the end of the refrigerated section were several wooden boxes filled with fruits and vegetables. Half the wall behind the counter was covered with different kinds of cigarettes, rolling tobacco, and papers, and on top of the ice cream freezer there were boxes of cigars.
Spyder wasn’t sure they’d have the kind of fancy food this Thor dude was looking for, but as long as it was French, the asshole would probably like it.
When the kid left, the old man said something in French, and Spyder handed him the list. The old guy pulled out a cardboard box and began collecting bottles and cans from the shelves, so Spyder stuffed a cigar in his pocket when the owner wasn’t looking, pulled a can of Heineken out of the fridge, and went to the door. He figured he might as well kick back and let the old man do the heavy lifting. Across the street, in the restaurant a bunch of customers sat hunched over the bar. The music had quit, but the serious drinkers were still out.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed movement back down by the wharf. Something moving fast. When he swung his head that way to look, there was no one there. What was it that had attracted his attention? He hollered into the shop that he would be right back and headed down to the corner to take a look at the boat.
The Fish n’ Chicks was docked about fifty feet up the pier, and though there weren’t many lights in the area, he saw the outline of a man on deck. Keeping to the shadows, he edged closer to the boat. The figure stepped around the cabin headed for the afterdeck and Spyder recognized him. It was just Thor, and now he was climbing up to the fly bridge. What the fuck was he doing? Guy didn’t know squat about boats. He watched as the man settled into the helmsman’s seat. Had Thor been talking to somebody? Was that what he’d seen? He closed his eyes and tried to pull up a clearer image of what had attracted him. Yeah, it had been somebody hauling ass off the wharf. It wasn’t a woman, he was sure of that. A man, then, walking fast. Too fast.
Spyder returned to the main street, then entered the alley that led up the side of the hill between the dark cottages. This was definitely the direction the shadow man had gone. Spyder stepped softly, listening for footsteps, ducking overhanging branches heavy with sickly sweet flowers. The windows he passed were all dark and dull like the eyes of old blind men. After about fifty yards, he came to another cross street that ran parallel to the little shopping and restaurant district below. The houses on the back street were larger, fancier, with second story wrought iron balconies and whitewashed brick walls surrounding front courtyards. A narrow concrete sidewalk ran alongside the cobblestone street beneath the high branches of the poinciana trees. He turned right and started to circle the block when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder.
He spun around fast, spilling beer down the front of his shirt from the can he had forgotten was still in his hand. “Shit, Pinky! I almost crapped my pants. What are you creeping around here for?”
“Just walkin’.”
“You seen anybody come by here?”
“Just a dog. That’s all.”
Maybe it was just a dog. But he didn’t trust Thor, that was for sure, and if they were going to make out on this deal, he’d have to watch him.
“I found where the woman’s sailboat went to.”
“You seen it?”
Pinky nodded. “Just where that dude’s GPS thing said it would be.”
“Yeah?”
“Unh-huh.” He pointed down the street that led out of town. “Off that way. There’s another boat there too. Can’t make it out, though. Too far out. I just seen the white anchor light.”
Spyder chugged down the last of the beer and burped loudly. He was trying to think. He knew that knowing stuff was always worth something. Now Pinky’d seen the chick’s boat and they had that. But what they didn’t know was who had been running away from their boat? Had the dude got rid of him and his brother just so he could meet with somebody?
“Spyder, you don’t look so good.”
“Shut up, bro. I’m trying to think.”
Pinky chuckled and scratched at a scab on his cheek.
“I said shut up, man.” Spyder hated it when his brother laughed at him. “Fuck this. Come on. Let’s go get the asshole’s food and get back to the boat. I don’t like leaving him alone with our shit. Who knows what he’s doing. He might be going through our drawers and shit. We got our own secrets, right bro?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Aboard the Shadow Chaser
March 26, 2008
10:55 p.m.
Riley leaned over the stern bulwark and peered across the water towards her boat lying at anchor farther inside the bay. Above her loomed the cables and dark shadows of the former shrimper’s outriggers. Though she knew sailboats, she was unaccustomed to work boats, and she felt like a foreigner aboard this one.
Where was Theo? With her dinghy gone, she had no way, aside from swimming, to get back to her distant anchor light. But at that moment, she wanted more than anything else to get off this conspiracy nut’s boat. Her father made more sense than this guy.
“Mikey, what was I thinking?” she whispered to the wind.
Closing her eyes, she reached out to her brother. She needed that connection to him. A sudden thought popped into her mind, and she opened her eyes. “You agree with him?”
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