Chapter 27

 

Mama Toukee’s marijuana had affected Buck’s senses. Now the shock of seeing flames licking the marina’s roof prompted him to dive from the boat and start swimming toward the beach. His excursion into warm water sobered him quickly. He realized his mistake as the craft powered past him, nosing into shore. Wiley jumped out of the boat before its engine had died, the others following closely behind.

The marina, despite being surrounded by water, had only one water faucet from which to draw. Raymond had already hooked up a long hose to the lone faucet and stood as far out on the dock as he dared, spraying the flames. The fine shower of water was having little effect on the fire.

Pearl was hauling buckets of water from the minnow container to douse the fire. She was slow and Wiley grabbed the bucket from her. Despite being faster, his extra effort did little to keep the marina from burning out of control. Pearl was frantic when Buck finally reached shore, dragging himself out of the water. Grabbing his arm, she pointed toward the flaming concession at the end of the dock.

“Oh, Mr. Buck, Ray's in there.”

“In the fire?”

“Yes!”

Pulling away from her grasp, he rushed headlong down the narrow dock.

“I'll get him.”

Raymond saw him coming and dropped his hose. “Man, are you crazy?” he said, seeing what Buck was about to do.

Buck sidestepped the larger man and lunged through the fire already lapping across the far end of the wooden walkway. He could hear Raymond screaming at him. “Don’t do it, man!”

Paying no attention to Raymond’s warning he high-stepped through the burning building, shielding his eyes as he covered the distance to the concession at the end of the walkway. Someone had already kicked in the door to gain entrance and Buck rushed through the opening as his water-soaked clothes began to scorch. The fire was not his only concern.

Thick smoke masked his vision, sucking oxygen from his lungs. Ripping off his wet shirt, he thrust it over his head, continuing blindly through the burning store to Ray’s room in back. He found him, unconscious and lying on the floor, beside his bed.

Flames engulfed the room as he grabbed Ray’s arm and rolled him over. He was unconscious but still alive and had somehow maintained his grip on a large folder. It was clutched tightly in his hands, the veins in his wrists popping out from the strain. Buck struggled to lift him off the burning mattress but found him too chunky to accomplish the task. Blisters raised on his face and neck as he felt suddenly rejuvenated. More than rejuvenation, his new found strength exceeded reason.

Ignoring painful blisters, he yanked Ray off the bed and dragged his inert body across the floor. Fire chased them through the door and he clawed through dense smoke for another way out of the burning building. A lone window on the far wall seemed the only possible avenue of escape. He encountered another problem when they reached it.

Age and old paint had glued the wooden-framed window to its casement. Buck strained to budge it from its moorings. Knocking out one small window pane was useless. He scanned the room for something heavy enough to knock out the whole window. Finding nothing, he mustered his remaining strength, hoisting Ray off the floor and tossing him through the closed window, quickly following him through the opening as flames licked his back.

“They're in the water,” Wiley yelled, sprinting into the lake.

Raymond and Pearl followed Wiley into the lake, pulling them to shore. They quickly began trying to revive their son. Thunder and a rainy torrent followed the last burning remnant of the dock and marina as it toppled into the lake. Wet drops relieved the pain of Buck's blisters but arrived too late to save the marina. Rain washed away the last vestige of the fire as he lay there, beside Lila and Pearl weeping for Ray. Raymond and the others looked relieved but a wave of nausea was already forming in his stomach. Rolling over, he buried his face in the mud.

***

Rain continued throughout the night. Buck spent most of it tossing and turning, trying to decide what to do next. The marina had paid the salaries of Raymond, Ray and Pearl. Without it, he realized he couldn't support the island on his own meager resources. When the alarm sounded the next morning, he crawled out of bed and stood beneath the shower until the water ran cold. It was only then that he assessed his own damage. His skin was scorched, ribs black and blue from clipping a railing on his way out the window. Several new sore spots became painfully apparent as he limped down the stairs. When Pearl saw him she burst into tears, almost breaking his good ribs when she rushed over and hugged him.

“Oh, Mr. Buck, you saved my baby.”

Despite his discomfort, Pearl's reference to baby Ray brought a smile to his face. “He did the same for me the night before,” he said, gently extricating himself from her grasp. “Is he okay?”

His question reduced her to an unexpected bawling fit. He had to pat her shoulder to calm her. “Ray's fine. Now, what are we going to do?”

“I'll think of something.”

His answer seemed to placate her and she dried her eyes with her apron, smiling weakly. “Thanks Mr. Buck.”

Pearl returned to the stove, leaving him to wonder if he really could take care of it. Brice was waiting on the veranda with a fresh pot of coffee and he joined him, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. He remained in that position until Brice's voice returned him to consciousness.

“You gonna make it, buddy boy?”

“I'm not worried about myself.”

Brice had a legal document on the table. Buck recognized it as the foreclosure action.

“I gave this a good look last night. I think it has a problem. I've never practiced law in Texas. My reading of their statutes may be faulty, but . . .”

“But what?”

“You weren’t accorded due process.”You're a party-of-interest in the foreclosure and you should have had at least twenty days notice. They gave you ten.”

“You think it'll save the island?”

“Don't know,” Brice said. “From what you say about Judge Travis, he might just consider it harmless error and disregard it. Still, I think it's a chance of averting a sheriff's sale.”

A motorboat passing on the lake sent a noisy flock of cattle egrets flying, and a dozen sunning turtles into the water.

“Maybe I can prove the mortgage on the marina is a fake.”

“You think it is?” Brice asked.

“Not really. It looked real to me even though Pearl and Raymond aren’t convinced.”

“If it looked real to you then it probably is. Maybe we better just hammer away at the due process argument and hope we can get a stay until you can prove it. Whatever happens, I'll be right there with you.”

“After my visit to the good Judge’s house, I don’t have a lot of confidence in my chances.”

Brice placed a brotherly hand on his shoulder. “Nothing in the court system is ever a slam dunk. Travis doesn’t like you and won't rule in our favor unless we back him into a corner. Leave him no other alternative. We’ll insist on a court reporter and let him know we’ll appeal any adverse decision in a heartbeat. Judges don’t like having their decisions overturned.”

Buck closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Even if we win on appeal it’ll be two years down the road. Where will that leave Raymond and Pearl?”

“We have to give it a shot. What else can we do?”

Brice left him alone on the veranda before he could answer the question, returning to the lodge to find Sally. He slumped back into the chair and groaned. The sun was high overhead, his face and neck warm and sweaty when he glanced up into Lila's hazel eyes.

“You looked so comfortable I didn't want to wake you. Sara and I are leaving now.”

“Sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night.”

Lila's cotton blouse and khaki shorts displayed her long legs to their best advantage. It didn't matter. Realizing the futility of his ardor, Buck averted his gaze. Lila's grin hinted that she understood his plight and even seemed to enjoy it.

“I'm sorry about what happened last night. Is there anything I can do?”

“Put me up a few days if the Judge boots me off the island,” he said, half in jest.

“I'm so sorry. I hope Uncle Jeff doesn't take the island from you. If he does I’m expecting you to stay at our house. I'll even show you the family Bible.”

He had none of her faith in the fairness of her Uncle's pending decision, and barely remembered his request to see her family bible. When Raymond called from the lake, she kissed him squarely on the lips.

“Gotta go. Good luck at your hearing.”

“I'll walk you to the dock,” he said, following her out the door.

Raymond and Wiley were waiting at the dock, along with Sara, Ezra, Brice and Sally. Ezra offered his condolences over the marina fire.

“I just hope it didn't bring back too many bad memories for you.”

“My memories will never leave me, or my nightmares. I’m okay with them. I just pray they catch the person that did this to you.”

Everyone turned their attention to Buck when he said, “I think everyone knows Hogg Nation had a hand in it.”

“Now wait a minute,” Sara said. “What proof do you have of that? Hogg Nation is a good man. He had no part in the marina fire.”

Taken aback by Sara's animation, Wiley asked, “How do you know that?”

“Because,” she said.

Wiley pursued the question. “Cause why?”

“Because I've gone out with him. That's why. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body.”

“You're dating Hogg Nation? What about me?” Wiley said, thumping his chest.

Wiley's jealous anger put Sara on the defensive. Everyone listened with interest when she said, “We had a quarrel. We broke up.”

“You sure about that?”

“Sure I'm sure.”

“Sara, I'm sorry,” Buck said as Wiley helped her onto the party barge. “I work hard at not jumping to conclusions. Maybe you're right about Nation.”

He and Raymond watched from the bank of the lake as the barge disappeared in the direction of Deception. “You ain't wrong, Mr. Buck,” Raymond said. “Hogg Nation burned down Aunt Emma's marina as sure as we're standing here.”

Buck returned to the veranda to think about what Sara had said. After several more cups of coffee, he headed for the remains of the marina. What he found was far worse than he remembered. The docks and marina were a smoldering ruin of blackened toothpicks. A skeletal semblance of the marina's former shape protruded from the lake. Bits of charred lumber, floating reminders of the destroyed dock, lapped against the bank. The sight made him feel weak and helpless.

Sheriff Wright and Deputy Sam Goodlake were taking pictures of the marina's remains, the sheriff penning notes in his ever-present pad. Buck joined them.

“Find anything?”

The Sheriff continued scribbling on the pad without looking up or answering his question. “How many pictures do you want?” the deputy asked. “There ain't a bunch to see.”

“You got enough,” Wright said. He stopped writing and frowned at Buck. “Notice anything suspicious before the fire?”

Buck thought for a moment. “No.”

Wright made a notation. “According to Raymond Johnson, he first observed the fire about one-fifteen this morning. The light coming through his window woke him up. Where were you at one-fifteen, McDivit?”

“Returning from the other side of the island.”

“And what were you doing there?”

“Visiting an old woman.”

“At one in the morning?”

“Yes,” Buck said, at a loss for a better explanation.

“Who was you with?”

“Lila, Wiley, Sara and some friends of mine, Brice and Sally.”

“All visiting the old woman?” Wright said, sarcasm flavoring his words.

“Now look Sheriff, I'm not the one under suspicion here.” When the Sheriff didn't reply,” he said. “Am I?”

“It's my job to check the alibi of anyone with a motive.”

“What motive?”

“One hundred seventy-five thousand dollars. The value of the insurance policy on the marina.”

Buck's mouth dropped. “I don't know anything about an insurance policy.”

“That's not what your lawyer, Mr. Rummels, says.”

“He's not my lawyer. If he says he is then he's a liar.”

Sheriff Wright stopped writing and stared at Buck with cold, smoky-brown eyes. “You probably ought to watch who you call a liar around here, McDivit.”

“I don't know anything about an insurance policy except what you just told me. If Rummels thinks I do, then he's mistaken.”

Wright's expression gave Buck the impression of a coiled rattlesnake eyeing a rat. “It's a strong coincidence that your share of the money is the exact amount you need to pay off the bank mortgage.”

“That's bull shit!”

Wright's eyes closed, almost imperceptibly. When he re-opened them his stare grew even colder, his calm facade hiding a temper that Buck realized was probably as violent and deadly as a Texas tornado. Wright's stare left him visibly shaken.

“I didn't burn my own marina.”

“An arsonist started the fire. Burned it smack down to the water's edge. On purpose,” Wright added, in case Buck didn't get the picture. “I can't think of anyone with more reason then you to do the crime.”

“What about my alibi? I was with five other people when you say the fire started.”

“We found a timing device. The arsonist set it at eleven to start burning at one. You were here at eleven and no one remembers seeing you at that time. Wiley Johnson says you took a walk.”

Buck could only shake his head. “I didn't burn my own marina.”

“We'll see about that,” Wright said.

After making a final notation in his notebook, Sheriff Wright walked over to where the marina's walkway once stood and paced off some distances. Finally he motioned the deputy. Goodlake stopped taking pictures and Sheriff Wright glanced back at Buck as if considering something.

“One thing bothers me,” he said. “Why did you go into the building after Johnson? Didn't want to add a murder rap to an arson sentence?”

“I didn't start the fire.”

Wright's continued stare made him feel guilty, even if he wasn't. “Let’s get out of here Sam,” Wright said, turning abruptly away. The tall deputy smiled dumbly, following along as Taylor Wright walked slowly to the boat. Before they had gone fifty feet, the Sheriff wheeled around and said, “You're under suspicion for arson and attempted manslaughter. Don't leave the area or I'll catch up with you and throw you in jail.”

Buck could only nod dumbly. In a state of near shock, he watched the two men climb into the lake cruiser and back slowly away from the bank. When they exited the surrounding cypress trees, a hundred feet from shore, Goodlake gunned the engine, leaving two white fan tails spraying morning air. He could see it clearly now. Someone had devised a complex plan calculated to cause him to lose the island. Set him up to go to prison for arson and attempted manslaughter. If he was lucky, he'd spend no more than the next ten years on a Texas road gang. He felt like the fifth ace in a stacked deck.

When He reached the lodge he went directly to his room and removed his clothes. Pulling down the covers, he crawled between the sheets and curled up into a comforting fetal position. Despite his aching mind and body, he nodded away in an instant.