It was late afternoon, and Skeeter Crewes was washing down the tables and sinks where customers cleaned their day’s catch. It was an ongoing task that couldn’t be put off for more than an hour at a time. Half-drunk from drinking all day in the sun, the fishermen were less than considerate about cleaning up after themselves. Their leavings brought the green flies and gulls, scavenging for pieces of fish-gut dropped on the deck and left on the tables. The birds left their own mess as evidence of their presence.
He was almost finished when he saw Ettie and the children walking across the parking lot. The sight panicked him. It was a long walk in the afternoon heat, and Ettie wasn’t one to leave the house without a purpose. The house was her place, her position in life. It was where she fit. He was relieved both children were with her. He put the mop down, turned off the water and went to meet her.
His wife had a worried look on her face as he approached. The children ran to him, the excitement of their adventurous trip causing an adrenaline rush they couldn’t control.
“Ettie? What’s the matter?” he asked when he reached her.
“I don’ know, but somethin’ must be. You want to tell me?”
“I don’ know what you mean. What’s happened?” Ettie’s expression changed from worried to stern.
“Skeeter, I seen you get a ride home in a big car a week or so ago. I couldn’t tell who it was, but you come in lookin’ like you seen a ghos’, an’ somethin’s been eatin’ at you ever since. I didn’t ask you about it, cause I b’lieve you’ll tell me when you’re ready. Now one of them fish and game men come by an’ asked me a whole lot of questions about Turner Lockett’s trailer, an’ then Seed Hamilton called wantin’ to know what time you be home from work an’ actin’ all friendly-like like we jus’ been together for a social occasion last Saturday night. Somethin’s goin’ on, an’ I want to know what it is. You ain’t told me anything.” Stern had turned to angry.
“You say an officer came by?” he asked.
“Uniform, gun an’ all.”
“Tell me what he said.”
“Wanted to know if you ever shrimped or fished over near Turner Lockett’s trailer. If you mentioned seein’ anybody over there. Specially some little boys. Asked me if I knew Sam and did he ever go shrimpin’ or fishin’ over there. An’ ever time I answer a question, he asked me another one, like he didn’t want to leave. He scared me.” He could see her chin begin to quiver.
“I don’t know. I don’t know nothin’ ’bout Lockett’s trailer. Never been over there but a few times. No time recent. An’ why don’t he ask Sam if he ever been over there ’stead a askin’ you?” he asked.
“He said Sam won’t at home. Asked me did I know where he was.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“I told him I don’t know. I don’t keep no track of the neighbors. He said ‘don’t get smart.’” She saw anger in Skeeter’s eyes. “Now don’t get all riled. Won’t do no good.”
“Seed just asked what time I’d be home?”
“He said he needed to talk to you. Didn’t make no sense. Somethin’ about a job in Myrtle Beach. He asked if you told me about it.”
“Seed give me the ride home. He told me about a guy up there could give me a job better than what I got here and asked if we all wanted to go up an’ talk to him, said the man would pay for it. Like a vacation.” He didn’t like lying to Ettie; their honesty with each other and sharing their feelings and discontents held them together. Hard money and hard times had nothing to do with that.
“You b’lieve that? Who gonna pay for all of us to go to Myrtle Beach just for you to talk about a job? What kind of job?”
“Somethin’ to do with a boat dock. He didn’t tell me any details cause I told him I won’t interested, but you know Seed, he cain’t let nothin’ drop. Thinks he’s helpin’ me out, doin’ his good deed.” He attempted to sound casual, at the same time trying to figure out how to contact Sam if he wasn’t at home. “You walk all the way over here to tell me this?”
“That officer scared me, Skeeter. He looked beat-up and his eyes was takin’ in everything. Like he was lookin’ for somethin’.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“Just that he was investigatin’ who tore up Turner Lockett’s trailer. Thought maybe you or Sam seen somethin’ over there.”
“Somebody tore up the trailer?”
“That’s what he said. An’ then Seed callin’ an’ talkin’ about somethin’ I don’t know nothin’ about, made me nervous,” she said. “I was thinkin’ you was in trouble.”
“No, honey, I ain’ in no trouble. I don’t know ’bout that trailer, an’ I told you what Seed wanted. Everything’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Lemme go ask Harry Tom to borrow the truck, an’ I’ll run you all home. Ain’ no need for y’all to be walkin’ in dis heat.” He turned to go into the store. The children were throwing pieces of broken oyster shells that paved the lot. “Y’all hang on, kids. Gonna ride in the back of a truck,” he yelled and gave them a big smile.
It was after four o’clock when Sam and Karen left the beach. The day was frustrating with nothing accomplished. Coleman and Morgan Hannah had walked the beach, sat on her deck for awhile, and then Coleman went back to Charley Clay’s house. There was nothing else to see. Sam was tired. Nights with Karen didn’t promote sleep, and the sun and heat had robbed him of what energy was left. He didn’t argue when Karen said she had to get back to Covington.
He walked through the door of his house, dropped his bag on the floor, took off his clothes and stepped into the shower. After washing his hair and cleaning the oil and sand from his body, he began to feel human again. He put on a pair of olive bush shorts, a bleached-out denim shirt, poured some sour mash over ice, and was headed for the deck when he noticed the light on his answering machine flashing. He pressed the PLAY button and listened.
“Sam, this is Skeeter. I need to talk to you, man. This shit is gettin’ outta hand. Gimme a call at the dock; I’ll be here till six. Or you could come over and give me a ride home. I got a feelin’ tonight’s the night. Let me hear from you.”
It was quarter to five. Sam called the dock and left Skeeter a message saying he would be there by six to pick him up. He went out on the deck, lit a cigarette and told himself again he’d quit tomorrow. Or maybe not. The whiskey was good and the cigarette better. He thought about what Skeeter said in his message. At five-thirty, he called Karen and got her machine. He told her what he was doing and said he would call back when he knew more.
When he hung up, he got in the Rover and drove to Harry Tom Cooper’s Boat Dock. He didn’t go inside. Cedrick Hamilton had picked Skeeter up at work both times they talked; if he was coming tonight, Sam didn’t want to be caught in the position of being left in the store while they drove off. He waited only a few minutes before Skeeter came down the ramp.
“ ’Preciate this, Bro,” he said as he got in the car.
“You sounded stacked. What’s happenin’?”
“Let’s move. I don’ want to be around if Seed come out here.” Sam started the Rover and drove toward Route 37.
“Okay. We’re movin’. What’s happened?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Ettie and the kids walked all the way over here in the heat this afternoon. She was scared. Said a wildlife officer come to the house and asked her a bunch of questions about Turner Lockett’s trailer. Was I over there? Seen anybody? Some little boys? He even asked her had you been over there? Must be Ray Breslin. She said he looked all beat-up. You have anything to do with that?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“You tol’ me you ran into him at that bar. Thought maybe y’all got into it.” Skeeter was grinning.
“Anything else?”
“She said Cedrick called, too, and wanted to talk to me about a trip to Myrtle Beach this week. I had to lie to her and go along with the story.”
“This week?” The time caught Sam by surprise. Neither he nor Karen thought it would come down so soon. It put a different color on things.
“I’m gonna hafta give him some kind of answer. Wonder what he’d do if we were both there when he came?”
“Probably nothin’. You’d be better off to talk to him. Just tell him Ettie wouldn’t go along with it. See what happens,” Sam said. “You think Ettie and the kids would go up to my house for the night?”
“Sleep up at de massa’s house? Where ’de white folks do? I reckon she would.” He laughed. “Why?”
“I don’t think there’s much chance he’ll do anything, but if he does, it’s best if they’re not around.” He saw the worried look on his friend’s face. “I’ll stay with you. You’ll be okay.”
“But what about the gun? I don’t think he’d...”
“Don’t worry. I’ll cover it.” Skeeter didn’t ask how.
Ettie wouldn’t budge until Sam and Skeeter explained in detail what was going on. She found it hard to believe that Cedrick Hamilton could be involved in anything like they described, but reluctantly agreed to go when Sam said if there were an argument, it would be better if the children didn’t hear it. Sam drove them to his house, left the Rover and walked back to Skeeter’s to wait it out with him. He carried the K-frame S&W in his belt against his back. Skeeter saw it, but said nothing.
Shortly after nine o’clock, they heard the sound of a car pulling up to the house. Sam went into the bedroom and looked through the window. He felt a chill, knowing this was not going to go down easy. Cedrick Hamilton got out of the car and walked up the steps. Sam didn’t see a second vehicle parked out on the road.
Skeeter opened the door to an agitated Cedrick Hamilton. He gave him a broad smile.
“Hey, Seed. Come on in. Ettie said you called.”
“What the fuck are you doing, Skeeter?” Hamilton asked as he entered the room.
“Whoa, man. Settle down. What do you mean?”
“Did Ettie tell you what I said?” He looked around the living room. “Where is she, by the way? Perhaps she ought to be in on this.”
“She’s at her brother’s with the kids. Why she need to be in on it?” Hamilton sat down on the edge of the couch.
“Did you tell her about our deal, Skeeter?”
“I ain’ told nobody, an’ you best leave her out of it. You don’t want to get in that fight, Seed.”
“You never told her about Myrtle Beach either, did you? She told me she didn’t know a thing about it.” Skeeter shook his head and smiled, hoping Hamilton couldn’t see the fear and anger that was roiling inside him. It was a good act.
“Seed, Seed. You think you can come in here, throw a bunch of money in my face an’ lead me around like a puppy dog for the rest of my life? I ain’ no drug dealer, an’ I ain’ gonna be one. You gonna take care of my wife and kids while I’m servin’ my time?”
“You’re not listening, Skeeter. I told you it’s not up to me. You don’t have any choice, and I don’t want to think of what might happen if you try to go to anybody for help. Be sensible, man. Take the damned money, go away, come back and forget about it. Then all of our problems will be solved.”
“What about the nex’ time they want to use it or me?”
“There won’t be a next time. They never use the same place twice.” Skeeter turned away from him. He wondered if Sam were catching all of this from behind the door.
“You got that gun with you, Seed?”
“Yes, I do. Why?”
“I want to see it.” Hamilton hesitated. “Come on; get it out. Lemme see.” Skeeter said.
Hamilton pulled the revolver from his coat pocket and held it in his hand. Skeeter, in a lightning fast move, grabbed Cedrick’s hand in a firm grip and pulled the hand and gun to his own face. His anger exploded. “Pull the trigger, Seed. You been threatenin’ me. Do it. All your problems be solved. Ettie cain’t stand up to you without me. Come on. Pull it,” he yelled. “Then you’ll be safe from your friends. I know that’s what’s drivin’ you.”
Hamilton jerked his hand away and swung the gun at Skeeter, making contact with the side of his head, knocking him to the floor. He then pointed the gun at him as Sam Larkin came through the door.
“Drop it, Cedrick,” Sam said, pointing the K-frame directly at the superintendent’s face. Hamilton turned, a look on his face as if his legs had been cut off at the knees, and he had just looked down to find them gone. The gun fell from his hand. Before Skeeter recovered enough to reach for it, Sam felt a blow on the back of his head that brought pinnacles of light exploding in his brain. He tried to make his body turn to keep from collapsing, but it was no use. He was going down and couldn’t stop the fall. His vision was foggy and blurred, but he recognized Ray Breslin standing over him with a hand-fashioned billy club in his hand.
“Looks like you dropped it, Larkin,” the man said, smiling. Sam was trying to get up on spaghetti legs when Breslin leaned back and aimed a foot at his ribs. It hit its mark and drove the breath from him. He could feel the bone crack as Breslin followed through with his weight. Breslin kicked him again, turning him over on his back. He was ready to cap Sam’s knees with his club when Hamilton grabbed him.
“Stop it!” Hamilton screamed. Breslin turned to look at him.
“You ain’t got the stomach for it, go outside. I’m gonna take care of this son-of-a-bitch once and for all. He won’t never walk straight again.”
Hamilton lifted the revolver and pointed it at the big man.
“You’re not going to do anything, Ray. You just fucked up big-time. I didn’t call for you.”
“I was comin’ in whether you called or not. You don’t ask these bastards for cooperation. You tell ‘em. You ain’t got the guts for that Cee-drick? Well, I do. Now get outta my way. I got a job to finish.”
“I’ll shoot you, Ray,” Hamilton said, raising the gun. “Get back in your truck and get out of here, or I’ll see that you’re cut out of it. All of it. I’ll take care of this.” Breslin gave him a hard look.
“It’s not over, Larkin, and if that nigger opens his mouth, I’ll feed his kids to the alligators.” He pointed his finger at Skeeter. “You just better pray no one finds out about this, Boy, cause I’ll come lookin’.” Skeeter got up and started to go after him, but Hamilton’s gun stopped him. Breslin left through the back door, slamming it behind him.
Sam’s head felt like it had been dropped from a five-story building and cracked open like a cantaloupe. He tried to get up, but his legs were mush. He couldn’t think; everything was spinning.
“Sit down, Skeeter,” Hamilton said, motioning him toward the couch. “Stay where you are, Mr. Larkin.” Sam was still trying to focus on Cedrick Hamilton. It would be no challenge to take him if he could trust his body, but he knew he couldn’t. His mind wandered to Ettie and the kids, his house, Ray Breslin, Karen Chaney; it all ran together.
Breslin would come after him. He didn’t have any choice. For all his threats, the man knew he couldn’t trust Larkin to do nothing. Sam cursed himself for looking forward to it.
“Can we work this out, Skeeter?” Hamilton asked. “Keep you and your family or Larkin there from getting hurt? It’s out of control now; I can’t do anything about it. You weren’t smart.”
Skeeter Crewes looked at him, a tired, sad expression on his face.
“You let us down, Seed; that’s what hurts the most,” he said, “even more than you gettin’ me or my family involved. I can protect them and I can keep me out of it, believe me. One way or another I can do that, but the sad thing is I can’t protect you. You sold your soul, Seed. I don’t know why, but you did. It’s done and gone, and you’ll never be able to get it back. I can’t help you.”
“You’re making a mistake. Breslin meant what he said.” The force was gone from Hamilton’s voice.
“Might be, but I’ll jus’ have to play that as it lays. I ain’ gone say nothin’, but I cain’t help you.” It was a standoff. Cedrick Hamilton was out of his league and didn’t know what to do.
“You could get out of this.” Hamilton heard Larkin’s voice say.
“What?” he asked, turning to the man on the floor.
“You could get out of this. I can arrange it.”
“How?”
“Drop the dime. Give me names, times, anything. I can bargain for you,” Sam said.
“Who are you?”
“Who or what I am doesn’t make any difference. I’m your only hope.”
“Listen to the man,” Skeeter said.
“I have to make a call.” Hamilton looked around for the phone, spotted it and walked to it, keeping the revolver pointed in the direction of the two men. Sam looked at the S&W lying on the floor, judged a move might make the man lose control and shoot. He watched as Hamilton dialed a number. He tried to move his legs. It was a struggle. Hamilton moved the gun more in his direction, and he ceased any movement.
“The off-load will have to be somewhere else,” Hamilton said into the phone. “Skeeter Crewes couldn’t work it out with his wife. He tried. He really tried. I don’t know what else to tell you.” His voice was tired and resolute. Charley Clay wouldn’t get the message until he went to the office on Monday. Hamilton turned to Skeeter. “I did the best I could for you. Maybe it’ll work.” He turned and walked out the door.
Sam managed to pull himself to his feet. He was dizzy and his head throbbed. He made the couch, but that was as far as he could go.
“He won’t make it,” Sam said.
“What do you mean?”
“Us or them. He’ll go down. Whoever’s behind him didn’t mean for it to go this way, but it has and he can’t stop it. I’m his only chance, but he won’t take it.”
“What about Breslin? He ever comes near my family, I’ll....”
“He won’t. I’ll see to it.” Skeeter was looking down at him with a quizzical look.
“Don’t judge me on tonight, Skeeter. You can bet your life this won’t happen again. Guaranteed. Call the house and tell Ettie and the kids we’re comin’. I want them to stay there tonight.”
“What about tomorrow? I got to work.”
“We’ll take care of tomorrow tomorrow. Give me a hand. My brain is still squeezing, and I think I might have a couple of broken ribs.”
“Oh, you gonna be a big help. I can see that now,” Skeeter said and laughed. The laughter sounded good in Sam’s ears. “You think you can walk that far?”
“I’ll make it,” Sam said. He faltered. “I think.”
Brad Coleman and Morgan Hannah spent the day walking on broken glass. They had a difficult set of circumstances, and neither of them knew how to avoid cutting their emotional feet. During the afternoon Morgan played every scenario she could imagine and still had no idea what she would do if faced with a decision. Brad was quiet in the morning and no more open in the afternoon. She felt very alone.
Again Morgan prepared dinner at home. Avoiding other people was one decision they had made without problem or pain. In the afternoon while Brad was at Charley Clay’s house making telephone calls, she prepared a shrimp lasagna and examined the pieces of her life that were dear to her and those that had no value. She also thought about risk and morality, all of the things that come to mind when one is trying to talk oneself in and out of some atypical behavior.
During dinner Brad remained quiet, preoccupied, knowing their situation had to be addressed, but not wanting to take on the guise of a salesman. Morgan could see the ideas working behind the charm and smile on his face. He had been honest with her, put the decision, without pressure for which she was grateful, in her lap.
How to begin, she wondered. How to begin a conversation they were both avoiding, a life-changing conversation no matter how it was resolved, leaving both parties with a bounty of “what if’s”, “maybe’s” and “if only’s”. It had to begin. She looked up at him and smiled. Play it light; you can always stay as you are, she said silently to herself. And what’s that? As you are. It’s not so bad, that’s what. Play it light.
“So, what have you got to offer, Mister Pirate Man?” she asked.
“That’s a helluva an introduction to what’s been on both our minds for the last forty-eight hours.” He couldn’t help laughing.
“We have to start somewhere.”
“Well, to answer your question, I’m not certain what I have to offer. I’ll tell you what I’d like to be able to offer and what I might be able to do to achieve that, but right now, this moment, that’s all I can do. Morgan, everything I say tonight is speculation and would require an inordinate amount of luck and cooperation from some generally uncooperative sources to pull off.”
“That’s a mouthful, but I’m not sure what it says.” He reached for the bottle of brandy on the coffee table, gestured to her, and she shook her head ‘no’. He poured an inch in his own glass and set the bottle down.
“What I said last night didn’t tell you who I am, and I think you need to know that. I don’t feel dishonored. I might and probably should have done some things differently, but I feel no real guilt. Maybe I’m naïve. I look at all the legal corruption going on and find it difficult to see myself as bad as some people might. Rationalization? Maybe, but myfeelings about that are not going to change. I am responsible for everything I’ve done in my life, good or bad, and I’m willing to pay reasonable dues for it. What I believe is reasonable. Sounds pretty pompous, doesn’t it?”
“Not really, though I’m not sure I can agree with it entirely.”
“All of that’s beside the point; I don’t think I can offer you anything until I change my position. I wouldn’t want you living my life, even if you would, which I doubt. Believe it or not, I was thinking of doing this before I ever saw you. I’m tired, and what was fun or thrilling or whatever you want to call it is no longer any of those things.”
“Is there anything you can do?” she asked.
“It’s complicated. I’ve been on the telephone all afternoon with my attorneys. They believe it can be worked out. They are very powerful people with significant connections; however, dealing with the government is like working out a corporate sale. What can you give me? What can I offer you?” Brad got up and moved to the glass doors that fronted the ocean. Except for the stars, it was black; there was no moon. “There are a couple of ways I can approach the problem. I could work a deal, go to court and hope for lifetime probation, which I couldn’t accept, or I could be given immunity from all prosecution.”
“How could they give you that?”
“Because they want me out of business, and they want what I have.”
“Money?” she asked.
“Money and information, but information is not a bargaining point. I’ve worked with a lot of people who trusted me, and—right or wrong—I won’t betray that trust. The money, I will sacrifice. Most of it anyway. Their problem is they really have nothing on me they can prove, nor can they prove that any of my assets came from a criminal enterprise, so they can’t do a seizure. It’s out of reach. Whatever I give them will be a gift. They’ll probably label it as back taxes or something, if they acknowledge receiving it at all.”
“Is there that much?’
“Nine hundred million dollars is what I am offering. That and ceasing any business. They will probably also want my citizenship.” Morgan felt her breath catch. The amount was inconceivable.
“You have that much?”
“Yes.”
“And then what would you do?”
“Find out what we have,” he said looking at her. Morgan was silent. “If anything.”
“Oh, we have something; I just don’t know what to do with it. You’ve come into my life and made my world topsy-turvy. I didn’t expect you. This. For all my bravado, I feel like a little girl who knows little about the real world and how it operates. You scare me, Brad, and, yet, I hear myself saying ‘go for it’. I have very few limits, but this? It goes against everything I have believed. I’m very confused.”
“So am I,” he said.
“What time do you leave tomorrow?”
“Eleven.”
“We don’t have much time,” she said.
“Not enough.”
“Can I make you an offer?”
“I’m listening.”
“Let’s put this away for now. There’s nothing we can do about any of it. Put it in our pockets, give ourselves time and see what happens. I’ve found a lot of feelings with you that have suffered from being ignored. I need to bring those feelings into focus, but with you sitting here next to me that is impossible. I want you, Brad, but I have to be sure it’s all right with me and for you.”
“I think that’s wise, which is not surprising. If you weren’t wise, I never would have considered falling in love with you.”
“Somehow I don’t think love is negotiable. Right or wrong, it happens.”
“My first time,” he said.
“And maybe your last.” She looked at him and smiled. “I want to make love to you.”
“I want you to,” he said and kissed her.
At two-thirty-five in the morning, if anyone had been passing the marsh observation area, deep in the center of Henry Bell State Park, they might have seen a silent flash of lightning inside a car parked next to the water.