“No, it wasn’t crazy at all,” I said. “Think about it. Giving you that cup was just a way to cover himself. He knew you’d fall for it, Jackie. You’ve got that cup so now you’re a part of it. You might even think he was doing it for you, just as much as he was doing it for his son. Good old Bennett. What a guy.”

  “You don’t get it,” he said.

  “No, you don’t get it. And that makes you as big a fool as he is.”

  He took the bottle off the bar. “I think you should leave now,” he said.

  “I think you’re right.”

  I left.

  When I got home, I couldn’t sleep, so I sat up reading with a bag of ice pressed against my mouth. I tried not to think about anything except the words on the page. It didn’t work.

  I gave up and went outside for awhile, listening to the crickets and to the distant sound of the lake until the mosquitoes found me.

  The phone was ringing when I got back inside. I picked it up and heard a woman’s voice. “Alex, this is Cynthia Vargas.”

  “Mrs. Vargas? Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, just dandy. My husband has been limping around here all night, calling you every name in the book. I think he wants to kill you, Alex. I mean really kill you.”

  “Tell him he’ll have to come out to Paradise. I don’t imagine I’ll have any reason to visit your house again.”

  “That’s a shame. Life will be pretty dull around here.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find some way to keep it interesting.”

  “I’m just looking out for you, Alex. You don’t have to be a wise-ass.”

  “I’m not trying to be,” I said. “I mean, look, I’ve had a tough day here…”

  “I’ll let you go,” she said. “Just thought I’d warn you. If you see him coming, be ready.”

  “I will. I appreciate it.”

  She said good night to me. If I had wanted to, I could have read some things into her phone call. Or into the sound of her voice even. On this night, I didn’t even want to try. Instead I tried to sleep again, lying there looking up at the ceiling. You live in your head too much, Jackie said. He was right.

  When I finally did sleep, it came on hard and didn’t let go of me until late the next morning. The sound of the wind woke me up. Through the window I could see a sky the color of slate, and the pine trees bending and returning and then bending some more. It wasn’t raining yet, but when it came it would be like something out of the Bible. God help anyone who was out on the lake.

  I got up and stood in front of the mirror. My face was as ugly as the weather, with bruises all along the left side of my jaw and around both eyes. Any color of the rainbow-you name it, I was wearing it.

  I stood under a hot shower for a good thirty minutes, waiting for my neck and my shoulders to loosen up. I had some coffee and some breakfast, and then spent the rest of the day doing nothing. I carried an ice bag around with me, holding it against whatever part of my head or body happened to be hurting.

  I had lunch by myself. I read a little bit. I had a beer. I got more ice out of the freezer. Outside the storm passed without raining a drop. Just like that, it was gone. The sun came out. All of a sudden it was a beautiful day. I had no desire to go out and see it.

  I read some more. I had dinner by myself, a cheap frozen dinner warmed up in the microwave. I had another beer. The sun went down.

  Nobody bothered me. I didn’t have to deal with Bennett O’Dell and the crazy mess he had brought upon himself. I didn’t have to deal with Winston Vargas and his yapping little dog. Or some mobbed-up Canadian thug who actually went around letting people call him Blondie.

  Or Jackie. I didn’t have to deal with Jackie telling me to stay out of his business.

  I looked at my face in the mirror again. It wasn’t looking any better. “You’re a real sight,” I said. “It’s a good thing you stayed inside all day.”

  Then it hit me. This is what Jackie saw last night, when he looked at me. He saw this face. He wanted me to stay out of it. From the beginning, he was pushing me away. Last night, that was him giving me both barrels, just to make sure.

  Maybe there was a good reason. Look at me. He was trying to protect me, to keep me out of this because he knew I’d find some way to get my ass kicked. As usual. I didn’t see it, because I was too busy feeling mad about it.

  I stepped outside just in time to see a couple of minivans rolling by. It was the men from the last cabin, all dentists and orthodontists from downstate. When the lead driver saw me, he stopped and rolled down his window. “What happened to you?” he said.

  “A little misunderstanding,” I said.

  “Sorry we’re leaving so late,” he said. “It was such a nice day, we figured we’d stay up here, then drive down overnight. Your helper said it was okay.”

  “My helper?”

  “Yeah, we left the money with him. I hope that was okay.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Who are you talking about?”

  “The big blond guy. He said he worked for you.”

  “When was this?”

  “About two hours ago. Did we mess up here, Alex? He seemed legit.”

  “No, no, you’re okay,” I said. “You guys go ahead. I’m gonna go check on my helper.”

  He didn’t seem convinced, but the minivans took off anyway. I went back into my cabin, rummaged through the bottom of my closet until I found the shoe box. I took the service revolver out and put bullets in it. Then I went back out and walked down the road, as quietly as I could. There was just enough light left to see where I was going.

  The last cabin was a half mile down. As I got closer, I kept to the side of the road, the pine trees brushing against me. When I turned the last corner, I stood there for a moment and watched the cabin. Everything was quiet. The last light of the day was all but gone.

  You’re a fool, I told myself. Thinking that you could stay inside all day, all by yourself, that it would all go away. It was right here, right inside this cabin.

  I crept up to the door, step by step on a soft carpet of pine needles. The door was ajar. I pushed it open, ready to shoot anything that moved.

  One small lamp was lit, on the big table in the center of the room. I flipped on the other lights as I moved through the cabin. It was empty, but I could smell the smoke from his cigar.

  There on the center table, in the ashtray, a cigar butt. It was still warm to the touch. Underneath it were some pieces of torn paper. I picked up one piece, saw the “100.” They were hundred dollar bills, maybe five or six of them. The men must have paid him in cash. This is what he did to the money.

  The rest of the place looked untouched, but this alone was enough to get my blood boiling, just the fact that he was here. This was the last cabin my father had built before he died. These wooden beams he cut, these stones he put together with his bare hands to make this fireplace. This was his masterpiece. More than anything else in the world, this cabin was what I had to remember my father.

  Like that pewter mug? What did Jackie have to remember his father? The lake itself, and what else? Hell, I didn’t know what to think anymore.

  I threw the cigar out, left the torn money sitting there in the ashtray, locked the place up tight and went back to my cabin. It was dark by the time I got there. The stars were out. I fired up the truck and drove down to the Glasgow. When I walked in, I thought I could smell the cigar smoke again. Maybe I was imagining it.

  Or maybe not.

  “Jonathan,” I said, “was somebody smoking one of those little cigars?”

  “Yeah, I hate those things,” he said. “They smell like a candy apple burning or something.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Let’s see…Real fair-skinned guy, light colored hair. Almost white.”

  “When was he here?”

  “Ah, I don’t know. He left a couple of hours ago, I guess. You want to see what he left me for a tip?” Jonathan swept up the small pile next to the register. “Looks like a hundred dollar bill all torn up. Is that weird or what?”

  “Where’s Jackie?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He told me not to tell you.”

  “Jonathan,” I said. “He could be in big trouble. If something goes wrong, you gonna be able to live with that?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “He’s with Bennett, isn’t he.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “He didn’t tell me, Alex. I swear.”

  “When did he leave?”

  “Around six o’clock, I’d say. Right after Bennett called him.”

  “What did Jackie say? Did he tell you why he was going to see him?”

  “He said he was gonna go help him with something. That’s all he said.”

  It was enough. I hit the road at top speed, hoping I wasn’t too late.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I had just left Paradise when I picked up the cell phone and dialed O’Dell’s. Margaret answered.

  “Margaret,” I said. “Is Bennett there? This is Alex.”

  “No!” she said. I could barely hear her over the din of a Saturday night crowd in the bar. “I’m all by myself!”

  “Do you know where they went?”

  “What?”

  “I said, do you know where they went?”

  I heard her yelling at somebody, then she came back on the line. “No, he’s been gone for two hours, Alex! He took Ham with him! I’ve got thirty people here!”

  “What about Jackie?” I said. “Or Gill? Do you know if they’re with him?”

  “He was talking on the phone before he left. I think it was Jackie, yeah. And then somebody else. It might have been Gill, I don’t know.”

  “You have no idea where they went?”

  She yelled at somebody to keep their pants on, and couldn’t they see she was on the phone. “I’ve got no idea, Alex. But if you find him, tell him to get his ass back here.”

  “When he was on the phone, did he write anything down? Like an address or directions?”

  “Uh…Let me see. Yeah, you know, I think he was writing something on this pad we keep next to the phone. But he must have taken that with him.”

  An idea came to me. “Margaret,” I said, “do you have a pencil there?”

  “Alex, can this wait? I’ve got people at the bar here.”

  “This will only take a second. It might be important.”

  “A pencil, a pencil. Yeah, I got one right here.”

  “Okay, take the pad of paper and just lightly run it across the paper. Like you’re shading it in. You know what I mean?”

  “I think so. You mean like they do on television, when they want to see what somebody wrote on the pad?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “I’ll try it,” she said. “You really think this will work?”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m getting something, Alex. It says…Let’s see…It’s the number eleven.”

  “Okay, good. What else?”

  “Hold on.” She yelled at somebody again, about how yes, she was playing with a pencil instead of getting him his beer, and if he didn’t like it, he was free to go drink someplace else. “Sorry, Alex. Some people have no patience. Let’s see, the rest of this says…It says, ‘W’ and then this looks like…P-I-E something. I can’t read this.”

  “West Pier, maybe?”

  “Yeah, Eleven West Pier. I think that’s it! This really works!”

  “Leon would be proud,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Never mind,” I said. “I’m gonna go find Bennett and send him home.”

  “I wish you would, Alex. I gotta tell you, I’m a little worried here. Bennett hasn’t said a word to me about what’s going on, but I just know this is more bad business.”

  I hung up the phone and put it on the passenger’s seat, right next to my gun.

  As I got closer to the Soo, I thought about the address Margaret had given me. I knew the West Pier was on the west side of town, not far from O’Dell’s, in fact. They were there right now, I thought, doing God knows what, with Blondie involved somehow. No doubt about that.

  I had taken the highways, figuring I’d get there faster if I really flew. I bailed off of I-75 just before the International Bridge, took Ashmun Street into town, across the power canal, right under the dark window of Leon’s office. I headed west on Portage Street, and then got off onto the dirt road that ran under the bridge. As I roared past the old drive-in restaurant, they must have wondered where the hell I was going so fast, but I wasn’t about to stop and explain.

  I slowed down to cross the railroad tracks. I rolled past some abandoned warehouses, and a quiet, empty old house. I didn’t see any numbers. How the hell was I going to find number eleven?

  There were a couple cars parked on the street. I couldn’t imagine who would be down here after dark. I looked for Bennett’s Explorer, then remembered it wouldn’t be here. It was still impounded by the police. I looked for Jackie’s Lincoln instead. I didn’t see it anywhere.

  I stopped just as the pavement was about to end. Beyond that was an old railroad spur, leading down a quarter mile to the pier itself. There was a time when boats would unload onto trains here, but that was all a distant memory. There was nothing now but a few brick buildings, rusted railroad tracks, tall weeds, and the damp smell of the St. Marys River. Whatever Bennett was up to, he picked a hell of a place to do it.

  I took the gun out of my truck with me, and approached the nearest building. The front door had a “15” stenciled on the glass. There was a thick layer of dust on the glass, and nothing but total darkness behind it. All the door needed was a big spider web, but apparently even the spiders had given up on the place.

  I moved to the next building. This door was solid wood, and there was an “13” scratched on it with white chalk. The next one down had to be 11.

  It was a two-story building with a metal roof. It had probably held a lot of cargo off the river, back when it was in business. You could have done something with it if you had enough money-maybe turn it into a bar or something. Nobody had thought of that yet. I tried the front door. It was locked.

  There was a narrow alley on one side of the building, a wider alley on the other-wide enough that you could drive a vehicle around to the back. I took the wide alley, passing under a few dark windows, all made from those thick squares of glass you see in old factories and other places you’re glad you never have to see the inside of. The ground was rutted and overgrown with weeds. The light of a half moon was reflected in a hundred small puddles.

  When I got around to the back of the place, there was an old wooden loading dock and a semi trailer that looked like it had been sitting there for thirty years, everything glowing in the moonlight like something out of a black-and-white movie. Bennett, I’m going to kill you, I said to myself. If you’re not dead already.

  I went up some cement stairs to the loading dock. There were two large roll-down doors that I wasn’t going to try opening. Beyond that was a regular metal door. I stood there for a moment, deciding how to play it. I could have yelled Bennett’s name, but I didn’t want to spook anybody if they were in the middle of something.

  Okay, I thought, just go in quiet. If you see something going on, then do whatever you have to do. If you don’t see anything, then start calling out some names.

  The door was ajar. It made a horrible metallic screech as I pushed it open.

  It was dark inside.

  Okay, time to make some noise. “Bennett!”

  The gun blast ripped through everything. I fell to the ground. It was all sudden noise and pain and fear as another blast hit the wall behind me, then another. Then a great weight fell onto my back, and I thought, this is it. I’m dead right here.

  “It’s me!” I yelled. “It’s Alex!”

  There was a silence, or at least no more gunshots. With the ringing in my ears, it felt like I’d never hear true silence ever again. The weight on my back pressed me to the ground.

  Finally, a voice. “Alex? Is that you?”

  “Yes!”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Get this off of me!”

  I heard footsteps, and then the weight was lifted off my back, whatever the hell it was. Strong arms grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me up to a sitting position. “Alex, my God,” somebody said.

  A light came on, blinding me. “Oh shit. Look at him.”

  “Will somebody tell me what the fuck is going on?” I said. “You almost blew my head off!”

  The light kept blinding me.

  “And will you get that flashlight out of my face?”

  When I could see again, I saw that it was Bennett holding the flashlight. His other hand was wrapped around the long barrel of a deer rifle. Ham stood next to him, with another flashlight and another rifle. They were flanked by Jackie and Gill, each with yet another rifle. I recognized Jackie’s as an old Winchester lever action he had lying around. It hadn’t been fired in years.

  I tried hard to breathe. “Start talking,” I said.

  “The door fell on you,” Bennett said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We blew it right off the hinges. Thing must weigh a hundred pounds.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Ham, get him off the ground.” His son tried to pick me up. I slapped him away and got up on my own.

  “How’d you find us?” Bennett said.

  “Easy, I followed the idiot tracks. Now are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

  “We were supposed to meet Blondie here,” he said. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago.”

  “And you were all sitting here with fucking deer rifles? Waiting to shoot him? Look at you guys.”

  “What else are we gonna do, Alex? He’s the one who’s making this happen.”

  “Jackie,” I said, looking him in the eye. “Look at you. And you, Gill.”

  “You weren’t supposed to be here,” Jackie said. “This isn’t your problem. Why did you come here?”

 

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