Bonefish Blues (4 page)

Will cringed. He knew that voice, audible across the fifty feet of water, and the man it belonged to. Cody’s father, Eli Braken, or Judge Braken, as he preferred to be called. The retired judge was now a self-proclaimed real-estate mogul. He sat back on the cooler, gripping the paddle blade stuck in the sand as an anchor, listening to him wax on about his vision for Flamingo Key. The splash of a paddle breaking water alerted him to Roc’s presence. Not wanting to be seen, he lifted his paddle from the sand, paddled quietly toward the kayak and motioned for Roc to follow around the backside of the island. 

 “What’s up?” Roc asked when they stopped. They paddled forward slowly to stay in place, the water too deep to set their paddles as brakes, the tide moving them away from land, and Will turned toward his friend. 

“That was Braken and another dude in that boat over there. He’s talking like he wants to sell the island. I don’t even think he owns it.” He wondered if the island was Braken’s to sell or if it was just another scam the old man had cooked up. “Why the heck would you want to build on this pile of sand anyway?” 

Roc was about to answer when they heard the roar of the outboard, a thump, and a man yell. 

“What the hell was that?” Will yelled, starting to paddle toward the noise. They had to fight the current now, but with the urgency in their strokes they traversed the quarter-mile-long Key in a few minutes. The silt trail left by the outboard was visible before they rounded the point.

“What’s that?” Roc asked.

“Bet they grounded. The old man ought to know better than that. Let’s see if anyone’s hurt.” He paddled around the point toward the source of the sediment, where he saw the hull beached on a sandbar a few feet from the Key, its engine revving, the propeller the source of the silt as it churned up the sand in an attempt to free the boat. “Hey, shut the engine off. You’re just spinning your wheels!” Will yelled as he approached. The men ignored him as he paddled close enough to see that no one was hurt, then turned to go.

“Don’t believe in helping out your neighbors?” Braken’s voice echoed toward him. He turned back to the man.

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s way too shallow for the draft on that boat. Where’s Cody? He’d know better.”

Braken ignored the question, “Was an accident, son. My friend here slipped and hit the throttle.” He winked at the driver.

Will looked at the driver as the boat revved again. He was chomping a cigar butt, pushing back and forth on the throttle. He shifted his glance towards Braken, “Tell him to stop and I’ll help you out.” He regretted it the minute it was out if his mouth, but he couldn’t stand to see the damage to the pristine flat continue. 

Braken shouted at the driver, who yelled something back that Will couldn’t understand over the roar of the engine. He paddled to the boat, kneeled down, and got off the board. A hard shove pinned the board’s fin in the sand to anchor it, and he hopped the gunwale and was in the Grady-White. 

Braken was leaning against the transom, clearly distancing himself from the driver. Will went to the wheel and tapped the man on the shoulder. He found himself on the deck seconds later, after a quick right cross from the man. No one moved to help him.

The driver turned with a scowl. Will wouldn’t soon forget the scar on his brow, pulsing like a vein. “Do not touch me. People who think they can touch me don’t do it twice.” 

Will got up from the deck, rubbing the sore spot on his jaw. As he rose, he noticed a large canvas bag in the cabin — the same kind of bag used to store trophy fish before tournament weigh-ins. This one was large enough for a marlin. Several five gallon buckets were strapped down beside it. He turned to Braken, shrugged his shoulders, and waited for him to intervene. But the only sound was the revving of the engine. 

“Listen. Tide will be cresting in an hour. You only need a couple of inches and she’ll float it off,” he mumbled. Seconds later he was back on his board paddling away, the sound of the engine breaking the solitude of the flat. 

Will couldn’t help but think as he paddled, the perfect morning ruined. He was curious about Braken’s plans to sell the island and the fish bag nagged at him, but he did what he always did and put it out of his mind.

Chapter 5

“What was that guy’s problem?” Roc asked.

“Don’t know. Pretty scary-looking dude, though,” Will said as they paddled toward the boat ramp. “What I want to know is what Braken is up to. I can’t seem to get away from him and his son. Don’t know which one gets under my skin faster.” 

They paddled in silence, the wind at their backs, quickly gaining the 54
^th
Street boat ramp. Will went to his knees just before the nose of the board hit the concrete of the ramp, hopped off, and lifted the board onto the pavement, careful not to ding the delicate fiberglass. Roc followed, less careful with the molded plastic kayak, and went for his truck. They unloaded gear from the boats, placed it in the back of the truck and lashed kayak and board down to the truck’s rack. 

Roc reached into a cooler in the back seat and pulled out a couple of beers. “Want one?”

“Yeah, actually maybe more than one,” Will said. He usually passed on the after-paddle beer, but the cold bottle felt good against the bruise forming on his chin. He pulled it away from his jaw, twisted off the cap, took a long sip, and placed the bottle back against his face.

Roc watched him closely. “What’re you going to do about Braken?”

“I’m going to buy Cody a few beers and see if I can get him talking. I want to see if he knows what the old man is up to. He fishes off the Key all the time. Developing the island would ruin his spot too. He cleans up off that point, sometimes every day for a week or two. Never figured out what he’s fishing on. I’ve been back and forth with a depth finder and can’t figure it out. You know if I can get a few beers in him he’ll spill his guts. Then I’ll decide.”

“Well, stay away from scarface there.” Roc finished his beer and opened another. He motioned to Will, looking surprised when he accepted. “Wow, two beers. You okay?”

Will ignored the comment but took the beer. “Got a letter from the building department. It says they’re not going to renew the permit on my house again.”

“And that surprises you? It’s been what, five years? You know there’s a whole new set of codes now, don’t you? That house will never comply with them if you let the permit expire. Maybe we should head over there and see what it’s going to take to finally finish that thing and get them off your back.”

“Sure, if you don’t mind,” Will said. He dreaded the thought of dealing with the building department, knowing it was just going to cost him more money to finish it now. 

***

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the gravel driveway. Will got out, opened the gate, and followed Roc’s truck in. He looked with fresh eyes at the unfinished house. Left to his own devices, he could live with it like this and it irked him the city was after him again. What was it hurting anyone if he was comfortable here. Every year he went down and wrote a check to renew the permit and every year they took the money ~ until now. 

He followed Roc around the building, trying to guess what the contractor’s eyes saw as he inspected the exterior. 

“Not too bad. Stucco, lighting, that kind of thing, and you should be okay out here.” Will watched Roc’s glance as he looked at the rough grade surrounding the house. Grass had started to grow in clumps in the mounds of dirt. “It’s going to take a little tractor work to get this in shape. You need to have some drainage here. Maybe a day to fix it, and then they’ll make you cover it with gravel or plant it. Let’s go see how much trouble you’re in on the inside.”

Will led the way up the stairs and opened the door. Roc walked in behind him and started walking through the house, clearing his throat as he noticed all the half finished work. “I’m almost done in here,” Will said defensively.

“You know, it’s close. Finish the bathroom, install counters and a real stove, and they should let you go. I forgot to ask when we were outside, but did you get a final on your septic system?”

“No. It’s installed and I had the inspector come out. He gave me a list of a few things to do but I never called him back.”

“Well, you could be in trouble there. That’s a separate permit than the house, and if it’s expired you’re in deep. The old systems are not allowed anymore. If you can even get a permit, it’s gonna cost about fifty grand to get the new engineered systems installed.”

They were at the table, each with a fresh beer. Will had a pile of papers spread out in front of him. He offered one to Roc. “This is the original permit.”

He waited while Roc looked it over. “This is over five years old. It shows a failed inspection four years ago. You got anything else in that pile?”

Will was almost at the bottom, the documents getting older as he got lower. His filing system was to put everything in a box, new stuff on top. “That’s all I’ve got on the septic permit.”

“I got a buddy down at the city. Let me see what I can do for you, but you better be prepared for bad news. Look on the bright side, you finish it right it’ll be worth some real money,” Roc said.

“Yeah, but you know there’s too much of my soul in this to sell. It’s just finding the money now that I’m worried about.” Will looked out the sliding glass doors to the water, trying to think his way through everything Roc had said and wondering how much money he would have to come up with to finish. He saw a boat idling right on the edge of his property. He squinted at it, trying to see more clearly. “That’s the Grady-White. What are they doing here?” He got up and went out on the deck, Roc trailing close behind. 

They leaned against the railing and watched the boat. He could see Braken pointing to his house, talking to the other man in the boat. He pointed again, and the driver started toward his property line. Slowly, the boat came against the mangroves that separated his property from the water, and started moving toward the other end of the property. 

“They’re sizing the place up.” He wondered what was going on. First his favorite fishing spot and now his house. 

“I’m going to the dock to see if Cody’s there. It’s a pretty sure thing that if he’s not, he’ll be at the bar across the street. Need to talk to him about what his dad’s up to.” He turned toward the door. 

“Don’t do anything stupid. It’s after three, and he’s probably had a few. I’ll head to City Hall and see what I can do about the permits.”

***

The dock was empty when he pulled up. He walked towards the office, bumping into a newspaper machine and then ricocheting into the door, “Hey Ned, got any cold ones?”

“Yeah, might have a few. Looks like you’ve had a couple already.” The old man stared at his jaw. “What happened there?”

Will ignored the question as he tried to count the beers in his head. “Just a few. Where’s Cody at?”

“Should be back anytime.” Ned glanced at his watch. “Took a couple of guys out a little before noon.”

Will took the cold six pack and went to the picnic table shaded by a palapa and watched the water, his head nodding as the beers took hold. He jumped up when he heard the motor. The boat was running faster than the idle speed limit, as usual, Cody behind the wheel, two clients leaning against the opposite gunwale. Their body language told the story of the day — no fish. 

Will walked down to the dock as the boat pulled up and tossed a line to Cody’s waiting hand. “Can you give me a minute when you finish up here? Something I need to ask you.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Will went back to his table, and Matt walked up to the boat just as the men finished paying Cody. They walked up the dock empty handed, sour looks on their faces. Back at the boat, Cody was shouting at Matt. He heard the raised voices from where he sat.

“Where the hell have you been? You’re an hour late! What about cleaning the fish and the boat?” Cody yelled.

Matt’s voice was barley audible. “Sorry, I had to stay late at school and finish a project up. I’ll clean the boat.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard. No fish today.” Cody left the dock and walked toward Will. “You’re gonna have to buy me a beer if you want to talk. Slow day out there … but I guess you know how that goes.”

Will let the comment go and got Cody a beer. He needed information more than a fight right now. Cody grabbed the beer before it was offered. He chugged at least half of it, put his finger up for Will to wait, belched and finished it. Will handed him another hoping the pump was primed now, “I saw your dad off Flamingo Key. Looks like he was doing some kind of real estate thing. Any idea what he’s up to?”

Cody drank half the second beer and got in Will’s face. “Why would I tell you what my dad is doing? Even if I knew.” Then Will saw him focus on his face. “What happened there, pretty boy?”

“They ran your boat aground on the back side of Flamingo. I tried to help, but the driver popped me.”

Cody laughed. “Just your luck. The old man’s got some dude from Miami down. Looking for some land or something. Who cares, as long as he closes the deal.”