Murder Takes a Break (9 page)

"I guess you do like me, after all," Dino said.
 
"Either that, or you really must think you need protection."

"I like you," I said.
 
"I really like you."

"Sally Field.
 
You remember the year she made that speech at the Academy Awards?"

"No," I said.
 
"Now you get the tackle, and I'll go look for Big Al."

E
veryone knew that Big Al Pugh liked to mingle with the common folk by fishing on Pelican Island, and since today was such a good day for fishing, I was hoping that I'd get lucky.
 
Of course if Big Al was there, Henry J. would be there too, which is why I'd brought Dino along.
 
There was no use in my getting beaten to a pulp by myself.

The concrete walk that had been built along the side of the island facing the West Bay was crowded with fisherpersons of all shapes and sizes.
 
As I looked around for Big Al, a kid of about twelve was nearly jerked off the walk and his rod bent double.
 
His father grabbed him by the belt as the kid started cranking on his reel.
 
It took him a few minutes, but the two of them finally got a hubcap-sized flounder close enough to shore for everyone to see it.
 
The father got a dip net and leaned down toward the water to scoop up their catch.

I didn't hang around to see if he landed the fish.
 
By that time I'd spotted Big Al sitting in a sagging aluminum lawn chair about thirty yards farther along the walk.
 
There was no sign of Henry J., however, which I thought was unusual but encouraging.
 
I went back to the truck to get Dino.

He was standing there with the rods and the tackle box in one hand and the bait bucket in the other, looking as if he wished he were back at home with his big-screen TV and his complicated remote control.

"Well?" he said.

"We're in luck?"

"You mean Big Al's not here?"

"No, I mean Big Al
is
here.
 
Not only that, but the fish are biting."

For some reason, neither bit of news seemed at all exciting to Dino.
 
He just looked even more depressed, if that was possible.

"What's the matter?" I asked.
 
"Don't you like fish?"

"I like fish just fine if they're in the water.
 
But I don't like catching them, I don't like cleaning them, and I don't like cooking them.
 
If I want to eat fish, I'll go to a restaurant."

I thought about asking him when he'd last been to a restaurant, but there was no use in that.
 
He'd been whenever I'd last forced him out of the house to go with me somewhere.

"Maybe we won't catch anything," I said.

He looked hopeful.
 
"Maybe.
 
What about Henry J.?"

"I didn't see him."

"That doesn't mean he's not here."

"I know it.
 
Come on.
 
We can't stand around like this all day."

I led the way, and Dino followed.
 
I didn't have to look back to know that he wasn't happy about it.
 
Not only were we out of his house, we were right on the water.
 
In a few seconds, we were going to be within about a foot of it.
 
I don't think Dino had been this close to Galveston Bay in years.
 
A lot of years.
 
No wonder he was uncomfortable.

And of course the meeting with Big Al wasn't going to be as much fun as a lot of other things we could have been doing.

Having elective hernia surgery, for instance.

There was a strong breeze, and the water had slopped up on the concrete, making it slick.
 
I had on my running shoes, so I didn't think I was in much danger of slipping.
 
Dino was also wearing running shoes, though I don't think he ever went running.
 
Free weights, an ab machine, and a treadmill were more his style.

Although the walk was crowded, there was plenty of space around Big Al.
 
People were showing their respect, or it might have been fear.

I wasn't afraid, or if I was, I wasn't going to show it.
 
I walked to within a couple of yards of the sagging chair and said, "This looks like a good spot, Dino."

Big Al, who had been staring out at the water, turned to look at me.

"Well, well.
 
Truman Smith.
 
And Dino.
 
I'd heard you were into fishing lately, Tru, but I didn't know Dino cared for water sports."

It was easy to see where Big Al got her nickname.
 
She was nothing if not big.
 
And impressive.
 
I don't know whether she'd ever entered competitive body-building contests, but she certainly could have.
 
The muscles of her arms and legs looked like they were composed of bricks with the edges rounded off, and she looked strong enough to bend a crowbar the way I might bend a paperclip.

She was wearing a pair of cut-off jeans and a tight white T-shirt with a picture of a black automatic pistol held in a two-handed grip.
 
Under the pistol were the words "I Don't Dial 9-1-1."
 
To tell the truth, I didn't think she'd need the pistol.
 
Bare hands would be enough defense for her.

She was wearing a white visor that allowed a view of her unnaturally curly hair, cut short and clinging close to her head in tight, graying ringlets.
 
She had a weathered face with watery gray eyes, and a nose that had been broken at least once.
 
She'd probably run into a door.

Her full first name was Alice, but probably no one had called her that in thirty years.
 
Well, no one but Henry J.
 
I wondered where he was.
 
I had been sure from the first that Big Al hadn't come alone, and the empty chair beside her proved that I was right.

Dino set the tackle down and said, "Where's Henry J.?"

"What?" Big Al said.
 
"No 'Hi, Big Al,' no greeting for an old friend?"

Dino put the tackle and bait bucket down.
 
"Hi, Big Al."

"Hi, yourself.
 
You boys think you're going to catch some fish today?"

"We might," I said.
 
"Let's bait up, Dino."

I could tell by the look on his face that Dino found the idea of putting live shrimp on a hook about as appealing as cleaning out a cat's litter box with his bare hands, so I knelt down by the bait bucket and got busy.

"Dino's too delicate for that kind of work," Big Al said.
 
She patted the arm of the empty chair.
 
"Here you go, Dino, have a seat by me and tell me what's been happening your life.
 
How long's it been since we talked, anyway?
 
Five years?
 
Ten?"

Dino looked at the empty chair, but he didn't make a move to sit in it.
 

"We haven't talked in a long time.
 
I haven't counted the years.
 
Where's Henry J.?"

"He went to the snack bar to get me a Co' Cola and some chips.
 
You boys bring anything to drink with you?"

"No," I said.
 
"We didn't think about it."

I'd gotten one rig ready.
 
I stood up and backed away from the water to make my cast.
 
The line spun smoothly off the reel, and the bait landed noiselessly in the choppy water.
 
The wind over the bay was so freighted with humidity that my own hair was going to be as curly as Big Al's if we stayed on Pelican Island for very long.

"Here," I said, handing the rod to Dino, who took it reluctantly, holding it out and away from his body as if it might infect him with the Ebola virus if it got too close.

"You do a lot of fishing, Dino," Big Al said.
 
"I can tell.

Dino didn't answer.
 
He just looked out at the line as if he were expecting a great white shark to take his hook and yank him into the bay.

Big Al watched Dino for a minute and then looked back over her shoulder.

"Here comes Henry J. now," she said.
 
"If I'd known you boys were coming, I'd have had him get you a Co' Cola, too."

"Tru likes Big Red," Dino said.

Big Al shook her head at my bad taste as Henry J. arrived beside her chair.
 
He was about six-four, with the build of a retired linebacker who'd kept in shape.
 
He was wearing a long-billed fishing cap, but I knew that underneath it he was completely bald, with a bumpy skull that a nineteenth century phrenologist would have considered a prize trophy.
 
He was wearing a T-shirt that was even tighter than Big Al's, and his had a different picture — a black revolver — and a different slogan — "Fight Crime.
 
Shoot Back."
 
His nose had been broken a lot.
 
The bridge was jagged as lightning.
 
I was pretty sure he hadn't run into any doors.

He handed a paper cup and a bag of chips to Big Al and said, "What're these assholes doing here?"

I made a cast with my second rod, looked to the left and to the right, and said, "What assholes?"

"You never were very funny, Smith," he said.
 
"No matter what you think.
 
Ain't that what you say, Dino?"

There was a story that one of the breaks in Henry J.'s nose was a result of some old disagreement between him and Dino that had ended in a brief flurry of fisticuffs.
 
It had happened when I was off the Island, though, and I didn't know the story.
 
I'd never asked.
 
I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"I'm glad to see you, too, Henry J.," Dino said, still staring at his fishing line.
 
"How's your nose?"

"You son-of-a-bitch," Henry J. said.
 
He thrust his cup at Big Al.
 
"Hold this for me."

She didn't take the cup.
 
"Calm down, Henry J.
 
You don't want to go getting in a fight over some old grudge that you can't even remember.
 
Not right here in public, anyway."

Henry J. didn't say a word.
 
He just clamped his mouth on the straw in his cup and inhaled about half his drink.

After that, no one seemed inclined toward conversation.
 
We all stared out at our lines, while the rest of the fishing contingent pretended to ignore us.
 
Some of them were probably watching, though.
 
When Big Al was around, lots of people were bound to be curious.

After maybe five minutes had gone by without a bite, I said, "I hear that you rent out beach houses for parties, Alice."

"You planning a party, Smith?" Henry J. asked.

I kept my eyes forward.
 
"Maybe.
 
If I can find a nice place to rent."

"I own a few beach houses," Big Al admitted.
 
"People like to give me things."

In addition to her other enterprises, Big Al was reputed to lend money at interest rates that your local bank's chief loan officer would be arrested for just thinking about.
 
Sometimes people couldn't pay back the loans, in which case Big Al was glad to take something valuable instead of the money, whether the owners wanted to give it up or not.
 
After a visit from Henry J., they generally thought that giving up something valuable, like a beach house, for example, was a lot better than having their anatomy unpleasantly rearranged.

"Property isn't always an asset," I said.
 
"Sometimes it can be a problem."

"How's that?" Big Al said.

"Renters, for one thing," I said.
 
"Sometimes they tear things up, steal your fixtures, break things.
 
It can be a real hassle.
 
Or so I hear."

"Maybe you'd do something like that to the place where you're living, but not my renters.
 
I don't allow that kind of thing."

"Those parties during spring break can get rowdy, though.
 
Bad things can happen.
 
Sometimes people get high and do things they'd never even think about under ordinary circumstances.
 
Especially kids.
 
They don't understand responsibility."

Big Al looked up at Henry J., who was still standing by her right shoulder.
 
He bent down and set his cup by her chair.

"Not at my houses," Big Al said.
 
"You know, the truth is, I don't like to be crowded when I fish.
 
It's been nice to see you boys after all this time, and I've enjoyed talking to you.
 
But I think you'd better move to a better spot now.
 
The fish aren't biting here, anyway."