The Raft (30 page)

“But you did your job too well,” Rachael
added.

Maggie shrugged.

“Then, Gandalf did kill Meerkat to send Horus
to jail? It was his only move when... what? He realized that no one
was investigating Horus's drug trade?”

“No.”

“He discovered she was an FBI informant?”

Maggie's expression subtly changed. Perhaps
she shifted on her injured foot. “Oh, no, Gandalf would never have
hurt Meerkat, no matter what he discovered. For all his failings,
for all his machinations, he wasn't the sort to hurt a girl.”

“But you said the answer to who killed
Meerkat was in this vault?” Rachael asked, confused.

Maggie's gaze turned and fell on Tiger Print.
“And it is.”

Chapter 35

Tiger Print didn't raise her eyes to meet the
accusing stares of Maggie or Rachael. She looked down at the
handkerchief in her hand, kneading it around in her fists, looking
for a dry corner.

Rachael gasped, the full impact of Maggie's
accusation sinking in. “You?” Rachael said directly at Tiger Print.
The silence was damning. “Her?” Rachael turned to Maggie. “No, but
Gandalf...”

“Learned the truth,” Maggie said in a solemn,
flat tone. “When?” she asked Tiger Print. “After the town hall, but
before we left for the Coast Guard cutter? You overheard Gandalf
begging me to find the identity of Meerkat's murderer. To save the
Raft. Was it then that you confessed?”

Tiger Print stood in silence looking at the
handkerchief in her clenched fists.

“But Gandalf went to meet with the FBI
anyway. Why?” Rachael asked.

“Because he knew it was over. If Tiger Print
had murdered Meerkat, then the Raft was sunk. Done for. All that
was left that Gandalf could do was to protect the thing aboard the
Raft that he loved the most: Tiger Print herself. He knew that
drawing down on the dryfoots, taking a federal bullet for the Raft,
would instantly cast suspicion onto him. All attention would be
drawn away from the real murderer. Alive, he couldn't save the
Raft. But dead, he knew he still had some value: Meerkat's
murderer, Raft martyr, dryfoot scapegoat all wrapped up into one.
Gandalf realized he was worth more dead than alive. All he had to
do was jump in front of a gun.”

Tiger Print began to sob, the sadness
bubbling up from deep down inside her throat. The tears came and
she wept into her sopping handkerchief. Rachael felt a momentary
pang of pity, then quickly corrected herself. Tiger Print was the
murderer? It couldn't be. It just didn't seem real.

“The only question, of course, is why?”
Maggie continued. “Why did Meerkat have to die? Was it all because
of this?” Maggie gestured at the empty vault around them. “Because
she was working with the FBI? Because she knew about the gold? Or
rather, the lack of it?”

“Oh God, no,” Tiger Print bawled, choking
back a sob. “Neither Gandalf nor I had any idea she was working
with the dryfoots. She came to Gandalf... asked for money... to
kick her habits.”

“And Gandalf gave it to her?”

“Oh yes.”

“And more besides. To implicate the
Senator?”

Tiger Print nodded. “He thought if he could
mar the Senator in a scandal, he could derail some tax vote that
would have closed the loophole that kept the Raft afloat.”

“And that was why Meerkat had to die?”
Rachael asked, trying to piece it together.

Tiger Print shook her head. “No, no...
Gandalf... Gandalf... two days ago, Meerkat came to Gandalf,
looking for more money. She was heading back to shore again,
supposedly for another rehab meeting. She was covering for the
trips onshore by telling Horus that she was meeting with the
Senator. She needed to return with blackmail money. Not a lot, but
enough to make the story about the Senator seem credible. Gandalf
wanted to help her, so he'd been giving her greenbacks. From that
lockbox.” Tiger Print pointed across the empty vault. “He didn't
have the good sense to hide this empty room from her.

“This had all happened before. A dozen,
eighteen trips she'd made back and forth. Each time, Gandalf had
provided a few thousand dollars. We assumed she was giving it to
Horus, and perhaps some of it was. She must have been meeting with
the dryfoot police, huh?” Tiger Print looked up at Maggie in the
dim light of the vault. “We had no idea... I guess she was playing
us for fools as well as Horus.

“Anyway, with the other trips, Chemical had
always taken her to shore, along with his other deliveries. But two
nights ago, there was nothing going ashore for Chemical to deliver,
so Meerkat asked me for a ride. She was having dinner aboard the
Geoduck
with Tea Queen, but then, if it wasn't too much
trouble, could I run her over to Seattle? I said yes, thinking
nothing of it. I went to bed early, and in the wee hours of the
morning my phone rang. Meerkat was ready to leave.

“She was aboard the
Straight Dope
,
moored off the coast of Bainbridge. I was to run her around the
Island, across the Sound and into the city. But as we cleared my
dinghy around the Rich Passage, I came to realize something:
Meerkat was happy, blissfully happy. The happiest I'd ever seen
her. At first, I thought nothing of it and pointed my boat at the
lights of the city. But the closer we came to the waterfront of
Seattle, the clearer it became: Meerkat was using again, she wasn't
going ashore for rehab. She'd been out all night with Tea Queen and
she was high. She had thousands of Gandalf's dollars in her pocket
and she was playing him like a fool. She hadn't been going ashore
to clean up her act, she'd been going ashore to feed her habits. In
the dark, I cut the engine of the boat and confronted Meerkat. She
denied it, of course, but I demanded she return Gandalf's money.
She was more than happy to, she said she didn't need it anymore.
She didn't need any of us, or our stupid Raft. Once she got ashore
she was done with all of us, she wouldn't have to see any of our
ridiculous faces ever again.

“I had no idea what she meant by it, but it
infuriated me. I called her names, accused her of horrible,
horrible things. Gandalf was one of the few people she'd confided
in about her troubles in Arizona. He'd told me. I don't remember
exactly what I said, but I hit a nerve. She lunged at me. We
struggled. My hand found a fish club in amongst the tangled mooring
lines...

“She just toppled over the side like she'd
taken a dive into the dark water. I wasn't really aware that I'd
stuck her. But when she hit the churning water and sank, and sank,
and didn't fight against her clothes as they dragged her down... I
knew I'd hit her. Hit her hard. Hard enough to knock her clean out
of the dinghy. She was gone. Down, down, under the black water. I
threw the stick aside and reached my arm down into the blackness,
but she'd vanished. I had no light, no life vest... she was gone. I
turned and started the engine and brought the dinghy about. I set a
course back to the
Kalakala
. After all, what else could I
do?

“Meerkat was gone, Meerkat was dead and I had
killed her. I sailed back to the
Kalakala
and climbed into
bed.”

Chapter 36

“Then...” Rachael began. Above, on the car
deck the
Kalakala
, a cheer rose up. It reminded Rachael that
just a few yards away, the Kon-Tiki races were still in full swing.
People were happy, celebrating. Perhaps a particularly
well-contested race had just finished. Rachael didn't know the
specifics. She was locked away, below the water line, trapped in a
suffocating dungeon with a confessed murderer. Her head throbbed
and she longed for her bed. Rachael wished she could just close her
eyes and be magically transported back to dryland.

She'd done her part, the story was over.
She'd helped Maggie find her murderer and now Rachael wanted to go
home. But yet, there was still so much farther that they all had to
travel. Rachael's chest ached with the burden.

“Then... Gandalf died for nothing?” Rachael
said, breaking the pained, extended silence that had only been
filled by the cheering outside the ferry.

“I- I -” Tiger Print returned to her
sobbing.

“It doesn't matter,” Maggie said, turning and
starting for the dimly lit ladder beyond the heavy steel door.

“Doesn't matter?” Rachael repeated, confused.
“But what do we do with her?” Rachael said, pointing at the
blubbering Tiger Print.

“Do with her?” Maggie said, stopping and
looking back. “Nothing. We do nothing with her.”

“But -” Rachael started.

“Meerkat's death cost her her husband. A life
for a life. She's paid her bill.”

“But Gandalf was innocent... Everyone thinks
he murdered Meerkat.”

“He was and they do, and we have to make sure
they keep thinking that or our détente with the dryfoots will
collapse in on itself.”

“But -”

“But nothing. Gandalf died to protect Tiger
Print. To protect the Raft. I have no intention of letting his
death mean nothing. Tiger Print has paid for her crime and Gandalf
for his. Blame? There's plenty of that to spread around. Who killed
who and why and who believes what? It doesn't matter. If everyone
is happy believing what they believe, then all the better.”

“But you can't just leave it like this,”
Rachael barked at Maggie. “You said before that Meerkat was your
responsibility. As her Magistrate, it was your duty to investigate
her murder. And you plan on just letting her murderer go free?”

“No, not free,” Maggie said with an edge to
her voice. “Tiger Print,” she commanded. “You're to put your boots
on. You're no longer welcome aboard the Raft. You will leave the
Kalakala
and return to shore. The Raft has no prisons, no
jail cells, no brigs, but there's a prison ready and waiting for
you, Tiger, and I will lock you away in it.” Maggie turned back and
stepped through the great steel door. She raised her injured foot
onto the bottom rung of the ladder. “Get off the Raft, Tiger Print,
and never return. Let that be your jail cell.”

And Maggie, wearily, began to climb.

#

Rachael found Maggie sitting at the very rear
of the
Kalakala's
car deck, her bare feet dangling over the
still water. The Kon-Tiki races and its spectators were still
raising a din from the bow of the craft, but Maggie had found a
quiet spot at the stern of the ship, away from the celebrations.
She was watching shore and letting her toes hover over the glassy
water. The sun was high in the sky, the cloud of the morning
rainstorm had burned away.

Rachael sat down at the lip of the car deck
next to Maggie, letting her own bare feet dangle over the
water.

“That's that then.” Rachael shielded her eyes
against the glare of the sun and looked up at the sky. “Turned out
to be a fine day,” she said.

“Mmm,” was all Maggie said in response. They
lapsed into silence and they both watched the water below their
feet.

“I suppose I'll have to write something about
this,” Rachael said, thinking out loud. “Justify my two-day
absence. But after I take into account all the half-truths and
downright lies, I'm not sure what's left over for me to write
about...”

“Mmm,” Maggie hummed again.

“I hate that 'Mmm,' it always means trouble.
Aren't you done? You've discovered the identity of Meerkat's
murderer and you saved the Raft from destruction. Everyone's
celebrating.” Rachael gestured behind her towards the prow of the
craft. “You should, too. What's left to 'Mmm' about?”

“Nothing,” Maggie said. “Nothing.”

“I mean, I watched you every step of the way,
Maggie. I can't believe what you just did... t
hat's
what I'm
going to write about, now I understand... you Maggie. Maggie
Straight the Magistrate. That's my story. When the dryfoots read
about you, Maggie... well, it will be good for the Raft. You're the
public face of the Raft now, remember? A little friendly press
can't hurt.”

“We'll always remember this as the beginning
of the end, Rachael,” Maggie said solemnly.

“What? Are you worried about Kid Galahad?
Because I think you've handled him quite well. The gold? I can
assure you my lips are sealed. And Tiger Print...”

“No, no... it's not that.”

“Then what?”

“Everything we left the shore to escape, it's
followed us out here.”

“Maggie...” Rachael paused, watching the
water. She thought about her words, continuing, “The Raft is no
magical kingdom. It's made up of men and women, just like society
onshore. What has followed you out here to the Raft, that was no
creation of dryfoot government, but the trials and tribulations of
Man. Deceit, murder, theft, lies, they follow mankind like a cloud.
You escaped to the Raft, Maggie, but you couldn't escape dryland
without bringing yourselves with you. That's what you were running
away from Maggie: you. The dark part of your humanity. You can't
escape it, it will always be with you. On dryland or aboard the
Raft.”

Maggie looked up from the shining water with
heavy eyelids. “Thanks,” she moaned.

Rachael laughed. Threw her arms around Maggie
and hugged her head to her chest. “Don't be so morose! Look at you,
Maggie, look at the person you've become. Remember, I knew you
before you came out here to the Raft. I lived with you, I loved
you. But back then, you were not even half the woman that you've
become. You're living proof, Maggie, of what the Raft can mean to
people: a new beginning, an opportunity to thrive. The Raft means
freedom, Maggie, and you draw your strength from it. It's your Raft
now, you've taken control of it. It's down to you to shepherd it
through a difficult transition, a reorientation of the Raft to the
greater world beyond its hull. But you're the right woman to do it,
because only you
are
the Raft. You so acutely understand its
potential. What the Raft has provided you, it can offer to so many
others. The freedom to realize what is within. You can sell the
Raft to dryfoot society, Maggie – a society tired and jaded and
indifferent to freedom – by just showing them what you've
become.