Steve Hamilton - A Stolen Season

Something in the air, Jackie had said. Just plain broken.

The door opened. Two men came in. I didn’t recognize them at first. I thought it was just two strangers stopping by for lunch, or for a drink. Then I saw the damage. The first man through the door had a bandage on the left side of his face, right along the jawline. The big one had his right wrist wrapped up with an Ace bandage.

The third one…He wasn’t here, but then he was the one who was unconscious when we found them.

The first guy was wearing the same leather bomber jacket. He was a little shorter than I remembered. He looked around the place, then came right over to me. “You’re McKnight,” he said. “I remember you.”

“How did you know my name?” I didn’t get up from the chair.

“I was over by your friend Tyler’s place today. I wanted to find out who you are. And Mr. Prudell, too.”

“Yeah?”

“My name’s Caplan, by the way. You can call me Cap. This is Bruce,” he said, indicating the big guy. Bruce nodded to me. With his wrist all wrapped up, he didn’t look inclined to shake my hand.

“Reason we’re here,” Cap said, “is we just want to thank you. You know, for helping us out.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “You didn’t have to come all the way up here.”

“Seriously, man. Least we can do is buy you a drink.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I insist. Please.” He stood there, his arm straight out as an invitation to the bar.

“No, really.”

“Where’s the bartender, anyway?”

“I’m right here,” Jackie said. He got up from the chair. “Come on, Alex. Show the men some consideration. If they want to buy you a drink, let them.”

“That’s right,” Cap said. “You should listen to this man.”

“That’ll be the day,” Jackie said. He went back behind the bar.

I got up slowly, wishing hard that I had told Jackie a little more about what had happened the night before. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been so fast with the hospitality.

“What are you having, Mr. McKnight? May I call you Alex?”

“Jackie knows what I drink.”

Cap took one stool at the bar. The big man, Bruce, took another, leaving one open for me, right between them.

“Here you go,” Jackie said, setting me up with a cold Canadian. “Are you gonna share some of your private stash with your friends here?”

I gave him a look that should have taken ten years off his life. But before another word could be said he was taking out two more Canadian beers and putting them on the bar.

“What do we have here?” Cap said.

“Alex only drinks beer that’s been bottled in Canada,” Jackie said. “See if you guys can tell the difference.”

I kept staring at Jackie. I couldn’t imagine why he was acting like a good host all of a sudden. He certainly didn’t use it on most people. Hell, if it was wintertime and you stopped in for one, he’d probably be yelling at you about the snow on your boots before you closed the door behind you.

It was the day, I thought. The strange, strange day, and the fact that he hadn’t seen a real paying customer all week. It was going to his head.

“This is outstanding,” Bruce said. He was holding the bottle in his huge hand, looking down at it with admiration. “Absolutely outstanding.”

“I agree,” Cap said. There was something about the way he talked. He was too self-aware, too smooth for his own good. I thought I had him figured pretty well, the type of guy I’d run into my whole life, in high school, in baseball, then later on both sides of the badge. Three inches too short, always trying too hard to make up for it. All car and haircut, and not much else.

Yeah, I thought I had him pegged.

“Did Alex tell you how we met last night?” Cap said to Jackie.

“No, he didn’t.”

“Well…we were out in a boat. It was pretty dark. And foggy.”

“Last night?” Jackie said. “You were out in a boat? You’re kidding me.”

“Pretty dumb, I know. We paid for it, believe me. Yes, sir. We were at the casino down in Bay Mills, and we ended up going out across the bay.”

“Don’t tell me,” Jackie said. “Those old bridge pilings…”

“Is that what those things are? We never even saw them. Next thing I know, we were stopped dead and the goddamned boat was sinking.”

“What kind of boat was it?”

“Ah, some old thing,” Cap said. “A wooden boat.”

“A Chris-Craft,” I said. “It looked like somebody had put a lot of work into it.”

“Wait a minute,” Jackie said. “You guys drove an antique Chris-Craft into those pilings?”

“Whose boat is it, anyway?” I said.

Cap looked at me. “It’s Harry’s boat.”

“It’s his dad’s boat,” Bruce said.

“It was his boat,” Cap said.

“Harry was the driver.”

“Yes.”

“How many drinks did he have before you guys went out?”

Cap hesitated again. “Two drinks. Maybe three. Harry can hold his liquor. Believe me, he wasn’t drunk.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s legal, don’t worry. He looks younger than he is.”

“And where is he now? Is he still in the hospital?”

“Yes. In Sault Ste. Marie. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Do you know that for a fact?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Alex.”

“Did you talk to the doctor?”

“I talked to Harry. He’ll be fine.”

“He looked pretty banged up last night. I’m surprised he’s even awake today.”

“Alex, as I told you, we just came out here to show our appreciation.”

“That didn’t seem to be your attitude last night,” I said. “As I recall, you accused us of hitting you. Like we’d actually be out there on the bay, waiting for someone to come by so we could ram them.”

Cap didn’t say anything. He kept looking at me, straight in the eye. Jackie stood on the other end of the bar, watching us. He must have been wondering what the hell was going on.

“I think we’re getting off on the wrong foot here,” Cap finally said. “Everything happened so fast last night. I think we were all a little in shock or something.”

“Yeah. Or something.”

He started tapping his fingertips on the beer bottle. “Okay,” he said, drawing out the word. There was a little smile on his face.

“Before you guys got in the boat,” I said, “did you happen to run into a little trouble at the casino?”

“What do you mean?”

“At the Bay Mills Casino. Did you happen to have a little altercation with someone who works there?”

“There may have been a little misunderstanding. Some Indian trying to act like a tough guy.”

“The pit boss, you mean.”

“Yeah, whatever. Without the casino he’d probably be selling little totem poles to tourists.”

“I kinda doubt that. Anyway, he’s a friend of mine. You guys gave him some nice bruises.”

“This is a small town,” Cap said. “Didn’t I tell you, Brucie?”

I didn’t see the big man’s reaction. I was still looking at Cap.

“Why are you really here?” I said.

“I told you.”

“Okay, then. You bought me a drink.”

“Maybe there is one more thing.”

“Surprise.”

I saw it in his eyes just then. The little flash of anger. It came quick, like it wasn’t that far away to begin with. Not far away at all.

“There was a box in the boat,” he said. “About this big.” He held up his hands about four feet apart.

“What about it?”

“It was yellow and black. Airtight. You know, designed to float.”

“What was in it?”

“Some valuables. Wallets, cash, that kind of thing. It’s just a box to keep things safe. Like a lockbox.”