Steve Hamilton - North of Nowhere

I said I would, she thanked me a few times, promised she’d hug her kids for me, thanked me again, and then said good night.

I called Vargas’s number, apologized to his wife again, and told her I’d be making the lunch date after all.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” she said. “I was just sitting here crying about it. Now I can sleep.”

I let her have that one, wished her a good night, and hoped to God that I’d never have to meet her in person.

Before I went to sleep myself that night, I lay there in the dark, listening to the wind coming in off the lake. I wondered what the hell was going on, what Leon was up to, and why Vargas would want to have lunch with me.

Go to sleep, I told myself. You’ll find out tomorrow.

Lunch on a boat. How bad could it be?

The Kemp Marina is on the St. Marys River, not far from the Coast Guard station, east of the Soo Locks. There’s an old freighter docked on one side of the marina-you can walk through it and see how the seamen lived on it for months at a time. Then there’s the marina itself, where you’ll see just about every kind of private boat money can buy, from small sailboats to sport fishing boats, all the way up to the hundred-foot yachts. I stood at the front gate, asking myself two questions. First of all, why was I here? It had seemed to make some sense the night before. Now in the light of day I wasn’t so sure.

The second question was, how the hell would I find his boat? I walked down a couple of the docks. Some of the boats had a little sign with the owner’s name on it. Most didn’t. I finally went back to the shed by the front gate, hoping to find the harbor-master, or the dockmaster, or whatever you’d call the guy.

There was a woman in the shed, trying to type with two fingers on a manual typewriter and having a rough time of it. “Be with ya in a second, hon,” she said, as she hunted for the next key. “Two hundred dollars,” she finally said. “That’s how much it costs to fix a computer. Two hundred dollars. You’d think he’d spring for that, wouldn’t you?”

I listened to her say a few more things about the man who wouldn’t call the computer repairman. I hoped it was her husband, because some of the things she was saying you shouldn’t say about somebody you’re not married to. “Sorry about that, hon,” she said, finally looking up at me. “What can I do for ya?”

“I’m looking for Winston Vargas’s boat,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “Vargas, there’s a piece of work.”

“Do you know if he’s here right now? He told me to meet him at noon. I’m a little late.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t talk about him like that,” she said. “You must be a friend of his.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Okay, then. Never mind. Anyway, let’s see. You go back out there, go to the last dock. He’s in the second-to-last slip on the right.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it. I hope you get your computer fixed.”

“I’m not holding my breath,” she said, and then she went back to her typing.

I walked down to the last dock and then all the way down to the end. The sun was high in the sky and gleaming off the shiny metal trim on the boats. One man was sitting on a lawn chair on his deck, reading the paper. He looked up at me and nodded. The boat next to his was probably the biggest yacht in the marina. It looked like it probably slept twelve people quite comfortably. I couldn’t imagine what it cost.

Vargas’s boat wouldn’t be quite as big as this one, I thought, but I was betting on something pretty obscene. When I got to the second-to-last slip on the right, I was a little surprised at first. The boat couldn’t have been more than forty feet long. There was a cabin, but it probably slept three, maybe four people. Compared to some of the other boats here, it was downright modest. But then on second thought, it made sense. Those mega-yachts were probably slower than hell. Vargas’s boat had a long hull, and probably had twin diesel engines from the looks of the stern. This thing was built to go fast.

I didn’t see anybody on deck, but I didn’t want to just jump aboard. I remember somebody telling me once that a man’s boat was just as inviolate as his house, maybe more so. You don’t go on board without being asked.

“Ahoy!” I shouted. “Anybody home?”

The door to the cabin opened, and Vargas looked out. He looked even more bald in the light of day, if that’s possible. “Alex,” he said. “Come on aboard.”

It was a long step from the dock to the side of the boat. I felt a little zing in my groin muscles as I stretched for it, just another daily reminder that I was getting old. As soon as I stepped foot on the deck, the dog came running out of the cabin, barking at me like I was Satan himself.

“Miata, take it easy! It’s just Alex! You remember Alex!”

The dog danced around me like a bantamweight, moving side to side and looking for an opening. Vargas picked him up with one hand. “Sorry, Alex. He’s still a little high-strung since the other night.”

“That’s all right,” I said. Since the other night, my ass. That dog was born high-strung.

“Frankly, Alex, I’m a little surprised you came. I don’t imagine you had a very good experience at my poker party.”

“You didn’t have such a great time yourself,” I said. “I know it wasn’t your idea to get robbed.”

“No,” he said, rubbing the dog’s head. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“I guess I’m wondering why you invited me, though. I know I’m not your first choice for a lunch date.”

“There may be a thing or two I’d like to ask you about,” he said. “Just to get your opinion. But why don’t we head out first? It’s such a nice day for it. Do you fish much?”

“Once in a while,” I said. “Not as much as I’d like.”

“Perfect then,” he said. “We’ll catch a couple of whitefish.”

He put the dog back down on the deck, which set off another round of barking and carrying on. “Don’t make me put you inside, Miata. Just go lay down over there.”

The dog barked a few more times, but then finally backed away and sat down next to Vargas’s captain’s chair. He watched me as I sat down, ready to leap at my throat if I made any false moves.

“I had to bring the dog today,” he said. “My wife is out. Again.” He hung on the last word, shaking his head. I didn’t feel like asking him about it, or hearing anything about what was going on between his wife and the family lawyer. Or telling him what his wife had told me the night before, that she knew he had hired Leon to follow her. The whole scene was already uncomfortable enough, and I was beginning to regret it.

Vargas fired up the boat. I could feel the deck vibrating, the twin engines throbbing with so much power it was like sitting on a rocket. He stepped past me to untie a couple of lines, the dog barking again just on general principle. Then he sat back down in his captain’s chair and pulled the throttle back a notch. There was a furious churn behind the boat as he backed it and quartered, then he kicked it forward and we were on our way.

“You ever been through the locks before?” he said as we cruised down the St. Marys.

“No, that I haven’t done.”

“Sometimes you have to radio ahead,” he said, “but it looks like there are already a couple of boats lined up. It gets interesting when you’ve got a freighter in the lock at the same time. You feel like a very small fish in a tank with a whale.”

There were three pleasure boats waiting for the southern-most lock to open. Vargas fell in behind them. Almost immediately, the gates to the lock opened. Two giant steel doors, each one at least fifty feet across, swung open. The three boats ahead of us proceeded into the lock, and then Vargas joined them. I could see the viewing platform above us. With the water level down, it felt like we were at the bottom of a well.