Michael Connelly - A Darkness More Than Night

“No charter today,” he said before taking a long drink from the carton.

“Why not?” Raymond asked, his disappointment obvious.

McCaleb wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his long-sleeve T-shirt.

“They canceled.”

Lockridge looked up from the newspaper and McCaleb hit him with a laser stare.

“Well, we keep the deposit, right?” Buddy asked. “I took a two-hundred-dollar deposit on Visa.”

“No, we don’t keep the deposit because they canceled on Wednesday. We’ve both been too busy I guess to check the charter line like we’re supposed to.”

“Ah, fuck! That’s my fault.”

“Buddy, not in front of the boy. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

McCaleb continued to stare at him. He had not wanted to talk about the leak to McEvoy until after the charter because he needed Buddy’s help running a four-man fishing party. Now it didn’t matter. Now was the time.

“Raymond,” he said while still staring at Lockridge. “Do you still want to earn your money?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean ‘yes,’ don’t you?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes. Yes.”

“Okay, then reel in, hook your line and start taking these rods in and put them in the rack. Can you do that?”

“Sure.”

The boy quickly reeled in his line, took off his bait and threw it into the water. He attached the hook to one of the rod’s eyelets and then leaned it in the corner of the stern so he could take it home with him. He liked to practice his casting technique on the rear deck of the house, dropping a rubber practice weight onto the roofs and backyards below.

Raymond started taking the deep-sea rods out of the holders where Buddy had placed them in preparation for the charter. Two by two he took them into the salon and put them in the overhead racks. He had to stand on the couch to do it but it was an old couch in dire need of a new slipcover and McCaleb didn’t care about it.

“Something wrong, Terror?” Buddy tried. “It’s just a charter, man. We knew it was going to be slow this month.”

“It’s not the charter, Bud.”

“Then what? The case?”

McCaleb took a smaller gulp of juice and put the carton down on the gunwale.

“You mean the case I’m not on anymore?”

“I guess. I don’t know. You’re not on it anymore? When did that -”

“No, Buddy, I’m not on it. And there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

He waited for Raymond to move another set of rods into the salon.

“You ever read the New Times, Buddy?”

“You mean that free weekly?”

“Yeah, that free weekly. The New Times, Buddy. Comes out every Thursday. There’s always a stack in the laundry building at the marina. In fact, why am I asking this? I know you read the New Times.”

Lockridge’s eyes suddenly fell to the deck. He looked crestfallen with guilt. He brought one hand up and rubbed his face. He kept it over his eyes when he spoke.

“Terry, I’m sorry. I never thought it would get back to you. What happened?”

“What’s the matter, Uncle Buddy?”

It was Raymond in the door of the salon.

“Raymond, would you go inside and close that door for a few minutes?” McCaleb said. “You can put on the TV. I need to talk to Buddy by myself.”

The boy hesitated, staring the whole time at Buddy covering his face.

“Raymond, please. And take this back to the cooler.”

The boy finally stepped out and took the orange juice carton. He went back in and slid the door closed. McCaleb looked back at Lockridge.

“How could you not think it would get back to me?”

“I don’t know. I just thought nobody would know.”

“Well, you were wrong. And it has caused me a lot of trouble. But most of all it’s a fucking betrayal, Buddy. I just can’t believe you would do something like this.”

McCaleb glanced at the glass door to make sure the boy wasn’t in earshot. There was no sign of Raymond. He must’ve gone down to one of the staterooms. McCaleb realized his breathing was way up. He was so angry he was hyperventilating. He had to end this and calm down.

“Does Graciela have to know about it?” Buddy asked in a pleading voice.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter what she knows. What matters is that we had this relationship and then you do something like this behind my back.”

Lockridge still hid his eyes behind his hand.

“I just didn’t think it would mean that much to you, even if you found out. It was no big deal. I’m -”

“Don’t try to mitigate it or tell me what kind of deal it is, okay? Don’t even talk to me in that pleading, whiny voice. Just shut up.”

McCaleb walked to the stern, pressing his thighs against the padded combing. His back to Lockridge, he looked up the hillside above the commercial part of the little town. He could see his house. Graciela was on the deck holding the baby. She waved and then held Cielo’s hand up in a baby wave. McCaleb waved back.

“What do you want me to do?” Buddy said from behind him. His voice was more controlled now. “What do you want me to say? I won’t do it again? Fine, I won’t do it again.”

McCaleb didn’t turn around. He continued looking up at his wife and his daughter.

“It doesn’t matter what you won’t do again. The damage is done. I have to think about this. We’re partners as well as friends. Or we were, at least. All I want now is for you to just go. I’m going inside with Raymond. Take the skiff and go back to the pier. Take a ferry back tonight. I just don’t want you around here, Buddy. Not now.”

“How will you guys get back to the pier?”

It was a desperate question with an obvious answer.

“I’ll call the water taxi.”

“We’ve got a charter next Saturday. It’s five people and -”

“I’ll worry about Saturday when I come to it. I can cancel it if I have to or turn it over to Jim Hall’s charter.”

“Terry, are you sure about this? All I did was -”

“I’m sure. Go on, Buddy. I don’t want to talk anymore.”

McCaleb turned from the view and walked past Lockridge and to the salon door. He opened it and stepped in, then slid the door closed behind him. He didn’t look back at Buddy. He went to the chart table and got an envelope out of the drawer. He slipped a five-dollar bill from his pocket into it, sealed it and wrote Raymond’s name on it.

“Hey, Raymond where are you?” he called out.

For dinner they had grilled cheese sandwiches and chili. The chili was from the Busy Bee. McCaleb had picked it up on his way up from the boat with Raymond.

McCaleb sat across the table from his wife with Raymond to his left and the baby to his right in a jumper seat perched on the table. They were eating inside as an evening fog had enshrouded the island in a chilly grip. McCaleb remained morosely quiet through the meal, as he had been through much of the day. When they had come back early, Graciela decided to keep her distance. She took Raymond for a hike in the Wrigley Botanical Garden in Avalon Canyon. McCaleb was left with the baby, who fussed most of the day. He didn’t mind, though. It took his mind off things.

Finally, at dinner, there was no avoiding each other. McCaleb had made the sandwiches so he was the last to sit down. He had barely begun eating when Graciela asked him what his trouble was.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“Raymond said you and Buddy had an argument.”

“Maybe Raymond should mind his own business.”

He looked at the boy as he said this and Raymond looked down at his food.

“That’s not fair, Terry,” Graciela said.

She was right. McCaleb knew it. He reached over and tousled the boy’s hair. It was so soft. He liked doing it. He hoped the gesture conveyed his apology.