Blackwater Sound. James Hall

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СКАЧАТЬ few years back Sugarman resigned his job as a Monroe County sheriff’s deputy and opened a private investigation firm down in Tavernier. Since then he’d been scratching by on runaway kid cases and occasional security work. Enough to pay the mortgage and buy groceries, but no frills. Then last summer Jeannie, his wife since high school, decided she’d had enough of flirting with poverty. She filed for divorce. ‘Irreconcilable economic aspirations,’ is how Sugarman put it. Somehow, she won custody of Janey and Jackie, their twin girls. Jeannie carted the five-year-olds and the rest of her possessions up to Miami, where a few months later she moved in with some charlatan who was pocketing large sums by guiding weak-minded souls to their previous lives. Jeannie always had a soft spot for gurus.

      ‘You realize you’re a TV star, Thorn?’

      ‘I heard.’

      ‘They been running the same footage over and over. You’re in your skiff pulling some old guy out of the water. I’ve seen it half a dozen times already. An unidentified Good Samaritan. How’s it feel to be famous?’

      ‘Shitty,’ he said. ‘Very shitty.’

      Sugarman ordered a Corona. The schoolteachers were arguing. The blonde wanted to move on to another bar. Her friend wanted to go to bed.

      ‘Thanks for coming, Sugar.’

      ‘Hey, you call, I come. That’s how it works.’

      ‘Something’s strange.’

      ‘Strange?’

      ‘About the crash.’

      Sugarman took a longer look at him, and shook his head sadly.

      ‘Oh, no. Here we go.’

      Sugar’s beer arrived and he removed the wedge of lime and took a sip.

      Thorn told him about the boat he’d seen, the three people aboard.

      ‘So they didn’t want to get involved,’ Sugar said. ‘Nothing weird about that. A lot of people freeze up in emergencies.’

      ‘Afterwards, at Flamingo the kid came over to me. He was trying to be cagey, but it was clear he wanted to see if I’d noticed them before the crash. Like he was worried I had something on him. He had a weird knife and real dodgy eyes. Talked like some half-assed gangster.’

      ‘A weird knife and dodgy eyes,’ Sugar said. ‘Hell, let’s go arrest the son of a bitch, toss him in solitary.’

      Thorn told him about going to the library, about the articles on Morgan Braswell, her father, A.J., about driving to Palm Beach, the run-down mansion, the tight security at the plant.

      Sugarman had a sip of his beer. He squeezed some lime into the bottle and had another sip.

      ‘You’ve been so good lately, Thorn. Everything’s coasting along so nice and easy.’

      ‘You think I’m making this up?’

      ‘I was wondering how long it would last. This stretch of tranquillity.’

      The schoolteachers paid their bill and got up. They walked behind Thorn and Sugarman. The blonde leaned close and hissed and flashed her claws.

      ‘The world springs from your mind, Thorn, and sinks again into your mind. That’s what the Buddhists say. And if you ask me, there’s something to it. You see what you want to see.’

      ‘That goddamn airplane didn’t spring from my mind, Sugar.’

      They sat in silence for a while, watched the bartender wash the teachers’ glasses. Thorn pushed his drink away. He was wasting good alcohol, pouring it into a bottomless cavity.

      A couple of guys with long hair and Hawaiian shirts came into the bar. The schoolteachers were with them. Everyone laughing. On the same boozy wavelength.

      ‘There’s nothing weird about this, Sugar? You sure?’

      ‘Nothing you told me sounds weird, no. Some rich assholes from Palm Beach didn’t want to scuff their manicures. That’s all. I think what it is, you’re shell-shocked. An airplane crashes in your lap, it’s only natural you get a little case of post-trauma. And the way you’re dealing with it, being Thorn, you rush out and start sniffing around, thinking you gotta fix things.’

      Thorn looked over at the schoolteachers and their new friends. Bilge Burners all around.

      ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I’m full of shit.’

      ‘I didn’t say that.’

      ‘Yeah, you did. Not in those words, but it’s the same thing.’

      The bartender came over and asked if they wanted another round. Sugar said no. Thorn shook his head.

      ‘I think the NTSB might want to talk to you. Transportation Safety Board. You’ve heard of them, right? The people that investigate these things.’

      ‘I’ve heard of them.’

      ‘They’d probably like to debrief you. You being an eyewitness and all.’

      ‘What am I going to tell them? I saw the plane crash. It nearly capsized my boat. I don’t know anything else.’

      ‘You should call. It’s your civic duty.’

      ‘Sure,’ Thorn said. ‘Soon as I get a phone installed.’

      Sugarman finished his beer and slid it to the edge of the bar. He picked up the tab and kept it out of Thorn’s reach.

      ‘You want me to, I’ll call them for you.’

      ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m going to stay the hell out of this.’

      Sugar got down from his stool and rested his hand on Thorn’s shoulder.

      ‘You get some sleep, buddy. You’ll feel better tomorrow.’

      ‘Yeah,’ Thorn said. ‘Some sleep. That’d be nice.’

      Morgan put the leftover Chinese in the refrigerator. Six white boxes. Shrimp fried rice, garlic chicken, the usual. Enough for dinner tomorrow. She wiped off the table, rinsed the plates and silverware, put them in the dishwasher. She corked the Pinot Noir and set it on the shelf. Set up the coffee machine for the morning.

      Johnny was upstairs in his bedroom. Her dad was in his study. Leaving her the woman’s work. Just like they’d treated her mother.

      Morgan turned off the kitchen light and went upstairs and stopped on the landing outside Johnny’s room. Marlon Brando was lecturing one of his thugs, using his muffled Godfather voice, as though his cheeks were stuffed with dental cotton. She stood for a moment listening to the familiar dialogue. Johnny watched them every night, gangster movies. Said it relaxed him. Cagney, Bogart, Pacino, Mitchum. Gunfire coming from his room, sirens, swelling music, fuck this, fuck that. For years she tried making fun of the movies, tried bullying him. Neither worked, so finally she gave up. She wasn’t his mother. If he wanted to wallow in that trash, fantasize an alternate life, it was his СКАЧАТЬ