Bonefish Blues Read online

  “No, it’s not like that. I promised I would look something up for him.”

  “I got his number. You could have just texted me for it.” He went to the contacts in his phone and sent her Will’s number.

  Her phone chimed. “Okay, smart ass. You can walk for that.”

  “How about a ride to the dock? I got there late yesterday and Dad had a fit.”

  The Corolla pulled onto Sombrero Beach Road and wound through the neighborhood. Pretty fine real estate for a school, she thought as she passed the houses, boats visible in the canals in their back yards. She followed the road to US1 and turned toward Ned’s marina, where she dropped Matt off. Once out of sight, she pulled over and hit the number Matt had sent.

  “Hello?” The raspy voice was hard to hear.

  “Will, is that you? It’s Nicole.”

  “Hey.” There was life on the other end, now.

  “I’ve got something you need to look at. You know, what you asked me to do.” She took a chance, and barged on. “Why don’t you come by for dinner later. About six?” She hoped he would take the bait.

  “I thought you said you couldn’t,” he said.

  She had doubted he would remember how the conversation had gone. “Well, you seemed so upset it was the least I could do.” Hoping she dodged a bullet she waited.

  “Cool. I’ll be there.”

  Chapter 8

  Will woke as the sun was about to set, disoriented when he noticed the light was on the wrong side of the house. It took a few minutes to realize that it was setting and not rising. A whole day wasted, he remembered the meeting with Roc and the building inspector earlier, and then the call from Nicole. Panicked, he reached for his phone and saw that it was 6:15. Already fifteen minutes late, he jumped out of bed and showered quickly. A calculated decision that it was worth not being any later than he already was, he waived shaving, looked in the mirror, and brushed his hair. Dressed and out the door, all within ten minutes of waking, he started the truck, opened the gate, and accelerated down the road.

  The truck pulled into Nicole’s driveway, and Matt ran out the door to meet him. “Will, you made it. We were starting to worry about you after yesterday and —”

  “Sorry, I got stuck doing something. Where’s your mom?”

  Matt led the way up the path to the house. The yard was mostly gravel with a few small plants randomly scattered, Nicole was obviously not into landscaping or maintenance. The house needed work, paint was peeling from the railings, and the weather showed it’s presence on the old siding. Although showing signs of wear the metal roof seemed to be in serviceable condition.

  He rubbed the stubble on his face subconsciously as he waited for Nicole to come to the door. Head down, he felt guilty and empty handed. After a lingering look, it was obvious that she had spent quite a bit more time on grooming than the ten minutes he had. He was startled as she came toward him with a quick embrace.

  “Sorry, I’m late, and …” he said holding out his hands.

  “It’s okay. Come on in.”

  He could tell from her body language that she was a little tipsy. “Nice place,” he said as he entered the living room and walked toward the bar separating the kitchen, where two wine glasses, one a quarter full and a half empty bottle of red waited.

  “Go ahead. Help yourself?”

  He looked at the bottle, not sure if it would help or hurt him. Deciding the chances were good that it would help, and not wanting to be rude, he topped off her glass and filled his. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring anything,” he said trying to avert his increasing guilt as she opened the lid of the pot.

  She ignored the apology, smiling. “Most guys I know wouldn’t even think about it.” She changed the subject, “So, I got curious yesterday after what you said the other night and was alone in the office. I found some information for you. Braken had a web site in his browser history I think you might be interested in.” She thrust her breasts forward, stopped and offered him a spoon to taste the sauce.

  “Wow, that’s great,” he said about the touch, the information and the sauce.

  “Let’s eat and then I’ll show you. Matt!” she called. “Dinner!”

  Nicole rattled on about this and that as they ate. Mostly shopping and celebrity gossip about people Will had never heard of. Matt sipped Coke from a can, while Will and Nicole drank wine. Will was famished, realizing that he hadn’t eaten at all that day, and plowed through his first plate of pasta. He looked at Nicole for approval for seconds, and she smiled.

  “Sure. It’s kind of nice to cook for someone that appreciates it.” She glanced at Matt, “He doesn’t appreciate much.”

  Matt took the hint and cleared the table. He left with an excuse to do homework leaving Will at the sink washing dishes, Nicole standing close next to him. She smiled at him with every dish he handed her. He wanted to prolong the moment, their bodies touching with each movement,but was also anxious to see what she had found about Braken. “That was a great dinner. Thanks,” he said as he handed her the last plate.

  “Why don’t you pour another glass of wine and we can have a look at what I found?”

  “He poured the remainder of the wine in her glass and brought it to the computer where she sat waiting for the screen to load. Will brought a chair and set it next to hers. They huddled around her computer desk staring at the screen. “My connection’s a little slow here,” she said as the page started to appear.

  It took only half of the image for Will to recognize the setting. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s Flamingo Key.” Will said as he read the blurb under the picture. The page was skillfully crafted to show an artists rendering of the completed community carefully highlighting the environmental amenities. He clicked through to the investors page. She sat quietly as he read the page. “They’re offering unbuildable lots for a million each.”

  “I read the whole thing before you got here. It says that there is water and sewer already there. From my real estate experience those are the two biggies here,” she said.

  “Well maybe. But what about building permits. You know the deal here. If it is not a ROGO approved lot already they’ll have to wait years.” He sat back to think. Maybe that was what they were after. That Key was worthless to build on. They probably bought it for next to nothing.

  “I’ve been working around that office for a long time and seen a lot of foolish people put their money before their brains. They’ll look at that picture and be sold before reading the fine print.”

  Before he could speak, the front door crashed open and Cody entered. Nicole reacted first, moving in front of the computer to hide the screen. Will was slower, but got up, not sure whether to protect her or distance himself.

  “What’s this little love fest?” Cody yelled as he stumbled toward them. Matt came out of his room and stood in the hall, uncertain. Cody rounded on him. “This doesn’t concern you. Go back in your room. I’ll deal with you when I’m done with these two.”

  Nicole went towards him, “You have no right barging in here. I’ll call the police right now.” She held up her phone and hit 911.

  Cody ignored the threat, “We may be divorced, but you’re still the mother of my boy. That gives me rights.” Cody came toward her, but Will stepped between them. “Step aside. It might be best for you if you just split and leave my family alone.”

  Nicole stepped towards him, “We are not your family. You have no rights here.”

  As they fought, Will could not help but think that this happened regularly. Their threats and even the way they moved towards each other seemed to be choreographed as if rehearsed. To his surprise Cody swung at Nicole, but missed and landed awkwardly. Will flinched and backed away.

  Cody recovered quickly and saw the opening. He charged Will, knocking him off his feet, and they ended up in a ball on the floor. Cody quickly gained the advantage and slammed Will’s head on the floor. He was about to slam it again when the sound of a shotgun chambering a round mo
mentarily stopped them.

  “Both of you, back away from each other.” Matt moved toward Nicole, who was talking on her phone. His hands were shaking, but the barrel pointed at both men.

  Will and Cody untangled and separated, neither sure what to do. “Dad, you need to go. The police are on their way and you don’t need to be here.”

  Cody was silent as he got up and moved toward the door. “This isn’t over.” He pointed at Will. “Watch your back, and stay away from them.” He slammed the door and left.

  Matt lowered the gun and went to Nicole, embracing her. “Maybe I ought to go,” Will said as he picked himself up. Although adrenaline was pulsing through him, he felt unsure and inadequate at the way he had handled the situation. Nicole had certainly caught his attention and he felt she was interested in him but he also had a gut feeling it was as much for Matt to have a more stable influence than anything between them. He moved toward the door.

  “You don’t need to go,” Nicole came towards him as he reached the door.

  “I’m sorry.” Was all he could muster. He went out, closing the door behind him. He turned as he went down the stairs and saw Nicole and Matt looking out the window at him. Unable to face them, he turned and went toward his truck.

  ***

  Will sat alone on his deck. The wind was blowing from the East: A sure sign a cold front was moving in. Stars twinkled above, another indication that the atmosphere was unstable, but he didn’t notice. The tequila bottle was in his hand, unopened. His head pounded from the strike to the jaw, the hangover, and from Cody beating it against the floor. He sat there feeling sorry for himself, angry that he hadn’t defended Nicole, or even himself. Angry that he had gotten drunk the night before. Angry that he was a spineless piece of crap.

  He was having a hard time sorting out his emotions, his self insulated lifestyle had sheltered him from dealing with the issues he now faced. He was good with boats, fish and wood - not much else and certainly not women. The comfortable life he had built seemed like a house of cards as the problems mounted. His mental image of the purist fly fishing guide, out every day, catching fish, customers happy and then going home to a comfortable house was shattering. One at a time the obstacles were surmountable, but now there were many and some connected in ways he did not understand. His mind was spinning.

  Nicole’s affection would have been welcome without the baggage it brought, but he already avoided Cody whenever possible. Yeah, he could use some company and he was attracted to her, but as the feeling that she had ulterior motives embedded itself in his mind, the luster was quickly wearing off.

  Then Flamingo Key, something he could easily ignore, and probably would if it weren’t his favorite flat. Replaying the scene from the other day he recalled the fish bag and buckets on the Grady-White and wondered what Braken and scarface man had been up to.

  His monkish existence had served him well for years after a failed marriage and there were plenty of other flats to fish he thought as he put Nicole and Flamingo Key aside for the moment.

  The house and permits were a bigger issue. Without the means to finish the house he stood to have his permits rescinded and possibly lose the property or at least be forced to move out. That was something worth fighting for, but he didn’t know how. He could count on Roc for help, but also knew that he would have to get involved himself. A trip to the building department was probably necessary, something he dreaded; he could deal with fish easier than people.

  The only sound was the wind rustling the palm trees as the time passed and his simple solution faded into paranoia. Somehow, he knew this was all connected.

  Chapter 9

  The wind was blowing at twenty knots when Will woke the next morning; definitely not fishing weather. He checked his email and messages before going out — no charters. A quick mental calculation had him in conservation mode until Thanksgiving, when the first wave of snowbirds and tourists rolled down US1. Nothing pressing on his schedule, he decided to bike rather than drive. He pulled the beach cruiser off the hooks in the carport and headed out toward City Hall. The bike path on the northern side of the highway was quiet, the few joggers and walkers waving to him as he cruised by the airport. A right turn on 99th street brought him to the city offices. The bike slid into the rack. He locked it and he entered the building.

  He walked to the receptionist and asked where he could find the building department. Averting his gaze, especially from the city workers, he entered the building department, busy with early morning activity. He took a number and went toward the waiting area feeling like a convict on death row He picked up a two-day-old newspaper, sat down, and started reading. Halfway through the editorials, he heard his number called.

  “Hey,” he greeted the clerk, handing her the number.

  “How can I help you?”

  He looked up at the woman who greeted him with a smile. “I need some help with a permit,” he said.

  “It’s not the dentist here. Lighten up.” She smiled. “Got an address or permit number?”

  Her eyes were the blue green of shallow water on a clear day and the way she looked at him caused him to stutter, “1557 Eastward Ho Lane. Yeah, I know it’s lame.”

  “Wait here. I’ll be back.” She winked across the counter.

  His eyes followed her until a row of filing cabinets blocked his view. The clerk at the next desk, stereotype of the miserable government worker, shot him a nasty look. He started to count the speckles in the formica countertop while he waited, and five minutes later she finally came back, carrying two file folders.

  “Seems like you’ve been working on this a long time,” she said as the larger folder spilled its contents onto the counter. He already knew that the dates on that paperwork went back the five years since the permit was originally pulled. “It appears you’ve exceeded the patience of the building official. Last week, the permit was revoked.”

  “I know, but my contractor brought out an inspector yesterday.” He pulled the inspector’s business card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “He said that I might be able to get a thirty-day extension.” He did his best to smile at her.

  “You can petition for it.” She handed him a form. “Fill that out and I’ll walk it down to the building official for you. The other problem is the waste disposal. Two years ago we went to city sewer. You never paid the connection fee.”

  “That must have been when they were tearing up the road. So what do I need to do?”

  “Go down to the utility department and pay the fee.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Well, you could take me to dinner for saving you. Looked like you were ready to jump off a bridge when you walked in here.”

  He hesitated, after swearing his monkish vows last night, but her eyes intrigued him, “You’re on.” He was about to leave, but turned back to face her. “Any chance you have one of those files on Flamingo Key?”

  She sat up straight and looked at him in surprise, and then over his shoulder, scanning the waiting area. “That’s funny. You’re the second person this week to ask for that file. Some creepy guy with an up-north accent and a scar on his forehead was in here the day before yesterday asking about it. What’s your interest?”

  This was starting to get out of his comfort zone, but she smiled again and he dropped his reserve, “Looks like that scar faced guy and Braken are going to try to sell some lots on it,” he was surprised by his own voice - almost authoritative.

  “Braken? I’ve had several run-ins with him. Seems like he’s always trying to pull some kind of scam. Threatens to go over my head and get me in trouble if I don’t cooperate,” she thought for a minute. “It’s too busy now, but I’ll pull it out later and give you a call. You’ve got me curious what he’s up to now.” She slid a piece of paper toward him for his phone number.

  He scribbled his number and smiled at her, “Thanks,” he said as he rubbed his jaw and walked toward the utility counter. Not daring to glance back and break the spell, h
e stood in line. Suddenly feeling like he needed some air, he went to a wall where forms were available in a plexiglass containers, took one of each and walked out.

  The image of her smile and eyes the color of the water he loved was all he could think of as he rode. She’d somehow had the ability to calm him rather than unsettle him as Nicole had. Then he smacked the handlebars, how could he be so lame - he didn’t even know her name.

  ***

  The wind was dying down, verified by his constant glances at the palm trees through the French doors. He was back home at the table with a legal pad and the inspector’s notice on the table. Anything to distract him from the numbers on the paper in front of him. The total looked to be about $35,000 to finish the house enough to get the final. And it had to be done in thirty days. With an emergency reserve of somewhere south of $20,000, he was considerably short. Even in his best month of chartering, he wasn’t going to see $15,000. Will thought about a loan, but with the little verifiable income he showed on his tax return, no bank was going to lend him money.

  There was one asset he had that could make that much money — his boat. He hated to compromise his morals and run meat fishing charters; his reputation was based on catch and release fly fishing, not meat fishing, where the anglers were given every opportunity short of dynamite to load the boat up with fish. But faced with the option of losing the house, he would do whatever was necessary. Might as well start now, he thought and went down and hopped on the old beach cruiser; at least start saving some gas money.

  The noontime sun beat down on him as the beach cruiser glided down the bike path. He pedaled with resolve, soon dripping with sweat; the heat and humidity acting like a steam bath, pushing the alcohol through his pours. Gravel crunched under the tires as he skidded into the marina parking lot. Soaked but feeling better, hoping he didn’t smell like alcohol, he walked into the office and started to shiver as the cool air hit him.

  Ned sat behind the counter, reading a newspaper when he walked in. “Would you look at what the cat drug in. Think I got you a charter. Cody offered, but I told the guy you’d call him and set something up — the wind was blowing too much today. He’ll be back tomorrow.” Will took the offered piece of paper with a phone number and stuck it in his pocket.