Or you could be reporters, same thing. They were nosing around here earlier.'
I found it impressive that she differentiated between the sheriff's department and the federal Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms officers.
Tomlinson said, 'We're not cops and we're not reporters. Civilians, that's us. Just concerned human beings. I'm telling you the truth.'
'Jimmy told you something before he died.'
'He spoke to me. Yes.'
'What about your friend?' She turned and gave me her full attention for the first time. For a moment, just a moment, I thought I saw her react: a mild flash of recognition, as if she had seen me before, so was scanning the memory files, searching for confirmation.
I said, 'A few words. Not much.'
She was still staring at me, pondering, when from inside the house came a man's voice: 'Anything wrong, Hannah?' Looking through the doorway, I could see a man walking toward us through what appeared to be a sparsely furnished living room. He wore a desert-gray safari-style shirt and matching shorts; a big man in his mid- thirties who took his appearance seriously; the contemporary backpacker and kayaker look— which seemed out of place on Sulphur Wells. He wasn't quite as tall as Hannah, but he had the tight muscularity that I associate with collegiate sports—soccer, lacrosse, tennis, that sort of thing. He had to poke his head over the woman's shoulder to speak to us. 'Can we help you fellows?'
'They're here to talk to me, Raymond, not you. You stop by tomorrow, we'll finish our business. 'Bout four or five, before I go to work.'
'Do you know these men?'
She gave him a warning look. 'Tomorrow, Raymond.'
Raymond reached around and placed his hand on the woman's arm, a territorial gesture. 'Hannah's had a terrible shock today, fellas, so I think it would be best if—'
That quick, the woman had Raymond by the elbow and was hustling him past us down the steps, off the porch, and into the shell driveway where some kind of utility vehicle sat in the shadows, a Ford Explorer maybe. Heard her say, 'Damn it, Raymond, if I want a guardian I'll have you fill out an application. Not that you'd be high on the list. You want to talk business, come tomorrow. You don't, that's fine too.'
Raymond mumbled something, mumbled something else, then started his car.
Striding back to the porch, Hannah said to Tomlinson, 'You get those clothes off. Yeah—right where you stand. Nobody comes down that road much, but I'll turn off the porch light if you're modest. You'—she was speaking to me—'take your muddy shoes off and get inside out of the mosquitoes while I find your friend a towel and some of Jimmy's dry things. . . .' She was still staring at me. 'What did you say your name was?'
I told her . . . and watched her expression soften slightly. 'I know who you are; I've seen you. At the Conservation Board meeting at Tallahassee. You were 'bout the only one that had anything good to say about us commercial people.'
Which wasn't true, but Hannah Smith had the politician's knack of making people eager to please.
I said, 'I told them what I believed, that's all.'
'But you had a good way about you. You talked soft. All those facts and numbers—but not too many. People listened. When you got done, -I thought maybe, just maybe, we had a chance.'
'I'm surprised I didn't notice you.'
'Oh, I was in an' out of the room, carryin' papers, makin' sure our men were where they were supposed to be. Tryin' to organize fishermen is like trying to organize a bunch of snakes. I had my hands full. I was there— one of the green hats. I just blended in.'
'No, I think I would have remembered.'
Which earned me a quick smile . . . and then she was done with me, her attention back on Tomlinson. 'Hurry up now! I don't care a thing about seeing your skinny little butt. Hand me your wet stuff.' She grabbed the ball of clothes out of Tomlinson's hands. Tomlinson, naked, gave me a wan look, shrugged, then followed her into the house. Heard her say, 'Well, you got hair like a woman, but that's 'bout as far as she goes. Towel off in the bathroom. Jimmy's stuff may be a little big around the shoulders, but it'll do. Might as well just keep it. Lord knows, Jimmy, he won't need it no more.'
'Raymond Tullock is like most men. His balls tell him he should be in charge, but his brain's just not big enough to steer the load. You want ice tea? I had some Co-Colas but I handed them out to the cops.'
I was sitting in the small living room on a rattan couch waiting for Tomlinson to come out of the bathroom. He was showering. The water had just started. Hannah was puttering around in the kitchen. She had the clothes dryer thumping on the back porch; something was simmering on the stove: smelled like black beans, a cumin and bay leaf smell.
'Raymond used to work for the marine extension agency, a government job. Worked with the oystermen, the netters, tellin' us how we could do our business better. A liaison—you know what I mean?'
I said, 'Sure.'
'Now we've got a woman. She was down here . . . Tuesday? No, Monday. Brought another woman with her to tell us how to make low-cost meals, where to go for food stamps. Getting us ready for welfare handouts because of the net ban. Had a meeting at the Community Center, all these island women sitting around in their print dresses. What they did was treat us like a bunch of snot-nosed kids who'd starve if they weren't there to show us how things're done. Know what the government woman said? Wendy something. Wendy graduated Duke, knows everything there is to know. Wendy says, 'I strongly recommend you try to limit fats in your families' diets. Too expensive and bad for the heart.' She says, 'Seafood is a good low-cost substitute, the cheaper grades of fish.' '
Hannah poked her head out from the kitchen to see how I'd reacted to the punch line. 'Get it? This bossy college woman, teeth like ice, tellin' us to eat fish now that we can't net them. Jesus! She says, 'I recommencl broiled fish as opposed to frying. Peanut oil is so expensive.' That's exactly what she said. I grew up cookin' for my daddy and brothers up in the Panhandle, Cedar Key, down here.
I said, 'I can see why you find that offensive.'
'Damn right we were offended. After the meeting, this little old lady,
Miz Hamilton—she's some relation of mine, way, way back; little bitty thing—Miz Hamilton totters up to Wendy, and she says, 'Missy, if the gov'ment paid you a dollah to come heah' '—Hannah had thickened her own accent, making it sound real—' 'the gov'ment paid you a dollah too much. I think them micra-waves done boiled your brain!' '
I sat there listening, smiling. The woman seemed to be on a talking jag, and I wondered if it was because she was trying to avoid the subject of her husband's death. Denial is the first stage of mourning. So far, the talking jag was the only slim sign of bereavement that Hannah Smith had displayed.
'That's what he did up till about three years ago. Then he went into the private sector.' She was back on the subject of Raymond Tullock. 'I guess he got tired of the bad pay, carryin' a clipboard around. Driving those white state cars everywhere he went. You know they got to keep track of every single mile? With all the connections he had, Raymond got himself appointed to the state Fisheries Conservation Board—'bout the only one on it who talked against the net ban. And he set himself up as a kind of wholesale seafood agent. A restaurant needs softshell crab up on the Chesapeake? They call Raymond and he works it out, top price. He's the one that found our Japanese buyers for mullet roe. Some other place, too— Indianesia? He goes to those places, scouts around. So instead of Arlis Futch sellin' to the big fish wholesalers, we sell direct to the buyers from over there. A better deal for them, a lot better price for us, and Raymond takes his piece off the top. Does it all over the phone and fax, doesn't even own a boat. Pretty smart, huh? For a man like Raymond.'
She appeared long enough to hand me a mason jar of iced tea, wedge of lime, then carried a second glass into the bathroom. Heard her say, 'Don't be leaving hair in the tub, neither!' Heard Tomlinson make some enthusiastic reply; couldn't understand the words.
The tea was made with local water. Had a heavy, sulfuric musk to it that she had tried to cover by making it very sweet and strong. Tasted as if she had mixed in some New Age herb for spice. Boil any dried leaf, they call it tea.
