drink. The sun is doing it all for him.
They listen to a country station as they pass a long strip of used-car dealerships on the way back to Bologna. Once more Brad Paisley’s ‘Alcohol’ comes on the radio.
As they get back down by the marina, a large boat is sailing in. It has a black-and-white fibreglass hull and carries the name
— Why, hey there, Tianna Marie! the sailor booms. — What are you up to? He looks suspiciously at Lennox, then back at her. — Where’s that crazy momma of yours?
— She’s kinda sick, I guess.
— Now, that’s too bad, Chet says, as he backs the boat in. Don Wynter, who has emerged from his office, helps him to tie it securely to the mooring posts. As the younger, and presumably fitter, man, Lennox feels it appropriate to offer a hand. Takes a step forward but then hesitates; they seem to know what they’re doing. Don slaps Chet on the back and they exchange brief pleasantries before he heads back to the office, explaining that he has some calls to make.
Thank fuck for that, Lennox thinks, as Tianna and Chet embrace. He feels the genuine warmth in it; there is no stoat-the-baw sleaze coming from Chet Lewis. So he looks out across the harbour. A white-chested osprey swoops and soars off with a struggling fish in its claws. But there is no sense of human threat here. Chet is benign decency personified. It is over, and Tianna is now in safe hands.
Those hands belong to a man in his sixties, with a strong, fine face under a long-billed fishing cap, which he removes to reveal a salt-and-pepper crew cut. Some slight jowling is evident in his close-shaven face, but there is a youthful enigmatic spark in his blue-grey eyes. He has a casual, easy manner and a gentle strength that Lennox associates with the small-town America of the movies, though an undercurrent of dynamism seems to fuse his frame, packed around his strong shoulders. He’s a contradiction; his accent and bearing suggest money, but his muscular build and flat stomach seem to indicate that he’s no stranger to physical work. Wearing a tropical shirt, white flannels and sneakers, he sticks his hand out. — Chet Lewis.
As Lennox coughs out his title, another sabotaging frog jams in his throat.
— Pleased to know you, Lennox, Chet says, obviously failing to pick up on the given name.
Chet stares at Lennox. Normally he wouldn’t take kindly to anybody evaluating him in such a blatant manner, but in the circumstances it seems entirely appropriate. He tells Chet the story, omitting once again his true occupational status. The old insurance tale does the trick.
The sailor listens patiently. He seems on the level and Tianna likes him, but Lennox needs to be one hundred per cent certain so he is happy to accept when Chet invites them aboard. As they climb on to the rear deck, the host says, — Thank you so much for looking after this young lady, as Tianna explores, going down into the cabins. His voice drops, to remove her from earshot. — I’m not sure I know this Lance character, although I think I may have heard Robyn mention him. He and his cohorts seem very unsavoury. Robyn’s a nice girl, but she does have… issues.
Lennox’s expression accedes that irrefutable truth. — So how do you know her and Tianna?
— I have my granddaughter, Amy, to thank for that. Last summer she was staying with me for a week and we met Robyn and Tianna, who’s the same age as Amy, at the Parrot World in Miami. The kids hit it off, but Robyn seemed a little distressed. So I invited them on to the boat the next day. We had a fine time and they were good company. The friendship just blossomed, Chet beams, before his jaw abruptly moves south. — But I have to say that she seems to attract a rather dubious sort of male companion. I’ve had a few tearful calls from her on that subject.
Lennox nods in agreement.
— So I’m sorry if I might appear a little suspicious.
— Perfectly understandable. I met those guys.
— Tianna will be safe here until I can find out what’s happened to her mother. But now I have to check on some crab pots and lobster creels I put out a few days ago, which I stupidly forgot to pick up, so please, join us for a short trip out to sea.
— I’d love to, but I’ve got to get back to Miami Beach.
Tianna comes back up the steps and stands in the doorway. — Please stay a while, she begs. — You gotta come for a sail in Chet’s boat, hasn’t he, Chet?
— I think Lennox is busy, honey.
— How long will it take?
— Oh, about an hour, Chet says.
— Okay, he responds breezily, — I’d like to see a bit of the Gulf. He thinks of Trudi. Things seemed fine again. — I’m on holiday, right?
— Yes! That’s so fucking awesome, Tianna says, then puts her hand to her mouth as Chet winces and moves up to the top deck.
— Aye, mind the language, Lennox says, — it shows lack of imagination and vocabulary.
— Sorry…
— I mean saying ‘awesome’ all the time.
— You don’t mind me saying ‘F’?
Lennox looks up towards Chet, then winks at her. — Next time maybe just say SFA. It’s a term of endearment we use back in Scotland. After our much loved Scottish Football Association.
— SFA… she says before her eyes mercurially luminesce. — Did you really mean what you said about me being a bridesmaid?
— Aye. He grants with a wink.
Chet’s distaste at the kid’s expletive was real enough, but he recovers sufficiently to give Lennox a quick tour of the boat. — This is a 410 Express Cruiser. Good for both fishing trips, and cruising longer distances. I occasionally go to the Caribbean islands; and sometimes down to Key West.
— It’s a fair old size.
— Forty-four foot.
Not a bad guess, Lennox considers as they move from the rear deck’s open seating area. It leads to a door on one side, which takes you down to the cabins. Next to the door, a few steps ascend to the boat’s helm. Lennox follows Chet up, and is shown the controls and the craft’s satellite navigation systems. He’s never been on a boat in his life, bar a police launch, which had been taken out to intercept
Stretching out in front of them is the main deck area, bordered with a metal railing. It has three skylights cut in it to provide natural light to the quarters below. Two more skylights are dinted into the canopy above the helm. Lennox notices that on top of this roof there is a radio transmitter-receiver with an aerial, and a box and disc he assumes to be part of the navigation equipment.
Gripping the handrail in his good fist, he follows Chet on an arse-first descent down a small series of oak steps. The cabin smells of oiled wood and diesel, but it gleams in pristine opulence as they emerge into an oak- panelled kitchen and dining area, fitted with expensive-looking units, appliances and fixtures. The seating area opposite is decked out in white leather.
— Had the boat long? Lennox enquires.
— Just four months. A part trade-in on my last one. The broker’s a personal friend, so I got a good deal.
— Bet it set you back, though.
— You do not want to know, my friend, Chet laughs.
Aye I do, Lennox thinks, I’m a nosy cunt of a bizzy. The kitchen is at least as big as the one in his flat back in Leith. It leads to what Chet a little pompously refers to as the formal stateroom, the main sleeping quarters under the front deck. It’s dominated by a king-sized bed and plasma television, and there are more oak-panelled cupboards, done out in the same style as the rest of the boat.
There’s a smaller bedroom at the other end of the vessel, with a lower ceiling as it lies directly below the decked seating area to the bow. It contains a bed and a long seat that runs the length of the cabin and which could
