What I knew of Merlot didn’t frighten me, though. Indeed, what I knew gave me confidence. Yeah, the guy was gigantic, but he was prissy huge, all fat. Something else: Demonstrations of ego-like pyromania-were strictly for amateurs. Clearly, the guy was an amateur.
No, I was not frightened of Jackie Merlot.
When I explained that to Tomlinson, he shook his head, refusing to believe me. “You fight your own instincts, man. You always have. Already you’re intellectualizing, telling yourself there’s no good reason to feel what you really feel.”
“I’m afraid of a lot of stuff, Tomlinson. More things than you realize. But not of photographs. And I’ve got no fear of a tub like that.”
Tomlinson’s expression said, You should, man. You should.
He put the photograph away-end of subject-and began to inspect Gail’s withdrawal and deposit slips. Abruptly, then, he stood, removed the wooden hatch to the ice locker and began to paw around, searching for something.
“Good God,” I said. He’d been sitting shirtless across from me. I’d assumed he was wearing shorts. Or maybe the sarong he favored. But I was mistaken on both counts.
I said, “You mind putting some pants on, Tomlinson?”
He was now holding a bottle of Hatuey, that fine Cuban beer, in hand, blinking at me, bare-ass naked. Seemed surprised that I’d noticed or that he’d forgotten, one or the other. Said, “Whoops. Sorry. Gets to be a habit living out here all alone. I was up on the bow taking an air bath. You know, letting oxygen molecules cleanse my pores. Refurbish all the little shadowy places that don’t get much sun.” He looked down and spoke in the direction of his waist. “Isn’t that right, boys?”
I stood to leave. “I’m going. Take a look at the bank slips when you get a chance. You want, we can have dinner tonight and talk about it. I’ll call for reservations at the Timbers or maybe drive to the mainland and try the University Grill. I hear it’s pretty good.”
Tomlinson’s chin was still on his chest. “Know something, Doc? Every problem I’ve ever had in my life started with this little bastard. Hey-y-y-y… I’m talking to you. Hello, hello!” Tomlinson chuckled, as if not the least bit surprised. “See that? The little son-of-a-bitch is listening to every word. And things haven’t much changed ‘cause he’s still causing problems.”
I was standing on the top step of the ladder. “The Timbers would be good if it’s not too crowded. We can walk there and have a few beers, don’t have to worry about driving. I’d like to get this thing with Amanda’s mother in better focus. That’s why I want you to look at those bank slips, give me an opinion. Some behavior-and-cause scenarios.”
“You want me to just look at the withdrawal slips? Or do you want me to get down and dirty, really try to figure out what the hell’s going on? We’ve got like five or six hours till dinnertime. I can do some serious kick-ass research on the subject by then.”
“Then do it. It’s just possible I may have to fly down to Colombia and shake her loose from the guy. You could be right: She really could be in trouble.”
But Tomlinson was once again lost in his own thoughts, alternately speaking to me and his own male member. He said, “You’re the only one I’ve confided in, the only one who knows I’ve been trying to get back together with Musashi.”
“Me, you mean?”
“Of course. Who you think I’m talking to? I invited her down from Boston to go on a cruise this week. The Dry Tortugas in spring, catch some dolphin, maybe see some sooty terns. Told myself it was to spend time with the mother of my sweet little daughter, but I’m afraid the truth is that Mr. Zamboni and the Hat Trick Twins are up to their old tricks.”
“Mr. Who?”
“Yes, they’re aching to win that little Japanese vixen back again. Musashi I mean. Set her free from the asshole politician she’s been sleeping with. And don’t mistake that for some kind of racial slur.”
“Right, of course not. Not from an enlightened person like you.”
“Little Japanese scum.”
I was still lost. “Mr. Zamboni and the Hat Trick Twins? Who the hell are… oh. Okay, okay, a reference to your hockey days at Harvard. Now I know what you’re talking about. Yep… I’ve really got to run.”
“Thought maybe the air baths would help, that’s what I was hoping. So… what you think, boys? Feeling any better after all that fresh air?”
He looked up at me for the first time since starting his strange dialogue. “Let them breathe free, that’s my motto. I do my best, but you think it makes a damn bit of difference? Nope. Oxygen and assholes-the two most common elements on earth.”
I shrugged.
“They’re still obsessed with Musashi, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. Something about her body, those Japanese knobs of hers. And her voice. Zamboni is crazy about her voice. I’ll tell you something, Doc: Just ‘cause I can aim this bastard doesn’t mean I’m in command.” Then, to himself: “So I’ll tell you what, my stubborn little friend. How does a pair of bikini underwear sound to you? The tight kind without that little fucking escape hatch! No more midnight maneuvers. Think about it!”
I was stepping out onto the cockpit, looking astern where my flats skiff was cleated. I said, “Call me on the VHF, Tomlinson. About dinner, I mean. Nels just sold them some fresh pompano. I know that for a fact, so even if it’s not on the menu, Matt will make sure we can have it if we want.”
Speaking a little too loudly, as if he wanted to be overheard, Tomlinson answered, “Oh, I’ll be ready. You can count on it. And if I’m walking a little funny, we’ll all know why.”
In April, Sanibel and Captiva Islands are as crowded and animated as any Carnival cruise ship, but with a basic difference: People who come to the islands tend to be like-minded, outdoors oriented and energized by a longing for quiet beaches and immersion in the subtropics: wading birds, gators, crocs, manatees, littoral fish, coconut palms, ospreys, you name it. Look at the people who come year after year, who make the islands part of their lives, and you will think of L. L. Bean catalogues. You’ll think of Audubon magazine. Or maybe Outside. The fact that the islands maintain more wild space than hotel space is precisely why they continue to be so widely treasured.
Which is the reason I don’t mind getting out in the tourist rush occasionally, eating dinner at a favorite restaurant. The people you meet are usually pretty nice. Interesting, too.
Tomlinson came tapping at my door at twilight, looking dapper in blue jeans and silk Hawaiian shirt, pink flamingos and golden tiki huts thereon, his bony hands offering two cold bottles of beer.
“Its very important to rehydrate in this hellish spring heat,” he explained. “But if you want to wait for dinner, I’ll drink both bottles. Waste is a terrible thing. As we speak, there are Christian alcoholics absolutely Jonesing for a drink in places like Iraq and Libya. Parts of… somewhere else, too. Arkansas? Yeah, probably Arkansas. I’m telling you just in case you feel like refusing this beverage.”
I took one of the beers from him. “Nope, I’m thirsty.”
“Just checking.”
“Did you go over Gail’s bank slips?”
“I did indeed. Three, nearly four solid hours of pure cerebral exercise. I made a few phone calls, too. So… I have some ideas on what’s going on. Some very strong opinions, you might say.”
“I thought you might. Frank Calloway left a message for me at the marina. He wants to get together in Boca Grande on Thursday. Which means I can work all day tomorrow. I hope. I’ve got to call him back.”
“I don’t know why the hell you just don’t get an answering machine like everyone else. This fucking decade has cut the nuts off every male between here and Fumbuck, Egypt, but it hasn’t even scratched your paint. I think it’s because you haven’t been paying proper attention. Seriously, Doc, you haven’t been playing fair. The damn decade’ll be gone before you even realize it was here.”
“Spare me, Tomlinson. But… yeah. I may get a recorder. I keep thinking maybe someone important has tried to call and I wasn’t home. That feeling, like I’ve missed something… I don’t deal with it as well as I used to.”
“I know whose call you’re afraid of missing. Pilar calling from Central America.”
“Nope. I don’t even think of her much anymore.”
“ Right. Just like you seldom think of Hannah Smith anymore. I’m going to tell you something you may not
