There was shouting from the bridge, and stamping on the cabin's roof. Flash limped away. Grijpstra, moving painfully, tried to ignore Kathy Two. The little dog jumped about, thrusting up long thin ears, that, pink inside like festive pennants, stood out perpendicularly from her small furry face. She wagged a ragged tail.
'Invitation to the dance?' Grijpstra asked.
The dog yapped happily. Grijpstra picked her up.
'I don't dance, dear.' Grijpstra staggered on and climbed a rickety ladder to reach the bridge where Flash was turning a small rusted wheel, staring intently ahead, one hand on the gas lever.
'Tricky here,' Bad George said. 'Shoals. Can't see them. Flash's supposed to know them.'
The ship inched ahead slowly, turning sharply around the far end of Squid Island, almost touching trees at times, then veering off again to give the coast a wide berth. Here and there Grijpstra saw underwater amber- colored shapes, some rounded off, some jagged, waving seaweed.
'Ugly fellers,' Bad George said, 'they'll rip out yer bottom.'
'Easy,' Flash told the boat, tugging his beard, the other hand clasped tightly around the wheel. 'Easy, darling.'
Then all was calm. Kathy Three even picked up a little speed, sailing nicely between Squid Island's tentacles, until the engine roared briefly, while Flash shouted, 'Hard astern' at himself, pulling the gear lever back, before shifting into neutral and switching the engine off. The Kathy Three floated quietly toward the island's dock, where de Gier waited and waved, caught the mooring rope with a delicate gesture, and twisted it expertly around a wooden cleat.
De Gier swung himself across the railing and hugged Grijpstra. He stepped back. 'You're wet.' He smiled. 'Had a nice trip? I would have come looking for you but I only have the dinghy here.' He patted Grijpstra's shoulder. 'And Aki said the Kathy Three was picking you up.' He bowed to Flash, Bad George, and the dog.
There wasn't any expression, except the usual, which was blank, on Bad George's face. Flash's face, being mostly hair, didn't convey much either, although there could be twinkles in his eyes, which bulged a bit and were bloodshot from peering into direct or sea-reflected sunlight. The dog, looking down from the bridge, frowned furiously.
'Thanks again,' de Gier said.
Chapter 6
'Better?' de Gier asked when Grijpstra emerged from the shower. 'Ready for lunch? Noodles? I made some noodles. You like mackerel? I have some scallops too that Lorraine got skindiving. Crabmeat? Your favorite cocktail sauce? For starters you do like seafood, don't you?'
'I could be goddamn seafood myself,' Grijpstra said.
There were explanations of course, there always were. De Gier had been listening on the CB's open channel all morning except for two brief periods when he thought he heard Mr. Bear rummaging about the pagoda. Bears on the Maine coast don't care to show themselves much. Bear hunting is a sport, practiced diligently by experts such as SheriffHairy Harry and Deputy Billy Boy. De Gier wanted to photograph Mr. Bear with his new Nikon. He'd rigged up wires on the beach that Mr. Bear would touch if he showed up where he had climbed ashore before, at daybreak, a week ago, when de Gier happened to be awake, meditating on the clifis, without the Nikon.
Something touched the wires twice that morning, triggering the alarm. Must have been foxes.
'Don't you carry your radio?' Grijpstra asked.
It wasn't a battery-operated CB. You had to plug it into the wall. 'See?' De Gier demonstrated.
'First the goddamn deputy called in to tell you I was here,' Grijpstra said, 'and then the goddamn restaurant called in that I was here, and you were looking for a bear?'
Chance, happenstance… things go wrong sometimes, this is earth, a planet beyond human understanding, de Gier was truly sorry. 'Okay?'
Not okay.
De Gier was sorry Grijpstra felt that way. So how was El Al? Wasn't Ishmael a card? Katrien had written that the commissaris's inflamed leg joints were a trifle better. True? Would Grijpstra care for lobster for dinner?
Grijpstra shoveled down fried noodles and pickles. He felt a bit better, he could maybe imagine that he didn't dislike de Gier. This was like long ago, when he avoided Mrs. Grijpstra by staying over at de Gier's suburban apartment, which faced parks front and back. De Gier was a good cook, using herbs he grew on his balcony, serving choice dishes with a welcoming flourish.
Grijpstra's tone of voice was almost pleading, 'So how come you said I could row the distance and when I tried I almost died?'
'From the Point,' de Gier said, 'it's only a quarter of a mile.' He explained, 'There's a peninsula south of Jameson and it bends this way.' Hadn't Grijpstra seen the Point from Ishmael's plane? Ishmael lived at the Point. Didn't Ishmael show it to him from his airplane?
'I never got that,' Grijpstra said. 'There's the harbor just outside Beth's Diner, there are dories. Your island is visible from the harbor…'
'No,' de Gier explained. From Jameson Harbor to Squid Island was quite a few miles. Nobody in his right mind would ever try it. Only the stupid maybe.
'Stu-pid?' Grijpstra asked, lowering his fork, pointing his fork.
Well, kind of silly, de Gier said. And then somebody at the diner, probably Aki, was supposed to… lovely Aki, Akiapola'au… named after the vulture finch of her native islands of Hawaii…
'Vulture finch.' Grijpstra glared. 'No such thing.'
'Please,' de Gier said. 'Change your coordinates. We aren't at home. Mr. Bear visits this island, and there's such a thing as a vulture finch in Hawaii.' De Gier smiled. 'You liked the lady? Aren't you pleased you came? Something else, eh?'
Grijpstra had carried his bowl of noodles to the window and was looking at the peninsula shore, which was, indeed, close. He was eating again.
'You liked Akiapola'au?'
'The vulture finch is lesbian,' Grijpstra said.
De Gier stared.
'Isn't she?' Grijpstra asked. 'So is Beth. I saw it. I always do.'
'So?'
Grijpstra shrugged.
'Are you a sexist now?' de Gier asked.
'Please,' Grijpstra said. 'We've gone through this before. I was New Age before the Age was New. Sexism means that one sex thinks it's superior to the other. That's negative. I'm definitive.'
'You're negative,' de Gier said. 'I asked whether you like Aki and you say, 'She's lesbian.''
'Not that way.' Grijpstra stopped slurping noodles.
'I said,'She's lesbian.''
'With that kind smile?'
Grijpstra stopped slurping again. He swallowed. 'With that kind smile.'
'So you like Akiapola'au?'
'I like Akiapola'au fine.'
'And Beth?'
Grijpstra nodded. 'I like Beth fine too.' He pointed his fork at de Gier. 'It's you I don't happen to care for right now.'
'I care for you,' de Gier said. 'I hadmade arrangements. If I wasn't at the restaurant whenyou arrived-and I probably wouldn't be since I didn't know how long Ishmael would take to get you here from Boston-then Beth was to call the Kathy Three. If she couldn't raise Flash and Bad George, either Beth herself or Aki was supposed to drive you to the Point, and you could row yourself from there. Beth told you so. She was busy, she askedyou to wait a few minutes, but you wandered off, and then there you were rowing out into the bay, with a gale buildingupandlowtidesuckinglikecrazy. ShesentthesherifF after you, but he came back, saying you didn't want to be
