to breathe, I went about the business of patting him down. He wasn't carrying any weapons. I squatted down in front of his face, rapped him hard on the top of his skull with my knuckles.
'Hello,' I said. 'Anyone home? I don't mean to be rude, big fella, but I needed to make sure I had your full attention. You're a hard man to talk to. It's time to say good night. If I knew how to get you out of the lives of my brother and sister-in-law with magic, I'd use it, but I'm not much into magic. You've got Mary shook up real good, and she's got my brother shook up real good. Neither of them is thinking clearly or behaving properly, so that leaves me in the position of acting as their champion, if you will. Mary tells me that she wants you out of her house, and out of her life, and I intend to see that her wish is granted. Now, I want you to haul your skinny ass out of here as soon as you get your wind back. You'll be pleased to know that I'm not going to thump on you anymore, because I want you to be able to drive.'
'You. . little. . dwarf fuck. You. . sucker-punched me.'
'I didn't punch you, Sacra, I kicked you. I want you to know I'm the meanest little dwarf fuck you're ever likely to meet. I felt a demonstration was in order, because I had to show you I was serious. If you try to cause any more trouble, I'm the one you're going to have to deal with-not Mary, not Garth. Now, it seems to me that you have a limited number of options. You can go to the police and charge me with assault, but I don't advise that. What with your little disappearing act, and the illegal butterfly knife that you pulled on my brother, your credibility with the cops probably isn't at its peak right now. The cops would insist on knowing your real name, and I don't think you want to give it. Finally, you'd be laughed at; you wouldn't want it bandied about that the mighty Sacra Silver had been beaten up by a little dwarf fuck, now, would you?
'Your second option is to get up and cast a magic spell and hope that I disappear or turn into a toad. If you try that, you'd better hope that it works, because if it doesn't, I'm going to start kicking you again.
'Your third option is to do what I said, haul your ass out of here, and keep it out. This is the course of action I recommend.
You're not to contact Mary again, ever. If I hear that you've so much as sent her a postcard, I'm going to find you and resume this demonstration. I will beat the shit out of you. Do you understand?'
'There's another choice, dwarf,' he said in a rasping voice as, still holding one hand to his stomach, he managed to get up on his knees. His black eyes glittered now, shimmering brightly with hatred. 'I'll kill you.'
'What a terrible thing to say. I'd really hoped you'd begin to show a change in attitude.'
Still looking a little wobbly, he slowly rose to his feet and glared at me. Then he did just about what I'd expected him to do, which was to kick at me as if he were trying to score a field goal. I spun counterclockwise away from the kick, then stepped in close to his body and swept his supporting leg out from under him. He landed flat on his back. I hopped on his chest and sat down hard, pressing the index and middle fingers of my left hand against his eyeballs, while at the same time grabbing his throat with my right hand, applying just enough pressure on the carotid artery to discourage him from putting up too much of a fuss about my sitting on him. I squeezed the artery; his hands started to come up toward me, and I applied a little more pressure to his eyeballs. His arms froze in place, and then his hands started to tremble. Then his arms slowly sank back to his sides. When I judged that he was just about ready to pass out, I released the pressure on his throat and eyes, got up off his chest, and backed away a few paces.
'I was hoping to be able to continue our interesting conversation,' I said as Silver, holding his throat with both hands, slowly sat up, 'but something's come up that requires my undivided attention. I just don't have any more time for funnin' with you, so we've got to get it on here. We're going to resolve the issue. Now, if you want to take another pass at me, I'll give you a chance to rest between rounds.'
He continued to glare at me, but now there was uncertainty and fear mingled with the hatred in his eyes. Finally he looked away. He was finished.
'Exercise your option of getting out of here, Silver,' I continued quietly. 'And stay away. If you don't, you're going to get round two with the little dwarf fuck, whether you want to or not. You know I could've put a lot more hurt on you than I did. I don't care how many bad spells you try to cast on me, as long as you do it long-distance- which should be no problem for a hotshot ceremonial magician like you. Come at me with a knife or gun, and I'll kill you and claim self-defense. Now, either take another shot at me or get out. Your choice.'
He swayed slightly on his feet, still not looking directly at me, then moved unsteadily toward the door. 'Your car's behind mine,' he mumbled.
'There's room for you to back around it. Don't scratch the paint.'
Standing just inside the screen door at the back, I waited and watched until he was gone. Then I retrieved the plastic-wrapped tumbler from the cabinet where I had hidden it. I put the tumbler in the glove compartment of my car, then went back down to the beach.
Mary was standing exactly where and as I had left her, next to the canoe, staring out over the water with her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. Coast Guard and Cairn Police River Patrol boats had arrived on the scene, and their revolving red, green, and white lights flashed as divers carefully removed the drift net and its sad, gruesome contents from the buoys.
I put my hand in the small of Mary's back, gently kneaded the tense muscles. 'He's gone,' I said. 'I don't think he'll bother you anymore. If he does, you let me know immediately, anytime day or night.'
She turned her head to look down at me, disbelief clearly reflected in her eyes. 'Sacra's. . gone?'
'Yeah.'
'Just like that?'
'Yeah. We had a talk about how tacky and rude it was for him to show up after all these years and try to come between a husband and wife. He saw my point and left. He turns out to be quite a reasonable chap after all.'
Mary wasn't buying it. 'Sacra has been called a lot of things,' she said, shaking her head, 'but I've never heard anyone describe him as reasonable.'
'Well, you know what a silver-tongued devil I can be.'
'What on earth did you do to him, Mongo?'
'Well, I'll admit I had to act slightly out of character, forgoing my usual patience and diplomatic aplomb. The point is that he's gone. I don't believe he'll come back, but if he does, first call the police and then me. Your job is to keep remembering that you don't have to be afraid of him. Now, speaking of people to call, why don't you go call Garth? I assume the police and Coast Guard are going to want statements from both of us, but they can start with me. I'm going to paddle out there and check in. Why don't you go start taking care of business with your husband? The machine in his apartment is on, but I think he's home, and I suspect he'll pick up the phone if he hears your voice.'
Mary nodded. She hugged me hard, kissed me on the forehead, then started up to the house. I pulled the canoe back down to the water's edge, hopped in, and started paddling out toward the bobbing island of flashing lights.
Chapter Five
Blaine's funeral was on Saturday. Afterward, Jessica Blaine invited the mourners back to her home for coffee and cake. The small, wood-frame house was close on the river in the south of Cairn; it had a warm, lived-in feeling, and was filled with chintz, various marine bric-a-brac and photographs, and dozens of fine pieces of sun-bleached driftwood-the best examples of nature's art culled from a lifetime of living in close harmony with the river outside the back door. Walking into the house, one had the feeling of entering a safe harbor.
According to the county medical examiner, enough pieces of the riverkeeper's body had been found to establish a fairly accurate cause and time of death. He had apparently died on Tuesday night, sometime between the hours of ten and midnight, while diving-presumably in the deep channel, since the tearing apart of his body had been caused by vortex and the knife-blade edges of spinning steel props on the engines of a very large tanker or tugboat. His boat had apparently slipped its anchor, for the trawler had been found on Thursday morning run aground in the salt marshes near Piermont. There had been no green plastic jugs found aboard; Garth and I had asked.
Nobody had yet come up with a good explanation of just why Tom Blaine would have been diving at night,
