2 Dog River Blues (9 page)

I was dressed in jeans and a dark sweatshirt and couldn’t argue with her reasoning. I wanted to avoid too much interaction with her so I drew an invisible curtain around myself and leaned against the door as far away from her as I could get in the little car. I don’t know what I expected, but she didn’t throw herself at me and she didn’t bite, although when I looked her way I thought she had a rather smug smile on her face.
 
I lay my head back, closed my eyes, and promptly dozed off.

The gentle braking of the car roused me from my fitful sleep. I stretched and glanced over at Jessica as she turned off the main highway. “Where are we?”

“Grand Bay,” she said. “Uncle Roy has about twenty acres of mostly woodland out here.” I thought she sounded a little curt.

“I’m sorry for falling asleep just now. I haven’t recovered from the beatings I’ve taken in the last couple of days.”

Jessica took her eyes off the road long enough to give me a speculative look. “You and me need to talk.”

“About what happened between us earlier,” I said.

“Indirectly,” she said. “There’s something I haven’t told you about me, but we’re almost at Uncle Roy’s now. We’ll talk later.”

I shifted in my seat and looked out the window, watching the night shadows whiz by as we drove along the uneven road. We passed battered trailers and wood shanties. A burned out shack with the roof caving in stood out in the dark, and next to it sat a yellow school bus that had been converted into someone’s home. The car slowed again and we turned onto a narrow dirt track. The driveway had been leveled with oyster shells that made snap, crackle, and pop sounds as we drove over them. I almost expected little elves with cereal bowls to come running out of the darkness.

Uncle Roy lived in a hand-built log cabin surrounded by dozens of pine trees. The place was small but neat, with well-crafted lines. A sturdy porch ran along the entire front of the building, and when I stepped out of the car I was overwhelmed by the aromatic scent of wood smoke and pine pitch. I thought that if heaven wasn’t a sailboat floating on clear blue water, then this might be it.

Jessica walked up and stopped alongside of me. “I love it here. It’s so peaceful.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” I said. “But this wasn’t it.”

The door opened before we got to the steps and the large figure of my uncle stood silhouetted in the night. Beside him a massive bundle of fur, jowls and teeth took one look at us and bounded down the steps in a single gliding motion. I froze in my steps, but it wasn’t me the beast was interested in, it was Jessica.

The dog let out a long howl and leaped up on Jessica, knocking her off balance. She laughed as the dog’s paws rested on her shoulders, and she tolerated the tongue lashing her face received.

“Get down, Dwayne,” Roy called out from the doorway. Dwayne looked over his shoulder as if questioning his master’s sanity, but when Roy repeated the command Dwayne dropped down beside Jessica and looked up into her face.

“Dwayne used to be my dog.” Jessica reached down and ruffled his fur. “He was a half-starved, skinny string bean of a pup when I found him. When we couldn’t find his owners I begged Daddy to let me keep him. He agreed, but then Dwayne just kept growing and growing. When I went off to college Daddy and Uncle Roy decided he’d be better off out here.”

Roy stepped back into the cabin. “Why don’t you two kids come in and I’ll fix us some coffee, 'less of course you’d rather have a stiff toddy, Wes?”

“Coffee’s fine.” I waved my hand to indicate Jessica should lead the way and as she passed me I whispered, “He doesn’t seem surprised to see us.”

“I called to let him know we were coming. Uncle Roy’s not the kind of guy you pop in on unexpectedly. Especially in the middle of the night. He’s a bit paranoid.”

Great
, I thought as I followed her through the door.
Just what I need
.

Inside, the cabin was as neat and trim as the outside, and I began to suspect that along with being paranoid Roy was maybe a little obsessive compulsive too. I just hoped he wasn’t as whacko as my friend Elvis in Key West.

While Jessica and my uncle made coffee and puttered around the kitchen area, I wandered around the cabin. There was one large room with a sleeping loft and a kitchen area set off by an L-shaped counter. An antique wood stove set in the middle of the room chased the February chill from the air. The oak table next to the stove was well used and scarred, and the leather sofa looked well worn and comfortable.

A notebook computer and a printer sat on top of a beautiful antique desk. Alongside the desk stood an upright steel gun safe that appeared to be large enough to equip a regiment.

Bookshelves lined every wall and held an eclectic collection of reading material ranging from Homer to John D. McDonald.

Jessica appeared at my side. She reached out and ran her hand along a shelf next to the desk where about a dozen books were displayed facing outward. “Uncle Roy’s a writer,” she said with obvious pride.

“What does he write?” I asked.

“Mysteries.” Uncle Roy walked up to where we were standing and rested a hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “But my first book was a novel set in Vietnam during the final days of the war. I think it sold all of three copies.”

Jessica patted the hand on her shoulder. “Uncle Roy is being modest,” she said. “Every one of his books has been optioned by Hollywood.”

“Not a one made into a movie though,” Roy said as the background hiss of the coffeemaker sputtered into silence, filling the air with the dark aroma of coffee. Backing away from the books he added, “Come on. Let’s talk.”

Roy led us into the kitchen and indicated the table with a casual wave. “Have a seat. I’ll get the coffee.”

He filled three large ceramic mugs, set them before us and then went about laying out spoons, sugar and creamer before joining us.

“I’m not quite sure why you’re here,” Uncle Roy said.

Now that I was there, I wasn’t quite sure either.
 
Fish was big and tough, but I’d handled tougher. If I thought I could convince Jessica to step back and let me work the way I worked best, by myself, Fish wouldn’t be a problem. And if she’d stay out of the way it would take care of our personal problems.

Before I could think of a way to explain my predicament to Roy without getting Jessica all riled up at me, she jumped in. “You know Fish Conners, Uncle Roy?”
 

Roy nodded. “I went to school with his daddy. Went and got himself shot dead a couple of years ago. Never could prove it, but the sheriff was convinced Fish did it.
 
I don’t doubt it. Boy inherited that mean streak from his father. People 'round here were afraid to cross him even when he was a kid.”
 

The room was beginning to cool and Roy got up, walked over to the wood stove and stocked it with a couple of chunks of wood, then he returned to his seat.

 
The pleasant, fruity scent of burning apple wood filled the cabin as the logs caught and the cabin warmed almost instantly. I topped off my cup and leaned toward Roy. “So he must have been trouble before he hurt his leg?”

Roy nodded. “When he was thirteen he caught himself a baby alligator. Had that gator for about three years I guess. Raised him like a pet. Small dogs and cats began to disappear around the area. Everyone around here sort of knew it was Fish, trapping them and feeding them to the gator, but no one ever caught him.”

“That’s terrible,” Jessica said.

Uncle Roy looked at her and twisted the hair on his beard. “Maybe, maybe not.” He held up his hand before Jessica could speak again. “I’m not condoning it. But maybe folks ought to keep a better eye on their pets, not let them roam around like they do. Where was I now, oh yeah, the gator.

“Seems that one day when he was feeding that gator it up and lunged at him. There wasn’t any harm done, but Fish went stomping off into the house, got his daddy’s twelve gauge down off the wall and shot the critter dead.

“Not too long after that he got involved in football. I think maybe he took out all his aggressions on the other players. Then he messed up his knee and came back home meaner than ever. Heard some bad things about him, but so far he’s stayed a step ahead of the cops. What’s Fish got to do with getting Daddy’s book back?”

I waved my hand toward my cousin. “Go ahead, Jessica.”

“We think Fish might have something to do with stealing the manuscript. The other night Wes was attacked on the docks where he keeps his boat. Daddy was there and he thought it might be Fish. Then tonight we tracked him down to try talking to him. Fish attacked the both of us.” Jessica tugged at a stained area of her shirt to accentuate her point.

“I was thinking I might have to go Fishing,” I added. “Track the asshole down and confront him on my terms. Thought you might like to come along as backup.”

Roy pushed himself away from the table. “Might be fun. But before we go any further do you even know what you’re looking for, Wes?”

“I know what an illuminated manuscript is, but I can’t say I’ve ever seen one.”

“Wait here,” Roy ordered, then he quick-stepped across the cabin to the desk. He opened the bottom drawer, dug around for a minute, then pulled out a file folder and brought it back to the table. He opened it, drew out a thin stack of photographs and tossed them onto the table.

Chapter 10

The photos spread apart as they slid across the table, giving me a view of half-a-dozen ornate pages.

Jessica reached across the table and placed a finger on one. “That’s my favorite.”

It was a masterfully painted picture of the nativity with Mary dressed in a long blue robe. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders and an illuminated gold halo surrounded her head. The brown, green and red colors were as vivid as if they had been painted yesterday. The margins were decorated with hundreds of flowers and birds.

The other pages were text. Two of the pages began with large decorated letters. The calligraphy was precise and had I not known better could have been printed instead of drawn. Like the portrait page, the margins were wide and filled with flowers, birds and small animals. One page showed four humans among the flowers. They looked like little hobbits, each wearing a different color robe.

I looked up. “Any idea what it’s worth?”

Roy sat back down. “I was wondering the same thing. When Daddy died I took these pictures and sent them to an antiquarian book dealer who once answered some questions for me on rare books for a novel I was working on. Guy by the name of Chet Winters.

He called me back within a day. Said it was French, probably twelfth century. I could practically hear him drooling. He demanded to know where I got the book. Wouldn’t tell me what he thought it was worth at first, but Winters was willing to hop in his car and drive down from Birmingham that day.”

“And what happened after he saw the book?” I asked.

“He didn’t,” Roy said. “I told him it belonged to a friend who wanted to know what it was worth before he sold it. He told me the value depended on the condition of the book, if it was complete, and whether we could determine the artist and who commissioned the book. Finally he said that if all the pages were as nice looking as the ones in the photos and if the book was complete it would probably bring a couple hundred grand on up to a million bucks or better at auction. He made me promise to call him back after I talked to my friend. A week later the book was stolen.”

“Could this Winters guy be behind the theft?” I asked. “It’s sort of a coincidence that the book disappeared right after you talked to him.”

Roy shook his head. “I don’t think so. I never told him where the book was, and he’s called me almost every day since then asking if my friend was ready to let him see the book.”
 

Jessica hadn’t spoken since Roy started his story, but I could tell she was dying to say something. She was fidgeting in her chair and every time Roy paused she started to lean forward. Roy must have noticed it too because he turned to her and said, “You have anything to add, Jess?” Her face clouded a little at the use of the nickname, but she ignored it.

“You didn’t mention the part about why we’ve got to get the book back quick-like.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Roy jumped back in. “Daddy had a special case built for the book. It was air conditioned and humidity controlled. He once told me the book would fall apart if it was out of the case for too long.”

“Now you can see why we need to find the book as fast as we can,” Jessica said.

Roy stood and glared down at Jessica. “When I originally told you to let this whole thing go, you promised to drop it. You never should have brought Wes into this.”

Jessica jumped to her feet. “That’s because after I talked to you I went to see Gran. She was afraid you’d shoot someone first and ask questions later, Uncle Roy. You know she couldn’t handle you going to jail. By the way, Wes, Gran’s dying to meet you. She was hurt bad when your daddy disappeared. We got to get you out there to meet her.”

I felt like I was seasick and my left eye began to twitch. It wasn’t bad enough that I had to contend with Jessica’s advances toward me, now I had to worry about interacting with a grandmother I hadn’t even known existed a few days earlier. What would I have to say to her? More importantly, how was she going to explain away the fact that she’d never tried to contact me in the past.