Black River (32 page)

He looked up, used the tip of his tongue to flick a fish scale from his cracked lower lip. “Hi, what can I do for you?”

“Looks like you have some hungry friends.” She smiled and gestured toward the sitting pelicans.

“Nothing goes to waste around here. But those birds are smart. They won’t touch a catfish. But ol’ Joe, the dock cat, will. Haven’t seen him today.”

“What kind of cat is Joe?”

“Looks like a calico…but male calico cats are rare as a blue moon. Joe spends more of his time over on L dock. Nick the Greek kinda adopted him.”

“Are you a fishing guide?”

“Oh, no. I just came back from a half day of bottom fishing on the
Ponce Pirate
. Great boat if you don’t mind people. It can get a little crowded, especially on the weekends.”

She smiled. “I was thinking of buying a fishing trip for my husband’s birthday. Maybe hire a smaller boat that accommodates a couple of people and the crew. Any recommendations? How about Nick the Greek?”

“He fishes commercially. No tourists. But knowing Nick, I’d wager he’d make an exception for you.” He grinned, white smoke spiraling out of the tip of his stogie.

“Maybe Nick the Greek can recommend someone.”

“I heard Nick does sign on from time to time with a fella who’s tryin’ his hand at guiding. I think Nick is the real fish finder. His pal appears to be learning the ropes.”

Malina inhaled deeply, her breasts rising. “What’s his friend’s name?”

“I met him once. Looks like he’d be a better hunter then fisherman. Big, strong guy. Name’s Sean O’Brien. His boat is down on L dock. You know, your best bet is to check with the marina office. They have a list of charter boat captains. Or you can ask over there at the Tiki Bar. You’ll usually find a captain, first mate or two, shootin’ the breeze there.”

“Thank you.”

She approached L dock, stopped and glanced down the dock, tethered sailboats and powerboats rocking in unison with the breeze and slight chop on the surface of the water. Somewhere amongst the boats is where Sean O’Brien moored his boat. Maybe within a few meters of where she stood. Malina looked over at the waterfront entrance to the Tiki Bar and started walking that way.

It was the wide-brim sun hat that first caught Kim Davis’ eye. Most of the lunch rush was past when the woman entered the Tiki Bar from the dockside of the building, found a stool at the center of the bar and sat. Kim set three drinks on a tray for a server to carry to a table, stepped to where the woman was sitting and said, “Hi, here for lunch?”

“Yes, please.”

“Today’s menu is on the board behind me.”

The woman looked over Kim’s shoulder. “What do you recommend?”

“The grouper sandwich is delicious. The fish comes from the ocean right behind you, caught by local fishermen.”

“The sandwich sounds fine. Water with lemon, please.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“You mentioned local fishermen…I’m going to hire a fishing guide for my husband’s birthday. Can you recommend someone?”

Kim was about to answer when Nick Cronus walked in the Tiki Bar, humming a Rolling Stone classic,
Wild Horses
, his thick, dark hair coiled from the salt air and thick humidity. Nick wore cut-off shorts, flip-flops and a tank top with a skull in a pirate bandana and three sharks encircling the base of the skull. He looked over at Kim, smiled, glanced at the woman sitting in the stool. Nick’s eyebrows rose above his sunglasses. He removed the glasses, his eyes taking in the woman’s body. Nick pursed his lips and grinned wider as he tried to allay the disapproving glance that Kim shot his way. He approached the bar and said, “Kim, it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.”

“Hi, Nicky. Grab a seat somewhere. I’ll be with you in a sec.”

Nick smiled as the woman on the stool looked over to him. She returned his smile. He said, “If this seat’s open, I’ll sit here.”

She said, “Please, no one is sitting there.”

“I’m Nickolas Cronus. Friends call me Nick.”

Malina Kade said, “My name’s Sarvarna Dama. Pleased to meet you, Nick.”

“I love exotic sounding names.”

She glanced at his tank-top and said, “In India, or Hindu, it means daughter of the sea.”

Nick’s black eyes danced. “I believe my mama was a mermaid on the island of Patmos and my daddy was Poseidon. That’s why I love the sea so much.”

Kim cleared her throat. “Nicky, the lady was about to order lunch when you arrived.”

Malina said, “I’m not in a rush.” She looked over at Nick. “What do you recommend?”

“Oysters. They’re fresh and delicious. Do you like oysters, Sarvarna?”

“I love oysters.”

Nick began a slow grin, his moustache rising, eyes animated.

O
’Brien made the call en route to the Hilton. When the man answered, O’Brien said, “Hi Oscar. Shelia Winters asked me to call you because you’re the best film editor she knows. My name’s Sean O’Brien.”

The man hesitated a beat. “Shelia’s great. We go way back. She was a show-runner—a producer, on a television show we did together. She scaled back when she went through a divorce and had to stay home more with her two kids. She’s good at casting, too. What can I do for you, Sean?”

“I’m thinking a career change.”

“What do you do?”

“Charter boat fishing guide out of Ponce Marina.”

“Man, I could use some time on the water.”

“Come, be my guest.”

“I might take you up on it in a couple of months. You want to learn the ropes of editing?”

“I’m very interested in putting pictures together. I’d like to see if I might be any good at it. I figure I can fail at something I like as easy as something I don’t like, so why not try to do what I really want to do?”

“I hear you, pal.”

“You mind if I sit in and watch you do so some editing?”

“Not a problem. I can show you a few things. We’ll have to keep it confidential. I wouldn’t be where I am today if people hadn’t helped me. We’ll call it an introductory internship. When you want to come in?”

“No better time than now.”

“Now’s a good time. Just me and an assistant here. We’re only doing very rough cuts for the studio. Director won’t be back until tomorrow. I can show you a few tricks. See if this career’s in your blood.”

Nick Cronus opened all the windows on his boat,
St. Michael
, a breeze puffing the curtains and moving across the salon. He turned to Malina Kade and said, “I have some ouzo on ice. Let’s make a toast.” Nick reached into a small refrigerator behind his bar and lifted out a bottle of ouzo. He filled two glasses and handed one to Malina.

She sat on a bar stool, taking the glass, then looking directly at Nick. She removed her sun-hat, setting it on a barstool. “What are we toasting to?”

Nick grinned. “To you having the time of your life on holiday here in Florida.” They touched glasses, Nick taking a long sip of ouzo. He smiled, stepping from behind the bar and pressing a button on his phone, music promptly streaming and playing from two small speakers in opposite corners of the salon. Nick kicked off his flip-flops in the center of the salon, raised his arms, clicking his fingers, slowly turning around in a Greek-style dance.

After three twirls, he did a slight bow toward Malina and said, “Come, join me. We dance in the sea breeze, and soon you feel like an Indian princess swept off her feet.” Nick smiled. He sipped his ouzo, tapped a selector button, the music changing to a bluesy vocal. He reached for Malina’s hand and led her in an unhurried dance,
St. Michael
softly swaying in the rising tide and mild wake of a passing boat in the marina.

She smiled and said, “You have a great sense of rhythm. You dance well.”

Nick chuckled. “I’m Greek. I swim. I dance. I laugh and I love…I love with more passion than all the salt in the seven seas. Your name may be Sarvarna, but your beauty is greater than Aphrodite.” He smiled and spun her slowly around, leaning into a small dip. She followed in perfect cadence, her body agile, feminine and strong.

When the dance ended, she said, “Let’s sit on the couch. I want to learn more about you, Nick. You are an entrepreneur, a successful fisherman, yes?”

Nick laughed, refilled his glass of ouzo, topped off her glass and said, “I’m my own boss. I work hard, but I play even harder.”

She moistened her lower lip. “I enjoy ouzo, but do you have some wine? A chardonnay, perhaps?”

“In the fridge in the galley. I’ll get it.”

“I’ll be right here…on the couch…waiting for you.”

Nick bowed slightly, smiled, turning to enter the galley.

When he’d left, Malina reach in her purse, found a capsule, emptied the granular contents into Nick’s glass. She used her index finger to stir the mixture, wiping her finger on a bar napkin.

Nick returned with a glass of wine, filled more than half way. He handed it to her. She smiled and said, “Let’s make another toast. To learning more about one another today than we ever thought possible.”

Nick clinked his glass to hers and took a long swig of ouzo. He sat on the couch.

She smiled, turning her body towards him, legs bent under her. “Tell me, Nicky, when you take this fine boat out to sea do you ever find treasure?”

“I found you! That’s a great treasure. And I did it on dry land.”

“You’re sweet. I mean real treasure, lost at sea. Maybe a pirate’s booty, gold or diamonds in a treasure chest in a long-forgotten sunken ship.” She ran her finger around the lip of her glass.

“Sometimes I find pearls in oysters.” He swallowed more ouzo his moustache damp with alcohol.

“I love pearls. But I love diamonds even more.”

Nick lowered his voice, leaning closer to her. “They found a diamond, maybe the biggest in all of God’s green earth, right here in Florida in the St. Johns River.”

“Oh, tell me more.”

Nick told her everything he knew about the discovery of the diamond. He drained his glass. She smiled and said, “That’s fascinating. So, Sean O’Brien, the fishing guide you mentioned in the bar, sort of stumbled onto this thing. He’s helping the widow of the deceased man recover the diamond, correct?”

“Stumbled on is the right way to put it. Sean often stumbles in some deep poop, but he somehow manages to claw his way outta the mess.
He wasn’t looking for the diamond; he was looking for the old painting. Everything else somehow got all connected in a web. Our pal, Dave, his boat’s right across the dock, told Sean there could be a black widow hiding somewhere in that web.”

“So your friend Sean is good at finding things.”

“The best. Or maybe things find him.”

“Where’s his boat?”

Nick motioned to the left with his head. “Right next to mine.” Nick cocked his head, curious. “Why you want to know about my pal. Sean? You sound like that dude I met in the bar last night. He wanted to know about Sean. First I thought it was because the fella wanted to charter Sean’s boat, but now…maybe not.”

“Did he have an accent?”

“Yeah, British. How do you know?”

“Lucky guess. Lots of Brits in Florida this time of the year on holiday. Maybe he did want to do a fishing charter. Maybe you’ll never see him again.”

Nick snorted. “We got a hellava neighborhood watch here in the marina. Laid back, but we know who’s supposed to be here and who’s not.”