Buzzard Bay (8 page)

I’m going to have to get back up top to get any reception. He decided to continue following the tracks. It was pretty dark now; even in the machines’ lights, he could barely see across the flat, but it looked like the tracks led to the far side where they disappeared into the trees along the bank. As the constable approached the trees, he felt a shiver go up his spine. There was something foreboding about them.

His mind told him to go back, but he knew the snow was coming down harder now, and that the tracks might be completely gone by morning. He started into the trees. Suddenly, there were two men beside him, one swung something at him. The blow caught him on the side of the head, knocking him from the machine. He tried to reach his revolver, but something hit him again and everything went black. Henekie stood over the fallen man. He could see he was a police officer. He reached down and took his revolver and on further search found his radio. They had no idea what the Mountie had told his people or how far away they were.

“Let’s kill him and get the hell out of here,” Alf said.

“Just a minute,” Henekie replied. “We need some information. Let’s see if we can bring him around.” He grabbed the Mountie by the front of his coat and swung him around so that his head rested on the side of the machine. He began slapping the constable’s face until he saw a response.

“So what brings you out on a night like this?”

Constable Reich’s head hurt. It hurt so bad he had ringing in his ears. He could hear a voice talking to him, but he couldn’t understand; he could see a face in front of him, but he just couldn’t make it out. Then he passed out again. Then he felt another sting in his face. He opened his eyes, this time things were clearer. He heard, “Green, where is Green? What did he tell you?”

Constable Reich groaned. “Green, who is Green?”

A blow hit his mouth. He heard the voice ask him again, “The man on the snow machine in town. Where is he?”

The constable’s mind began to put two and two together. These were the gunmen in town, “I think the man in town got away, and they haven’t found him.” He answered.

Henekie was surprised at this answer. He had been hoping Green was in the hospital or at least detained, that way they would have known where he was and done something about him. He didn’t think the man was lying. This made everything more complicated.

Why hadn’t Green gone to the police, Henekie couldn’t understand it.

“Where are the rest of your guys?” Henekie asked the constable.

“They’re right behind me,” Constable Reich told him. “They just stopped to check that old farmhouse back there, and I came on ahead.”

That could have been the truth, Henekie thought, walking around to talk to Alf. If it was true, they would see the lights coming a long way off; it was dark now. Constable Reich heard the two men talking to each other, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He was feeling much better now. He felt around; they had taken his gun and radio. His mind raced. They would kill him, of that he had no doubt. It would do no good to run, but if he could jump them, grab a gun. He slowly rolled over and leaned on the machine to gain his feet. The two men were talking intently, not paying attention to him at all.

He sprang, knocking both men from their feet. He grabbed Alf’s rifle; he almost got it, but Alf was very wiry. He grabbed Reich’s coat, pulling himself up, staying so close to the constable that he had no room to use the rifle. He wrestled with Alf, trying to put Alf between himself and Henekie, but Henekie was a professional and had rolled clear of the two men. Now he got up out of the snow, pulled out the constable’s pistol, walked up to the constable, and shot him in the back.

The bullet hit Constable Reich like a sledgehammer; it took all the fight out of him. As he slid down Alf’s body, his hand grabbed a pocket. He tried to hold himself up, but the pocket tore. Something came into his hand, and then he felt it come loose. He clamped it tightly in his hand as Alf gave him a shove, sending him backward into the snow.

“Let’s go,” Henekie shouted, knowing the Mountie was still alive, but not for long. He had shot enough men before to know the wound had been fatal.

Alf saw the gold chain hanging half out of his pocket. He shoved it into his other pocket as he climbed on the Mountie’s machine behind Henekie. “Lucky for me, Henekie hadn’t seen that,” Alf thought.

They headed up the hill out of the valley into the Greens’ farmyard. Henekie set fire to the shop while Alf set fire to the house. It was snowing hard now; the wind had picked up spreading the flames quickly.

Henekie had spent any spare time he had plotting a course to the airport four hours south of them. Four hours in perfect conditions, that is. They had twelve hours to make their plane, but the roundabout way Henekie thought they would have to take made the timeline look hopeless. He looked out the windshield of the four-wheel drive, and all he could see was a whiteout of blowing snow. Still, this storm might be a godsend in disguise. If he could make it through the closest city around one hundred miles to the south east of them, they had a chance. He was sure there’d be a gas station open there even in this weather. If he was lucky, that would give them enough fuel to make it to the airport.

At first the going wasn’t too bad; they could see the grass along the side of the road, but by the time they got to the main highway everything was white, and forward progress became agonizingly slow. They took turns walking in front of the truck, just so they could stay on the road and then Henekie decided to try something. They had loaded their snow machine on the four wheel drive before they left the farm. They pushed it off the truck, and Alf rode it ahead of the truck. Alf was able to see the edges of the road much better from the snow machine, and they made a lot better time.

As they got closer to the city, there were a lot more trees and yard sites along the road. They parked the machine in a clump of trees and continued on, even getting the four-by-four stuck and having to shovel it out of a snowdrift before they got to the city. On the outskirts of the city, Henekie had a scare as they came upon a roadblock marked with flares and barricades but luckily no cops.

“Looks like they are trying to keep people from leaving the city, not who’s coming in,” Alf commented as they moved the barricades. It didn’t take them long to find the only gas station open; it was on the only recently plowed road in the city. Alf filled the truck, while Henekie went in to talk to the young man behind the till.

“Any problem getting out of the city to the south?” he asked.

“The cops are sitting out there. No one’s allowed to go south.” The man must have seen the look on Henekie’s face. “Where you headed?”

“Regina airport,” Henekie told the truth.

“Hell, that big four-by-four will make it. I live on a back road that takes you out to the highway down past where the cops have their road block. I’m leaving here in about ten minutes, you can follow me.” Henekie didn’t have to be asked twice.

The young man had a big four-wheel drive too and had no trouble breaking trail for them. He stopped at his farmyard gate and came back to talk with Henekie. “The highway’s half a mile up, you’ll have no trouble. The highway’s nice and high, except for the odd big snowdrift, and your truck will handle that.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Henekie handed him a hundred-dollar bill. “You saved my life.”

“Thanks, mister. My friend just called, he says if you go straight south on number two, you’ll run out of the storm in about an hour.”

The young man’s information had been right. They did indeed run out of the storm about an hour out and made their way to the airport with an hour to spare. The next thing was to get through customs. Neither Henekie nor Alf had slept for over thirty hours, and both looked pretty rough.

The customs officer looked at their rifles and then went through their bags. “There were supposed to be five of you guys, weren’t there?” he asked.

“Yep, the other guys thought they could get that last day of hunting in. We left early yesterday afternoon and still just made it,” Henekie explained. “I don’t expect them to make it for quite a while, that’s a bad storm.”

The officer seemed to be less suspicious. “Yes, we hear that’s a bad one. There are a few people missing the flight this morning. Looks like you guys had a tough time of it. Have a good flight.”

As Henekie got on the plane, he wondered what was going on up north. Those weren’t the kind of people we usually dealt with, except for Green; Ginter had certainly been careless with him, and it had cost him his life. Once he got to his seat, he fell asleep.

The Heleks helped the ambulance attendant load the bodies onto sleds. The sleds would be pulled by snowmobiles to an ambulance waiting in the Helek yard. There were a lot of people on the scene now. There were probably forty snowmobiles in a row, all shining their lights on the area where the team of Mounties and the coroner were working. It was dark by the time the forensic team had arrived with the coroner. The wind had picked up and it was beginning to snow. They had worked as quickly as possible, picking everything up. The local people who had come to see what had happened were put to work fetching toboggans and sleds. The two wrecked snowmobiles were loaded up and hauled away. By the time an hour had passed, everything was gone over and cleaned up. The last to go were the two bodies.

It was snowing hard by this time; the wind was starting to whistle. Helek asked one of the Mounties if they had heard anything from Constable Reich. The Mounties radioed into headquarters. Gus Helek heard the person at headquarters tell the Mountie over the radio that no, they hadn’t heard anything; they had assumed he was with them.

Corporal Novak looked worried. “Well, either he’s back at your yard, Gus, or he’s holed up someplace for the night. It’s really getting nasty out here. We’d better get back.”

“He should have radioed,” Gus commented.

“The radios don’t always work well in this weather,” Novak told him. “We’ll check when we get back to the yard. He’s probably there waiting for us.”

Gus climbed on behind his son, and they started back to his yard. He took one last look in the way Reich had gone. He had a very bad feeling that not all was well.

Constable Reich lay dying in the snow. He didn’t hurt anymore; in fact, he was very much at peace. He had a floating sensation, almost as though he was looking down at himself. “Why had God put me on this earth?” he wondered. I wasn’t here long; I never loved or had a family. I didn’t even contribute to society the way I planned. I always wanted to be a policeman, but I didn’t get a chance to show how good I could be.

The snow began to cover his face. He didn’t mind; it gave him a heavenly, almost angelic look. He felt the object in his hand; his fist closed in a death grip, and he was gone. He would never know how involved and how intricate a part he would play in people’s lives because of that little piece of evidence he had guarded with his life.

NINE

I
HEAR A BUZZING
sound: the front doorbell. I lay very still, hardly breathing. If it’s the guys after me, I’m totally helpless. The water in the tub is cold again. I must have dozed off. Fear does wonders to a person. I pull myself from the tub. I know where Bill keeps his guns. They’re in the closet across the hall.

The doorbell rings again. As quietly as possible I reach the hallway, the closet door is locked. I’m about to break it in when I hear the sound of a vehicle start up the driveway. My breath comes in deep gasps; I’m sweating profusely, almost blacking out. The hallway starts to spin. I grab the wall, trying to make it stop. Gradually, the sensation subsides. I’m starved, I realize, not having eaten for a long time, even threw up my beans. The kitchen is to the right at the end of the hall. There I find a can of soup in the cupboard along with a pot. I’m in business.

While the soup is cooking, I return down the hall and break into the gun closet. No wonder Bill kept them under lock and key; he has quite an arsenal. On the top shelf, I find a pistol. It takes me a minute to figure out how the clip works but when I do, I find the gun is already loaded. Maybe Bill was worried about something happening too, I think. Going back to the kitchen, I turn on the radio and sit down to eat my soup. I lay the revolver down on the table within easy reach. Nobody is going to take me now, not after all I have been through. I eat the soup slowly; at first it makes me woozy, but gradually my stomach settles down, and I begin to feel better.

Looking toward the kitchen window, I realize it is snowing outside. In fact, the way the trees are waving, I can tell the wind is blowing. I get up and go to the window. There is probably a foot of fresh snow on the ground. The wind is whipping the snow around; I can hardly see the road out front; realizing the roadblock is no longer in place. Pretty hard for anyone to come looking for me now. For a moment I feel secure; on the other hand, I think, excellent cover for them to get me. I’m paranoid; there’s no way they could know where I am. I pick up the revolver and take it to the couch with me.

I lie down on the couch listening to the radio, and eventually the news come on. It tells me that two bodies have been found shot to death near town, but the details are still sketchy. The police had moved much quicker than I anticipated. I wonder how much they know. It was quite possible that my hunters had become the hunted. Perhaps the police were looking for me too.

As I lay on the couch my mind drifts back to the first time I had met the man responsible for all this. Those were boring days, that first winter waiting for the Bahamas project to take shape, not knowing what was going on. We were not to see the site until March. The only bright spot was July. She had flown to the Bahamas in late November for her first photo shoot. It was the first time she had been away from the family for any length of time, and it was making her feel guilty, yet the sense of adventure which lay ahead of her was the most exhilarating feeling she had felt in a long time.

Her personality literally glowed with anticipation as she stepped from the plane into the afternoon Nassau heat. She had no idea what she was getting into, actually treating it as a lark.

“Who would want an old broad like me?” she thought, but what the heck, it would be fun. A short holiday would do her good. She saw Tom Newman standing at the baggage check out. He waved to her, and she waved back making her way through customs, then over to where Tom stood. Tom shook hands with her and introduced her to a stout black man standing beside him.

“July, this is Arthur. He will take you to your hotel and escort you while you are here.”

Arthur shook her hand. He had a big grin on his face, and she liked him immediately. Arthur picked up her bags and led them outside to a battered old station wagon. On the way to the hotel, Tom and July caught up on what each other had been doing. Arthur was pleased to find that July had been in Nassau before and even more pleased to find she knew his home island of Andros. The hotel was a modest affair which was just fine with July. She was glad to get out of the oppressive heat. Not that she didn’t like the heat, but it had just been a matter of hours since she had left minus twenty-degree weather and was a little overdressed for the occasion.

Tom saw to it that she was checked in and then told her, “We’ll start work at six in the morning, and Arthur will be here to pick you up at five a.m. Don’t worry about clothes. They’ll be supplied on-site. Most of the photography and orientation will be outside in the courtyard back of the Crystal Palace Casino. Any questions?” he asked.

“Yes,” July said, “but I’m too tired to think of what they are now. Besides, I imagine I’ll find out in the morning.”

Tom laughed, “Get a good night’s sleep, July. I’ll see you bright and early.” With that, he left.

“Thank God,” she thought, climbing out of her heavy clothing and into a sundress. She unpacked and then went down to the hotel courtyard. The breeze from the ocean reminded her of earlier times when she and Bob had frolicked on the beach. “Well, Bob, the memories stir my loins; it won’t be long before we’ll be able to do that again.”

he sat out savoring the beauty and smell of the ocean until a waiter asked her if she was dining outside. She thanked him, ordering a chicken sandwich and a beer. Darkness came quickly as she finished her meal. She returned to her room, phoned the family; yes, they were happy to hear from her, all excited and asking what had happened with her day. She laughed and told them to give her a little time, she had just gotten here. After they said their goodbyes, she immediately went to bed, 5:00 a.m. comes early.

Arthur was indeed there at five o’clock sharp to pick her up. “Good morning. You’re looking fine this morning, Mrs. Green,” he said in a singsong voice.

he checked his eyes; they were full of admiration, not lust. “I can trust this man,” she thought. “Good morning Arthur, I’ve been apprehensive all morning, not knowing what to expect. It’s nice to see your smile. It makes me feel good.”

Arthur’s smile widened; she knew she had just made a friend. Traffic was light at this time of the morning, and it only took them about ten minutes to reach the Crystal Palace. Arthur escorted her through the building into the large courtyard, where July noted a camera on a tripod with three men and a woman standing nearby. On the far side of the courtyard, two tents had been erected. July guessed these would be the change rooms.

Tom waved to her; he was standing near the tents, talking to a tall black man. The black man wore sunglasses, but July could feel him watching her intently as she approached Tom. They exchanged greetings, and Tom took her over to the woman standing near the camera. The woman was older than she had looked from farther away but still had an attractive face. “I don’t think we expected someone quite your size,” she commented looking through a bag which looked to be full of an assortment of clothes. She pulled out a very tiny-looking bikini, “One size fits all,” the woman winked as she handed July the two pieces.

July was about to protest when a noisy entourage erupted onto the scene. Five girls, three white and two black, followed by what looked to July to be at least ten men, came bursting across the courtyard. They were all young and beautiful, not much older than my daughter, July thought. She could picture her daughter walking across the courtyard buoyed by the confidence that only the young can portray. Oh well, she thought, I told myself I was only here on a holiday.

These young girls were beautiful; she felt very old and a little out of place, standing there with a string bikini in her hands. Tom had tried to greet the girls, but they ignored him, heading straight for the bag lady, as they called her, picking through the assortment of swimsuits, modeling them in the air to the approval of the men with them. Although they had ignored Tom, July noticed the girls had all waved to the tall black man who had not moved from the corner of the courtyard. July also noted the bag lady, as the girls had called her, was not amused, nor the three men around the camera. One of these men came over to July.

“Hello,” he said, “my name is Ozzie. I will be in charge of the photography. I suggest you use the tent before our illustrious guests turn them into pigpens. There are dressing robes inside if you prefer. I suggest you use one, your skin is very white.” He smiled and turned away, immediately trying to gain some semblance among the crowd of young people.

The bikini was very skimpy.

“I guess it covers the essentials,” she thought, but she knew she looked damn good for an old lady. She slipped on the robe and left the tent. Ozzie had succeeded in separating the men, moving them to the wall surrounding the courtyard. The girls were all over around July.

One of the girls looked at July then said, “Fucking near time,” and entered the tent.

Tom beckoned her to sit with him at a table under a sun cover. At first, the session went fairly well; they broke for lunch and then continued into the afternoon. The girls became bored. July could smell marijuana drifting in the afternoon breeze. She began to realize this was not being done very professionally. Tom knew it too and finally confessed that he didn’t have much money, so he left the photography to be done by people that Manly Waddell, his friend, had recommended. She asked him if Mr. Waddell was the black man he had been standing beside when she entered.

“Yes,” Tom said. “Manly told him he knew some models, and the photography crew did some work for the government.”

One of the girls had now taken her bikini top off and was trying to pose for the camera crew, much to the enjoyment of the males she had come with, plus a few of the guests at the casino who had stopped to watch.

Ozzie approached July with a red face; he was very angry. “I apologize for making you wait so long,” he said to July. “But as you can see, we wanted to get the others out of the way before they became too hard to handle.”

July went into the tent to freshen up. Ozzie had been right; the tent was a pigpen and reeked of marijuana, not that July saw anything wrong with a toke or two, but there was a time and place for everything. Well, here she goes, she walked out of the tent and dropped her robe. There was a deadly silence; she looked around, no one moved.

he almost ran back into the tent when she heard a low whistle then, “Holy shit!” The boys at the back began to applaud, and even Tom had stood up and was applauding. July was not a shy girl, but this enthusiasm had her very embarrassed. The girl without a bikini top brushed by her, heading into the tent.

“Wait till they see you up close, big tits. You’ve got wrinkles as big as they are!” she scathed.

July smiled. That didn’t bother her; in fact, it even encouraged her. She began posing for Ozzie in a way that even had him excited. This type of work was not entirely new to July, although she hadn’t done much of it for years. She was naturally graceful and beautiful, yet she could be provocative and sinful.

It didn’t take long for word to get around. Gamblers and waiters alike came out to watch. July was in another world. She let herself go, one minute a tramp, the next a saint. She grabbed one of the men helping Ozzie with the set, took his hat, and set it on her head. She leaned against him, and then grabbed him from behind and ran her hands over him. She’d never seen a black man blush before, but she could tell he was now.

Ozzie was loving it; there was no tripod being used now. He followed July everywhere she went, encouraging and suggesting. He was having as much fun as she was. Finally, July asked if he’d had enough. Ozzie ran and hugged her.

“You’ve made my day,” he said. “Usually these are so boring. It’s been a great pleasure to work with you.”

This time a great round of applause broke out to July’s amazement. She had been so wrapped up in what she was doing that she hadn’t noticed the huge crowd that had congregated. Not bad for an old broad with wrinkles, she thought as she went back for her robe.

he noticed the tall black man Tom had referred to as Manly Waddell, again talking to Tom as she entered the tent. She soon found her sundress to be missing; one of the girls had taken it, she surmised. July left the tent and went back to Tom’s table. The black man had left. Tom jumped up with a smile on his face.

“Terrific, July. I’m very impressed. I didn’t realize you were a professional.”

July smiled. “Thank you, Tom. Actually, I really enjoyed it.”

“Mr. Waddell is having a small reception in the hotel later this evening, and he wishes you to attend.” Without waiting for her to answer, he went on. “I’ll have Arthur pick up you up at nine. There will be people there I want you to meet. Casual dress required.”

With that, he kissed her and left. The words “Fuck you” were at the tip of her tongue, but she held her breath. She’d let him get away with it this time. He’d have to learn to be more careful how he handled July Green, she thought. No man made her do something she didn’t want to do, at least not without getting into a lot of hot water.

July went over to the so-called bag lady that was packing up the bags and trying to disassemble the tents. “Is there somewhere I can buy a dress?” July asked. “Someone seemed to need mine more than I did.”

“I’m sorry.” the bag lady said, “I should have warned you not to leave anything lying around.” She looked up, “With a body like yours, honey, I wouldn’t cover any of it, ever.” She winked and went on. “There are some small shops in the casino, just follow the wall around the back. No one uses it much. It will take you right to them. On the other hand, if you take that robe off and go through the casino, I can guarantee you will not have to buy your own dress by the time you get to the shops.”

July laughed. “No thanks, I’ll take the back way. I prefer to pick out my own dresses.”

“Have it your way, honey,” the bag lady said, grinning as she went back to attacking the tents.

July followed the steps along the wall that ran around the back of the casino. The wall overlooked the ocean. The view was breathtaking. July walked over to the edge of the wall; she stood looking out at the ocean she loved so much but had seen so little of. She heard a moan below her; someone’s hurt, she thought. She heard the moan again as she went closer and looked over the wall.