Cradle (13 page)

There was a moderately long silence before Troy answered. ‘Sure, Nick, that sounds
fine to me.’ Nick smiled and reached across to shake Troy’s hand. He then extended
his hand to Carol.

‘Just a minute,’ she said quietly, looking directly at Nick and not taking his hand.
‘Since you’ve decided to start this conversation, there are several more items that
must be discussed. It’s not simply a question of money for this object.

There’s also the issue of possession. Who keeps the golden trident? Who determines
when we’ve been offered a fair price? What do we agree to say, or not to say, to others?
And what if other objects are found down there by one or more of us? Do we all share?
There’s an entire agreement that must be worked out before we dock.’

Nick frowned. ‘Now I understand why you’ve been so quiet these last few minutes. You’ve
been thinking about your share. I misjudged you. I thought you might decide not to
create any more trouble—’

‘Who said anything about trouble?’ Carol interrupted him abruptly, her voice rising
slightly. ‘If you must know, I’m not that interested in the damn money. I will gladly
take my one-third if any dollars are forthcoming from the trident there, for I certainly
deserve it. But if any more such treasures are down there and you and Troy can find
them without me, then be my guest. I want something else.’

Both men were now listening intently. ‘First and foremost, I want exclusive rights
to this story, and that means
absolute
secrecy about what we have found, when and where we found it, and anything else associated
with it—at least until we’re certain there’s nothing more to learn. Second, I want
immediate possession of the object for forty-eight hours, before anyone else knows
that it exists. After that you can have it to take to the authorities for evaluation.’

Uh oh
, Carol thought to herself as she saw the searching looks she had elicited from Nick
and Troy.
I overdid it. They suspect something. Better back off just a bit
. ‘Of course,’ she smiled disarmingly, ‘I’ve just given my initial position. I expect
that some negotiations may be necessary.’

‘Wow, angel,’ Troy said with a laugh, ‘that was some speech. For just a minute there,
I thought that maybe there was a whole other game going on here and you were the only
one playing. Of course the professor and I will be delighted to discuss an agreement
with you, won’t we, Nick?’

Nick nodded. But he had also been alerted by the careful organization and unmistakable
intensity of Carol’s response. It seemed out of proportion to the journalistic value
of their find.
Is she trying to make this some kind of a contest between us?
he thought to himself.
Or am I missing something altogether?

They had worked out a compromise agreement by the time the
Florida Queen
reached the dock in Key West. Nick would take the golden trident (both of the men
liked Carol’s name for the object) with him on Friday morning. There was an elderly
woman in Key West who was a compendium of treasure knowledge and she would be able
to assess its value and to give its probable place and date of origin. The woman would
also be a witness to their find in case the trident were ever misplaced. On Friday
afternoon, the three of them would meet on the boat or in the marina parking lot at
four o’clock. Nick would give the object to Carol and she would keep it over the weekend.
After she returned it to Nick on Monday morning, he would be responsible for its care
and eventual sale. The three of them had joint ownership of the trident, but Carol
waived any interest in future discoveries. Carol wrote the terms of the simple agreement
on the back of a restaurant menu from her purse, they all signed it, and she promised
to bring copies back the next day.

Troy was quiet and subdued while he was loading all Carol’s equipment back into the
footlocker. He lifted the locker on to the cart and then pulled the cart along the
jetty. Carol walked beside him. It was about nine o’clock and very quiet at the marina.
The tall fluorescent lights created a strange reflection on the wooden jetties. ‘Well,
angel,’ Troy said as Carol and he approached the marina headquarters, ‘it’s been quite
a day. I’ve really enjoyed your company.’ He stopped and turned to look at her. Her
black hair had dried unevenly and looked a bit dishevelled, but her face was beautiful
in the reflected light.

Troy looked away, out at the water and the boats. ‘You know, it’s a shame sometimes,
the way life works. You meet somebody by chance, you strike up a friendship, and then
poof
, they’re gone. It’s all so… so transient.’

Carol came over beside him and stretched to kiss his cheek. ‘And you know I like you,
too,’ she said, lightening up the conversation with a grin and making certain that
Troy understood what kind of a friendship they could have. ‘But cheer up. All is not
lost. You’ll see me tomorrow for a while and then maybe when I return the golden thing
on Monday.’

She hooked her arm through his as they briefly walked back down the jetty, away from
the loaded cart. ‘And who knows,’ Carol laughed, ‘I’m down in the Keys from time to
time. We could have a drink together and you could tell me some more stories.’ They
could just barely make out the spotlight above the canopy on the
Florida Queen
some hundred yards in the distance. ‘I see your friend the professor is still at
work. He’s not strong on goodbyes. Or any other area of manners, as far as I can tell.’

She turned, switching locked arms, and they walked back to the loaded cart. They moved
through the apparently deserted headquarters without speaking. When the footlocker
had been replaced in the station wagon, Carol gave Troy a hug. ‘You’re a good man,
Troy Jefferson,’ she said. ‘I wish you well.’

Nick was almost ready to leave by the time Troy returned to the boat. He was packing
a small exercise bag. ‘Looks innocent enough, doesn’t it, Troy? Nobody will ever suspect
that one of the great treasures of the ocean is in here.’ He paused a moment and changed
the subject. ‘You put her safely in her car? Good. She’s a strange one, isn’t she,
all feisty and aggressive but still pretty at the same time. I wonder what makes her
tick.’

Nick zipped up the bag and walked around to the side of the canopy. ‘Just finish up
with the diving gear tonight. Don’t worry about the rest of the boat—we’ll fix it
up tomorrow. I’m going to go home and dream of riches.’

‘Speaking of riches, Professor,’ Troy said with a smile, ‘how about that hundred-dollar
loan I asked you for on Tuesday? You never answered me: just said “we’ll see”.’

Nick walked deliberately over to Troy and stood right in front of him. He spoke very
slowly. ‘I should have made my Polonius speech to both of us when you asked me for
a loan the first time. But here we are now, borrower and lender, and I don’t like
it. I will lend you a hundred dollars but, Mister Troy Jefferson, this is positively
the last time. Please don’t ever ask me again. These loans for your so-called inventions
are making it hard for me to work with you.’

Troy was a little surprised by the unexpected harshness in Nick’s tone. But he was
also angered by the connotation of the last sentence. ‘Are you suggesting,’ Troy said
softly, suppressing his temper, ‘that I’m not telling the truth, that the money is
not being spent on electronics? Or are you telling me that you don’t believe an uneducated
black man could possibly invent anything worth having?’

Nick faced Troy again. ‘Spare me your righteous racial indignation. This is not a
question of prejudice or lies. It’s money, pure and simple. My lending you money is
fucking up our friendship.’ Troy started to speak but Nick waved him off. ‘Now, it’s
been a long day. And a fascinating one at that. I’ve said all I want to say on the
subject of the loan and I consider the matter closed.’

Nick picked up his bag, said good night, and left the
Florida Queen
. Troy went behind the canopy to organize the diving gear. About ten minutes later,
just as he was finishing, he heard someone calling his name. ‘Troy… Troy, is that
you?’ an accented voice said.

Troy leaned around the canopy and saw Greta standing on the jetty under the fluorescent
light. Even though there was now a slight chill in the air, she was wearing as usual
a skimpy bikini that showed off her physique. Troy broke into a grand smile, ‘Well,
well, if it isn’t superkraut! How the hell are you? I can see you’re still taking
care of that wondrous body.’

Greta managed the beginnings of a smile. ‘Homer and Ellen and I are having a small
party tonight. We noticed that you were working late and thought that maybe you’d
like to join us when you’re done.’

‘Just might do that,’ Troy said, nodding his head up and down. ‘Just might do that.’

‘Oh, God, can’t we stop now? Finally? Please let us. It’s so quiet here, now.’ She
was speaking to the stars and the sky. The old man’s head slumped forward in the wheelchair
as he drew his last breath. Hannah Jelkes knelt beside him to see if he was indeed
gone and then, after kissing him on the crown of the head, she looked up again with
a peaceful smile. The curtain fell and rose again in a few seconds. The cast assembled
quickly on stage.

‘Okay, that’s it for tonight, good job.’ The director, a man in his early sixties,
grey hair thinning on the top, approached the stage with a bounce. ‘Great performance,
Henrietta, try to can that one for the opening tomorrow night. Just the right combination
of strength and vulnerability.’ Melvin Burton jumped nimbly up on the stage. ‘And
you, Jessie, if you make Maxine any lustier they’ll close us down.’ He spun around
with a flourish and laughed along with two other people at the front of the theatre.

‘Okay, gang.’ Melvin turned back to address the cast. ‘Now go home and get lots of
rest. It was better tonight, looked good. Oh, Commander, can you and Tiffani stay
around for a moment after you change? I have a couple more pointers for you.’

He jumped back down from the stage and walked back to the fourth row of the theatre,
where his two associates were sitting. One was a woman, even older than Melvin but
with twinkling green eyes behind her granny glasses. She was wearing a bright print
dress full of spring colours. The other person was a man, about forty, with a studious
face and a warm, open manner. Melvin fretted as he sat down beside them. ‘I worried
when we picked
Night of the Iguana
that it might be too difficult for Key West. It’s not as well known as
Streetcar
or
Glass Menagerie
. And in some ways the characters are just as foreign as those in
Suddenly, Last Summer
. But it looks almost okay. If we can just fix the scenes between Shannon and Charlotte.’

‘Are you sorry now you added the prologue?’ the woman asked. Amanda Winchester was
an institution in Key West. Among other things, she was the doyenne of the theatrical
entrepreneurs in the revitalized city. She owned two of the new theatres near the
marina and had been responsible for the formation of at least three different local
repertory groups. She loved plays and theatre people. And Melvin Burton was her favourite
director.

‘No, I’m not, Amanda. It clearly adds to the play to get some kind of initial feeling
for how frustrating it would be to lead a group of Baptist women on a tour of Mexico
in the summer. And without the sex scene between Charlotte and Shannon in that small,
stuffy hotel room, I’m not sure their affair is believable to the audience.’ He paused
a moment, reflecting. ‘Huston did the same thing with the movie.’

‘Right now that sex scene doesn’t play at all,’ the other man said. ‘In fact it’s
almost comical. The hugs they exchange are like the ones my brother gives his daughters.’

‘Patience, Marc,’ Melvin answered. ‘Remember, these are amateurs.’

‘Something has to be done or we should take the prologue out altogether,’ Amanda agreed.
‘Marc’s right, the scene tonight was almost comical. Part of the problem is that Charlotte
looks like a child in that scene.’ She paused a moment before continuing. ‘You know,
the girl has gorgeous long hair and we have it stacked on top of her head to look
prim and proper. Clearly she wouldn’t wear it down all day in the heat of a Mexican
summer. But what if she
took
it down when she went to Shannon’s room?’

‘That’s a great idea, Amanda. As I’ve often said, you would have made a fabulous director.’
Melvin looked at Marc and they exchanged a warm smile. Then the director settled back
in his seat and started thinking about what he was going to tell his two cast members
in a few moments.

Melvin Burton was a happy man. He lived with his roommate of fifteen years. Marc Adler,
in a beach house on Sugarloaf Key, about ten miles east of Key West. Melvin had directed
plays on Broadway for almost a decade and had been associated with the theatre in
one capacity or another since the mid-fifties. Always careful with his money, Melvin
had managed to save an impressive amount by 1979. Worried about the impact of inflation
on his savings, Melvin had sought investment advice from an accountant who was a friend
of a close associate. It was almost love at first sight. Marc was twenty-eight at
the time, shy, lonely, unsure of himself in the maelstrom of New York City. Melvin’s
savoir faire
and theatrical panache opened Marc up to aspects of life that he had never known.

As the stock market ratcheted upward in the mid-eighties, Melvin watched his net worth
near a million dollars. But other factors in his life were not so pleasant. The AIDS
epidemic hit the theatrical community in New York with a vengeance and both Melvin
and Marc lost many of their lifelong friends. And Melvin’s career seemed to have peaked;
he was no longer in demand as one of the premier directors.

One night on his way home from the theatre, Marc was mugged by a group of teenagers.
They beat him up, stole his watch and wallet, and left him bleeding in the street.
As a saddened Melvin ministered to his friend’s wounds, he made a major decision.
They would leave New York. He would sell his stocks and convert his fortune to fixed
income investments. They would buy a home where it was warm and safe, where they could
relax and read and swim together. Maybe they would do some community theatre work
if it was available, but that was not the most important thing. What
was
important was that they share Melvin’s remaining years.