Day of the Dead (24 page)

Daniel's fishing buddy, Michelle presumed. American, she guessed.

‘Rick!' Daniel shouted again. And then, ‘Punch!'

That got his attention. Rick lifted his hand and grinned as the water taxi reached the pier and the crewman on the bow jumped onto the dock and looped a rope around a pitted iron cleat.

‘You dog, what do you think you're gonna catch here?' Daniel said.

‘Saw a whale yesterday. Breached right out there.' Rick waved vaguely at the bay.

‘You had lunch?'

‘Don't think so.'

‘Let's get off here,' Daniel said to Michelle. ‘We can hire somebody to sail us across if you don't feel like walking with your stuff.'

They climbed onto the dock, the crewman giving Michelle a hand up. Rick, meanwhile, rested his fishing pole on his shoulder as if it were a rifle and ambled over. Slapped Daniel on the shoulder.

‘You look good, Jink,' he said. ‘Life treating you okay?'

Yeah,' Daniel said with a neutral grin. ‘Rick, this is Michelle.'

‘A pleasure.' Rick bowed a little and brushed his lips against the back of her hand.

‘Likewise.'

He had hooks and fishing flies stuck in his floppy hat, a pleasant, unfocused expression, like he might be farsighted. She could feel some of the tension she'd been carrying drain away – the hard edge of fear at least.

You can't relax, she told herself, just because he looks like a cartoon fisherman.

‘You ready for some lunch?' Daniel asked.

Rick nodded. ‘This place here is pretty good.' He gestured at a patio to the right of the dock with canvas umbrellas emblazoned with the logo for Pacífico beer. ‘I think Marissa might be there already.'

As they approached the restaurant, a woman sitting at one of the tables rose.

‘Hey, Marissa!'

She and Daniel hugged. She was younger than Rick by twenty years, Michelle figured, a tall blonde with a tanned, lined face, impressively muscled arms, and tight beach braids.

So someone actually does get braids, Michelle thought.

‘This is Danny's friend,' Rick said. ‘I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. It takes me a few times.'

The restaurant was run by a couple of Australians and featured mostly sandwiches and pastas. ‘And the margaritas here are really good,' Marissa said.

Daniel lifted his hand to call the waiter. ‘Round's on me.' He turned to Rick. ‘So how's the fishing been?'

‘Haven't done too much yet. Waiting for you. And Bagger said he might be coming. Right, Marissa?'

‘Right. On the late boat.' She smiled at him. ‘In a few hours.'

‘Bagger? Oh. Wasn't expecting him.'

Michelle knew Daniel well enough by now to read between the lines. The friendly tone, the smile – they didn't mean he was happy to hear this.

‘Bagger?' she asked.

‘Nicknames,' Marissa said. She gave Rick a hug. ‘He's “Punch” because he had to eject once.'

Rick stretched out his left arm. A thick white scar ran down it, from wrist to elbow. ‘Bolts didn't fire right. Blasted clear through the edge of the canopy.'

‘You were a pilot?' Michelle asked.

‘Back when dinosaurs walked the earth,' Daniel intoned, like the narrator of a nature documentary.

‘I still taught you a few things, though,' Rick said.

‘That you did.'

‘So have you known Danny long?' Marissa asked Michelle.

Obviously not, Michelle thought, and obviously Marissa knew that.

‘Just a few weeks.'

‘Wow.' Marissa leaned back in her chair, studying her, her smile pasted on. ‘It's not like Danny, bringing someone new to meet Rick. You two must have something pretty special.'

‘Well, it's been a pretty exciting couple of weeks,' Michelle said.

Daniel draped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a little hug. ‘Yeah. Michelle's a trouper.'

‘You're going to have to tell me more about that, Danny,' Rick said, and suddenly there was nothing vague about him.

Daniel nodded. ‘There's a few things we need to talk about.'

‘Okay,' Rick said. ‘Tonight.' He smiled and sipped his margarita, adjusted his fishing hat, and turned his gaze back out over the bay.

Looking for whales, maybe.

‘How long are you staying?' Daniel asked.

‘A week. We're comfortable here.' Marissa gave Rick's arm a squeeze. ‘Right, sweetie?'

‘Yep. I know where the ocean is. Big target.' Rick grinned, and for a moment he reminded Michelle of Daniel.

‘You and Rick, you worked together?'

‘Air force. My IP, my instructor. He trained me.'

She and Daniel walked through town, what there was of it, on their way to the path that led down to the town's tiny beach so they could cross the river to their hotel. The air felt thick, an almost physical barrier. The town was quiet, save for the buzzing of flies and an occasional hammering up the hillside. No cars. It took her a while to absorb the quiet, to realize what was missing here.

They passed a few businesses along the road: a little market, a coffee shop and Internet bar. Signs tacked to trees and posts advertised a woman who would do your laundry, apartments to rent, restaurants farther up the path, by the waterfall, near the bridge. The few people she saw moved slowly as well. The burro tied up at a telephone pole barely flicked its tail at the flies.

‘You were in the air force,' she said. Hoping that would prompt him to say more.

He nodded, mouth tight.

They passed a giant black barrel up on stilts – a water barrel? Michelle wondered. An arrow-shaped sign on one of its legs said,
TO THE BEACH – A LA PLAYA
.

‘Here we go,' Daniel said. The narrow path plunged and wound around a cement-covered bank and a skinny concrete house topped by palm fronds, the steps cracked and slick with mold. Dark, like some Disneyland ride.

‘Operation Noble Anvil,' he said suddenly, pronouncing the words like a punchline to some joke. ‘You heard of it?'

‘I don't think so.'

They emerged into the light, into the open patio of a crumbling restaurant, abandoned by the look of it.

‘Kosovo,' Daniel said, taking her arm. ‘Watch your step.'

The concrete deck had rotted in places, exposing twisted, rusting iron rebar, the sand and kelp and water beneath.

‘I think it's shallow enough for us to cross,' he said. Michelle looked to the right. There was the river that bisected the town and fed into the bay, a narrow channel that spread on the exposed sand of the low tide. Farther up, the river was broad and shallow; she could see riders on horseback crossing it, the water not reaching the horses' knees. Beyond that the river narrowed again, disappearing into the mountains and the browning jungle that waited for the summer rains.

She wanted him to talk, to say something that might explain who he really was, but he didn't. They climbed off the deck and onto the sand.

‘When did you leave the air force?' she finally asked.

‘In 2000.' He shrugged. ‘Private-sector opportunity came up. I took it. Figured I'd get more flying time that way.' Now he snorted. ‘Sometimes I'm kind of a dumbfuck. Who knew there'd be all these wars?'

Michelle wasn't sure what to say to that.

Sandals in one hand, bag slung over her shoulder, she followed him through the river water and onto the sands of the big beach on the other side.

‘And you're Jink?' she asked.

He laughed. ‘Yeah.'

‘What's that mean?'

‘Maybe I'll tell you later,' he said.

The hotel was a series of cabanas, with thatched-palm roofs like the
palapas
back on the beach in Vallarta, its reception counter in an open bungalow that looked like one of the guest rooms.

‘Make sure you put on shoes if you get up in the middle of the night,' the woman at the counter told them. ‘And check inside your shoes for scorpions before you put them on.'

They went to their cabin, past the saltwater pool, by the stone walkway above the sea, just below the pier.

‘It's a little rustic,' Daniel said.

There was a gap between the palm fronds of the roof and the walls, mosquito netting surrounding the beds like a loose cocoon. The floors were cracked cement, patched and painted a reddish brown. There was no air conditioner, only a floor fan and shuttered windows across the front of the bungalow that could be opened up to let in whatever breeze there might be.

‘So,' Daniel said. ‘You wanna unpack, maybe hit the beach for a while before dinner?'

‘I don't really have much to unpack.'

‘Change into your bathing suit, then? It's too hot to stay in here.'

He laid his duffel bag on the luggage cart, unzipped it, and started taking out his things. Swim trunks. Shaving kit. T-shirts.

‘I …' She sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Are we going to talk about any of this?'

He put his T-shirts and extra shorts in the dresser drawer, carried his shaving kit into the bathroom.

‘There's nothing much I can tell you,' he said when he returned.

‘Why are we here? Can you tell me that?'

‘I already did. It's not a good time for either of us to be in PV.'

‘Because of … because of what's going on with Oscar, and … ?

‘Yeah,' he said shortly. ‘The best thing we can do is stay out of it. Let them fight it out till it's settled.'

‘And … then what?'

He shrugged. ‘I still have a job to do.'

‘Are you going to tell me what that is?'

He shook his head.

‘Danny, I don't even care anymore. If you're … if you're some kind of smuggler or whatever, I don't care. Just tell me, so I know.'

He sat down on the bed next to her. ‘I'm not a bad guy,' he said. He rested his arm on her shoulder. Cupped her neck. ‘Sometimes I've done stuff I haven't liked doing.'

She felt his hand on her neck, his fingers outlining her jaw, and it felt good. But you can't trust that, she told herself. The hand could tighten, and he was stronger than she was.

‘You have to tell me
something,
' she said.

The fingers on her neck gripped for a moment, then moved down, massaging the tense muscles of her shoulder.

‘Okay. “Jink” means a quick turn. An evasive maneuver.'

‘Seriously?'

‘Yeah,' he whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear.

She laughed. ‘Great,' she said.

He eased her down to the bed. ‘I'll show you a few.'

When he went into the bathroom, she got out her iPhone. She didn't want to, but she should at least text Gary, let him know that she hadn't tried to run, that she was ‘keeping an eye on Danny,' like he wanted her to do. Even though she wasn't sure if that was true.

She didn't know what she was doing anymore.

No signal.

He came out, wearing his swim trunks. ‘You ready for the beach?'

‘Sure.' She held up her phone. ‘Is it just me? I'm not getting any reception.'

‘Nope. No cell service here.' He grinned. ‘One of the reasons I like this town. Why? Somebody you need to call?'

‘Not really,' she said, putting the phone back into her tote.

It was still light when they crossed the river, but the tide had risen, the water nearly up to their knees.

‘Are we going to have trouble on the way back?' Michelle asked.

‘Maybe. But we can always hire a boat to take us across.'

They started to climb the stairs that led from the beach to the road into town. The remnants of the day's light barely penetrated here, and the steps were slick with moss.

Her foot slipped, and she rested her hand on the pitted concrete wall.

Behind her, Daniel put a steadying hand on her waist.

‘Watch it,' he said.

‘Why do you need to talk to Rick?' she asked.

‘He's an old friend.'

‘What do you have to talk to him about?'

He was silent. They stood there, in the near twilight, his hand on her waist. She heard birds and cicadas and the lap of waves from the bay.

‘Getting out,' he finally said.

They were meeting Rick and Marissa at a restaurant in the pueblo. The place was an open patio that jutted out over the bay, supported by stilts, roofed by tin.

By the time they got to the restaurant, Rick and Marissa already sat at a table pushed up against the wooden railing that circled the seating area, along with another man, a stranger. Younger than Daniel. Buzzed hair, cut build.

‘Hey, Jink!' he shouted out as they approached.

Daniel raised his hand.

‘Hey, Bagger. This is my friend Michelle.'

Bagger rose. ‘Pleasure,' he said. Then belched and sat. A beer and an empty shotglass in front of him.'What are you drinking?' he asked.

Daniel shrugged. ‘What you're having.'

Marissa patted the seat next to her. ‘Sit next to me,' she said to Michelle. ‘Otherwise, believe me, all you're gonna hear about is flying and titty jokes.'

‘Sure,' Michelle said. ‘Thanks.' She sat.

They ordered drinks and quesadillas, platters of chicken and fish, beans, rice, and guacamole. Towering clouds had begun to stack up over the water, illuminated by the last rays of the falling sun.

‘It's going to rain soon,' Rick said.

‘So,' Marissa said, ‘tell me about your life in Los Angeles.'

Michelle smiled and thought about what version of the truth she'd tell this time.

The standard version, she decided. That her husband had died. How she was between things. Trying to figure out her next move.

How great Danny had been.

‘He's a special guy,' Marissa said with a narrow-eyed smile.

The music got louder as the sun went down, eighties hits, mostly, competing with low rumbles of thunder echoing from the mountains up the river. More drinks came.