Just Add Water (1) (30 page)
We said a final farewell to RJ on
one of those rare, but magical, Indian summer days that bless San Francisco Bay
in the fall.
Brilliant sunlight and ninety
degree temperatures favored the anchorage at Clipper Cove, just as I’d hoped
when I scheduled the end of September event. There was no fog, but the tinge of
coolness on a light breeze promised Mother Nature’s air conditioning would, to
paraphrase Carl Sandberg, dogtrot in on little puppy feet later in the
afternoon.
Seagulls
circled the boat quizzically, hoping for a handout, but Eco, not one to duck
his own importance, kept them at bay. In addition to the bits of canapé he
cadged from the guests, I’d brought him popcorn and Ritz crackers to keep him
at the back of the boat, away from RJ’s ashes when they were scattered. Can’t
have your duck dining on the deceased
n'est-ce pas
?
With me to bid adieu to my fine
hound were Jenks, Dr. Craig, Raoul and his dog, Catamite, Allison Wontrobski
and her new hubby, the Trob, Detective and Mrs. Martinez, the Fujitsus, and
Pancho-san. At the last minute Jan and Lars showed up at the dock with a
surprise: my mother and father.
Mama was helping me arrange the
canapés on a platter when the boat wallowed slightly on a swell. She sat down
quickly on the settee. “What was that?”
“Oh, probably a whale wake.”
“Very funny. I don’t know how you
can live on something that moves all the time. Where does Jenks live?” she
asked, a tad too casually.
“When he’s not in prison, he rents
a cold water flat in the ghetto.”
Mother looked aghast until Jan
snorted a laugh and said, “Mama Coffey, Hetta’s giving you a hard time. Jenks
is a perfectly respectable guy with a nice apartment, a job and on top of that,
he’s really nice. Obviously
much
to
good for Hetta.”
“You two should make yourselves
useful and mind your own bidness. As it so happens, Jenks and I have a great
relationship.”
Merde
, I used the “R”
word. I hate being on the defensive. It makes me so...defensive.
“That’s good, honey. He does seem
to like you. And your father likes him.”
“Mama, get those wedding bells out
of your head. Jenks and I both like being single, but we also like being single
together.”
“I’ll settle for that,” Mother said
with a sly grin. “For now.”
“What’ll you settle for?” Jenks
said, entering the galley area.
“You, Jenks. Mother thinks you’re
wonderful and Jan thinks you’re too good for me. What do you think?”
Jenks looked at the three of us and
backed towards the door. “I think I’ll have a drink.”
“Wise choice.” I gave my tormentors
a smug look and spooned capers onto smoked salmon.
Mama had to have the last word. “I
hope your Jenks isn’t easily run off, if you know what I mean. I won’t waste my
breath trying to tell you not to scare him away.”
Why does everyone in the whole
world keep referring to my male acquaintances as
your
men?
Your
Hudson,
your
Alan, and now,
your
Jenks. Well, the
your
Jenks thing sounded just fine and
dandy with me. “Uh-huh,” I said, noncommittally. “Mama, could you pass around
the deviled eggs?”
“Of course, dear. Did you make
these yourself? They look very...interesting. What are these little spots?”
“Caviar.”
“Oh. I’ll warn your father.”
She wandered off with the tray.
Actually she didn’t wander at all, but made a beeline for Jenks at the bar,
where he was dispensing fountains of champagne.
I busied myself arranging more
trays of goodies and when I checked, Jenks and mother were on the sofa in deep
conversation. Dad had been relegated to bartender.
“Looks like we could use your mom
on the OPD,” Martinez said as he plucked a tiny bagel laden with lox and cream
cheese from a tray. “She’s giving your Jenks quite a grilling.”
“Yeah. Think I should rescue him?”
“Nah, he’s doin’ okay. How about
you? All healed up?”
“Sure am. Any word at all on Alan,
or whatever he calls himself these days?”
“Nothing. A rumor. Street talk.” He
grabbed a stuffed shrimp and gazed out over the bay.
“Are you gonna tell me or am I gonna
stuff that shrimp in a new and indelicate place,” I growled.
“Now I
know
you’re back to being yourself,” he grinned. “Scuttlebutt has
it the boys who once owned those rubies found him and took him on a one-way
fishing trip where he was featured as bait.”
“Fooey, I thought I turned him into
bait. Oh, well, can’t win ‘em all.”
“No, you can’t. Too bad about those
rubies, though. I was hoping maybe Jenks would get some kind of reward. Not
even a thank you, the cheap bastards. And speaking of rubies, Hetta, that’s
quite a rock you’re sporting ‘round your neck.”
“This old thing?” I said, fingering the
ruby. “A garnet, actually. Family heirloom. Had it for years. Say, could you
gather everyone on the foredeck? It’s almost time.”
“Only if you’ll tell me what’s
under that drape over the transom.”
“You’ll find out when everyone else
does. Did you put your hard earned bucks in the name pool?”
“Yep. Put my money on
Coffee Break
. Was I right?”
“Gee, you’re the detective, why
don’t you tell me?”
“Smart ass,” he said, and left to
round everyone up.
I took RJ’s urn from the coffee
table and worked my way forward. I was glad the breeze had dropped to nil so RJ
would scatter over the water, not my decks. Convention called for throwing
ashes from the transom, but I didn’t want to confuse my duck. RJ, I’m sure,
would understand. Food, or the promise of food, is nothing to muck about with.
Jan scattered an entire bowl of popcorn aft to distract Eco before she joined
us on the bow.
Craigosaurus did the honors, first
with a toast to a grand mutt, then he began reading a little ceremonial speech
that sounded suspiciously like the one used at my grandmother’s funeral. “Those
of us who loved RJ knew what a great contribution he made to society,” he
began, but then he grinned, put down the book and adlibbed a glowing tribute.
When he finished, we all had tears in our eyes. Even the poodle looked a little
misty, but I think that was because Raoul wouldn’t let him go after Eco.
The talking done, there was nothing
left but for me to open the urn and dump the ashes. Which I did. Only, at the
very moment I upended the urn, a strong gust blew all the ashes right back at
us, covering the entire party in a fine dusting of RJ. After a stunned silence,
we all began to laugh and I could swear I got a whiff of dog fart.
After a light lunch it was time for my
unveiling.
For this, we moved to the dock and
offloaded our guests. Eco refused to leave the dive platform, stubbornly
maintaining his position in case a couple of hors d’oeuvres escaped a tray.
I stood on the aft deck and
loosened the strings holding the tarp covering the transom. Hoisting a glass of
bubbly on high, I doused the duck, let go the tarp and announced, “I christen
this ship the motor vessel
Raymond
Johnson
.”
I
know
I smelled a dog fart.
We
lose sight of what we really need and want—someone to love and a good boat that
will stick with us through our lives—
Ferenc
Máté
Chic, alors!
—Hetta Coffey
Raised in the jungles of Haiti and Thailand,
with returns to Texas in-between, Jinx followed her father's steel-toed
footsteps into the Construction and Engineering industry in hopes of building
dams. Finding all the good rivers taken, she traveled the world defacing other
landscapes with mega-projects in Alaska, Japan, New Zealand, Puerto Rico and
Mexico.
Like the protagonist in her mystery series, Hetta
Coffey, Jinx was a woman with a yacht—and she's not afraid to use it—when
she met her husband, Mad Dog Schwartz. They opted to become cash-poor cruisers
rather than continue chasing the rat, sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge,
turned left, and headed for Mexico. They now divide their time between Arizona
and Mexico's Sea of Cortez.
Jinx's seventh book in her award-winning series,
Just
Deserts
: Book Four of the Hetta Coffey mystery series, was recently
released.
Her other books include a YA fictography of her childhood in
Haiti (
Land of Mountains
), an adventure in the Sea of Cortez (
Troubled
Sea
) and an epic novel of the thirty years leading to the fall of the
Alamo (
The Texicans
).
For more on Jinx and her books go to:
www.jinxschwarz.com