Page 46 of No One Aboard
“Brenna,” he touched his knuckle to his Bass Pro Shops cap.
“God’s sake, Baugh.” She grabbed a fistful of his flannel and pulled him inside, closing the door against the wind. “Unless one of your jackass fisher friends got themselves tussled up by this storm and needs the coast guard, I suggest you go on home.”
Jerry skated over the fact that he didn’t have fishing friends, jackasses or otherwise. In his mind, the whole point of fishing was to put friends and humanity in his lobster boat’s rearview. All Jerry really remembered about being around other people was how loud it was.
His brother trampling through their trailer home with a BB gun.
His mother wailing as they put Steve’s remains in the dirt.
His wife screaming when she told him she was done.
People were noisy and ugly. There was no such thing as graceful grief or a happy marriage. Happy was a thing that only happened to Jerry alone at sea.
“Why, um, aren’t you home?” he asked the detective.
“Why aren’t you?”
Jerry showed her his Bud Light. “Essentials. I just, uh, I just figured that you wouldn’t like being stuck in a cubicle until Ida blows over.”
Madden flinched. She crossed her arms to cover it, but Jerry had already seen. He frowned, feeling the rain dagger through his Panthers sweat shirt.Ida.
“I have a lotta work to do,” she said eventually.
“Work on the case? Any new updates?”
“No updates. This hurricane’s gonna hide any evidence we mighta found, if we’d had more time anyway.”
Of course it would. Jerry was beginning to think that they might never get answers. But sometimes people drowned, and he supposed sometimes they just disappeared too, and there was nothing anyone could do to find out why. Even the man’s body they found might not be connected to this case.
“Well, uh, I s’pose I’ll be getting back to the dock.” Jerry shifted his feet and wondered why Madden hadn’t shooed him out the door yet. Could she possibly be glad he knocked? She had a funny way of showing it. Or maybe in the midst of a violent tempest named after Madden’s dead partner, she was just happy to see another human face. And that’s why she couldn’t go home.
“Hey, so, I’m just gonna be drinking on my boat, waiting this thing out. One of my deckhand’s there too. Ricardo left, but Lainey’s family is out of state so she needed a place. And if you, well...” Jerry waved the beer case again. “You know, if beer’s your thing and you wanted to stop by—”
“Can’t stand the taste of that stuff,” Madden cut him off.
“Oh.”
“But... I’ve got an old bottle of gin in my desk.”
Jerry grunted away the smile that threatened to turn his lips. “I’ll see you onEileenin a few, then.”
Madden gave a curt nod, her hand already turning the doorknob. She paused. “Feels weird to just put my feet up and wait out the storm in an inactive crime scene.”
“Feels even weirder livin’ in one.”
Madden clicked her tongue. “Well... can’t argue with that. I’ll get my coat.”
While rain drummed againstThe Old Eileen’s portholes, Jerry claimed the corner couch in the salon, leaving Lainey and Madden to sit across from him. The cat paced the length of the room, whether disgruntled by the storm or the ship, Jerry couldn’t say.
“Lainey, I, uh, hope you like beer, since Madden here seems to be more of a gin gal.”
Madden tipped her entire bottle back, not bothering to retrieve one of the crystal glasses from the galley cabinets.
“Rum, sorry,” Lainey said with a smile.
It registered with Jerry that Lainey was even younger than the guy in the liquor store. She shouldn’t drink anyway. Not that Jerry was one to judge. He and Steve were sneaking beers before either one of them graduated high school.
Jerry popped the top on his first can and settled back. He flicked through a couple channels before deciding on the weather one. There was a strange satisfaction watching the hurricane unfold both on his television screen and outside the portholes. Jerry’s gaze slid occasionally to the bilge panels, just to make sure they were all still in place.
