I stepped away from him, the emotion in his voice making me uncomfortable. He looked as worn-out as I felt. For a moment I considered telling him what happened. But Boon knew too much, and his temper was unmanageable. I didn’t trust that he’d let me handle it. There was no way in hell that if Boon knew, he’d stay out of it. Not after the year he’d been through with us. And by cutting those traps, I’d put myself on the wrong side of Boon. It wasn’t who he was. It wasn’t even who I was. Or who I had been. Now he grabbed the clipboard off the shelf and shoved it against my chest so hard, I stumbled backward.
“Eddy needs two dozen oysters. Leave them in the front case with the yellow copy of the slip.” He stomped away. “Maybe that half-naked woman will magically appear on my boat,” I heard him mumble before his office door slammed shut.
By the time I got to the boat, it was late. I started the engine, my hand on the throttle, when I heard someone shout from the dock. I turned to see Gwen Arden walking toward me from the other side of the pier. I shut the engine and waited.
Gwen had grown up a street away from me. We graduated the same year from Alden High School, and she was the owner of Arden Fisheries, one of our top competitors. She was a tall woman, with a face as pale as a scallop shell and a head full of carrot-colored hair. After graduation, Gwen moved west, worked as a ski instructor at one of the big resorts. When her father died, she came back and took over the family business. A rumor went round that a lobsterman from the next town over went to Gwen’s buying station a week after their tryst, and she’d sent him packing, said the lobsters were too small, not up to her standard, with a nod to his middle section.
Gwen and I had ended up at the same table at a wedding of a mutual friend a few years back. Hope and Gwen had sat next to each other, chatting away. At some point, with the band playing loud and more than a few drinks in, Gwen had offered up that the rumor was true . . . and she’d made it known on purpose. Turns out she got tired of being hit on by every Tom, Dick, and Harry who sold to her.
“Try being a single woman in this business,” she’d said. “I used to get harassed and ogled all the time. Now guys go out of their way to keep it professional unless they want to sell their catch somewhere else.”
“Was it that bad?” Hope had asked.
“Mostly the married ones, unfortunately. You landed one of the good ones here,” she said, jabbing her thumb at me.
I stayed out of the conversation, but I heard what she was saying. I’d worked in this business my whole life, been down on the docks since I was a boy. I tuned it out now, didn’t even hear it anymore. But now and then, over the radio, a guy would go too far, and I’d bark out to take it somewhere else. I had my own girls at home. I had a new respect for Gwen after that night. It was a tough business, and she’d found a way to hold her own.
Now Gwen reached the boat and walked over to the gunwale to where I stood.
“I’m glad I caught you. Thanks for waiting,” she said.
“What’s up?” I asked, hearing the impatience in my voice. I wanted to get out on the water. I had a bunch of traps to pull.
“Maybe nothing, but I wanted to give you and Boon a heads-up.” She looked behind her and lowered her voice. “I had someone call me yesterday, a girl, called herself Bess, or Tess, I don’t know, it was hard to hear her—sounded like she was calling from a pay phone. Anyway, she was trying to sell me a couple hundred pounds of lobster.” She paused for a moment and looked around.
“And?” I asked, glancing at my watch. Almost seven fucking o’clock. Jesus.
“She was evasive about what boat she was off of. Said it was her boyfriend’s boat, and he was sick in bed. She gave me a name I never heard of. Now, I know everyone in this area. You’re pulling a couple hundred pounds of lobster, I know your name, if you know what I mean.” She had her hands on her hips and seemed to be getting riled up talking about it.
“Did you meet with her?” I asked, trying to figure out what she wanted so I could get to work.
“I tried. Believe me, I tried. Oh, no, she wanted nothing to do with meeting me. One excuse after another of why this couldn’t be a face-to-face deal. She wanted me to come get the lobsters . . . she couldn’t be there . . . had to tend to her boyfriend. But I could leave the cash in the boat . . . in an envelope in the cabin!”
“What’d you tell her?”
“I told her she was out of her flippin’ mind,” she screeched. “I mean, what the hell kind of business does she think I run? We’ve got a coastline of lobstermen trying to off-load their catch, and I’m going to schlep on down to some mystery boat carrying a boatload of cash. Wacko.” She took a deep breath, and I looked at my watch, then back at her.
“Gwen. Tell me what you need.” I was done being patient. I had my own lobsters to haul.
“Did Boon talk to her? Did she call you guys to sell them?”
“I have no idea.”
“He didn’t mention anything?”
“No. But he wouldn’t. I catch; he buys and sells. End of story. Plus, you know Boon. Boon likes women. If a woman invited Boon to a boat by himself, he’d go.”
Gwen nodded. “I get your point. But keep your ears open. My guess is the lobster was stolen.”
I gave her a doubtful look. That was a death sentence around here. “That’s not just one or two traps; that’s a trawl, maybe more.”
“I hear you, Jack, but I’m telling you this girl wasn’t right. She sounded high, drugged up. And she didn’t have a clue about lobsters. I asked her to give me her boyfriend’s buoy colors, and I could tell from the silence that she had no idea what I was talking about. She hung up on me when I pressed her on where she got the catch.”
The sky was white now; a dull stretch of gray darkened the edge of the horizon. Gwen turned to see what I was looking at, then tapped her hand on the wash rail, a quick rap of her knuckles.
“Go. Weather’s coming. Tell Boon what happened, and keep your ears open.”
“You got it,” I said, turning the key to start the engine.
“Tell Hope I said hello,” she yelled.
I raised my hand to signal I’d heard her as the Hope Ann pulled away from the dock.
Once I was out of the cove, the sea turned choppy. Waves slammed against the hull and sent a cold spray over the bow. I kept her at twenty knots, a good clip to get me out there in a hurry.