Read Online Cinnamon Skin by John D. MacDonald - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John D. MacDonald
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drifted out to the galley with me, and I took two cold ones out of the locker and uncapped them. We went back into the lounge, and he dropped into a chair and took long swallows, wiped his mouth on the back of his brown hand. "Real good. Thanks. You and my dad were friends."
"Pretty good friends."
"I come onto something, I don't know how I should handle it, and there's nobody I can rightly ask. I don't want to bring Bud in on it. He's back up at Duke in that summer program. Andy's too young. And I can't ask Mom."
"What's it all about?"
There was a long final hesitation, and then he shrugged and sighed. "Like this. I've been building up a fair trade down there below Marathon, but it's nothing like Dad had here. I've been over his list for the season coming up, and he's booked nearly solid. I know his kind of fishing. I can do it, but not as good as he did. He could smell fish. The HooBoy would be mine to use or sell, whatever. I went prowling around among the charterboat guys, trying to find out if I could make some kind of a deal for his boat plus the bookings. Everybody acted just a little funny. You know? There was something going on I couldn't figure out.
"So I went over to the boatyard, to Dalton and Forbes, where the engine work is being done. And they acted funny over there too. It'll be ready in one more week. I climbed up the ladder and went aboard her. I looked at the work sheets. The work is all paid for. Thirty-eight thousand dollars' worth, and he paid in cash."
"To rebuild a couple of old diesels?"
"Rebuild, hell. A new pair of high-speed jobs, with every kind of booster you can think of. They reinforced and cross-braced the whole front end of the hull. High-speed props. New controls. Outside it isn't changed. It was always just a little bit underpowered. He could have gone bumbling around in it, looking the same as always, but when anybody jammed those throttles forward that thing would take off like a big-assed rabbit."
"Isn't that a displacement hull?"
"No. It's kind of a modified deep vee, and they've put a new kind of step thing on the hull that will pop it right up into planing position. I remember when it was new, if we were heading downwind and he gave it full throttle on both engines, and we had a lot of room ahead of us, it would get up onto the plane and scoot. But it took too much gas to get it there. Jerry Forbes told me they think it will do a little better than forty knots once they get the step adjusted just right. I don't even like to think about it. He told Mom he had to get five thousand together to get the engines rebuilt. I've been through his papers, and there's nothing there to show where any thirty-eight thousand came from or where it went to. What do you think was going on, Trav?"
"Did they enlarge fuel capacity?"
"Bigger tanks, and they set them so the center of balance is a little more forward of where it used to be. When he got that boat, I was six and Bud was four and Andy wasn't born yet. We were so proud of the HooBoy. It was so pretty!"
"Your father was a good man, Dave. He had lots of friends. He worked hard. You could trust him."
"So where did a good man get thirty-eight thousand cash money?"
"Have you looked around at the charterboat people along this coast and in the Keys lately? There's a lot of big new vans and pickups. Lots of gold jewelry. New televisions with big big screens. Brand new washer-dryers. And little trips over to Freeport for shopping and gambling, and maybe a visit to the branch of the Bank of Nova Scotia."
"Certainly I've looked around. And I've thought about it. Fellow I knew down in Marathon had him a fast little runabout, like a California boat. Cigarette hull and power assists so he could do up to eighty-five, he claimed. He was clearing ten thousand a week running coke from a mother ship. One time they waited for him and tried to corner him. They had three boats not as fast as his. But he tried to get away around the end of a reef, and he
"Pretty good friends."
"I come onto something, I don't know how I should handle it, and there's nobody I can rightly ask. I don't want to bring Bud in on it. He's back up at Duke in that summer program. Andy's too young. And I can't ask Mom."
"What's it all about?"
There was a long final hesitation, and then he shrugged and sighed. "Like this. I've been building up a fair trade down there below Marathon, but it's nothing like Dad had here. I've been over his list for the season coming up, and he's booked nearly solid. I know his kind of fishing. I can do it, but not as good as he did. He could smell fish. The HooBoy would be mine to use or sell, whatever. I went prowling around among the charterboat guys, trying to find out if I could make some kind of a deal for his boat plus the bookings. Everybody acted just a little funny. You know? There was something going on I couldn't figure out.
"So I went over to the boatyard, to Dalton and Forbes, where the engine work is being done. And they acted funny over there too. It'll be ready in one more week. I climbed up the ladder and went aboard her. I looked at the work sheets. The work is all paid for. Thirty-eight thousand dollars' worth, and he paid in cash."
"To rebuild a couple of old diesels?"
"Rebuild, hell. A new pair of high-speed jobs, with every kind of booster you can think of. They reinforced and cross-braced the whole front end of the hull. High-speed props. New controls. Outside it isn't changed. It was always just a little bit underpowered. He could have gone bumbling around in it, looking the same as always, but when anybody jammed those throttles forward that thing would take off like a big-assed rabbit."
"Isn't that a displacement hull?"
"No. It's kind of a modified deep vee, and they've put a new kind of step thing on the hull that will pop it right up into planing position. I remember when it was new, if we were heading downwind and he gave it full throttle on both engines, and we had a lot of room ahead of us, it would get up onto the plane and scoot. But it took too much gas to get it there. Jerry Forbes told me they think it will do a little better than forty knots once they get the step adjusted just right. I don't even like to think about it. He told Mom he had to get five thousand together to get the engines rebuilt. I've been through his papers, and there's nothing there to show where any thirty-eight thousand came from or where it went to. What do you think was going on, Trav?"
"Did they enlarge fuel capacity?"
"Bigger tanks, and they set them so the center of balance is a little more forward of where it used to be. When he got that boat, I was six and Bud was four and Andy wasn't born yet. We were so proud of the HooBoy. It was so pretty!"
"Your father was a good man, Dave. He had lots of friends. He worked hard. You could trust him."
"So where did a good man get thirty-eight thousand cash money?"
"Have you looked around at the charterboat people along this coast and in the Keys lately? There's a lot of big new vans and pickups. Lots of gold jewelry. New televisions with big big screens. Brand new washer-dryers. And little trips over to Freeport for shopping and gambling, and maybe a visit to the branch of the Bank of Nova Scotia."
"Certainly I've looked around. And I've thought about it. Fellow I knew down in Marathon had him a fast little runabout, like a California boat. Cigarette hull and power assists so he could do up to eighty-five, he claimed. He was clearing ten thousand a week running coke from a mother ship. One time they waited for him and tried to corner him. They had three boats not as fast as his. But he tried to get away around the end of a reef, and he
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