Salvage

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Authors: Stephen Maher
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brandished the stick. “King! I told you to shut the fuck up!”
    The dog fell silent.
    Scarnum said, “Why’d you suppose he wanted to go out alone? Who wants to go out fishing alone?”
    Amos shook his head. “I didn’t ask him,” he said. “Wasn’t my business to ask him, I thought.”
    Scarnum looked at him. “Did he pay you to call in sick?”
    Amos nodded his head. “Said he’d pay me like normal if I stayed home,” he said and smiled. “I laughed at him. Told him I’d be glad to stay home and make the same money I’d make on the boat. Told me to keep my mouth shut about it, tell anyone who asked that I called in sick. I did. Wasn’t my business. Anyone would take that deal.”
    Amos’s smile went away as quickly as it had appeared. “You can tell Angela I wouldn’t mind paying the money back,” he said. “Seeing as how things ended up. It would take me a while to get it together, though. I got another one of my own on the way, but we could work it out. I don’t feel too good about the money now.”
    Scarnum shook his head. “I’ll tell Angela what you said, but I don’t think she’d want that. I guess you held up your end of the deal. It’s not your fault that Jimmy … was the way he was. Angela don’t blame you for nothing. She knows he must have been in some kind of trouble. She just wants to know what happened, and the cops aren’t saying nothing.”
    â€œWell, I don’t know any more than what I told you,” said Amos. “He wanted me to call in sick, so I did.”
    â€œHow many times?” said Scarnum.
    Amos looked at him. “Five times, I think. First time was just before Christmas.”
    â€œDid he ever give you any kind of clue what he was doing out there on his own?” asked Scarnum.
    â€œNope,” said Amos, and he looked down at his feet. “They say some fellows, I won’t say who, now, but they say there are some fellows who steal lobsters from other fellows’ traps. Coulda been something like that, I suppose. I didn’t think it was any of my business.”
    Scarnum held out his hand now and Amos shook it.
    â€œYou got no cause to blame yourself for this,” said Scarnum. “I don’t know what Jimmy was into but whatever it was, you didn’t tell him to do it.”
    When Scarnum got in the truck, Amos said, “I want you to tell Angela that if she wants for anything — some wood for the winter, some groceries, whatever — we’d be proud to help out.”
    Scarnum put the truck in reverse. “I’ll tell her,” he said. “Thank you.”
    On the way down the dirt road, a Mountie car passed him going the other way. Léger was behind the wheel. Scarnum looked out the passenger window as he drove by, but he was pretty sure the Mountie saw him.

    H enri Castonguay had just put a pot of seafood stock on to boil when Scarnum stuck his head through the back door of the kitchen of Henri’s Bistro, a restaurant in an old wooden house overlooking Marriot’s Cove, not far from Chester.
    â€œ Salut, mon gars, ” he said. “ Qu’est que tu cuisines ? Ça pue !”
    Castonguay, immaculate in kitchen whites, holding a wooden spoon, turned away from the stove and squinted. His face lit up when he saw it was Scarnum.
    â€œHey!” he said. “ Mon ami . Come in. I’m making un bouillon de poisson , not that an uncultured Canadian like you would appreciate it.” He went to the door of the dining room and called for his wife.
    â€œHenri, mon vieux ,” said Scarnum. “ J’ai un petit problème et j’ai besoin de ton aide .”He pulled out the flask.
    â€œBut that doesn’t look like a problem,” said Henri. “That looks like a flask. If your problem is that your flask is too full, I’m sure I can help you.”
    Mary

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