Read Online The Deader the Better by G. M. Ford - Free Book Online Page A

the place,” he said
finally. I asked the obvious question. “No way to avoid posting
it?”
    “What was I going to do?” he asked me. “Let the locals do
for free what I’m charging customers thousands of dollars to do?”
He had a point, but I could see how that move could make J.D. more
than a bit unpopular with the local sporting set.
    “Besides that,” he went on, “they’ve got no regard for the
fishery. They ignore the catch limits. They gill net; they dynamite.
Heck, I’ve seen ’em shoot fish. To them it’s just a resource
that’s always been. No matter how many times you tell them, they
just can’t imagine that the fish won’t always be there.” He
skipped another rock. Five skips. “Guy that owns the tackle shop in
town, name of McGruder…that SOB likes to brag about how one time he
and his brother-in-THE DEADER THE BETTER | law wired two volleyball
nets together, came down here and netted themselves up the better
part of a ton of Chinook salmon in one night.” He shook his head
sadly. “You came through town, didn’t you? You saw what they did
to the land. How you going to be reasonable with people like that?”
    When I told him I didn’t know, he became even more animated.
    “And the bridge and stuff was just the beginning. Suddenly the
electrical wiring in the new cabins—which they’d preinspected and
approved—all of a sudden, it was no good. Nope. They waited until I
had all the finish work done and then told me they’d changed their
mind and none of it passed inspection. Heck, I’ve had the interior
finish work on some of those cabins done three separate times.”
    It went on and on. All that was missing was the CIA involvement.
As he recounted his litany of conspiracy, I couldn’t help but
notice how different he seemed from the person I’d met a couple of
years before. The guy with the twinkle in his eye and the very real
sense that his life was charmed suddenly seemed mortal.
    He threw up his hands. “I should have been open for business
six, eight months ago. Took me ten years to build my client list and
now I’m losin’ ’em. One by one I’m losin’’em. I don’t
know how much longer…” He caught himself.
    “You know, Leo, I almost called you a couple of times. I thought
maybe…you know…a detective could find out what the heck is going
on around here.” He looked up at the sky.
    “Except, of course, I wouldn’t be able to pay you, either.”
    I couldn’t decide whether he was just letting off steam or
whether, at this point, I was supposed to volunteer to help him out,
so I chose my words carefully.
    “If what you needed was a detective, the money wouldn’t be a
problem,” I told him. “We could work that out.”
    Not carefully enough. I watched as his face took on that same
knotted quality I’d seen back in the cabin. “You don’t believe
me, do you?” he said suddenly.
    “If you’re asking me whether I think you’re lying, the
answer is no.”
    “Oh…so what I need is a shrink instead of a private
detective.”
    “If you’re asking my opinion, I think you need an attorney.”
    “I don’t have time for—”
    Above the rushing of the river, Claudia’s voice. “Jaaay Deee,”
she called. Then again. “Jaaay Deee.”
    He brushed his hands together and then wiped them on his back
pockets.
    “We better get back,” he said.
    He talked as we picked our way among the rocks. How he’d hired
state-certified inspectors of his own. How he was taking it to court.
Already won the wiring battle. Plumbing was next. How he’d been in
contact with the state Attorney General’s Office. He stopped at the
bottom of the boat ramp and pulled the Avon farther up out of the
water.
    “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to lay a bunch of stuff
on you. I’m just frustrated.” He kicked a rock down into the
water. I told him not to worry about it.
    “Gotten so bad, Claudia’s working at the daycare center over
on the res. She and the kids putt over