stared back, then looked out the window and picked up his pen. “Okey-dokey,” he said. “My bad. In that case, I’ll tell you you’re a damn fool to have risked yourself in that way.”
He turned back to Scarnum and smiled — the same charming, warm smile he had used earlier. “But I’m glad to have the payday.”
Mayor switched on the recorder. “There,” he said. “That’s better. Now. Please continue.”
When Scarnum finished telling how he went aboard the Kelly Lynn at the mooring and checked that there was no corpse aboard, Mayor kept his head down, scribbling.
“Thank you,” he said finally. “That concludes the statement of Phillip Scarnum,” and he gave the date and time and switched the recorder off.
“OK,” he said and pushed the pad across to Scarnum. “Read that, please, and see if it’s all right. Meanwhile, let me do a registry search on the Kelly Lynn.”
He turned to his computer and did some typing while Scarnum read.
He had the answer before Scarnum finished and was waiting for him with an odd expression on his face when Scarnum signed and dated the bottom of the statement.
“It’s SeaWater,” said Mayor bluntly. “It’s one of Falkenham’s boats.”
Scarnum stared at him, expressionless, but his cheeks flushed.He sat mute until the lawyer started to babble nervously, reading the entry.
“Fishing vessel Kelly Lynn, registered by SeaWater in 2004, forty feet, built at Thibodeau’s Shipyard.”
Scarnum interrupted him. “Where’s your bathroom at?” he asked him.
Mayor stood to show the way, but Scarnum interrupted him again, lifting his hand. “I’ll find it,” he said, holding up his hand. “I’ll be right back.”
Then he walked outside, without glancing at the receptionist, and stood on the porch of the little house and smoked a cigarette.
When the cigarette was done, he walked back in with a rigid smile on his face. He nodded to the receptionist and stepped back into Mayor’s office.
“All right then,” he said, smiling. “It’s one of Falkenham’s boats. That should make it easier to get paid. Man’s got no money problems I know about.”
Mayor turned on the big smile again, standing as Scarnum came in. “You got that right,” he said. “That should make this easier.”
He looked at his watch. “I might even get their people on the phone this afternoon. Why don’t you go back home and keep an eye on that boat? I’ll give you a call when I know what’s what.”
Scarnum smiled back. “All right,” he said, “though I gave my phone a dunking last night. Tell you what, give Charlie a call and leave a message. I’ll call you back.”
Mayor stood to shake Scarnum’s hand. Scarnum thanked him and turned to go but stopped in the doorway, with his back to the lawyer.
Mayor said, “I’ll try to get this done quick and clean. Don’t expect to have to bother you much.”
Scarnum turned back to him, without a trace of a smile. “Yeah,” he said, gazing past Mayor, out the window, his face stiff, his mouth pursed. “I don’t want to have to talk to Falkenham. I’d rather tow the fucking boat back out to the ledges and leave it where I found it than have anything to do with him.”
Mayor laughed nervously. “That shouldn’t be necessary,” he said. “This is pretty straightforward.”
On the way home, Scarnum stopped at the liquor store and got himself a quart of Crown Royal.
Charlie was puttering in the yard, waiting for news. He appeared to have a witticism he wanted to share, but when he saw Scarnum’s face, and the brown liquor store bag in his hand, he bit his tongue.
“It’s one of Falkenham’s boats,” said Scarnum. “Lawyer says we ought to keep an eye on her, not let anyone get aboard her.”
Charlie stared at him. Scarnum offered a thin smile. “Suggested if you see any strange cars pulling up you ought to do some rat hunting.”
Charlie laughed. “I believe it is rat season,” he said. “Been thinking it was time for a rodent roundup.”
“Lawyer’s gonna call when he has news,” said Scarnum. “I’m going down to my boat for a time.”
“All right, partner,” said Charlie, and he watched his friend slink down to the wharf.
When Charlie came down an hour later and knocked on the side of the boat, Scarnum was sitting at the salon table with a glass and an ashtray, listening to Hank Williams. A third of the whisky was already gone.
Scarnum got up and opened the hatch. His face was puffy, his hair was mussed, and his eyes were red.
Charlie was grinning on the dock, holding his ball cap in his hand. “I hate to interrupt your getting drunk,” he said, “but the lady of the house wonders if you’d like to join us for a bowl of chowder.”
“No b’y,” said Scarnum. “Tell Annabelle thanks, but I’m more thirsty than hungry, if you know what I mean.”
Charlie giggled. “I might know exactly what you mean, you old fucker,” he said. “I’m thirsty meself.”
“Lord fuck,” said Scarnum, stepping back with an exaggerated sweep of his arm. “Come the fuck down, then, and have a drink of whisky, you old saltwater cowboy.”
Charlie grinned. “By the Jesus, that’s some kind of you, Phillip,” he said. “I’d be too shy to ask, of course, but since you’re kind enough to offer, I’d love to have a wee taste of your whisky.”
As he climbed into the cabin, he noted the level of the whisky in the bottle. “B’y, I’ll thank you for the drink tonight, but tomorrow you’ll thank me for taking it,” he said.
“Why’s that?” said Scarnum, digging out a glass and pouring his friend two fingers of rye.
“’Cause you won’t be quite so fucking hungover,” said Charlie, and he held up his glass for a toast. “To the Kelly Lynn.”
Scarnum joined the toast and drained the whisky in his glass. He poured himself another three fingers.
“Seemed to me I should help you celebrate your salvage,” said Charlie. “Pretty fucking good going, me son.”
“Yuh,” said Scarnum, nodding. “I just wish it wasn’t one of Falkenham’s boats.”
Charlie nodded into his whisky. “Yes b’y,” he said. “I wouldn’t think you’d want anything to do with him, but then again, what the fuck’s it matter whose boat it is?”
He fixed Scarnum with a steely gaze. “What matters is that you’re going to get paid,” he said. “This’ll
