Foreclosure: A Novel (19 page)

He arrived at the
Katherine Anne
to find Frank and Robbie tying up loose ends.

Frank chuckled when he saw David. “Hey, Robbie, look who made it.”

Robbie muttered something about tying up his line.

“I figured this is the only way to get your ear,” David said. He stared at the boat, unsure how to board it.

“You figured right.” Frank cranked the motor, and the abrasive shrieking noise cut through the quiet morning.

Robbie untied the mooring from the dock and stared blankly at David. “You coming or not?” The boat began drifting away.

“Get on, David,” Frank yelled.

David put his left leg on the boat as it pulled away. He grabbed the rail and hiked his right leg over it. Before both feet were onboard, the boat was speeding away from the dock. David eased along the rail toward the console, where Frank stood at the helm.

Frank steadied the wheel and checked the gauges on the console. “You know, Friedman, you’re the first lawyer I’ve taken on this boat.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“We’ll see how the day goes.”

“How far out we going?”

Frank raised a lever to accelerate. “Not too far. Tarpon like the flats.”

David looked ahead as the Gulf came into view. He felt the sun rising behind him and, with it, the temperature. He glanced at his pale arms that hadn’t seen a full day of summer since he’d started practicing law. “So what’s your fascination with tarpon?” he asked Frank.

“You want to answer that, Robbie?” Frank hollered over the screaming motor.

“You’d have to catch one to understand,” Robbie yelled in a cynical tone that suggested David would never understand.

The boat reached the opening of the Gulf as rays of sunlight scattered across the horizon. On cue, Robbie stepped in front of Frank and took the wheel, while Frank stepped back, pulled open a cooler, and produced a blood-red glass jug. He poured a drink. “We always start the day with a Bloody Mary.”

Though his empty stomach already felt queasy from riding the swells, David took the drink from Frank, who poured another for himself.

“All right, hotshot,” Frank said. “Tell me what happened at that hearing the other day.”

“For starters, I’m allowed to continue representing you against Meridian Bank.”

“And I was hoping you’d be disqualified.”

“And the judge denied the motion to dismiss.”

“You’re talking Greek again.”

“It means we get to take discovery and a shot at proving our case.”

“Good work. So let’s fish.” Frank looked over the hull and directed Robbie’s attention to one of the gauges. Robbie veered the boat to the left.

“That’s the good news,” David said. “Are you ready for the bad?”

“Why’s there have to be bad news? Just fix it.” Frank took a few steps toward David and sipped his drink, reminding David he hadn’t touched his yet. David took a gulp. The acidity of the tomato juice and vodka burned on the way down, settling into his gut like embers in an empty gas can.

“So what’s the problem?” Frank asked.

“It’s about their motion to appoint a receiver.”

Frank shook his head.

David didn’t know if Frank couldn’t hear him or just didn’t understand. “A receiver,” David yelled, “is appointed by the court to take over the property. They’re claiming you’re not taking care of the Towers. And that you’ve mishandled the escrow money.”

“That’s not their money,” Frank said.

“It’s not yours either. More importantly, their mortgage attaches to it too.”

“Fuck them.” Frank wiped glistening sweat off his brow.

David wiped his own brow. “The main thing that concerns me is the escrow records.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like you’ve ever been straight with me.” David glanced around for land. Saw none.

“I’m not being straight with you? That’s your concern?”

David nodded. “Look, times are tough. You wouldn’t be the first developer to use escrow deposits to fund construction or maintenance.”

“Is that what you think I did?”

“I don’t know what you did. But I can’t help you solve your problems if you don’t tell me what they are.”

Frank slid off his sunglasses and left them dangling on a rubber band around his neck. “Well, let’s assume your hunch is right. Let’s assume I spent some of the money. So what?”

“It would be a breach of the loan agreement. It could also be a crime.”

“A felony?”

“Third degree.”

“Scary.”

Robbie killed the motor. Then he nodded to Frank and stepped away from the console. The boat began drifting with the current.

David knew there was little time before Frank would be paying attention to nothing but catching a tarpon. “Frank?”

“So what do you need?” Frank’s voice grew impatient.

“I need the escrow records. Account statements for every purchase contract at the Towers. For the past eighteen months.”

“They’re not ready yet,” Frank said.

“How can they not be ready?”

“Why do you think?”

“When will they be ready? You or Katherine will have to testify about them at the next hearing.”

“Leave her out of this.” Frank’s voice rose. “This is her fault to begin with. I’ll get you the records.” He paused for another moment of deliberation. “When’s our deadline?”

“Next week.”

Frank nodded. “I’ll have them for you then.”

“So these records, are they going to be real?”

Frank laughed. “As far as you’re concerned.”

David noticed the current swarming around the boat, and he realized that this was about as much information as he was going to get out of Frank. “I guess that’s all I need to know for now.”

Frank nodded a smile. “Good. Let’s get busy. Have you ever fly-fished?”

Robbie turned to see David’s response, but David just shook his head.

“Don’t worry,” Frank said. “Robbie tied you a fly. Just follow our lead.”

Robbie handed a rod to David. Then Frank aimed his rod over the rear right of the boat and cast his fly in short, abrupt pulses. Robbie did the same from the rear left. David huddled next to Frank and watched him throw a few more casts.

Frank raised his rod to cast again, and noticed David standing nearby. “You gonna watch me all day or fish?”

David took his rod and crossed the deck, as far away from Robbie and Frank as he could get. By now, the sun was a quarter into the sky and cooking everything under its glow, including David’s back and the deck under his feet.

David glanced around to make sure no one was watching his first cast. He raised his rod to ninety degrees, and then flicked the fly forward. It seemed to move out in the right direction, at least at first, until David heard his reel make a clanging sound as though it had shattered. He glanced down and saw his line was tangled into a jumble of knots around the reel. He glanced to his left, where Frank was preoccupied with his fly lure dancing along the current of the Gulf. David carefully began unwinding the mesh of knots in his reel, hoping Frank would not notice. But the more line he released, the more of a tangled mess he uncovered. He realized he’d probably need scissors to fix this.

“What have you done?” Robbie was peering at him over the console.

“I’m taking care of it,” David said.

Robbie snatched the reel from David’s hands. With a few tugs and a shake, he miraculously had the line straightened out. “Keep your thumb here when you cast.” He crammed the handle back into David’s hands. “Dumbass.”

David noticed that Robbie had lost his shirt. His midriff and chest were covered in burn marks, as if Robbie had crawled out of an incinerator at a young age.

“What are you looking at?” Robbie said.

David averted his glare from Robbie’s scars, felt the heat growing on his shoulder. He was getting crispy. He took a breath, and then threw a cast over the side of the boat, keeping his thumb pressed lightly over the line as it ran out the tip of the rod. A second later, the lure landed about twenty yards east of the boat. David was ready to congratulate himself for the successful cast. He started to tug on the fly, trying to mimic the way he imagined a sea bug would rush its way through the water looking for something to eat without being eaten. The fly reached David sooner than he’d like, which meant he’d have to cast again. He raised the rod and let the line fly once more.

The instant David’s fly hit the water, Frank yelped and grunted as he jerked his rod in a series of pops. David stared at violent flashes of silver streaking atop the crystal-green water.

“Nice one, Frank,” Robbie said as he watched the fight. “Let him run.”

Frank scooted toward the bow and lowered his rod. Then he clicked his reel and jerked the rod with a loud pop.

Over the expanse of the waters, the fish was jerking back and forth like a firecracker. The tendons and muscles in Frank’s arm bulged as he teased the fish closer to the boat, closing the line between them with every inch the fish gave up. “Come on, baby.” Frank seemed mesmerized by the fight.

David watched Frank and the tarpon play this game for what seemed an hour. He found himself gripping the rail tightly and made the mistake of looking directly overboard at the ripples in the water. This seemingly ignited the Bloody Mary lingering in his gut. Without thinking, he leaned over the rail and tried to heave, spewing a few ounces of clear liquid overboard.

“Are you puking?” Frank gasped. “I’m reeling in a tarpon, and this guy is puking on my boat.”

David felt the boat spinning. He tried lying down, but hopped back up the instant his back touched the molten deck.

Frank’s rod was now hanging over the rail as low as Frank could hold it, a sure sign that the fish was close. “Get the gaff, Robbie. I’m keeping this one.”

Robbie grabbed a rod with a long hook on the end. He leaned over the bow and guided the line in. “Almost there,” he grunted. Then he swooped down and snatched the fish out of the water.

The fish landed on the deck and flopped around, struggling for air. It looked almost as exhausted as Frank.

“Might be your best of the year,” Robbie said.

Frank put on a meshed glove and grabbed the fish. It smacked into Frank, but he tightened his grip and gave the fish no room to move. “About a buck thirty.”

Robbie knelt down and turned a knob on the deck. Then he raised the door to a deep ice locker under the floorboard. David stared down into the empty space. “You could fit a shark in there,” he said.

“Or a lawyer,” Robbie sneered. Then he took a black club and knocked the tarpon on the skull until it stopped shaking. He dropped the game into the well and locked the hatch.

David turned to the console where Frank was resting, still catching his breath. He sipped his drink, nodding proudly at David.

“Well, my work is done.” He unzipped the pouch to his fanny pack. “Time to celebrate.” He pulled out a joint fatter than a cigar and looked at Robbie. “I’ll give you two hours to catch something. Then we’re going in.” Then he looked to David. “Smoke with me.” Frank lit the joint with a black zippo bearing a white skull and crossbones. In no time, he was smoking it like a cigarette, with short and frequent tokes. “It will help your nausea,” he said, the most empathy David had ever heard in his voice.

Now it was David’s turn. He remembered the sweet taste of this weed from the last time Frank cajoled him into smoking. He took it and exhaled a quick hit, as though he were seasoning his lungs for a big one. Then he followed up with the
coup de gras
and held it as long as he could.

“That’s my boy,” Frank said. “Bet you never smoked anything like that in Jersey.”

“How’d you know I was from Jersey?” David asked.

“You told me.”

“I know you’re from Boston.” David could tell he was already high.

“Good for you.” Frank glanced at Robbie, who was flipping his line over the opposite side of the boat. “It’s grown in some retired scientist’s greenroom. It’s the only thing that makes it bearable.” Frank adjusted his sunglasses and pointed to his head.

“How bad is it?” David asked.

“The glaucoma? Apparently I let it go too long. They say I could be blind next year. I’ve seen a lot of shit in my day. I’ll tell you that.” Frank looked out at the unending waters of the Gulf. “But this is what I’ll miss seeing more than anything.”

David liked Frank’s honest, reflective tone. He stared at the clear blue sky and emerald waters that melded together in a blurry line in the heat of the horizon.

“Not too bad when you’re high either, is it?” Frank asked.

David felt like he was nodding, but couldn’t tell if he really was. He stared at the horizon again and saw brilliantly colored rays emanating from the crystalline sun like tongues of fire. Then he glanced down in amazement at the sight of mutating micro larvae jumping out of the ocean like fireworks ready to spawn. “This stuff laced?” he whispered, and took another modest hit.

Frank choked on laughter and took the joint back. “Nothing but pure THC.” He looked at the joint. “I hope.” He shrieked with laughter, revealing a missing molar David had never noticed. “Nothing to get paranoid about out here, is there? Nothing for miles. No one out to get ya, David. Except us!” Frank grinned madly.

David sensed Frank was about to start screwing with him. While the buzz had quelled his nausea, he felt a different uneasiness overtaking him: a churning sense of fever, anxiety, dread, and paranoia.

Frank smacked his dry lips and wetted them with another drink. “So let me ask you this, Mr. Lawyer. This is a hypothetical question, but one I’ve always wondered about. Let’s say Robbie and me, we was to drive this boat out another hundred miles. And let’s say we had a body in that cooler where we put Mr. Tarpon. And Robbie were to chop it up with a machete, and throw it over the side of the boat and feed the fishes with it. Now if you were my lawyer, and I told you about that, could I trust you with that information?”

“It would depend.”

Frank laughed as though David’s answer was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “What could it possibly depend on?”

“Two things, really. One, whether you had already committed the crime or were about to. And two, whether I knew you were going to offer false testimony about the crime.”