The Missing Manatee (11 page)

Dan nodded toward a chair, and sat in what was obviously his usual seat in front of the TV. He took the bottle of Jack Daniel's from the table and poured some into a glass. “Get you something to drink?” he asked.

I shook my head.

Dan took a long sip. “Well?” he said. “Somehow I get the feeling you're not here to talk about tarpon fishing, the weather, or the price of tea in China.”

I swallowed. After a pause I spoke, and the words came out in a rush. “I found the manatee's body. There was a blue rope around its neck. It matches the rope in your boat.”

Dan lifted an eyebrow, and his scar stretched upward. He took a sip from the glass and looked at me, waiting for me to say more.

“And at the place where I first saw the manatee, there was one of Blinky's tennis balls. I have it.” Then I stared into my lap, unable to look at him. This time, I waited for him to speak.

The silence in the little camper grew until it became excruciating. I wanted to scream,
Say something!
Finally I said desperately, “I saw your gun.”

He nodded, sipped, and said, “And that led you to conclude what, exactly?”

Oh, man. He was doing this on purpose, trying to make it even harder for me! Did I have to spell it all out? Couldn't he just admit what he'd done? My anger gave me enough courage to say, “You're the one. You shot it. Then you hid it.”

Dan looked somewhere over my shoulder for a long time without speaking.

“Why?” I whispered at last.

“Why,” Dan repeated, and he sounded very tired. He didn't offer an answer to the question. After another long silence he said, “Remember on Wednesday, how you looked and looked for fish and at first you couldn't see them, even though they were right there the whole time?”

What's he doing, talking about fishing?
I thought wildly.

He went on. “And then you began to look through the water, not just at the surface, and you began to see?”

He was trying to change the subject. Trying to make me think about something else. How simple did he think I was? “Yeah,” I said, sounding and feeling angry. “So what?”

“All I'm saying is that things aren't always the way they look at first.” He shrugged and took a sip from his glass.

“That's
it?
” I said. I couldn't believe it. “That's all you have to say?”

Dan set the glass down. “Until you cool off and have a chance to think this over, I guess it is,” he answered.

I stood up, furious. What was there to think over? I could feel how red my face was. I was conscious of my hands and legs shaking, and my heart beating way too fast. I knew how I must look to Dirty Dan, and that only made everything worse.

In my mind I was shouting,
Until I cool off? What's that supposed to mean? Until I'm as cool, no, as cold-blooded as you?
I wanted to say,
You let people call you the Tarpon Man, Mr. Catch-and-Release Fisherman, but maybe you never noticed—it's a little hard to release something after it has a bullet through its brain!

That was what I wanted to say. It was what I should have said. It was what I
would
have said if I'd had any guts. Instead I stood there for a moment, sputtering mad, while Dirty Dan sat in his chair with an expression on his face that I couldn't read.

Then I tore open the door of the camper and ran out, nearly tripping on the cinder-block step as I made my escape. Blink was just coming across the yard from Larry's, his face smeared with pizza sauce. The happy grin fell from his face as I pushed on by.

“Uh-oh,” I heard him say. His voice rose in the high, panicky way it did when he sensed trouble. “Uh-oh, Blinky. Skeet's mad now. Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Oh, boy.”

I could have stopped to tell him not to worry, that I wasn't mad at him. But I didn't do that, either. I got into the car and slammed the door shut. Memaw looked at me questioningly, but I didn't explain and she didn't press me.

When we got home, I headed to my room.

“Not hungry?” Memaw asked.

I shook my head.

“I expect you've got some thinking to do,” she said.

I nodded.

“If you feel like company, I'll be right here,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said dully, though I was thankful that she knew when to leave a person alone.

Lying on my bed, I stared at the ceiling while I went over and over my meeting with Dirty Dan. There was one thing he had said that I had to admit was true: things really
aren't
always the way they look at first. For years, I had thought Dan was a hero.

Fifteen

It was Sunday morning,
the last day of spring break. I lay in bed, thinking that this vacation had brought both the best and the worst days of my life. I felt tired, and I hadn't even gotten up yet. When I remembered that it was also the last day to do my stupid assignment for English, I pulled the pillow over my head and wriggled down farther under the covers.

Mom knocked, then came in and sat on the end of my bed. “Morning, sweetie,” she said. “You were already asleep when I got home last night.”

“Yeah. I was zonked.” I wondered whether Memaw had told her about Dirty Dan. If so, maybe Mom was going to tell me what I should do.

But what she said was, “I have to go into work again, Skeet. I can't believe it. Veronica is still claiming to be sick, and I've got no one else to cover for her. I was hoping we could do something together today, something special, since I've hardly seen you this past week.”

“It's okay,” I said.

“It isn't okay, but there's nothing I can do about it,” she said with a sigh. Then, giving me a wistful little smile, she asked, “So, what are your plans for the day?”

“I don't know.” Boy, was that the truth.

“Well, Memaw will be around if you need anything. I should be able to get out at five o'clock, if nothing else goes wrong.”

“Okay.”

“And, Skeet?” She looked down at her lap for a minute, then raised her eyes to meet mine. “About what you overheard me saying to your father the other morning? When he gets back from the Keys, we'll all three talk about it, all right?”

I shrugged. She wasn't really asking me, so I didn't really answer.

She leaned over to pat my leg under the covers. “Until then, you just try not to worry about it.”

“Sure, Mom.”

“No matter what happens, your father and I both love you more than anything.”

“I know. But—”

“But what, honey?”

“Don't you love Mac anymore?”

She sighed. “It's not that simple, Skeet. I think he's a good person. It's just hard for me to live with him. We're so different. I'm sure you can see that.”

“Well, yeah. But that's the way you've always been. Why does everything have to change all of a sudden?”

Mom sighed. “It's not really all of a sudden. It's— Well, it's very complicated.” She tried unsuccessfully to smile.

I swung my legs off the bed and got to my feet, tired of questions nobody could answer. Mom sat on the bed for a minute, looking as if she wanted to say more. Then she, too, got up. I went to the kitchen and she went to her room to get dressed for work.

Memaw was at the stove when I walked in. “I'm in the mood for bacon, Skeet, how about you?”

The smell coming from the sizzling pan was tantalizing. I remembered I hadn't eaten dinner the night before. “You bet!” I said.

“I knew I could count on you, Skeet. I don't know how your mama eats that hamster food she calls cereal every morning. She says it's good for her cholesterol, but I'm not sure a human body is meant to digest twigs and pellets. I like a breakfast with a little flavor myself. How about we have some eggs to go with this?”

“Yeah!”

“Fried or scrambled?”

“Fried, sunny-side up.”

“You got it, mister. Now, if you'll put some of that bread in the toaster and pour us some orange juice, we'll be all set.”

We were just digging in when Mom came through the kitchen to say goodbye. After we heard her car pull out of the driveway, I asked Memaw about something that had been troubling me. “Memaw, what would happen to Blink if Dan had to go to jail?”

She seemed to consider this while she sopped up the last of her egg with a piece of toast. “Why, I don't really know. I imagine Blink would get sent to some sort of facility where they care for people like him.”

“Would they let him keep Blinky at a place like that?” I asked.

She set down her fork. “I don't know, Skeet,” she said. She added sadly, “Probably not.”

We didn't say anything for a while. Then Memaw said quietly, “Life has a way of getting complicated, doesn't it, darlin'?”

I nodded. “Mom just said the same thing.”

“I take it Dan didn't deny doing the shooting?” Memaw asked.

“He told me to cool off and think it over!” I told her, feeling outraged all over again. “That's all I've been doing—thinking about it! And all I do is go around in circles. Dan shouldn't get away with it. But if I tell Earl, he'll have to investigate, even though Dan's his friend. When he finds out everything I know, Dan will be in big trouble.”

Memaw nodded. “And trouble for Dan means trouble for Blink. It's not fair, but there it is.”

I said miserably, “I wish I'd never found the stupid manatee in the first place. But now I have to do something, and whatever I do seems wrong—including not doing anything!” I groaned and pushed my plate away, the sight of the yellow remains making me feel sick.

Memaw cleared the table and sat down again. “I don't see any harm in taking Dan's advice,” she said thoughtfully. I must have looked incredulous, because she added quickly, “I don't mean the part about cooling off. I think you're right to be hot and bothered about a harmless creature being shot like that. But it's too late to save the manatee, so why not take your time and think over your options?”

“Well, for one thing, the body disappeared once and I'm afraid it'll disappear again,” I said. “For all I know, Dan might have already gone out this morning and towed it way out in the gulf, tied a cinder block to it, and chucked it overboard.”

Memaw stirred her coffee and said, “If he has, there's nothing you can do about it now. And if he hasn't, he probably won't, and you've got nothing to lose by waiting. It'll give you a chance to talk it all over with your mama and Mac.”

“Yeah,
right,
” I said.

Memaw's eyebrows arched up, probably at the anger in my voice, which surprised even me.

I added, “Mac's in the Keys and Mom's at work, and besides, how can I talk about anything with them? There's no
them
anymore.”

Memaw didn't disagree, or say any of the stupid things grownups often say to comfort kids, and which kids know aren't true. She just nodded, looking sad. “Your mama and Mac are having a hard time,” she said. “But I imagine it's harder on you than on anybody.”

“I don't understand what was wrong with the way things were before,” I said, and I could hear the tears in my voice, ready to spill out.

Memaw didn't say anything; she just made a sympathetic sound. After a moment she said, “There was a lot of fighting before Mac left. They tried to hide it, but I'm sure you heard it, too.”

“Yeah,” I said. I realized I'd heard it and not heard it at the same time, because I hadn't
wanted
to. “I mean, I know Mom and Mac are
different
…” I let the sentence trail away.

Memaw nodded. “It was his easygoing, happy-go-lucky charm that attracted your mama to him in the first place, I think,” she said. “But more and more, that's what annoys and upsets her. And Mac can't understand why she isn't able to relax and be more like him. If only they could meet in the middle. But that's not the way they're made. Right now they think they're doing what's best for them—and for you.”

“That's stupid!” I said. “If they really want what's best for me, why don't they ask me?”

“What would you tell them?”

“I'd tell them to make everything like it was before.”

Memaw sighed and reached across the table to cover my hand with her cool, dry one. “I know how you feel, Skeeter, honey. But life doesn't ever let us go backwards, much as we want to sometimes.”

We stayed that way for a while, and I liked the feel of Memaw's hand on mine. I thought about what she'd said. Wishing Mom and Mac would be the way they were before was like wishing I'd never found the manatee. It was too late for that.

Finally, Memaw squeezed my fingers and leaned back. “I'd feel a lot better if you'd talk with your parents about this business with Dan, Skeet. I can't help thinking there's another answer here somewhere. What do you say we tell your mama when she gets home, and then you can call your daddy on his cell phone. Four heads are better than two, I always say.”

I had to admit I felt relief at the idea of Memaw, Mac, and Mom sharing in my decision about what to do. I didn't like the possibility that the evidence could disappear again—if it hadn't already—but at least I could check on that. I couldn't count on Memaw being right that it probably wouldn't.

“Okay,” I said. After a moment, I added, “Thanks, Memaw.” I was grateful to her, and I felt really bad about the lie I was about to tell her.

Sixteen

Memaw would never have agreed to it,
but I had to make sure the manatee's body was still there. I crossed my fingers on both hands when I told her I was going over to my friend Lenny's house, knowing I'd never said anything about Lenny visiting his grandparents.

“Well, good, Skeet,” she said. “That'll help keep your mind off this business with Dan.”