The Writer (11 page)

“And you haven’t seen her since that meeting?”

Bill did another quick scan of the area before responding.

“Actually, I did about three weeks ago, but not up close. She was sitting outside on the hotel’s second-story balcony looking out at the water, just sitting there all day. She didn’t move from the chair. I walked past in the morning and there she was. I walked by again right before the sun went down, and she was in the exact same spot. I don’t even think her eyes were blinking. I heard she still visits the church on the hill sometimes, but I don’t go there so I don’t know if that’s true or not.”

Again, Adele extended her right hand to shake Bill’s.

“Well, I’ll let you know how it goes when I bring your book back, hopefully signed. Thank you again for the sandwich. Next time I want to try those fish and chips you promised.”

Bill turned around and was halfway inside his restaurant when he looked behind him and shouted at Adele.

“Hey! Who are you going to meet down at the marina?”

Adele looked back with a hand acting as a brim over her eyes to help block out the unexpectedly bright spring sun.

“A guy by the name of Delroy Hicks.”

Bill’s face broke out into a sly smile which was then replaced by a knowing chuckle as he pointed back at Adele.

“Oh, you’re gonna have some fun with that one! You tell the old bastard to get his skinny butt back up here soon! I’m starting to think he’s been avoiding me.”

Adele watched Bill disappear back into the restaurant and then continued on her way down to the marina and to her meeting with the seemingly well thought of and even more interesting, Delroy Hicks.

The fiberglass-hulled sailboat that occupied Slip 22 was just over thirty-feet long with an abundance of varnished wood and gleaming metal. Adele looked up at the aluminum mast that rose upward some forty feet from the vessel’s cabin roof and saw a seagull staring back down at her. The white and gray bird issued an unhappy sounding, throaty
awk
noise as a way of greeting and then abruptly flew away.

Adele spotted a brightly polished brass bell hanging out over what she assumed was the vessel’s primary entrance door into the living space inside. A single string hung from the bottom of the bell’s mouth, a device Adele remembered as being called a clapper. She recalled Suze telling her to simply ring the bell once she arrived at the boat and Delroy Hicks would be right out to greet her.

The bell’s tone was a deep clang and its sound initiated an immediate response from inside the boat in the form of a series of loud and angrily hissed curse words.

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Oh, son of a bitch! I’ve overslept
again
! These constant bloody naps! I’ll be right out! Don’t go anywhere! I just have to put my teeth in!”

The voice had a hint of an Irish accent, and sounded quite panicked.

“Get in there you damn things! Oh what a travesty this is! Look at them! They don’t fit right! I look like a damned fool, all smile and no brains! Pathetic is what I am!”

Adele took a moment to look around, wondering if anyone else could hear the loud complaints that echoed all about the area surrounding Slip 22.

“Oh, where is my hat? Where is it? Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Ah, there she is. Come here, then. Lovely thing. Yes, that’s better. I look almost human now. Welcome back to the world of the living, Delroy!”

Adele placed her right hand over her mouth, trying very hard to stifle a laugh.

The sailboat’s door swung open and a thin, mad-eyed man wearing a light blue fedora with a rainbow-colored ribbon, a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of blue-and-white-striped cargo shorts, erupted from the boat’s bowels. He had a thin, gray beard that didn’t quite conceal a set of deeply sunken cheeks that lent him a decidedly emaciated aura as he moved about on shockingly thin, bird-like legs. The ends of his exposed feet were ensconced in a pair of deeply scuffed, leather sandals.

“Ah, you must be Adele!”

Despite his thin, sunken-chest frame, Delroy Hicks had one of the most powerful voices Adele had ever heard.

While remaining on the boat, Delroy reached out with a thin-fingered right hand toward Adele.

“Hello, Adele, I am Professor Delroy Hicks. If you haven’t yet noticed, I’m dying.”

Adele’s mouth fell open as she found herself shaking Delroy’s paper-skin hand while silently questioning if the odd little man was being literal or figurative in explaining his health to a woman he had just met. Delroy then withdrew his hand and used it to remove his hat which exposed a full head of surprisingly thick, gray hair, and with an intentionally dramatic flourish, leaned over at the waist and bowed before his newly arrived guest.

“Welcome to the
No Regrets
!”

Adele knew she was unable to hide the confusion that had fixed itself upon her face. Delroy returned his hat to the top of his head and pointed toward the boat’s transom where Adele saw the name
No Regrets
painted in bold red letters.

“That’s her name, and she’s all mine! Been living here in this very slip, off and on, for over forty years. Do you know John Wayne was once my guest here? It’s true! I cooked him a steak. The man loved steak! He ate two twelve-ounce rib eyes, drank an entire bottle of my best wine, and told stories of his days in old Hollywood. It was a
glorious
affair! He came here somewhat regularly during the summer season on that old World War II ship of his,
The Wild Goose
. He had read my first book on the native tribes of the Pacific Northwest and was a fan. Imagine that, he was a fan of
me
! The man truly gave meaning to the phrase, ‘bigger than life.’ Even when immersed in his twilight, he was a powerful personality, a fine human being without a hint of Hollywood arrogance. He stood where you are standing now. What do you think of
that
?”

Adele was reeling from information overload and had no idea how to respond. Delroy was either unaware of her confusion, or simply didn’t care. He just continued with whatever thought sprang forth from his mind.

“Suze tells me you’re the one who was allowed to interview Decklan. Is that so?”

Adele nodded with her mouth still half open.

Delroy Hicks lifted his head upward and let out a loud, barking laugh.

“Hah, the hermit has finally grown tired of his self-imposed banishment has he? Well, about bloody time, I’d say. I can’t imagine someone with his talent sitting around silently watching the world move by him without single a word on a page to mark its passing. He’s an ungrateful prick is what he is and I love him dearly. So then, what say you, Adele, uh, I’m sorry, what is your last name?”

Adele recovered from her initial confusion enough to respond.

“Plank. It’s Adele Plank.”

Delroy’s eyes appeared to widen almost beyond the orbs that contained them.

“Plank!? Well isn’t that the perfect name for a watery location such as this! We shall call it,
walking the Adele
! So then, what is next for you, Ms. Plank?”

Adele returned to the confusion that had so recently left her standing silently on the dock.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

The former professor extended his arms in front of him and stared across at Adele. His voice lowered an octave further and his green eyes twinkled with delight.

“Do you wish to come aboard, Ms. Plank?”

Adele’s mouth opened further, but no words came out. She found herself completely confused by Delroy Hicks’s question.

“I said do you wish to come aboard, Ms. Plank?”

Adele recalled a movie she had seen as a young girl where a Naval officer was visiting a ship from another country.

Ah, what the hell. Give it a try.

“Permission to come aboard, Mr. Hicks.”

Delroy’s mouth broke into a wide smile, revealing the oversized dentures he had earlier exclaimed he needed to put in before stepping outside.

“Very good, Ms. Plank! Permission to come aboard has been granted!”

Adele marveled at how much room there was within the sailboat’s stained-wood interior. She was able to stand up fully and look around at a space that included an eating area, a couch, and a small bedroom with an adjoining bathroom.

“This is nice, surprisingly spacious.”

Delroy took a seat on one end of the couch and with his left hand lightly patted the open space next to him.

“Have to rest a bit, catch my breath. As I said, I
am
dying after all.”

Adele removed her backpack and then sat down on the couch as requested.

“Are you really dying, Mr. Hicks?”

Delroy’s smile collapsed.

“Well, of course I am! That isn’t something one goes around saying for the fun of it! Goodness no! It’s cancer. I’m absolutely riddled with tumors. Started in my liver and now, well who knows where the damnable things have spread. Last summer they removed a third of my liver and gave me three weeks of radiation treatment and then strongly suggested several sessions of chemotherapy. Not to cure me, mind you, but to potentially extend my life by a year, or possibly two.”

Delroy’s eyes narrowed and he jabbed a finger into the open air in front of him.

“I said bullshit to that! If you walk to the end of this dock you’ll find a once-beautiful little sailboat now abandoned and nearly as dead as the man who once owned it. His name was Wilfrid. As a younger man he played college football, and even in his sixties was a big, powerfully built sort, though also a very gentle soul. Three years ago he was diagnosed. They put him on that poison, and I watched over the months that followed as he wasted away into nothingness. He finally passed shortly before my own diagnosis, and I decided then that I would not make the same mistake he had. What is another year if it’s spent unable to get out of bed, or to enjoy a meal, a glass of wine, or to have to watch as every hair upon your body falls away? No thank you. I’ll let the disease have me, but not the supposed cure.”

Delroy suddenly snapped his fingers.

“Ah, that reminds me! It’s tea time! Care for a cup?”

Adele silently noted that each of her interviews on the island commenced with the offering of food and drink. She also marveled at Delroy’s ability to jump from the subject of his seemingly impending death to making a pot of tea.

“Yes, thank you.”

Delroy rose from the couch and filled a tea kettle with water from the sink faucet that was the centerpiece of the sailboat’s small but functional galley. Then he ignited the flame on one of the two propane burners that made up the cooktop to the right of the sink. He turned halfway around and gave Adele a wink.

“Be just a minute. She warms up fast, just like I used to. In the meantime, tell me something you would like to know about my good friend, the writer.”

Adele reached into her backpack and withdrew the recorder.

“Do you mind?”

Delroy shook his head just as the tea pot began to whistle.

“Not at all! It will give you something to remember me by!”

Adele watched as Delroy brought out two white, porcelain teacups and matching saucers. He placed a single tea bag into each cup, filled them with water, and delivered Adele’s with a smile and half nod.

“We’re drinking rosehip with a touch of black licorice today. I hope you like it.”

Delroy returned to his spot on the couch, crossed his legs, took a small sip of tea and then closed his eyes and grinned.

“Oh, yes, that’s the ticket! So, Ms. Plank, give us something to talk about before this gets painfully awkward. Not that I mind awkward. That can be fun too!”

Adele wondered if Delroy’s overtly friendly nature was in fact a way for him to constantly be talking without saying anything, so she decided to open with the very question that seemed to divide those on the islands who knew about Decklan Stone and his long ago deceased wife.

“Do you think he killed her?”

Delroy took another sip of tea, seemingly unfazed. He gave a shrug of his bony shoulders and then cleared his throat.

“Before approaching that kind of question, one should first ask if Decklan was even capable of actually
doing
such a thing. I knew them well, but knew Decklan perhaps more than anyone else other than his wife. Calista was outgoing to the point where she seemed almost desperate for approval, whereas Decklan’s personality has always been far more introverted. You had to have patience to get to the man behind the myth. Ah, but what success! Imagine being as young as he was and having the
New York Times
, the
Boston Globe
,
LIFE
, all of them singing the praises of this new American author! Decklan swam in those waters for a bit and found them too deep, too cold, and all too dangerous to the well-being of his marriage. Was he capable of murder?”

Delroy paused to drink the last of his tea and then continued. Adele sat listening, fully enthralled by the big voice coming from the little man who sat beside her.

“Yes, of course, we are all capable of such things when placed in the right, or should I say, the wrong circumstances. But of the two, I would still wager it would be Calista who was more capable of doing such a thing. She was a jealous, possessive woman, perpetually battling her feelings of both pride and insecurity regarding her husband’s sudden success. If an attractive woman were to make her way toward Decklan, Calista’s claws would come out. And it was Decklan who was most often left with the scratch of his wife’s jealousy. That is not to say her fears were without merit. Decklan created a bit of a reputation when he was in New York, but upon his arrival here, there was no evidence to suggest he was anything less than an utterly devoted husband.”

“What about Tilda?”

Delroy’s brows rose slightly at the mention of the hotel owner who was among the last to see Calista Stone alive.

“Ah, Tilda,Tilda,Tilda. She’s not nearly so lost as some around here would believe.”

“How well do you know her?”

Delroy grimaced and then reached down with his right hand to touch his side.

“Are you OK?”

Delroy gave a short nod and then groaned.