The Writer (7 page)

“I appreciate your patience with me, Ms. Plank. I
will
be in touch, I promise.”

When Decklan pulled away, Adele pointed at his chest.

“I am going to hold you to that, Mr. Decklan Stone.”

Adele began to make her way up the ramp with her backpack hanging off her shoulders. Halfway up she turned around and saw Decklan watching her departure. He smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. Adele mimicked the gesture and continued her short journey to the awaiting road. She made certain her cell phone had a signal, and made a quick call to the taxi service that had brought her to Deer Harbor the previous day.

The driver’s name was Joe.

Joe answered on the first ring and said he would be there in twenty minutes.

“Ms. Plank, is that you?”

Adele turned back around toward the marina below and saw Will Speaks staring back at her.

“Oh, hello Mr. Speaks. Yes, it’s me. Uh, Mr. Stone brought me back himself.”

Will squinted back at her and his mouth formed a circular “o” shape.

“Really? Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him doing that before. That’s kind of weird. Hey, you mind if I introduce you to my father? He’s right down there in the slip on the other side of the store.”

Adele realized she was going to meet the San Juan County sheriff who led the investigation into Calista Stone’s death. She also recalled that the retired sheriff had recently suffered a stroke.

“Sure, I’ll meet him if you think he won’t mind.”

Will motioned for Adele to follow and walked toward the Deer Harbor General Store, a small, square, wood-framed structure that boasted having the best ice cream on the island.

“Oh, he won’t mind. In fact, he already said he should see you when he found out you were talking to Mr. Stone.”

Adele had to quicken her pace to keep up with Will’s strides. He made a sharp right turn and then galloped down a steep, steel-grate ramp that led to another set of floating boat slips.

“Hey, Dad, I have that pretty reporter with me! The one I was telling you about!”

Adele looked down the dock and saw an older, thinner version of Will Speaks stepping off a badly dented fishing boat. A cigarette hung from the corner of his downturned mouth and two dark eyes stared at her from beneath the brim of a sweat-crusted cap. Several days’ growth of silver whiskers lined his haggard face, and Adele noted that his right leg had a slight limp.

“You’re the reporter, huh?”

The former sheriff’s voice was a low, sandpaper-like rasp. A cloud of cigarette smoke hung over his head like a nicotine-laden halo. He smelled like a wet ashtray mixed with sweat and sickness.

“Yes, sir, I’m from the university in Bellingham. My name is Adele Plank.”

“You can call me, Sheriff. That’s what everyone still calls me. Suppose after thirty-six years of wearing the badge I deserve that bit of respect, right?”

Adele found herself nodding and taking a step back at the same time.

Geez, this guy is intense!

“Nice to meet you, uh, Sheriff.”

The sheriff grunted and then straightened his bent back as best he could while keeping his dark eyes boring into Adele’s.

“So what did you and the writer talk about?”

Adele looked down at her feet, feeling like a young child caught doing something wrong.

“It was an interview, just the first one.”

Sheriff Speaks stepped toward Adele and glared at her with even greater intensity.

“The
first
one? You mean you intend to go back to that island again? Now why would a nice young woman like you want to do something so foolish as that?”

Adele told herself not to take another step back. She didn’t want to appear any weaker.

“I’m sorry?”

The sheriff glanced at his son and shook his head.

“No, we can’t have any more of that, young lady. You got your one interview. Hell,
you spent the night with the man
! I think that’s gonna have to be it. Is that understood?”

“You leave her alone, Martin Speaks! Stop being a grumpy old cuss!”

Adele turned to see an elderly woman walking toward her.

“Don’t you give me the stink-eye, Sheriff! I can hear you playing tough guy all the way from the store. Now get on and leave this girl alone. She’s just doing a job and it’s no business of yours.”

Sheriff Speaks, who Adele just learned went by the first name of Martin, rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to protest, but was quickly cut off by the feisty store owner.

“I don’t want to hear it, Martin! Get back on your boat there and pretend to work on it like you always do, even though we all know you’re just wasting time!”

The woman appeared to be well into her seventies. She had thin, wispy-gray hair that was cut short, bright blue-green eyes, and a firm, thin-lipped mouth. She was just over five feet, narrow-hipped, and someone who clearly had little fear of anything or anyone.

“Hello, young lady, my name is Bella Morris. I own that little shack up there and have since me and my husband, God rest his soul, bought it about, oh, forty-odd years ago when it was hardly more than a lean-to that the fishermen used to buy their supplies from. You want some ice cream? We have the best on the island!”

Adele smiled, immediately charmed by the new arrival.

“Yes, that sounds great! My name is Adele. My taxi will be here soon, though.”

The sheriff cleared his throat.

“I ain’t done making my point, Bella!”

Bella stepped between Adele and Martin Speaks and then placed a hand on each of her thin hips.

“Oh yes you
are
, Sheriff. There will be no more of you telling, uh, telling…”

Adele realized the older woman had already forgotten her name.

“Adele.”

Bella nodded her head and then glowered at the retired sheriff.

“Adele! That’s right, you won’t be telling Adele here what her business is because it’s not for you to decide. And stop blowing that god-awful cigarette smoke in my face. You would think after the stroke you would have given those coffin nails up. Now git!”

Martin threw his hands up while muttering something inaudible under his breath. He shuffled back toward his boat, and then turned around and pointed at Adele.

“You make any plans to be back on that island talking to the writer you see me first, understood? You got my boy’s number. You let Will know and he’ll let me know. And a word of advice you’d do well to follow…don’t go pissing me off. There are plenty of people around here who are smart enough to follow that advice, and I expect you’re just smart enough to do the same.”

Bella gave a disgusted sigh.

“Shame on you, Martin! My patience with you has run out for the day.”

“Actually, Sheriff Speaks, I would like to sit down and interview you as well. I figure you could fill in a lot of the details regarding the investigation into, uh, Mrs. Stone’s death. So if we could schedule…”

The sheriff took two shuffle-strides toward where Adele and Bella stood. His eyes were lit by some terrible agitation that only increased Adele’s intrigue surrounding her brief time on the island.

“Why would you bring
that
up? Why in the hell would you think I’d want to talk about such a thing? It’s time for you to leave – NOW.”

Bella pushed Adele forward and whispered a warning.

“He’s about ready to blow. He might just kill you or himself, so I suggest you do as he says and get moving.”

“Good-bye, Ms. Plank!”

It was Will Speaks. Adele waved good-bye while Martin poked a finger into Will’s side with enough force to cause his middle-aged son to flinch.

“Don’t you even think about it!”

Think about it? What’s that supposed to mean?

Adele wasn’t given time to find out; Bella continued pushing her up the ramp toward the small store.

“He’s a grumpy old fool, but normally not that aggressive. I wonder what it is about you that bothers him so much?”

Adele shrugged and watched Bella disappear behind the old, nicked and gouged wood counter that separated the store’s main area from a tiny kitchen space in the structure’s back right corner. The entirety of the store area consisted of three handmade wood shelves with the bare essentials: bread, canned goods, and a surprisingly large selection of wine. When Bella remerged she was holding an ice cream cone with a single scoop of vanilla.

“It’s never too early in the day for ice cream.”

Adele thanked her and peered through the store’s open entrance toward the road to confirm her taxi hadn’t arrived. Then she turned her full attention to the elderly store owner.

“So do you know Mr. Stone?”

Bella nodded.

“The writer? Oh, yes, he’s been coming here off and on for years, usually when there’s not many others around. I knew him and his wife when they first arrived to the islands. Such a tragic thing, she was so beautiful and liked by everyone.”

Adele tilted her head toward the direction of Martin Speaks.

“Even that sheriff character?”

Bella glanced outside to make sure nobody was close enough to overhear the conversation.

“Old Martin wasn’t always old, you know. He was a good-looking fella, in fact. There was a time when he filled out a uniform rather nicely. He loved wearing that badge and carrying a gun and he kept this place safe for a long time, especially during the summer season when we need it the most. As for his views of Mrs. Stone, I seem to recall him liking her well enough. She always showed Will great kindness. Will can hide it better these days, but he was born simple and used to have a terrible stutter, and when he was younger he was often teased by the other children. Even in his late teens he was very awkward and uncertain and acted much younger than his years. Mrs. Stone made certain to always give Will that big, warm smile of hers with lots of positive reinforcement and you could see the change in Will, how he was more confident around her, almost like a normal young man would be. I’m certain the sheriff took note of that and appreciated it. It likely wasn’t easy for him raising that boy on his own.”

“What happened to Will’s mother?”

Bella folded her arms across her chest and frowned.

“Oh, that happened shortly before I arrived here with my husband. My understanding is she died during childbirth and poor Will almost died too. Had the umbilical cord around his neck and it about choked the life out of him, poor thing. So there was Martin and this little boy living all alone out in the middle of the island on the big old farm Martin inherited from his parents when they passed. He’s sold some of it off over the years, but it still has to be a good forty acres at least. His family was one of the very first to settle the island.”

Adele was disappointed to see the taxi arrive. Bella was proving to be a wealth of information.

“Damn, my taxi is here. Bella thank you so much for the ice cream and the conversation. Would it be possible for us to continue talking when I come back?”

Bella’s deeply lined face lit up at the compliment.

“I would like that very much! I’ll be here waiting, God willing.”

Adele was almost to the taxi when a flutter of discomfort coursed through her. She turned around, and saw Will Speaks standing no more than twenty feet behind her. He appeared nervous, his eyes glancing down at his feet.

“I’m sorry about my dad, Ms. Plank. He doesn’t mean any real harm. He just wants what’s best. He protects people and keeps them safe.”

Adele didn’t understand why she felt threatened, but the feeling persisted nevertheless.

“That’s OK, Will. And thank you again for taking me to the island yesterday.”

Adele moved to open the taxi door when Will’s voice stopped her.

“When will I see you again, Ms. Plank? You a-a-a-
are
coming back, right?”

Adele gave a brief, troubled nod.

This is getting weird. And there’s the stutter Bella told me about that Will had when he was younger.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Will took two steps toward Adele and then stopped. He appeared to be fighting some enemy within himself as he slowly rubbed his large hands over the sides of his blue jeans.

“My dad said to let me know. You remember that, right? You don’t want to piss him off. That’s what he said.”

Adele continued looking at Will, while reaching behind to open the taxi door. Will Speaks’s friendly, red-cheeked face was transformed. It was the visage of a man on the verge of doing terrible violence. He lowered his head, narrowed his eyes, and balled his hands into tight, trembling fists.

“Is everything OK? We need to get going if you’re going to catch the next ferry,” said Joe, the taxi driver.

Adele let out a deep breath. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it in. Will blinked several times as if waking from a dream and then gave a wide smile to the taxi driver.

“Hey, Joe, how you doing?”

Joe gave Will a quick, dismissive nod and then looked at Adele.

“You ready to go?”

Adele nodded and shut the door behind her, grateful to be inside the taxi. As the car pulled away from the marina, she looked back through the rear window and saw Will Speaks standing in the middle of the road watching her departure.

He wasn’t smiling.

The following day…

Shortly after she arrived as an undergraduate student at Bellingham University, Adele had chosen the basement-level media archives section of the college’s expansive, red-bricked library as her primary place of study. It wasn’t just the quiet solitude of the four thousand square foot space that appealed to her, but the smell of the newspapers, magazines, and various other publications that were housed within massive and carefully organized rolling shelves by date and title. It was the aged paper scent of once-living and breathing moments that were, through the cruelty that is the passage of time, demoted to mere remnants of history that she found so fascinating to look over and study.

Her favorite desk was located at the very back wall of the basement which afforded her a small window through which she could look up and see the feet of people passing by from outside. She would sometimes watch the different shoes flash across the window and wonder what kind of lives those shoes were a part of, where they had travelled, and what future paths yet awaited them.