“Oh man, I have got to smoke what you’ve been—”
“Truth! The Columbians been using whales to carry their shit. They got it in their stomachs. That’s how they move it. Why do you think the whales beach themselves – busted bags of pure Columbian white, man. The dolphins are escorts to keep off the subs. See the government gave the subs the orders to kill everything going north. Everything.”
“So, let me get this straight. The Columbians are transporting drugs using whales?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, how do they get the drugs out of the whales?”
“I don’t know, man. Veterinarians or something.”
“I’m gonna need another drink,” Edward said and then finished what was in his cup.
Joe gave him a refill.
“And how would dolphins guard whales?” Edward asked, feeling guilty at how entertaining Joe the bartender was.
“Magnet bombs. They got ‘em strapped on. I saw it on Discovery. The US of A already did it. The Columbians just stole the idea from them.”
“OK.” Edward rubbed his face hard with both his hands.
“Dude, I’m gonna tell you something.” Joe looked straight at Edward.
“I don’t know if I can handle any more truth.”
“I got some onions and sweet potatoes growin on the north side. And maybe I got a little something else growing there. Maybe I got some Jamaican Blue Mountain Special growing inside the shrubs—”
“I believe that—”
“Look, my little garden is on private property. It’s owned by some rich snowbird who never uses it except two days a year. I know he never uses his dry side, so it’s not trespassing. I’m just helping with landscaping, you know. So, I walk over there at night, so no one sees me, OK? And the night before you found that body, I was pullin up a row of sweet onions. Well, I’m on the hill there, see, and I got a good view of things all the way to the black-sky horizon.” Joe looked over Edwards shoulder momentarily. “And you know what I see? A pire. A big-ass blaze. Out there on the water. A big pire out where it shouldn’t be just behind the inlet island. Big as in a-boat-just-got-blown-to-shit-by-dolphins big.”
“A fire? You saw a fire?”
Joe nodded.
“Are you sure? Did you tell the cops—”
“Puck no. I don’t tell no pigs about me pickin from my illegal garden.” His voice was coarse, but strong.
“But this is serious. You saw a boat on fire?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you absolutely, positively sure it wasn’t some acid dream?”
Joe stared dopily at Edward for ten seconds before answering. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Then you should tell the police—”
“Nope.” He threw his hands up. “I ain’t talkin to no police. They will execute me. Me and pigs do not mix. You got that?” He brought a fist down on the counter causing a flick of Edward’s drink to jump the rim. “Happy Hour’s over. You get the hell out of my bar.” Joe pointed toward the pier as if directing Edward to the exit.
“OK. OK.” Edward got up, grabbing his drink before turning to leave. “You’re still a fun guy, Joe, and I still love you.”
Joe growled in response.
~~~
After he got off the ferry at Road Town, Edward found an old man fishing off the pier and asked for directions to the library where he thought Mary was working. He walked up one of the streets four blocks, made one turn, and walked past a mix of homes and small businesses. He stopped under the branch of a thick Guanacaste tree to cool down, compose himself, and think about what he wanted to say to her. Far below, the shallow waters around the piers glittered hypnotically. A single sailboat slid across the blue plasma, leaving behind a rippling netting of electric light.
He walked a few more streets to the two-story brick and aluminum building with arrow-slit windows and painted a modest beige unlike the neighboring houses caked in their playful pastels. A brass plaque on the door read: BVI Public Library, Road Town Branch. He pulled the door open and was surprised to find Mary in front of him.
“Edward?” Mary was standing in front of a front desk and counting checkout cards, wearing a black skirt and white blouse. She had on black shoes with a single strap, the kind the schoolgirls wore with their uniforms. She had her hair tied back, revealing her smooth neckline and making the soft tones of her cheeks and forehead stand out. Her skirt, sleek legs, and blouse opened at the top to reveal a glimpse of a bra strap over her shoulder, Edward couldn’t help but think of a flirty teacher costume in a rock music videos.
“Hi,” he said.
“How did you get here?”
“The ferry. I saw you in the bay earlier.”
“Oh. I didn’t see you,” she said
“I know.”
The library behind her looked empty. The only sound was the quiet swoosh of the air conditioner.
“Look, Edward, why did you come?”
“I came to check out books. Why? You don’t think I’m smart enough to read?”
Mary smiled and looked down.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I thought you were here to – well, never mind.”
She pulled out an index card-sized form and placed it on the counter. On the desk below was a box filled with very short pencils. She placed this next to the form.
“Fill this out to get a library card.”
Her brown eyes stayed on him as he spun the form to face him.
“Oh, you thought I was here to see you?”
“So, you didn’t come here to see me?”
“What?” he squeaked out his denial. “This is a public library, isn’t it?”
He picked out the shortest stub from the box of pencils and began filling in his name and address, pretending it was a great effort, sticking his tongue out as he wrote. Mary walked behind the counter and dropped into a high chair behind the desk. As he was writing, Edward noticed a book on the desk in front of her. He strained his head to read the title and author: Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell.
“So, you didn’t come here because I told you I worked here?”
“Whaaat? Actually, I’m looking for a very specific book I’ve been wanting to read.” He turned his head up at the rows of bookshelves behind her. “You probably don’t have it… it’s by an author named Scott O’Dell. I think it’s called Island of the Blue Dolphins. Ever heard of it?”
Mary blurted out a laugh.
“You’re lying. You see me reading it.”
She was smiling again and Edward was happy. He struggled not to smile.
“Ohhh, you already got it checked it out.” Edward pointed down at the book with the pencil stub, frowning and dropping his shoulder. “Guess I won’t get anything today, then.”
“Do you even know what it’s about?”
“Sure I do. It’s about a dolphin that lives on this island—”
“Hah.” Mary rolled her eyes.
“Well, actually, I did see an off-Broadway play based on it. Actually it wasn’t even a play, just a treatment.”
“Uh huh. And what’s that?”
“A treatment is where a bunch of out-of-work actors and out-of-work writers get together to put on a fake play. Sort of like a laboratory. Writers write something, actors read lines just like they would in a real play, but without any props and costumes and profits. I was invited along with a lot of others to give opinions about how the story adaptation felt. Those big hits you see on Broadway don’t just sprout into existence, you know. There’s a whole infant stage they go through before luck strikes and they gets turned into real productions.”
“So, you didn’t come here to check out a book?”
“No.” He smiled. “You got me. I only wanted to check out you – I mean check on you. Make sure you weren’t still mad.”
“I’m not mad.” She sighed, pressing her lips flat and dabbing her fingertips over her hair bun. “Maybe, I was a little mad at Isaac for acting that way. I don’t know. I’m sorry you had to get involved in it.” She shook her shoulders and head as if a shiver had run up her spine.