“OK. I’ll go now. Thanks for the heads up—”
“Mr. Tache, I always give you a heads up. It’s in your dooties book. I give you twenty-four hour notice.”
“Well, you didn’t last time—”
“Mr. Tache, are you callin me a liar now? Is dat what you doin?
“No—”
“Den, ‘ave you been followin dah dooties book or ‘aven’t you?”
“Of course I—”
”Den you should ‘ave every ding ready.”
“I will – I do. I’ll get the steaks. And don’t worry, I’ll make everything look great for their arrival. Hello?”
Ms. Sarah had already hung up.
Edward put on a shirt and shoes and began walking up the back road. It was already one o’clock and the sun beamed, blinking occasionally as small clouds passed. But even with the roaming shade, the humid heat of the day landed on him with a heaviness, so he walked along the shoulder of the road where the brush offered some shade.
On the steps leading down to the boardwalk, Edward kept thinking about the men he had seen on the inlet island. What were they doing there? And what was in the backpacks? He was sure it wasn’t some innocent activity. Edward walked past the restaurant and tourist shops and straight to the policeman’s booth on the pier. There, in great detail, he explained everything he had seen, reminding the officer of the murdered body that he found on his beach months earlier, and practically demanding an investigation be conducted.
The policeman had his head resting against the back of the booth and didn’t move until Edward finished talking. Then the officer’s eyes squinted as if annoyed at having to sit up.
“What’s the problem?” The policeman asked. “Men in a boat? Here in the BVI? Men with backpacks? Tourists? Not tourists? You’re not sure, eh? A backpack and a boat? Boats like dose out deer?” The policeman stuck a thumb out in the direction over Edward’s shoulder where two dozen sailboats bobbed. “Where they fishin? No. You sure? Were they boatin? Maybe? Well, they have a boat. They were smoking? Smokin drug? None that you seen, huh? Oh, smokin cigars. Well, dat’s no infraction of BVI law. Doesn’t appear like anything out of the ordinary. But, if you like, you can report it to headquarters in Road Town. Next ferry arriving in ‘bout an hour.”
The policeman crossed his arms, and his head slowly drifted back against the wall of the booth to become still. Like a carnival fortuneteller machine, Edward thought. If he put another quarter into a slot, he’d get another minute of animation, but he was tired of wasting his time and felt a little bit like a fool.
Useless! The idea that he was performing some civic duty quickly evaporated. Edward felt like the policeman was watching him, like it was he who was up to no good. Edward turned, scratching his head to cover his red face, and walked away.
He went into the restaurant and up to the owner, who he knew by name. They chatted for a while before Edward asked to buy some steaks off him. The owner apologized. His stocks were only seafood and some chicken that day. Edward thanked him and went outside, taking a seat at a table on the deck, putting his feet on the bottom bar of the railing, to wait for the ferry and consider the prep work he would need to do.
Almost an hour later and just before the ferry arrived, to his happy surprise, he saw Mary’s little blue boat entered the cove. He ran to where she was tying up.
“Hey baby.” He waved down to her.
She smiled up at him as she picked up her bucket. He reached down and took the bucket, looking over a bag of limes and two large shrimp inside. When Mary had climbed up, he pulled her close with his free arm, reaching under her shirt to her bare waist, and giving her a long kiss.
“I need a favor. I need a ride to Road Town,” he said as they walked to the restaurant. “The owners are coming. They want steak.”
“Did you ask Phil?”
“I just did. He’s got nothing but fish and poultry.”
Mary bit her lip and shrugged. “OK, then. If you need it. But we should leave now while the stores are open.”
“Baby, you’re the best.”
She took him to a small warehouse in Road Town. It was located up the hillside on a street not far from the library. The owner, a serious man in white coveralls and a butcher’s cleaver on his belt, welcomed them in to look around freezer vaults filled with shelves of exotic meats from around the world. There were packages of caribou and buffalo along with every cut of beef Edward could think of. It seemed too good to be true until the wholesaler told them about the catch. There was a minimum order. The butcher insisted they purchase an amount that was far above what Edward could afford. He turned to Mary.
“Is there anywhere else?” Edward watched the butcher take down a clipboard that was hanging on the wall and start writing on it. “Maybe a grocery store?” He turned toward the entrance.
“Wait.” Mary held his arm. She was watching the butcher. “Didn’t your daughter go to Elmore?” She looked up at the butcher’s eyes in recognition.
“Yes, but she’s been out of high school for a few years,” he said, glancing at her before continuing his invoicing.
“I knew I recognized you,” Mary said with an excitement Edward hadn’t seen before. “What was her name? Sharon Keil? That’s right. Ohhh, me and Sharon are good friends. I’ll tell her I saw you. Sometimes I see her with her mother. Don’t you have a sister also?”
“Yes, two. But they live on JDV—”
“That’s right. What are their names? Sometimes they visit Tortola, right? I know them. I know it’s incredible – we all go to the same hairdresser. I’ll tell them I saw you.”
“You know all my sisters?” The butcher’s eyes darted around the room and his hand froze over the clipboard as if he was calculating a complex math formula.
“Yes!” Mary had morphed into an energetic teenage girl watching her favorite band. “You can tell them hello for me – but I’ll see them soon, and say I saw you when I needed some meats but you didn’t want to sell them to me—”
“Hold on. It’s not that I don’t want to sell them to you, it’s that we have a minimum order.” The butcher stood up straight and dropped the clipboard and pen on the table.
“Oh, OK. I’ll say you wouldn’t sell me anything.”
“Wait a moment. It’s not that I wouldn’t, it’s that I cannot. We have rules.”
“Oh. OK. I’m sorry, I just thought you were the boss.”
“I am the boss.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure they’ll understand you wouldn’t help a friend out.”
“Now-now-now, wait a minute. You doonh need be tellin them that.”
“Oh? Tell them what? I’m sure you refuse people all the time.”
“I’m not refusing. We have a policy—”
“Well, I’m sure your family will understand that. Policy, whatever that is.”
“Now, look here, I doonh think you need be tellin anyone anything. Why doonh you and your friend here buy whatever you need today. Is that OK? And you doonh need to be tellin my wife or my sisters any-ding like I’m not helpin you.” The butcher smiled, but his eyes betrayed his worry.
Edward grabbed rib eyes, T-bones and sirloin cuts – two of each – that he had already mentally marked. These were wrapped in butcher paper before being put into a white plastic bag. Edward paid with most of the money he had on him, tucking the receipt into his pocket.
“Lucky you went to the same high school as his daughter,” he said to Mary as they walked out.
“There’s only one on the island.”
On the way to her boat, they bought orange sodas, and sat on a bench and watched the trail of the tenders ferrying tourist to and from a cruise ship sitting in the middle of the harbor. The shoreline and main pier were busy with merchants and tourists. The late afternoon sky was perfect, scented by a shower that had passed earlier.
“I saw men on the island across the inlet this morning. Three of ‘em on the north side.”