Page 70 of The High Tide Club
Then he jumped into the water. Dogpaddling, he called to Brooke, “Throw me that bow line, would ya?”
“What are you doing?” Lizzie cried. “There are sharks in this river. I read all about it. Get back here immediately!”
“Gonna walk it in,” C. D. said calmly, standing on the shallow river bottom. “Unless you know a better way.”
“Call somebody,” Lizzie ordered.
“Like who?”
“I don’t know. The police. The Coast Guard. Get them to send a helicopter.”
He chuckled. “My phone’s dead. Anyway, we ain’t out in the open ocean, and this don’t count as no life-threatening emergency. Ain’t nobody gonna send a helicopter over here when we’re just a hundred yards from the island. You ladies just sit tight.”
As they watched, he tied the bow rope around his narrow waist andproceeded to do as he’d promised, walking the boat, at an agonizingly slow pace, toward the island. When they finally reached the dock, he tossed the line to Brooke. “See if you can tie us up to that piling,” he instructed. “Then tip the outboard back into the water so I can climb up on the prop.”
Five minutes later, the old man hauled himself up into the boat. He lay panting on the fiberglass floor, as dark and wet as an oversized otter.
Then, with effort, he heaved himself to his feet. “Goddamn, I need a drink.”
“Me too,” Marie said weakly.
***
Louette stood next to the red pickup truck, squinting into the sun. When she saw the boat arrive at the dock, she ran out to the end. “What happened?” she called. “I’ve been waiting here for an hour. I could see you out there, but there was nothing I could do.”
“Engine conked out on me,” C. D. replied. “Where’s Shug?”
“He took the ferry into town to pick up Miss Josephine’s medicine after I tried to call you but didn’t get an answer.”
“Phone’s dead,” C. D. said.
“Is Josephine okay?” Brooke asked, climbing out of the boat.
“Last night wasn’t a good one,” Louette said. “The doctor called in something stronger for the pain.”
“Oh, my,” Marie said quietly. “Will she feel well enough to see us?”
“Louette, this is my mom, Marie,” Brooke said before climbing into the bed of the pickup. “And this is Lizzie. Her grandmother Ruth was one of Josephine’s best friends.”
“Nice to meet you ladies,” Louette said. “Just slide up here on the front seat with me, if you don’t mind being a little close for a few minutes. As for Miss Josephine, she’s got herself set on seeing you no matter what. It’s all she’s talked about for days now.”
She started the truck’s engine, waved goodbye to C. D., who was tinkering with the outboard motor, and started off down the road toward Shellhaven.
28
Louette pulled the truck up to the front door at Shellhaven, and Marie, and then Lizzie, cat carrier in hand, hopped out.
“What a dump!” Lizzie exclaimed, looking up at the crumbling pink mansion. “The pictures made it look a lot nicer.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” Marie said, looking over her shoulder at Brooke, who’d climbed out of the truck bed. “Didn’t you say a famous architect designed it?”
“Addison Mizner,” Brooke said. “Very famous, especially for the homes he designed in Palm Beach and Miami.”
Louette stood motionless by the side of the truck, her usually cheerful, round face lined with worry.
Brooke walked over to her. “What’s wrong, Louette?”
The older woman shook her head mutely.
