said good morning to Mario and Dennis as I climbed into the back seat of the SUV. Mario was behind the wheel and Led Zeppelin was playing on the stereo, which seemed odd that early. “Where we headed?”
“Coffee first.” Mario said.
“Then what?”
“You’ll see.” Dennis said. “It’s a surprise. Did you bring your piece?”
“Yeah of course.”
“Good.”
We stopped at a 24 hour Sunoco just south of Shoreston and each got a big styrofoam cup filled with burnt coffee. Dennis paid. We got back in the car and sat there with the motor running while Mario got his coffee and napkins situated in the cup holder. He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a case about the size of an Altoids tin. “You want some coke?” He asked me.
I did not want any coke. “Sure.” I said.
He flipped open the center console between the two front seats and pulled out a piece of glass that he laid across the console. He detached a small spoon from the lid of his tin and scooped a pile onto the glass. Dennis began chopping it with a credit card. It was yellowish and clumpy and he kept having to stop and clean the edge of the card. He formed three lines. Mario put his tin back in his pocket and rolled up a twenty-dollar bill. He leaned over and snorted up a line loudly, and then held his nose and put his head back. He handed the rolled-up bill to Dennis, who snorted his line and then cleaned the residue off the glass with his finger and stuck it in his mouth. He handed me the rolled-up twenty.
One thing I never understood about cocaine users was how they could share something that they stuck up their nose, like a twenty-dollar bill or a straw. I didn’t want to be rude so I leaned over the console and began snorting. I had to stop halfway through the line to cough. I swallowed and tasted the familiar bitterness going down my throat. I tried to swallow a second time, but I couldn’t feel it. “I haven’t done this in a long time.” I said. I leaned over and finished the rest of it. “That’s good shit.” I handed Mario back his twenty. “Thanks.”
“It’s no-cut.” Mario said. “The best.” He turned up the music and backed out of the Sunoco. We got onto the highway and nobody said anything for a long time. My heart was racing, and I wasn’t sure if it was the coke or because I was nervous. The lack of conversation seemed strange, and I was afraid it was a bad sign. I kept taking sips of my coffee even though it was disgusting.
We got off the highway and I knew exactly where we were going. I used to go fishing with my cousins, and we would always go the same way to the Marina.
“We going on a boat ride?” I said.
“You got it.” Dennis answered.
“Who’s boat?’ I asked.
“Mine.” He said.
“We fishing?”
“No,” Dennis said, “not today.” He looked at Mario, and smiled. “It’s more of a pleasure cruise.” He turned and looked at me. “You’ll see.” He said. I swallowed some more coke that had lingered in my nasal cavity and felt my heart race again. It was very strong.
We got out of the SUV and I followed them to the main gate. You were supposed to sign in, but Dennis just nodded to the guy behind the desk and he hit the buzzer. I dumped the rest of my coffee into a garbage can as we went down the ramp to the pier. We walked all the way out to the second to last slip. His boat was a late model Carver, just under forty feel long, and it looked fast. There was an upper level in front where the helm was, and below was a large deck. Underneath the wheel there was a sliding door that opened onto steps to the cabin below. It was a white boat with silver trim polished and shining in the sunlight. On the side, written in large cursive script, was the name of the boat: The Menace.
Once we were on board they opened the sliding doors to the cabin and Mario went down below while I stood there. “Nice boat.” I said to Dennis as he unhitched it from the dock.
“Thanks.” He said. “You like boats?”
“Sure.” I said.
That old song ‘Rags to Riches’ came on over the speakers and Dennis smiled. “The Good Fellas soundtrack. He loves that.” He said. He went up to the upper level and stood behind the wheel. The motors coughed to life behind me and they were plenty loud. We began moving backward out of the slip very slowly.
Mario came up from below and handed me a water bottle. “Hang on.” Dennis called down to us when we had backed away from the dock. Mario grabbed the railing to the stairs that led to the upper deck and I reached for the edge of the doorway but didn’t quite make it in time. Dennis gunned the engine and spun the boat around and I stumbled and dropped my water bottle trying not to fall. I got hold of the railing as my bottle rolled all the way to the back of the boat and went right through one of the drainage slots into the water. The engines were generating a huge wake behind us, and we were flying. I’d never been in a boat that fast. Mario laughed at me. “You okay down there?” Dennis called down.
“Yeah.” I said. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”
He nodded and the boat accelerated. Mario was saying something to me but I could barely hear him over the engines and the wind. I got closer and he repeated, “I cut a line for you downstairs. There’s more water in the fridge down there too.”
“Thanks.” I yelled, smiling. I went down the stairs and looked around. There was a table bolted down with a bench around it like a booth at a restaurant. Two lines of coke were set out on the formica tabletop and a short segment of straw next to them. It had been cut with a gold Visa card.
I scooped one of the lines into my hand. The bathroom was right next to the table, and I went in and lifted the lid on the toilet and dumped my line in there and flushed. I went to the fridge and got a water bottle. I was about to go back up to the deck, but then I decided to look around for a moment first. There were shelves with notebooks, compasses, maps and other nautical devices that I didn’t recognize. There were some photographs in frames on the walls. A longer haired Dennis shaking hands with Ronald Regan at what looked like a formal dinner. There was a shot of him standing next to Bush Senior in an office, and a picture of him and a very old Frank Sinatra. There was a wooden sliding door at the back of the room that was partway open, and I saw that behind it was a small bedroom with a low ceiling. I slid the door a little farther open and looked in.
There was someone on the bed and it took me a moment before I knew that it was Gretchen Salle.
She was facing me with her hands cuffed and connected to her ankles which were chained together, keeping her in a leaned over position, sideways on the bed. The chains around her ankles were connected to the bed frame, which was bolted down, and she had duct tape wrapped around her head at mouth level. Her eyes widened and then narrowed suddenly when she saw me, like she was trying to scream. I pulled out my phone and hit the pound key. I wanted to say something to her, but I was at a loss. I slid the door shut and went back up to the deck. The music continued to play and I tried to remember which scene in the movie it went with. It gave my mind something to do other than to think about Gretchen tied up below. Mario was sitting on a deck chair and he motioned for me to sit next to him. I took a chair from the open storage compartment and unfolded it. I sat next to him and played around with my nose like I’d just inhaled a line.
“I’m not used to doing such strong coke.” I said.
“Yeah, most of the stuff on the street is shit.” He said. “Me and Dennis have been up all night on it.”
“You guys partying?”
“No, working.” He said. “You’ll see.” I nodded and took a sip of my water.
“You okay kid?” He asked me. “You feeling sick?”
“A little.” I said. “Between that coffee and the coke and the waves-”
“Look at the horizon.” Mario said. “And if you do throw up, you’ll probably feel better.”
I watched the horizon like he said, and I tried to regulate my breathing, but it didn’t help. I got up and puked over the side. Right afterwards, the engines cut off and I wondered if Dennis h
ad stopped because of me. I wiped my hand across my mouth and looked around. When we’d started out we’d passed some fishermen, but now we were miles from anything and all I could see was lake in all directions. I took a mouthful of water from my bottle and spit it over the rail. Dennis was coming down from the upper deck. “A little off your game this morning?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I said. “You don’t feel like taking me back to dry land do you?”
“Pretty soon.” He said.
“I cut you a line downstairs.” Mario told him. I slumped back into my chair. I felt the handgun pressing into my back, and it seemed ridiculous all of a sudden. Dennis went down below deck and came back up a few minutes later with Gretchen. She had to walk all hunched over and could only take little steps because of the chains. He pushed her down in the back of the boat and she sat there looking at us. It seemed like she was trying to control her breathing.
“Well,” Dennis said, “this is the person who raided the Pierson place the other night. At least this is one of them. She’s the ringleader. The other ones will be taken care of too, but this is the one who planned it. She was giving the orders, and she killed Ray.”
“Who is she?” I asked.
“Her name’s Gretchen Salle.” He said. “She’s Amanda Porgett’s ex-girlfriend.” He looked at her. “They were dykes.”