Envious Moon(10)

For a moment I considered just taking off. But then I remembered that there was nothing to tie us to the house and the island. Only people who had seen us leave the harbor. Unless the girl had actually gotten a good look at me, but I didn’t think that was possible. Or if Victor had already caved, though I didn’t think he would do that. Not without talking to me about it first.

Sheriff Riker was a tall, hawk-nosed man, close to sixty it looked liked, with slicked-back hair and the leathery skin of someone who spent far too much time in the sun. My first thought was that his was not an unfriendly face. He wasn’t in uniform but wore a golf shirt and khakis, boat shoes. He was on my mother’s couch and drinking my mother’s coffee and I had no idea how long he had been there.

“Here he is,” Berta said, when I came in the door.

“You must be Anthony,” the sheriff said, and he introduced himself and took my hand and we all sat down.

“I don’t know if you heard about what happened on the island last night,” the sheriff began.

I shook my head.

“It’s been on the news,” he continued. “Anyway. There was a robbery. Well, attempted robbery at a mansion on the eastern side of the island. Nothing was missing. But there was a fight and a man was killed. We’re trying to find out who was in the house.”

I looked right at the sheriff. I was trying not to blink. “What’s this have to do with me?”

“Nothing, I’m sure,” he said. “It’s just that a number of people saw you go out last night.”

“I went fishing.”

“Who were you with?”

“Victor,” I said. “My friend.”

“Last name?” the sheriff asked. From the pocket of his pants he took out a small notebook and one of those golf pencils.

“Perez,” I said, and he wrote this down and closed the book.

“Where were you going?”

“We went fishing.”

“He often fishes at night,” Berta offered.

“Where’d you fish?”

“The shoals,” I said. “Down coast.”

The sheriff nodded. “What were you after?”

“Stripers. They’re running a little bit.”

“Good eating,” the sheriff said.

I shrugged and gave him a smile. “We didn’t have any luck.”

He said, “You didn’t go anywhere near Cross Island?”

“Have you seen my skiff?”

“No,” he said.

“It’s small. I stay close to shore.”

“All right, Anthony,” the sheriff said. “You going to be around if I have other questions?”

“Until Monday.”

“Where you going then?”

“I crew on the Lorrie Anne. The Grand Banks.”

“Scalloper?” he asked.

“Swordboat.”

“Have a safe trip,” he said, and he rose. “Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. Lopes.”

My mother nodded and the sheriff left. Through the open door we watched his cruiser start up and then drive off. I wanted to call Victor but I knew I couldn’t do that yet. Berta looked up at me. “Anthony,” she said, “you didn’t have anything to do with this. What the man said.”

“No, Mama,” I said, and I saw her looking over at the one painting we had in the house. It was a Madonna with child and it was somewhat abstract, the Madonna with a big golden triangle over her head, the dark-skinned baby’s face featureless. Berta crossed herself and this bothered me, and I said, “Don’t cross yourself, Mama, I didn’t do anything.”

“Old habits,” she said.

We ate dinner together that night, clams from the college that needed to be used that day with tomatoes and chorizo and toast. After, when my mother went upstairs, I tried desperately to get Victor on the phone but all it did was ring and ring. Eventually my nerves got to me and I crept out of the house and made my way through the darkened village to his apartment. His old Chevy sedan was gone and the lights were off upstairs. I decided to wait for him. I sat at the bottom of his staircase and smoked and watched the moon rise above the commercial buildings across the street. When he finally returned, I did not have a cigarette lit and he didn’t see me until he was right on top of me. I scared the shit out of him and he jumped. I laughed.

“Asshole,” Victor said.

“Sorry, Vic,” I said.

As it turned out the sheriff had not been to see him, and Victor freaked when I told him the sheriff had come to my house. I told him the fact that he had not come to find Victor right away was a good sign.

“I was at work,” Victor said.

“You think they can’t find you at work?”

I told Victor we just had to be ourselves, do what we would normally do, and we had nothing to worry about. “You think so?” Victor said.

“Yeah,” I told Victor. “I do.”

“Okay, Tony,” he said, and we sat in silence after that. We could hear the seagulls near the cannery and the occasional bleat of a boat’s horn. The light from the point strafed the sky.





By Monday, Victor still had not been contacted by the sheriff and we figured we were safe. And that morning, before the sun rose, I said good-bye to my mother in the hallway of our small home and I saw in her eyes the sadness I always saw when I went to sea. Before me she had looked at my father this way and he had told me that a woman’s sadness was to be welcomed. Many men did not have anyone waiting for them when they went to the Grand Banks.