A Shoot on Martha's Vineyard (33 page)

“Not this time,” I said.

“I hear they got Moonbeam's old woman for killing that fucking Ingalls. Now I'm going to get you for trying to stick me with the rap.”

“I never tried to finger you,” I said.

“You're a liar. You and the chief are thick as thieves. The two of you would have hung it on me if you could.”

He was about my size and age and could do some real damage if I let him. I faded back, fell down, and got up again as he closed in on me. I swung a clumsy-looking left and as he tipped his head to let it go by, I came around with a right and threw a handful of sand into his wild, angry eyes.

He bellowed and dug at his eyes, and as he did I stepped to the side, pivoted, and drove a foot into his knee. Injuries to knees, one of God's worst designs, end a large percentage of professional athletic careers. Zack screamed and fell, grabbing at his leg.

Blind and crippled, he was a pitiful sight. He gasped and groaned.

“I think it's a dislocated kneecap,” I said. I got a hold of his injured leg. “This is going to hurt.” Zack cried out as I straightened the leg and popped the kneecap back into place, then sighed and panted as the pain lessened.

I got water from the pond and helped him rinse out his eyes.

“I didn't finger you for the Ingalls killing,” I said. “Do you understand me?”

He nodded. I walked over to his truck. Automatic transmission. Good; he could drive with one good leg. I went back to him. By then he had recovered until he was about half of what he had been before he had started the fight. “I've decided to raise some money for Connie Berube's defense fund,” I said. “I need help. I think you should be a volunteer. You collect from your friends, if you have any, and I'll collect from mine. Maybe we can do her some good. What do you say?”

“Help me up.”

I did, and we hobbled to his truck. “You could have killed me,” he said. “There's been enough killing.”

“I got kids,” he said. “I don't blame Connie Berube for what she did.”

We got him into the truck. “See your doctor about that knee,” I said.

“You didn't fight fair,” said Zack.

“There's no such thing as a fair fight,” I said. “Somebody's always got the edge.”

He thought that over, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess that's right. Okay, I'll help with the money. I'll be in touch.” He drove back toward the Dyke Bridge.

I still had some fishing time left, so I wasted some of it at Bernie's Point, then drove on to the Jetties, where there were already some people fishing for bonito and Spanish mackerel. There, after failing to catch anything on my favorite Roberts Ranger, I replaced the Ranger with a two-and-a-half-ounce Hopkins and, somewhat to my surprise, nailed a four-pound blue at the very end of my cast. Everybody else immediately abandoned the bonito and Spanish mackerel, grabbed their big rods, put metal on their leaders, and tried for blues.

“Imitation is the tribute mediocrity pays to genius,” I said to Walter and Iowa, who were casting beside me.

“If bullshit was money, you'd be the richest guy on Martha's Vineyard,” said Walter.

There was a little school of blues way out there, and we got a few of them before they moved off.

“Not bad,” said Iowa, tossing a fish into his box. He looked at Joshua. “Why didn't you bring your mom out here instead of this guy? It would be good for her to hang around some real men for a change.”

Joshua gave him his best toothless smile.

“When are you going to get this kid a rod?” asked Walter. “It's time he learned how to cast.”

“I thought you were going to custom-make one for him,” I said. “For free, of course.”

“What a cheap bastard you are. Say, how's Zee doing in the movie biz? She having fun?”

“I think she is,” I said. “I know that she's inviting Kevin Turner and Kate Ballinger to come down to the Rod and Gun Club and watch Manny Fonseca give her her shooting lesson later this afternoon.”

“That's great. They must all be getting along pretty good, then. Hey, that's really something about Connie Berube, isn't it? Who'd have thought it?”

Who, indeed? I told them about the defense fund for Connie and got some money from most of the guys there. I asked them to spread the word, and they said they would.

I looked at my watch. I had just enough time to get my fish into the freezer before I had to pick up Kate Ballinger. “See you later,” I said. I loaded Joshua and our gear into the truck and headed for home.

Back at the Navigator Room, now open for business once again, I handed Joshua to his mother.

“How'd it go?”

“Five takes,” said Zee. “I thought it was right the first time, but what do I know?” She put her finger under Joshua's chin. “You catch any fish, cute stuff?”

“Cute stuff and I got three fish,” I said, and told her where and how. Then, without mentioning my encounter with Zack, I told her about the defense fund.

“Good,” said Zee. “But next time, you can be in the movie and Josh and I will go fishing. Oh, hi, Kate.” “Hi,” said Kate, coming up to us.

“Well, I'll be running along,” said Zee. “See you later, Kate. Five o'clock at the shooting range?” She kissed me and walked away. I watched her. Dynamite bod. Madonna and bambino; Caravaggio would have loved to pose her.

“Come on, Jeff,” said Kate, “you're supposed to be paying attention to me.”

“Yes, ma'am.” I looked down at her. “Where shall I drive you?”

“To distraction,” she said, with some snip in her voice.

But instead she took me to lunch at a new place where I had never been before. The food wasn't bad at all, and they had beer.

“This is the fashionable place to eat, I'm told,” said Kate as she nibbled on her salad.

“So I've heard.”

“Don't you come here?”

“This is an historic first.”

“Well, do you like it?”

“It's fine.”

“We could come back in the evening, after we leave the shooting range.”

“You and Kevin and Zee and Joshua and me?”

“I was thinking of just you and me.” She touched my hand with her cool fingers. It felt good.

“Where would you like to have me drive you?”

“How about to my place?”

I understood why Odysseus had himself tied to the mast. “I go with the Explorer,” I said. “If we can get the car into your bedroom, it's a deal.” My voice sounded thin.

Fortunately, she laughed. “You are the most frustrating man! What should I see that I haven't seen?” There was a pause, and her laughter became a crooked smile. “Besides your body, that is.”

I took her on two walks. First through the Menemsha
Hills down to the beach near the old brick factory, and then along Fulling Mill Brook, between Middle Road and South Road.

It was half past four when we got back to the Explorer, and Kate was tired but exhilarated.

“Beautiful! I never would have known those places were there if it wasn't for you!”

“Local knowledge. That's why you're paying me the big bucks.”

“I knew there must be some reason.” She looked at her watch. “What kind of clothes do I need to take a pistol-shooting lesson?”

“The ones you're wearing will do just fine.”

“You don't want to go by my place and watch me change, I suppose. Oh, never mind. If the car can't get inside, neither can you. I know, I know. To the shooting range, James.”

We were the last ones to arrive. Manny Fonseca's truck was there, the BMW that Kevin Turner was driving was there, and Zee's little Jeep was there. Joshua, his ears plugged and covered with mufflers, was in his stand, where he could watch what was going on, and the adults were at the twenty-five-yard mark on the range.

Manny, who loved to talk about shooting almost as much as he loved to shoot, was in his element. A couple of pistols were lying on the table beside the yard marker, including Zee's Beretta 84F and her .45. Manny was talking with Kevin about what he and Zee were going to be doing. Kevin, who, I suspected, had probably had some pistol training to prepare him for his heroic roles, listened with patience that I deemed at least partially feigned.

We joined the others and Manny and Kate shook hands. Manny was pleased to meet her, as what man wouldn't be.

“What we're doing here,” he said, “is teaching Zee how to shoot this here forty-five, because that's what she'll be using in this competition that's coming up. Now, Zee shoots real good with that Beretta of hers, but she's still
not used to the forty-five, so that's what we'll be working with today.” He eyed Kate. “Zee says you might want to learn how to shoot, yourself. That right?”

Kate eyed the table full of pistols. “I think I'll just watch for a while. Then I'll decide.”

He nodded. “Makes sense. Okay, then, you folks just put these plugs in your ears and stand right over there.”

He and Zee, with mufflers over their ears and shooting glasses protecting their eyes, got to work. They took turns shooting. The air was filled with the bellow of the pistols, and the targets down the range gradually disintegrated into paper fragments. Manny's hits were closer bunched than Zee's, but as she continued to shoot, hers improved.

“Jesus,” said Kate as the clips were reloaded.

“That was right-handed,” said happy Manny. “Now we'll try it left-handed.”

He walked down and replaced the destroyed targets with new ones, then once more the air was filled with sound. Kate winced and Kevin wore an expression of studied interest. The new targets disintegrated and were replaced.

Manny talked, and Zee listened. Then they shot some more. Left-handed, right-handed, and two-handed. From twenty-five yards and from ten yards and from other yards. Finally they stopped.

“That's probably enough for today,” said Manny. “You did good, but you're still pulling a little to the right.” He looked at Kate. “You want to try?”

“Before she does, I'd like to take a few shots with the Beretta,” said Zee.

Manny looked at her. “With the Beretta?”

Zee nodded. “I'm just getting started with the forty-five, but I'm pretty good with the Beretta. I'd like Kevin and Kate to see me at my best.”

Manny could understand that. “Well, sure. I'll set up new targets.”

“I've got a couple right here,” said Zee. She handed
him an envelope, and Manny peeked at the targets. “Set 'em up, please, Manny, and I'll tell Kate and Kev about this weapon.”

Manny made an odd sound, and went down the range while Zee snagged her Beretta from the table.

“Now what we have here,” she said, “is a Beretta 84F. Wooden grips, .380 caliber, thirteen rounds, double action. It fits my hand well. And this is an extra clip, so I can get off more than two dozen shots pretty fast.” She smiled at Kevin and Kate. “I'm going to shoot the first clip right-handed and the second one left-handed. Manny's teaching me to shoot with my left hand in case I ever get shot in the right hand and have to return fire. Police officers are trained to do that.”

Manny came back, gave Zee an odd look, and took a stand behind her.

“This will only take a minute,” said Zee, turning toward the range. It took less than that.

The rest of us turned and saw that two full-face publicity photos, one of Kate and one of Kevin, were the targets. The faces smiled at us from twenty-five yards. We only had a second to take this in before Zee began to shoot. First Kevin's photo disintegrated as Zee put thirteen bullets through it. Then, as Kevin gasped, Zee popped the empty clip from her weapon, slammed home the second, and blew Kate's picture into shreds.

A silence seemed to echo over the range.

Zee put down her empty pistol and began to refill a clip. She smiled at Kevin and then said to Kate, “You want to take a few shots now? You might like it.”

“My God, no!” said Kate, wide-eyed. “I think I get the message!”

Kevin was staring at Zee. “You must be crazy! You've got to be crazy!”

Zee filled the clip and snapped it back into the Beretta. She looked at him, then knelt and picked up the other clip from the ground. She began to fill it.

Kate tugged Kevin's sleeve. “I don't think she's crazy, Kev. Come on, you can drive me to a bar. I think we could both use a drink. Nice to meet you, Mr. Fonseca.”

“You're crazy,” said Kevin again, still gaping at Zee, but allowing Kate to pull him toward the BMW.

“Crazy!” he yelled one last time as he spun the car around and it roared away.

I looked at Zee and felt a grin on my face. “Crazy,” I said. Then I went over and got Joshua out of his seat. I took the muffler off his ears and took out the earplugs. “You have a crazy mother, Josh. What do you think of that?”

Joshua smiled. He thought it was just fine.

“The worst thing was missing the opening of the derby,” said Zee. “While I was out there slaving away under the lights in Hollywood, you were here catching fish! And winning a daily, while you were at it. I saw that new pin on your hat.”

We were on the balcony with Joshua.

“I thought the worst thing would be being away from Joshua and me,” I said.

“I mean besides that.”

“How did it go out there in La La Land? The last I heard, Kevin was so mad that he wanted you out of the movie altogether.”

“I may be, by the time all the editing has been done. But I guess not even Kevin is all-powerful, because I did my two pirate-girl scenes out there. The one in the pirate street and the one in the pirate bar. And I got to say my line.”

“I can hardly wait to see the movie.”

She grinned and put her head on my shoulder. “Me, too.”

“It's going to be great being the husband of a famous star. I'll be a power figure and the bimbos will all hover around me. The only problem is that they won't dare get really close because they'll be afraid you'll shoot them.”