Legend of a Suicide (20 page)

Sometime after two a.m., Jim realized it had been almost a year since he’d been with a woman. So he bundled up and went looking for a prostitute.

The streets were wet, the fog down close. Sound carried oddly from the waterfront and from the road. Fishing bells, fog bells, seagulls, and the hiss of tires on asphalt. He walked downtown to his old office.

They had redone the front of the building. It looked more modern now and was a dark green. Gold lettering on the window with the dentists’ names, two of them.

I could have stayed here, he said. If I had not cheated and broken everything up. If I had been able to stand my wife. If salmon had flown like birds through the streets.

He wasn’t sure what to do with this office. He turned away from it, finally, crossed the street and headed down the other side toward the canneries.

The canneries were packed in summer with college students, but now, in the spring, they were deserted. He passed an old man sitting on a bench in front of a cannery and they ignored each other. He continued on past all of the canneries but couldn’t find any prostitutes. He went to the old red-light district along the river just for the hell of it, knowing he wouldn’t find any there, and he didn’t. He stood at the wooden railing looking down into green-black water moving swiftly out to sea and he gave up.

But instead of walking back to the hotel, he walked in the opposite direction, away from town. Past the canneries, along the highway, he walked in fog and drizzle, the only walker on the road. It was a pleasure to walk, and a pleasure to be alone outside. He couldn’t stay much longer in that hotel.

The forest on either side of the road loomed roughly out of the fog. It had been better out on the island, he saw now. He had still believed in his rescue then, and he had been able to go talk with Roy. Now Roy was fifteen hundred miles away.

A dark-green pickup came out of the fog quickly and swerved to avoid Jim. It stopped about a hundred feet past him and the two men looked back at him through the rear window. They looked for a long time; Jim stood in place and stared back at them until they moved on. He was scared, though, that they would come back with others. He had been stupid to stay here. It was too great a risk. Then he realized this was only paranoia, since no one could possibly know who he was.

Jim hurried back anyway, walking on the side of the road and hiding himself in bushes whenever he heard a car coming. It was a long way to town. He hadn’t realized how far he had gone.
Curve after curve and the shoreline appearing twice through the fog, calm gray water lit by a shrouded moon.

He reached the canneries finally and stopped hiding from cars. He passed the old red-light district and the tourist area and then downtown and continued around the point to his hotel. It was nearly dark but he grabbed the few things he had: a change of clothes in a plastic bag, his razor and shampoo, his wallet, his boots. He threw everything in the bag, left a note to Kirk saying, Thanks for ripping me off, and walked out into the evening toward the ferry that could take him across to the airport.

The ferry terminal was over three miles away, past Jackson Street, at the end of town. He was tired when he got there, and hungry, and there was nowhere to eat. He looked at the schedule, then found out this wasn’t the right terminal for the ferries that went across to the airport. This terminal was for the big Alaska Marine Highway ferries that went clear up to Haines and down to Washington.

He decided he didn’t need to fly. He just needed to leave, and a ferry was leaving for Haines early in the morning. He would sleep on one of the benches.

On the ferry, he ordered a hotdog and a mini-pizza and some frozen yogurt. The constant vibration and sound of the engines beneath the floors were a comfort. It occurred to him that if his whole life had been spent under way, he might have been a lot happier. These ferries were heavy and solid and almost never rolled or pounded at all, but as he sat there eating, he did feel different, anyway. And then he got to thinking again about sailing away to the South Pacific. If he got through all of this okay,
he might try that. He felt like telling this to someone, felt like talking about it with someone to find out how it sounded.

Jim looked around but everyone was sitting in groups. He chewed on through the rest of his food, then walked around the upper deck looking for someone standing alone at the railing, but this boat, at least on deck, seemed to be Noah’s Ark, everyone in pairs.

Though he didn’t drink, he went to the bar, because that seemed a likely place, even though it was morning. And he did find a woman sitting alone at one of the tables. Dark hair and an unhappy look, or perhaps just bored. She looked a few years younger than he was. She didn’t look as if she were waiting for anyone.

Mind if I join you? he asked.

That’s okay, I guess, she said, but this sounded so bad, so bored, he hesitated. She just watched him.

Okay, he said, and sat down.

It’s not like you’re doing me a favor, she said.

Jim got up and walked away. He stood on the stern and stared at the wake. He had wanted to tell that woman about Roy. He wanted just one person he could tell the whole story to, to work it out. Because when he left it alone, it just seemed more and more like he had killed Roy.

Jim couldn’t think about this well. He stared at the wake. Though it trailed away and spread and dissipated, it remained exactly the same from his viewpoint. It would never catch up with the boat nor would it ever be lost. It seemed like this might mean something, but then Jim was only wondering what his life was now, and not knowing. One thing had happened after an
other, but it seemed to him random and odd that things had worked out the way they had.

Jim could smell the diesel exhaust back here. It made him nostalgic for the
Osprey,
his fishing boat. He had failed at that, finally, and had to sell the boat, but really it hadn’t been a failure. He had spent all that time with his brother Gary pulling in albacore and then halibut; he had gotten to know the fishing fleet, all the Norwegians, even though he had not really talked to them. He had listened to them on the radio, their check-ins every morning and evening, their reports on the fishing, their evening entertainment. They had taken turns singing old songs and playing harmonica and even accordion. It had been an amazing time, really, though he and his brother had been outcasts. The
Tin Can,
they had called his boat, for the raw aluminum. They had older wooden boats, most of them. Some of them were fiberglass. He’d hear them mention him occasionally, but it was never an invitation to come on the radio and join in. He missed that life. He wished it had worked out. Roy could have worked on the boat in the summers.

One night, the Norwegians lost one of their boats. They came on in the morning, checking in, and no one knew where that one boat was. Most of it was in Norwegian, but there was enough said in English that Jim and Gary knew what was happening. They had slipped anchor themselves once when their sea parachute collapsed. The water was far too deep for bottom anchors, so the whole fleet put out sea parachutes off their bows and stayed anchored together that way, but the night their parachute collapsed, Jim and Gary awoke far from the fleet, no fish
ing boats around and right in the shipping lanes. So this was what must have happened to this Norwegian boat, they figured, and nothing was heard from it again.

In Haines, Jim called his brother Gary. Hey, he said, it’s me, and then there was silence. He waited.

Well, Gary said. Some people are looking for you.

Looking for me?

You jumped bail, didn’t you?

No.

Another pause. There might be a difference of opinion here, Gary said. And you might think about trying to make amends somehow, since I think the sheriff’s opinion wins.

Why are we talking about this? Jim said. I called you to talk about other things. I wanted to talk to my brother. I’ve been thinking a lot about our time on the
Osprey,
thinking that it’s too bad that didn’t work out. I wish we were still doing it. And I was thinking it would have been nice if Roy could have worked on the boat in the summers.

Jim, where are you?

I’m in Haines.

Look, you have to turn yourself in. You can’t run from them, and you’re just going to make yourself look bad in front of a jury.

Are you listening to me? Jim asked. I wanted to talk about other things. Do you think about the
Osprey,
or about living out there?

Jim waited then. He could hear his brother breathing.

Yeah, I do, Gary finally said. I think about those times. And
though it was hard then, I’m glad we did it. It was an adventure. I wouldn’t do it again, though.

No?

No.

That’s too bad, Jim said. You know, I’ve been a little lonely in all this since I’ve been back. I haven’t had anyone to talk to. No one’s come to visit me or help me.

No one can now, Gary said. They’d be an accessory or something. Harboring a fugitive. I don’t know what they’d call it, but they’d call it something.

I don’t have any chance of beating this, do I? Jim said. He paused, and Gary didn’t say anything, and Jim realized finally that this was true. He was just waiting around for his own fall. He realized also that he needed not to tell his brother anything more. I need to go now, he said.

Okay, Gary said. I wish I could help you. I really do. I should have come to see you while you were still in Ketchikan.

That’s all right.

Jim walked straight into town looking for his bank. They had to have a branch here. He found several other banks and got toward what appeared to be the end of the small town and started panicking, but then he saw it. He walked in with his checkbook and ID in his hand, waited in line, and then was ushered to a side desk because of the amount of his withdrawal, almost $115,000 in cash. He intended to clean out what was left of this savings account completely, though the sheriff had probably already frozen it. Coos knew about it because he’d already taken over $200,000 for bail and fees and a few thousand for living expenses in Ketchikan.

The financial officer assisting him didn’t really want to assist him. This is a very large and unusual withdrawal, she said. Especially in cash. I have to let you know that we’ll have to report this. We have to report any large deposit or withdrawal such as this.

That’s okay, Jim said.

May I ask what the withdrawal is for?

To buy a house, Jim said.

We can have a cashier’s check made out for that.

Nope, it has to be cash.

A cashier’s check is cash.

Cash cash.

The woman frowned.

Look, Jim said, is it my money or is it not?

It is, of course, the woman said. I’m not sure we have that much cash on hand, though. In fact, I’m sure we don’t.

How much do you have?

What?

I’ll take whatever you have.

Jim left with $27,500 in cash. He knew he had been ripped off, that they had more cash than that, but it was enough. He didn’t need to buy his own boat. He could find some fishing boat that had just finished the March opening and was waiting around. They’d need money.

Jim went to the bigger boats first. It was hard to find anyone around. He asked people, though, and got phone numbers and addresses of homes and bars. Then he found one guy cleaning up on one of the smaller gillnetters.

Howdy, Jim said, but the man only looked at him, then
went back to work. He was so much what one would expect he was laughable. A beard and battered old cap, a pathetic alcoholic.

I’d like a ride down the coast to Mexico. I’m paying fifteen thousand. Interested?

The man looked at him then. Just kill somebody? he asked.

Only my own life, Jim said.

Let me just go down to the sheriff and ask around, then we can talk about it.

Is this your boat?

No. But I know the captain.

Why don’t we skip the sheriff’s office and make it twenty thousand.

The man took off his cap and scratched his head. Will we be skipping the Coast Guard, too? And maybe offering a crew list in Mexico that might be a name short?

That would be the deal.

Well, let me talk to Chuck. There obviously ain’t much else going on for us.

The man went inside the cabin house then and was gone a long time. Jim couldn’t hear voices or anything. The boat was a piece of crap, rusted out and held together with wire. But it would get him down the coast. It was hell coming up the coast, but going down was easy enough.

The man returned with Chuck, who was in his sixties and seemed to be the captain and owner. He was a fiercely ugly man, liver spots on the bald top of his head fringed by a dark and greasy mane. He stared at Jim with such hatred that Jim knew immediately not to trust him, and yet what choice did he have?
He had nothing left. He needed to go and these were the only guys around.

What kind of trouble you in? Chuck asked.

Jim didn’t answer but only waited. Finally Chuck said, All right. I suppose you’ll be wanting to leave right away.

That’s right.

We need to provision, get diesel, get some spare filters and such. The engine has a few problems. It’s not going to be a fast or a glamorous ride. But the price is twenty-five.

I don’t have twenty-five. I’m not trying to bargain or save up. I just don’t have it.

All right, Chuck said. We’ll need about three or four hours, and ten up front. And I want to see the other ten, too, just to see that you have it.

So Jim went aboard, handed over ten thousand and showed the other ten. And he stayed right there while they went out and provisioned. He wasn’t going to let them slip out without him. Nine hours later, in the evening, they were on their way.

The wind was up and cold, the chop enough to put a little spray over the bow. It was clear out, though. Standing on the stern, Jim could see all the lights in Haines and a few scattered lights along the shoreline beyond and fishing boats out on the water rafted together, waiting. Beyond them, abandoned land and waters among the land, the boundary between them dark and changing. Boating in a strange place at night you could believe almost anything, he knew, any direction, any depth, so sure of innate fears you could distrust your compass and depth finder right up until you hit the rocks. He hoped Chuck and Ned were competent.