Chapter 11 - BAD DEBTS


The wind offshore had piped up as the sun climbed. The NOAA forecast had been somewhat off, as usual. The predicted SW 15-20 had veered westerly and was now gusting to 35. Caldwell had replaced the big jenny with the smaller and more rugged number one jib, put a reef in the main, and the big Concordia was flying close hauled, her rig humming.

"Dang!" Walker exalted. "Dis beat a line a toot."

The three classmates we sprawled in BALI's cockpit, enjoying the warm sunshine, picking at a bowl of grapes, and trading lies. Walker had been recounting the incident which had gotten him sentenced to a session of drug rehab.

"So you got to know Rizzo at Opus-1..?" Caldwell encouraged. Walker's face stiffened a little, and his smile became a smirk.

"Mebbe too well." Walker's accent retreated toward their prep school Middle American.

"He's a snaky one," Walker went on, shaking his head. "Runs the rehab, and his racetrack, and plays politics in Bangor. Hear him puff, you'd think he was God's gift to the poor misguided substance abuser.. Puff adder, more like." Walker fell silent, staring off at the retreating waves to starboard.

"Coonass did a little snake handling," Cyr observed. Walker grinned slightly.

"Showed 'em mah, ree-ligion.. hallelujah," Walker continued. "Got all repentant, which the judge made clear I better. And I'll say this: ol' Rizzo runs one fandango of a group hug and cry and confess. Right up there with the Reverend Jimmy Swaggert.. and Lil Richard." Cyr and Caldwell laughed.

"But I got to know him 'cause of the ponies. When he foun' out I'd hepped the Colonel, he knew right away. And soons I saw that, I knew HE was dirty."

"Whaddaya mean?" Caldwell asked.

"Oh Hacky darling," Cyr answered, "you're such a sweet innocent. That great monument of conservative rectitude and Southern bonhomie, the magnificent Colonel Beauregard, is the biggest coke dealer in Memphis."

"All those ol' horse boys were into the nosecandy from way back," Walker observed. "Fed it to the ponies."

"I get it," Caldwell nodded.

"No. I got it. Right in the ass," Walker snapped. "It was the Colonel who set me up to get busted. When one of his big deals went bad, he needed some headlines to hide behind, and what better than FIANCE TO LOCAL DEBUTANTE FOUND WITH SUITCASE FULL OF DRUGS?"

"The Luscious Lucille," Cyr mused. Walker smiled slightly.

"Mmmm. Luscious.. but not real loyal. Not when it got dirty. I think the Colonel was doin a lil favor for cousin Erlbob, whose young filly was liftin her tail for the wrong stallion." Walker paused. "And I think there was payback for some old debt.. something about my Absent Ancestor," he went on with a trace of bitterness.

Cyr and Caldwell remained silent. Walker almost never mentioned his father, but his classmates assumed that the invisible parent was the senior senator from Louisiana, who had, indeed, a longstanding political feud with Colonel Beauregard.

"Anyhow.. Rizzo and the Colonel have a common interest, it seems, and after the king snake greased it with the judge in Memphis, I ended up in the coils of that paragon of rehabilitation: Rizzo Chenetti."

"Rather fancy diction, for a Coonass," Cyr remarked.

"Ahm beholden to mah eh-legant eh-ju-cation, mah boy," Walker tipped his Stetson, and snapped a silver-toed kick at Cyr's knee. Cyr was too quick for him.

"So Rizzo had you hustling drugs?" Caldwell prompted.

"Oh no.. not at first. It was all about the horses. 'You must be a good judge of horseflesh,' and, 'What would the Colonel do about this gripe?' Rizzo had me out in the stables, working like a Chicano stableboy, but sweet-talking me like a favorite nephew. No, I was the one who coondogged the drugs." Walker said.

"They wouldn't be endangering the health of those darling quadrupeds?" Cyr cried in mock anguish.

"'Course not. And the drivers don't do blow either," Walker admonished.

"I take it the whole harness racing thing is a cover for drug dealing..?" Caldwell asked.

"Naw. It's just another sideline. They always dosed the ponies, so they were into the coke anyhow, and there's lots of trailers moving round, and.. opportunity knocks." Walker paused again. "That's what I thought, anyhow. Saw a chance to recoup some of my lost capital. Happened to fall under the influence of an evil thespian."

Cyr did his best leer, and picked up the tale. "Some of my camera-ready brethren resort to stimulatory imbibances in order to enhance their performance."

"Da fruits toot before da shoot,' Walker interjected. All three laughed.

Walker continued, "And the Great Schnoz, here, was in a Stephen King flick getting shot in Bangor."

Cyr's face twisted evilly. "I'll make them pay for it," he snarled, going into character. "Make fun of my nose? I'll turn them into little crows."

"So the village idiot, here, gets in touch with me," Walker went on.

"The fiance's suitcase having been in all the papers,' Cyr said.

"And one line connected to another," Walker concluded.

"So how'd you get in such a hole with Rizzo?" Caldwell asked. Cyr and Walker looked at each other, and the question hung in the air.

"Perhaps we should inform our maritime companion about the whole bag of snakes," Cyr remarked.

"Ah guess." Walker said. "He's in the sack with us."

"Uh oh. What don't I know?" Caldwell prompted.

"Lot's you don't wanna," Cyr said. "The Coonass and I tried to pull a fast one on Rizzo."

"It didn't start like that," Walker interrupted.

"OK, you're right." Cyr took a breath. "Walker and I thought we'd play the ponies a little bit to fatten our purses. Silver Toes had the inside line on which horses were being dosed, and I'd work the parimutuel window."

"Seemed like a plan," Walker said.

"And we made some bucks," Cyr agreed. "But the more Walker sniffed around, the more fragrant the aroma."

"I discovered Rizzo was moving a lot more blow than I'd guessed, and I thought we might divert a little bit of it." Walker said. "Give us some serious stakes."

"Brilliant," Cyr said caustically.

Walker bristled. "Y'all didn't object." Cyr shrugged.

"So Schnoz-O finds a nice lil outlet for some blow that goes missing," Walker continued. "Only trouble is, the missing toot belongs to some heavy hitters, and I don't figure it out until the shit hits."

"Heavy hitters?" Caldwell asked.

"Right up there with Maris and Mantle," Cyr observed dryly.

"Oh, man.." Caldwell groaned.

"Who'd you think deals in 55-gallon drums full?" Walker asked.

Caldwell was stunned. "You mean this drop is a mob deal?"

"Yes, Hacky dear," Cyr answered, "but that's not the worst of it."

"I guess we should tell all, now it's gone haywire," Walker said.

"By all means, why let me off with just a little fright?" Caldwell quipped, his mouth tight.

"OK, OK. Don't get all lathered," Walker said, and paused for breath. "So I fucked up, pinching a bit of Rizzo's snuff.. only it wasn't his. But we could have made good if we hadn't blown it on the ponies."

"I thought you had the inside line," Caldwell asked. Cyr looked sharply at Walker.

"Yeah, well.. Seems like Rizzo smelled a rat in the barn, and faked the dosing one day when the odds were too tempting not to bet heavy," Walker admitted.

"We blew our bundle," Cyr said bitterly.

"But Rizzo hadn't discovered the missing coke, and we thought we'd just take a lil biddy more, and..." Walker went on.

"..that's when the excrement engaged the airfoil." Cyr finished for him.

"And the 'accident' happened,' Walked said quietly.

"Accident?" Caldwell asked. Cyr and Walker looked at each other again.

"We think Rizzo was skimming the pot, too. I mean, the little bit we took wouldn't have been enough reason to set that fire? Would it?" Cyr asked, hopefully.

"My god, you mean the fire at the racetrack? The one killed those horses?" Caldwell asked, shocked.

"Not just horses," Walker said. Caldwell looked from one to the other, waiting for an explanation.

"One of the Opus-1 kids was sleeping in the barn." Cyr finally said. Caldwell shivered.

"Had a thing for horses." Walker continued "Maybe he saw the torcher. I don't know. Next day, after the fire was put out, he was missing. Rizzo covered it real good. How the kid had gone on special family leave. I don't know how he shut up the family, but it never got out."

"It wasn't the best ponies," Cyr said.

"No, it wasn't meant to destroy Rizzo," Walker continued. "It was one of the outer stables, with only a few lesser ponies in it. And I guess there was a message went with it, about how much was missing, 'cause Rizzo was all over us like stink on shit. Didn't take him long to focus on me, and he's had me by the balls ever since."

"And you me," Cyr observed.

"Why, I thought y'all was jes hangin for the joy ah mah compny," Walker smiled.

"I do love you dearly, Silver Toes, but if you hadn't fingered me to Rizzo, I might be traipsing in the footlights instead of enjoying this exhilarating voyage." Cyr quipped.

Caldwell noted that it was getting a bit too exhilarating, maybe. While they were talking the wind had gotten up even more. BALI was pounding hard to windward now, putting her nose into the whitecaps, and throwing a lot of spray. The Concordia seemed to be laboring more than usual. It was almost too late to put in another reef, and switch to the storm jib. And BALI was responding a bit sluggishly to her helm. He should have been paying more attention, but Walker's next words froze him.

"Rizzo knew I had to have a partner to do the betting and dealing. Said he'd turn me in to the mob if I didn't tell who it was. That he'd have us both killed, and anyone else in the deal, if we didn't make good. "

"Thanks for telling me all this up front," Caldwell spat.

"We needed a way to pay him back, and doing some of his importing seemed like an easy way," Cyr said.

"Y'all dint seem to mind the idea of some easy money, and a bit of blow for darlin Elaine." Walker put in.

Caldwell's heart sank. He'd even gotten Elaine into this mess. A rogue wave struck the port bow, and shook BALI. Caldwell snapped back to present reality. He had to change sails..now!

"Cyr, go forward and pass up the storm jib. We've got to shorten sail." He commanded, and Cyr stepped into the companionway to go forward below.

"Take the helm," he said to Walker. "Just put her nose into the big ones, then fall off a little to keep the sails drawing until I tell you to put her dead to windward." he ordered.

"Mon Capitain," Cyr's head reappeared in the companionway. "Methinks we have la problem. It's a bit wet down here."

"Holy shit," thought Caldwell as he leaped to the hatchway. "I've been sleeping. Of course! The bilge pump has been running steady, and she's been feeling heavy." One glance below showed him the floorboards were under a foot of water. There must be a serious leak. He jumped back and put BALI dead into the wind.

"Hold her there, if you can," he told Walker, as he began breaking out the handle for the big manual bilge pump rigged in the cockpit.

"If she falls off, let her run to get headway, then point her up again," he commanded Walker, as he threaded the handle into its socket.

"Are we sinking?" Cyr asked.

"We're trying not to," Caldwell snapped back. He had the handle connected now, and pumped it hard until the a geyser of water was spewing overside. "OK, Cyr, you work this sucker for all you've got," he said, and leaped forward without waiting for a response.

BALI was backing away from the wind momentarily, and he yelled over his shoulder, "Hard the other way, til she swings." He scuttled up to the mast and fumbled for the main halyard winch handle.

"Should have started the motor," he cursed himself. "Fuck it, do this now. No, wait. Step at a time. First the jib.

"When I holler, loose that jib sheet, he yelled aft," and he freed the jib halyard. Walker uncleated the sheet and held it from slacking off the winch. BALI was beginning to fall off onto the port tack again, and her sails were filling, the force of the wind began to pull the jib down and out, lifting Caldwell almost off his feet on the plunging foredeck.

"Put her to windward," he yelled.

But Walker freed the jibsheet, and the number one jib bellied out, the sheet running until it fetched on the stopper knot at its end, when it snapped full of air, yanking the halyard out of Caldwell's hand. The sail came slatting and thundering down, dumped over the starboard rail and was swept under the boat, filling with water. The halyard, gone aloft, streamed out to windward like a whip.

Caldwell was now preternaturally calm, as he squeezed his wrenched hand. He shouted back clearly, "Put her to windward." Walker threw the helm over, and BALI ever so slowly responded, inching her way up until the main and mizzen were luffing wildly. Caldwell inserted the winch handle and began to release the wire halyard.

"Mind the boom," he yelled as the main came shaking down. He grabbed the heavy sail as it accordioned along the mast track and yanked it down hard. BALI was falling off again, but the mizzen was helping keep her up. Caldwell sidestepped quickly along the weather rail, and jumped into the cockpit.

"Wish us luck," he said to Cyr, pumping madly, and Walker, who was smirking. Caldwell clicked on the engine ignition. Click. Click. Nothing.

"Theyah," Caldwell said ironically. "Just perfect."