Chapter 24 - REAR END BLUES

Sonny called Sumner around 9 o'clock to tell him Wild Bill had settled up for yesterday's landings, and there was cash waiting in town, if he needed it. Sumner had a list of cash and carry projects on the go, and said he'd be right down to get his wages.

"Please don't get any more mixed up in this," Liz pleaded as he went out the door, and Sumner drove off into the fog in the Valiant.

He wanted to check out Lizzie's car anyhow, as she said the grinding in the rear end was getting louder. Those 225 slant-sixes would run forever, if you fed them oil, but the running gear on Chrysler products tend to let go in the briny air. Two years ago Lizzie's previous beater, another Valiant, had collapsed in a gas station up on Route One when the weight of a full tank of gas had broken the rusty frame. She wasn't eager to repeat the experience, and Sumner was trying to stay ahead on car maintenance.

"I guess it's getting worse," Sumner mumbled ironically to himself, as the Valiant jounced over a section of broken pavement by the town sand piles. The shocks were about shot anyhow, and every time the car bottomed out it sounded like someone was feeding crockery into a mixmaster. The last time he'd fixed a rear end, Sumner had to yank out the shafts with a come-along, press on new bearings, and beat them back in with a maul.

"This time I'll replace the whole works," Sumner decided. "Figures. You just get a little ahead, and something breaks." He'd try and find a Chrysler rear end in better condition over to the Machias junkyard this afternoon.

Sumner and Liz's house was out the east end of town, just before the road turns north to skirt Irishman's Bay on the way to Machias, and he only had a mile or so to drive into Smithport village. Past the sand piles houses thickened up, mixed in with small businesses.. Young's lumber yard, Edith's Restaurant, Bud's True Value hardware, the IGA foodliner.. strung along the road haphazardly, with empty lots between, piles of lobster traps and fishing gear, bare ledges and the occasional old hulk punctuating the scene. From Young's on, the power poles were festooned with red white and blue bunting, and there were flags everywhere, snapping in the fog-laden wind. The Glorious Fourth was tomorrow.

As Sumner drove past the high school, sitting foursquare on a bare ledge overlooking the reach to his left, a carload of teenagers came squealing out of the school lot, fishtailed in front of him, and went careening into the fog ahead. A dead soldier rolled down the road in its wake.

Sumner grimaced, "They're starting early," he thought. "Hope nobody gets killed on the road tonight." Graduation eve and the Fourth were usually the deadliest nights of the year, and there were too many big trees beside the road with bits of automobile embedded in them for him to laugh at another carload of good times showing off.

Sumner was almost past the Coast Guard Station parking lot, when he spotted Sonny's Ford slotted next to a military vehicle. He braked, and backed, and pulled in alongside Sonny's rig.

On days when they were weathered in, the local fishermen would hang out and trade lies at the Co-op or the Coast Guard Station. The station had better coffee, and they could catch up on official scuttlebutt from whoever was on duty. The Coasties and the fishermen kept each other informed to their mutual benefit.

"Pretty smart," Sumner thought. "Sonny's in there sniffing around for any lost barrels of contraband."

Sure enough, Sonny came out through the plate glass door just as Sumner was getting out of the Valiant. "Say, Sum?" Sonny hailed him. "I spose you'd like some greenbacks."

When he got closer Sumner asked in a low voice, "Anything about missing drugs?"

"The first class was a little cagey," Sonny replied quietly, "but I think there's some kind of search out. I heard some radio talk with a P-3, and the POINT HANON is upwest overhauling yachts. I'd guess our boys stepped in a ripe one." Sonny pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to Sumner.

"Any idea which boys might be looking for their lost can?" Sumner asked, opening the envelope and riffling though the bills.

"No, but I'd say John Law knows there's a can adrift, if the cowboys and Indians stuff in there means anything," Sonny observed. "That OK?" he queried, nodding at the envelope.

"Looks good. Look better if it weren't all spent."

"Maybe Sidearm will get one past the batter," Sonny said. They both shrugged.

"You and the Misses gonna ride in the race with us?" Sonny asked.

"Not sure how she'd like that," Sumner said.

"She knows about the deal, then?" Sonny observed. Sumner nodded.

"But I think her cousin would enjoy it," Sumner went on, "so I'll bring the women along, and you can charm them."

"The black-haired honey what's digging in the shell heaps?" Sonny asked. "She looks like a hot one."

"Yup," Sumner concurred, smiling at the thought of Marianne throwing cold water on Captain Cocksmith. He'd seen her freeze a hustle before, and wondered how Sonny would handle it. "Little close to home for you, innit?"

"The cat's away," Sonny said.

"Permanently?" Sumner asked.

"I'd guess."

"Sorry to hear it, Sonny. Suzy was pick uh the litter."

"Still a bitch," Sonny said, shaking his head, and laughing slightly. "Let me know if you hear from Sidearm," Sonny changed the subject.

"Yeh." They were both silent for a moment. "What time's the 40-foot race?"

"Sometime after noon," Sonny replied.

"Well. Gotta go spend this money," Sumner said, turning back to the Valiant.

"You're not gonna land your gear on this one, are you Sum?" he called at Sumner's back.

Sumner stopped, swung around to face his skipper again, "No, I'm going to keep hauling, but I still don't like the smell of the bait."

"That's OK. Long's it catches the fish." They nodded at each other.

Both fishermen got into their vehicles, and Sumner drove back east, running down a list in his head. When you finally do get some cash, you still have to dole it out carefully here and there, to keep your credit alive, to do the most essential repairs, to keep food on the table. Maybe he was nuts to try and live way down here, hand-to-mouth, when he might slip into some middleclass groove upwest, and not have to fix his own machinery. The rear end made grinding noises again as he shuddered over broken pavement.

Back at home, Sumner gave Liz the bulk of the cash, and told her he was going to take the truck to Machias to search for a rear end. "Might get some shocks, too, if I can afford it," Sumner said, climbing into the flatbed.

"I love you," Liz said through the window of the truck, leaning in to kiss him. "We'll get through it all right."

He smiled, and shouted over to Jesse who was playing with Tug on the lawn, "Take care of your momma til I get back." Jesse and Liz stood together holding hands, watching as the truck disappeared into the fog.

"Now she's telling ME not to worry," Sumner shook his head, turning on the radio to WMCS. "She never ceases to amaze me." STAND BY YOUR MAN came blaring out of the speaker, and Sumner laughed at the synchronicity.