Chapter 50 - END RUN

Slaughter Alley was pouring the coals to HONEYDEW around the serpentine by the Back Pasture. In the middle of the race he'd heard Sidearm's call to Sonny on channel 10 to switch channels, and had followed suit, catching enough of the conversation to know something was happening over by Rogue Island.

Like half the town, Slaughter was doing mental arithmatic. The possible shooting and mysterious phonecalls at Nicky's and Sumner's had been gossiped around, and Slaughter hadn't missed the erratic behavior of Buster and Jumbo, nor Sonny's midnight comings and goings. Now the town was full of cops, and Slaughter had his suspicions.

Then Sonny disappeared from the race. Slaughter and Bernie were about dead even as they rounded the mid-point buoy at the east end of the course, and when they powered up on the back course, SUZY-Q was passing the mark. But when Slaughter looked back a moment later, Sonny was gone. Apparantly he'd never slowed down, just kept going full throttle into the fog, headed east.

Slaughter switched to channel 11. "That's right, SUZY-Q jes kep on agoin. Nevah slacked of a bit, an she's still roarin out east. Guess Sonny was too embarrassed to face anyone after the race," the speaker laughed. "Ovah to RACE 3."

"Must be pretty serious for Sonny to take off like that," Slaughter thought, then he put his mind to nudging Bernie off the track.

SILVER STREAK's stem was just even with HONEYDEW's transom, and Bernie had her up on Slaughter's starboard wave like a surfer. He was gaining all the time, by inches, but Slaughter kept angling right, ever so slightly, so Bernie would have a hard time squeezing between HONEYDEW and the right hand buoy when they hit the end of the course. Bernie was shaking his fist at Slaughter, good-naturedly. The skippers knew this was just a trial, and they would both qualify. As the big boats burst out of the murk in sight of the finish, Slaughter eased HONEYDEW to port just enough for Bernie to make the bouy, half a boat-length behind. A cascade of firecrackers pop-popped overhead as the boats flew under the bridge, throttling back.

Slaughter spun HONEYDEW around and made for the Carver Island shore. Whatever Sonny was into was his own business, but now he had Janet aboard. That made it Honey's business, and Slaughter's. It wouldn't do to go racing back along the marked course. The spotters would surely comment, and everyone would know he'd chased after Sonny. That might screw everything up, whatever it was. But Slaughter could slip past the Island, then race out through the Eastern Bay and get to Rogue almost as quickly. It would be a couple hours before the final race, and he could probably get back in time. Slaughter wasn't about to forfeit his chances for that new 4X4 Dodge or all those prize electronics. Or the chance to beat Bernie.

As HONEYDEW dodged among the islands and ledges, cutting toward the open passage and the side door, Slaughter switched back and forth among CB channels, trying to see if there was any more traffic between Sidearm and Sonny, or any comments about his own defection. Nobody seemed to notice he'd played Houdini, although there was more chatter about SUZY-Q, mostly rough humor at Sonny's expense.

"SIDEUP this is FIVE CENTS, comeback," came Sidearm's call on 13. Slaughter listened to the short messages intently. So Sumner's kid had been on the mysterious sailboat people had been jawing about, and now Buster's kid was in some kind of jam. And maybe Liz. Slaughter guessed 'the merchandise' was code for contraband, which is what he'd assumed Sonny was up to. Smuggling. All those secret trips to Canadian waters, all the cloak and dagger this week. Slaughter nodded to himself.

Slaughter reached over for the CB mike, but thought better of it. "Mebbe we'll just show up," he decided. He looked over at Honey, who was decked out in some skin-tight black leather pants she'd gotten while visiting Janet up to Portland, and an equally revealing tank-top covered in sequins. Honey's hair was all up in an elaborate beehive.. with little american flags worked in.. the whole construction a little the worse for wear in the wet fog. She had on low-cut pink sneakers with silver shoestrings. He reached over and pulled her close.

Running on Radar, Slaughter watched the light fade, and the sudden stillness.

"Here she come, dahlin," he said to Honey, turning off the radio. Lightening lit the sky, simultaneous with the blast of thunder. Rain came teeming down, then a had gust of wind struck HONEYDEW sideways. Slaughter backed the throttle, and fought her around to face the gale-force northwesterly.

"Wooooh!" Honey shouted, gleefully. A puff of cold air spilled into their shelter. "Feels like sex." Slaughter grinned.

HONEYDEW was out in the open passage, exposed to the full blast of the squall, but Slaughter imagined it was pretty wild back in the reach, too. He hoped all the spectators were OK. Some of those boats were pretty overloaded.

"Bet they're havin some fun to the race," he said.

Honey had one long leg coiled around his, and she was rubbing herself against him suggestively. "We could have some fun right here," Honey whispered in his ear.

Slaughter chortled, as her hands reached for his belt.

"Honey sure loves a little excitement," Slaughter thought.