Part 22 (1/2)
”Take it on a line even with the lantern on the bridge,” McKittrick said.
”What?”
”Take it.”
McKittrick stepped away from the wheel and into the stern of the boat. Bosch quickly stepped behind the wheel, sighted the red lantern hanging at center point beneath the span of a drawbridge a half mile ahead and adjusted the wheel to bring the boat into line. He looked back and saw McKittrick pull a plastic bag of small dead fish out of a compartment in the deck.
”Let's see who we've got here today,” he said.
He went to the side of the boat and leaned well over the gunwale. Bosch saw him start slapping an open palm on the side of the boat. McKittrick then stood up, surveyed the water for about ten seconds and repeated the banging.
”What's going on?” Bosch asked.
Just as he said it, a dolphin crested the water off the port stern and reentered no more than five feet from where McKittrick was standing. It was a slippery gray blur and Bosch wasn't exactly sure at first what had happened. But the dolphin quickly resurfaced next to the boat, its snout out of the water and chattering. It sounded like it was laughing. McKittrick dropped two of the fish into its open mouth.
”That's Sergeant, see the scars?”
Bosch took a quick look back at the bridge to make sure they were still reasonably on line and then stepped back to the stern. The dolphin was still there. McKittrick pointed down into the water beneath its dorsal fin. Bosch could see three white stripes slashed across its smooth gray back.
”He got too close to a prop one time and it cut him up. The people up at Mote Marine took care of him. But he was left with those sergeant's stripes.”
Bosch nodded as McKittrick fed the dolphin again. Without looking up to see if they were off course, McKittrick said, ”You better get the wheel.”
Bosch turned and saw that they had drifted far off line. He went back to the wheel and corrected the course. He stayed there while McKittrick remained in the back, throwing fish to the dolphin, until they pa.s.sed under the bridge. Bosch decided he could wait him out. Whether it was while they were going out or coming in didn't matter. He was going to get McKittrick's story. He was not going to leave without it.
Ten minutes after the bridge they came to a channel that took them out to the Gulf of Mexico. McKittrick dropped lures from two of the poles into the water and put out about a hundred yards of line on each one. He took the wheel back from Bosch then, yelling into the wind and engine noise.
”I want to take it out to the reefs. We'll troll until we're there and then we'll do some drift fis.h.i.+ng in the shallows. We'll talk then.”
”Sounds like a plan,” Bosch yelled back.
Nothing hit either of the lures, and about two miles from the sh.o.r.e McKittrick killed the engines and told Bosch to bring in one line while he handled the other. It took Bosch, who was left handed, a few moments to get himself coordinated on the right-handed reel but then he started smiling.
”I don't think I've done this since I was a kid. At McClaren every now and then they'd put us on a bus and take us out to the Malibu Pier.”
”Jesus, that pier still there?”
”Yeah.”
”Must be like fis.h.i.+ng in a cesspool by now.”
”I guess.”
McKittrick laughed and shook his head.
”Why do you stay there, Bosch? Doesn't sound like they particularly want you.”
Bosch thought a moment before answering. The comment was on point but he wondered if it was on point from McKittrick or whoever the source was he had called.
”Who'd you call back there about me?”
”I'm not telling you. That's why he talked to me, because he knew I wouldn't tell you.”
Bosch nodded, signaling he'd let it go.
”Well, you're right,” he said. ”I don't think they particularly want me back there. But I don't know. It's kind've like the more they push one way, the more I push the other. I feel like if they'd stop asking or trying to make me leave, then I'd probably want to do it.”
”I guess I know what you mean.”
McKittrick stowed the two rods they had used and set to work outfitting the other two with hooks and buckshot weights.
”We're going to use mullet.”
Bosch nodded. He didn't know the first thing about it. But he watched McKittrick closely. He thought it might be a good time to start.
”So you punched out after your twenty in L.A. What'd you do after that?”
”You're looking at it. I moved back here-I'm from Palmetto, up the coast, originally. I bought a boat and became a fis.h.i.+ng guide. Did that another twenty, retired and now I fish for my own d.a.m.ned self.”
Bosch smiled.
”Palmetto? Isn't that the name of those big c.o.c.kroaches?”
”No. Well, yeah, but it's also the name of a scrub palm. That's what the town's named for, not the bug.”
Bosch nodded and watched as McKittrick opened a bag of mullet strips and hooked pieces on each line. After opening fresh beers, they cast on separate sides of the boat and then sat on the gunwales, waiting.
”Then how'd you end up in L.A.?” Bosch asked.
”What was that somebody said about going west young man? Well, after j.a.pan surrendered I pa.s.sed through L.A. on my way back home and I saw those mountains going all the way up from the sea to the sky...d.a.m.n, I ate dinner at the Derby my first night in town. I was going to blow my whole wallet and you know who saw me there in uniform and picked up the tab? G.o.dd.a.m.n Clark Gable. I'm not kidding you. I f.u.c.kin' fell in love with that place and it took me almost thirty years to see the light...Mary's from L.A., you know. Born and raised. She likes it out here fine.”
He nodded to rea.s.sure himself. Bosch waited a few moments and McKittrick was still looking off at distant memories.
”He was a nice guy.”
”Who's that?”
”Clark Gable.”
Bosch crunched the empty beer can in his hand and got another.
”So tell me about the case,” he said after popping it. ”What happened?”
”You know what happened if you read the book. It was all in there. It got dumped. One day we had an investigation, the next we were writing 'No leads at this time.' It was a joke. That's why I remember the case so well. They shouldn't've done what they did.”
”Who's they?”
”You know, the big shots.”
”What did they do?”