“My Ship Comes In” Excerpt 8: dead men do tell tales

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“My Ship Comes In” Excerpt 8: dead men do tell tales

March 29, 2022 by T.K. O'Neill

“My Ship Comes In” is the fourth story, a novella, in T.K. O’Neill’s Northwoods Pulp Reloaded collection of three short crime stories and this longer story. Ebook available here.

“W-w-what do you mean, Keith?” he says with a grimace.

“I was out to the boat, Dan; I saw the damage. I only saw two holes in the boat and they looked like shotgun slug holes. And, it also looks like they went out through the front of the cabin, which means they had to be from pretty close range. Those guys weren’t very good shots, I guess.”

“They were kids—teenagers—they had a double-barreled shotgun. They shot at Schmidty while he was at the wheel and when he ran down to get our guns and I had to fend them off. My god—they rammed us—and two of them were trying to get on board. Fuckin’ Jamaicans. I was fighting them off and they were scratching at me trying to climb on board. Then Schmidt comes back up with the twelve-gauge and blows one of the pricks away. Puts a hole right in the asshole’s goddamn chest. The other guy goes scrambling into the water and Schmidt could have killed him, too—but he held back. He was standing there watching, letting the nigger escape, when a third one pops up from nowhere and lets go with both barrels. One of the slugs catches Schmidty in the chest and he goes down. He’s on the deck and he grabs the flare gun and shoots. Must have hit the gas tank or something on their scow because the whole thing went up. It was gorgeous.”

“That’s heavy, man. Schmidt went down fighting….”

“He saved our bacon.”

”At least your bacon. But your wounds don’t look very deep. What kind of knives did those guys have?”

“Christ, I don’t know. Everything happened too fast.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“I’m feeling weak. I need to rest.”

“I thought you said the pirates came back again, at night.”

“I m-m-meant they planned to come back at night. That is the usual modus operandi on the high seas. Th-Th-That’s what they would’ve done, I meant, if Steve hadn’t toasted them. I was shaken up from the ordeal. Waited all night for more of them to come along—but no one did. I ran without the lights until dawn and when the sun came up, there was nobody around. And, luckily, for us—no Coast Guard or narc boats. Now don’t you think it’s time to get a move on? You need to focus.”

“I thought you needed to rest. So tell me what happened to Steve after he shot the flare?”

“He died a few hours later. I watched him die. There was nothing I could do to stop the bleeding.”

“How did you know he was dead?”

“You can tell, Keith, when you see it firsthand.” A hint of superiority in his voice now: “He had no heartbeat and there was blood all over him. He wasn’t breathing. Pr-Pr-Pretty good signs that the p-p-poor bastard was dead. And what’s with all the questions? Y-y-you’re not letting y-your imagination run away with you, are you?”

“Fuck you. What happened to Steve’s body?”

“I had to bury him at sea.”

“I’m sure you said some words.”

“I did.”

“I won’t ask what they were. I don’t know if I could take it. One thing, though, the only blood I saw on deck was by the helm, underneath the wheel.”

“We ran through a hard rain. Like now—tis the season.”

“There was also blood by the rail, near the tiller—I wonder why that didn’t wash off.”

“Tiller, that’s a good nautical word. You’re picking up on this sailing stuff, Keith—someday we can go for a sail, you and I. But don’t you think we should get along down the road—as in highway?”

“Yeah, I suppose. But first I have to get something.”

I go back to the dinghy and come back with the Browning cradled in my arms. Bagley is sitting in the sand, tension creasing his forehead.

“You brought the twelve-gauge along?” he says, a confused look crossing his face. “Good thought—but I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring it in the van. Just one more thing for a cop to spot if we get stopped for anything.”

“You’re probably right, Dan, but I’m not bringing it to the van. It’s for use here, right now.” I push off the safety and point the big black barrel at Bagley’s reddening face. He begins to resemble a jack-o-lantern, yellow glow and all. “First, Dan, we are going to sit here together and continue our little chat, like the old buddies that we are.”

“Very funny. Now cut the shit and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Not before you answer some questions. And believe me, I’m serious. If I’m smirking, it’s because it’s funny to see you there on the ground—with a loaded shotgun in your face—and you’re still giving orders like a fat little general in some third-world shithole. I guess you really can’t help yourself. But, first and foremost, I want one thing understood. If I’m going to assist you in the odious task of cocaine distribution—well, uh—let’s just say that I won’t do it if I don’t feel comfortable. And right now, I don’t feel comfortable.”

“If you’re too scared, Keith, drive me out to the road and you can walk away. Nobody has to know that you were ever here. I’ll send you some scratch when I get back to civilization. Just help me get to the road, please.”

“I’m afraid that won’t work for me, Daniel—for many reasons. Not the least of which is that I don’t trust you. Don’t trust you now and never have. I mean, for Christ sake, Dan, I haven’t forgotten what a rip-off you are. Nobody I know ever trusted you. Whether it was with their girl or their money or anything. I don’t know how it is you manage to use everyone to the max like you do, all the while prancing around like some kind of fuckin’ diva, but the real funny thing is that I always stood up for you, believe it or not. I’m probably the only guy in the world ever had anything good to say about you at all. And what did that get me? A load of horseshit. Did you forget we’ve done business together before, buddy? I know what an asshole you can be, remember? I’ve taken the brunt of your condescension and your arrogance. Arrogance and ignorance—your two strong points. I guess I’m the ultimate sucker.”

“Are you serious? That’s what you’re so upset about? If I promise to be a nice guy will you point that shotgun away?”

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me. Something seems terribly wrong here. I don’t believe your shit. Bile is rising up. My gut won’t accept the scene you’ve painted.”

“I think you’ve finally gone off the deep end, Keith. Better give me the shotgun before somebody gets hurt.”

“I went off the deep end a long time ago, Dan. That’s why I wouldn’t hesitate to pull this trigger and end your nasty little life. I’m sick of being shoved around by people like you.”

“People like me? You mean someone who’s made something of his life?”

“That must be it. Must be my frustration over a lack of status in mainstream society. But we’re straying from the heart of matters. I need to know more about this alleged pirate attack. I remember you telling Steve back in Key West that this deal was going to be your people all the way. You had some guy from Colorado, a high roller from Aspen or something, coming in to run things. I do remember you saying that. So how did the infallible Bagley go so terribly wrong, I want to know?”

(To be continued)