Read Cast in Stone for Free Online Page B

hair-helmet so stiff it
appeared to be shellacked, and a pair of the smallest feet I'd ever
seen on an adult.
    "You
must have an earwax problem," he added.
    "I
told you, I don't want to talk about the accident.
    I
just want to have a few words with the person who leased them the
boat."
    "Same
answer, bub. The bossman himself leased that one, and he's not
talking to anybody, so beat it."
    "Why
don't we ask him?" I suggested.
    "Why
don't you shag your ass back out that door?"
    "I'll
tell you, Scooter, I'm not much impressed with your idea of customer
service."
    "That's
your problem, dickwad."
    I
leaned forward on the counter and beckoned him closer. When he
declined, I spread out, letting my forearms push a pile of glossy
brochures off onto the floor. They fanned out over his little feet,
which began doing something akin to the Ali Shuffle.
    "How
clumsy of me."
    He
got louder. "All questions about the—"
    I
interrupted him by walking around to the open side of the sales
counter.
    "—the
accident—" he stammered.
    "You
say that again, Scooter, I'm gonna mess up your hair."
    He
turned toward the phone, dialing finger poised. I stepped closer.
    "I
wouldn't," I said quietly. He replaced the receiver with a
bang.
    "Come
on man," he whined. "I don't want any trouble. We had a
whole meeting about this crap. I'm sorry about those kids, but it's
my ass if I tell you anything. Mr. Richmond said—"
    "Then
call Mr. Richmond," I suggested for the third time.
    "I
told you, man, he hates being bothered if it's not an emergency."
    "Trust
me, Scooter, as far as you're concerned, this is an emergency."
    As
he turned to the phone, he betrayed himself with the slightest of
sneers. The buttons clicked.
    "If
you're calling security, my friend, I'd suggest
    you
reconsider. I'm self-employed. I've got nothing better to do than
wait outside for you for the next couple of weeks. Unless you plan on
this being your last day on the job, and then like moving to another
state, you'd better be calling this Mr. Richmond."
    His
shoulders visibly sagged as he depressed the button and redialed.
After half a minute of apologetic mumbling and kowtowing, Chipper
returned the receiver gingerly to its perch.
    "He'll
be right down."
    "Thanks,"
I said, leaving the business card on the counter. It was identical to
the one I'd found with Heck's notes. I turned on my heel and walked
back out the door toward the afternoon sunshine of the marina.
    "Fuck
you very much," he shot at my back.
    I
repaired to the nearest bench to catch a little sun and admire the
view. From the Northwest, the gleaming monoliths of downtown
Seattle appeared to be under attack from giant insects. These days,
the Port of Seattle completely surrounds the spot where the jagged
Duwamish River empties into Elliot Bay. A swarm of bright orange
loading cranes stood sentry, seeming to ring the downtown core like
modern engines of siege.
    This
had been the original Seattle. A hundred years ago, Doc Maynard and
his cronies had simply called those bootsucking tidal flats the Sag.
Prior to the regrade, that area had been the only place our founding
fathers could, at low tide, get down and walk on the beach. The
contemporary Doc Maynards called it the Gateway to the Pacific Rim.
    I
was pulled from my ruminations by the sound of leather soles on the
cement behind me. Richmond was a big, florid man, flushed with the
good life. His hair was wet, combed straight back. He wore a sport
coat over a pink shirt and gray slacks, penny loafers. No socks, no
tie. After unbuttoning the double-breasted blue blazer, he sat
heavily next to me on the bench, his bulk springing the central steel
support slightly.
    "Chipper
says you threatened him, Mr.—"
    "Waterman.
Leo Waterman." I offered a hand. Without hesitation, he took it
in his oversize mitt and moved it up and down, eyeing me.
    "Waterman's
a rather famous name around here. You any relation to Wild Bill
Waterman?"
    "My
father," I admitted.
    "Hell
of a character, if you