Corkscrew Read Free Page B

seem guilty of anything. There's a difference. "He said he was interested in shooting some boats. He'd seen some shots in a book. It's hard to say, but I feel he's got a good eye for composition. He mentioned trying to get the curve of the bow into it." Carl's voice ran away on him, going nervously higher until he stopped and cleared his throat. "He could be anywhere is what I'm saying."
    I nodded and sipped again. "Was he here, in this house?"
    He flushed and bit his lip, then spoke in a rush. "You don't think I'm interested in children, do you?"
    I shook my head. "No, I'd be asking anyone the same question if they were the last person to see him. Was he here?"
    "Yes." He nodded and blushed, then sat down angrily. "Dammit. Why would I feel embarrassed about that? Yes, he was here. I showed him my darkroom equipment. We chatted for half an hour. He had a Coke and left. That was all there was to it."
    In the moment before I could answer him, he rushed on. "I would have done the same for any enthusiast regardless of how old they were or what sex."
    "Look, I don't suspect you of anything, Carl. I'm just trying to track the kid's movements. I'd ask anybody the same questions."
    He held up one hand apologetically. "I should know better. I'm sorry, Chief," he said formally. "But we have some very square people in town, and they get strange ideas about anybody who's gay."
    "They're mostly kind," I said. "Murphy's Harbour isn't a really redneck town."
    He picked up his glass, then set it down and looked at me levelly. "I've always kept my private life away from town," he said. "I have friends who wonder why I live here, away from the action. They wonder why I don't have them up here to visit. I just don't. This is my home. When I'm home, I'm just another guy, the one who isn't interested in peering down the waitress's front at the Tavern."
    I put the beer bottle down. "I know. Don't get upset; I'm just following procedure. I'll finish my beer and go look around some more. I only have one more question for you. Did you see which way he went when he left here?"
    "No. I started processing a roll of film, and in the middle of it he said he should be going and let himself out. I was in the darkroom a couple of minutes more, and when I came out, I looked up and down the street, but there was no sign of him."
    "Them's the breaks," I said. I swallowed the last of my beer. "Thanks for the drink. I'll go earn my pittance."
    He followed me to the door, looking anxious but not speaking. I waved to him and got into the car, with Sam beside me. He didn't wave back, just stood there, looking worried. It seemed like overreaction, and I put it into my memory and wondered what past experience this was bringing back to him.
    The radio in the car called me, and I picked up the receiver. It was Wales at the motel. "Been trying to reach you, Chief," he said. "No need to come back up. Two o' the bikers came back with a spare wheel. They changed it and left, no problems; never even came in here."
    "Fine, that's one worry over," I told him. "Don't lose any sleep about them. I think they were just moving through."
    I hung up the receiver and drove to the marina. Walter Puckrin was working at the engine of a big inboard. He stopped when I got there and swore at Chrysler for a while, then offered me a beer, which I turned down, and told me he hadn't noticed the kid around.
    "Maybe he went down the dock in front of the Tavern—there's boats there if he wanted pictures—maybe to the lock, maybe anywhere. Not here, though," he said.
    "Fine, Walt, keep on cussing. I'll look around." I still wasn't worried too badly. The boy could be anywhere. It was coincidence that Carl had seen him last, nothing more. Right now he was out somewhere around boats, taking pictures.
    I walked over to the Lakeside Tavern and strolled out onto the docks behind it. The usual crowd of pleasure boaters was standing around, comparing routes up and down the waterway and trying not to be