Day 6

Well, it seems as if everyone and their mother is pounding at my doorstep or at least the front gate. And all because Lee Crane’s come to town.  It happened like this~

There we were, Edith and I, enjoying lunch at the Oyster House and as planned the men barged in, in civies, looked around, pointed and charged over.

“Admiral! Admiral!” Sharkey was first.

“Oh boy, sir, are we ever glad to see you!” Ski was second.

“We, like, have  been looking all over this town for where you might be!” was Riley’s line. “Did you know there’s more than one Boston Museum in this town? They got ‘em all all over the place. Divied up by what category the exhibitions are in. Like, man, what a pain.”

“Hey guys,” Patterson said, “give him a chance okay? Sir, is the Skipper here yet?”

“The Skipper?” I asked, incredulous. Surely that couldn’t be in the plan, could it? Or were they simply improvising. A lot lately had been improvised. I think I must have looked as surprised as I felt.

“Yeah,” Sharkey said, “he was supposed to be on our flight yesterday, but that inertial navigator got him tied up aboard Seaview. Anyways, he called this morning and  said he’d be flying out today, but  the flight number he gave us arrived without him. So we figured his plans must’ve changed and well, we thought maybe he called you about them. We tried your number but we kept getting the damn answering machine.”

“Finally Stu remembered  you talking to the Skipper  about planning to eat at some famous Oyster House when you were in town,” Patterson said.

“Do  you know how many famous oyster houses there are in this town?” Sharkey fumed.

“Gentlemen, please,” Edith said, “you’re making a scene.”

“Yes, please, sit down,” I waved one of the waiters over.

“I can get you a larger table in a few minutes,” he said, “in one of the family rooms.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said quickly. Lee wanted this to be a public scene. “I’m sure we’ll all fit with  extra chairs. And some coffee for everyone, please.”

“Right away sir,” he and some other hastily drafted staff brought over four more chairs and the men sat down. We were rather squished, but it made for more drama. We completely ignored the fact that the waiters were pouring our coffee’s as we conversed.

“Captain Crane hasn’t even called my cell today,” I said, sounding disappointed in him, as several interested parties had abandoned their own conversations to listen to ours.

“He’s really worried about Miguel, sir,” Sharkey said, “ especially after seeing the news. He knows you and Miss Edith are doing your best to take care of him while he’s out here, but the Skip thinks maybe it’s time he took Miguel home.”

“But Miguel has a job here, now,” Edith said. “And he seems to be happy with it. And he’s making friends. The townspeople are fond of him. For the most part, anyway.”

“Yeah, like,” Riley said, “I can’t imagine anyone saying all that crap about Miguel like that one dude did, what was his name, Chief?”

“O’ Shaunessy. A fine old Irish name like that and he shames the old sod with his kind of talk.

“If I could only get my hands on him,” Ski said, “I’d wring his scrawny  neck.”

“Just wait till the Skip gets here,” Pat  said, “ I bet he’ll save you the effort.”

I raised my eyebrow.

“Sorry sir, ma’am. I guess not. After all the Skip’s  an officer and a gentleman. He’d figure out some other way to get even. Or at least to give the guy his due.”

“And it’s not just about Miguel, sir,” Riley said, “the guy called that sweet old lady bad things too. It  ain’t right sir. It’s just, like, well, it ain’t right, man.”

“No it’s not,” I sighed. “Some people just don’t have the sense God gave them. But enough about  yesterday. Captain Crane   was trying to get some legal papers approved the last time we spoke; do you know if he did? I realize that Miguel ‘Crane’ is still just a courtesy name, but the Captain was trying to make it legal.”

“I don’t know sir,” Sharkey said, “but he was hounding the lawyers a lot the other day...he sure was hoping for that DNA test to prove things,” he sighed.

“Me too, Chief, me too.”

Just then a wave of oohs and awws interrupted as we turned toward the sound’s direction.

“Lee!” I rose and greeted Lee warmly, who limped toward me, thankfully in uniform. Like this, I had been able to tell right away he wasn’t ‘Miguel’ just now.  The dye had been washed out or perhaps covered over with black shoe polish, and his eyes were still bloodshot, though they were his normal hazel color and not black. I could only hope that no one was putting two and two together about the shared  limp. “Why didn’t you call me!” I demanded, just like a worried father would.

“Sorry, I dropped my cell in the ballast tank and I wrenched my ankle over a knee knocker in my hurry to get off the boat and to the airport on time. Miguel?”

“At  the police station with your mother”

 “My mother?”

“Yes, she saw the news too. Felt he needed ‘family’ after yesterday. The police are taking statements from everyone about yesterday.”

“Oh, I see,” he seemed to relax a little.

“Captain Crane,” the manager approached with another chair, “we’re honored by your presence. None of us forgets what you went through to do your duty for our great nation. And all of us are proud the way you’ve taken in a mentally challenged man as your own brother.”

“Not to mention saving that little girl’s dolly,” a diner said.

The crowd began to applaud.

I could tell that Lee’s flush was not an act. He was really embarrassed. One day I need to have another talk with him about dealing with justified praise.

“Lunch is on the house,” the manager said, “for  you and your companions, Captain. Whatever  you like. No limit on the beer.”

“Well,” Lee flashed him that quirky grin, “Harry, er...Admiral Nelson’s always told me this place has the best oysters in town, not to mention the beer and  bread pudding. So I think I’d like to start with that. I’ll let you choose which kind of oysters and their preparation.”

“Very good, Captain. Gentlemen, your orders? And of course, I’m forgetting my manners, dear Miss Nelson, what will you have?”

It took a few minutes to place our orders, but soon we were discussing the inertial navigation hiccups, and other technical terms sure to bore most of the patrons back into their own conversations as the ‘act’ continued. Most diners, however, kept glancing our way, smiles and soppy grins on their faces, over the man in uniform, crumpled though it may be.

As for Miguel, well, apparently, he’s taking the rest of afternoon off. I’m going to have a little talk with both of them later. Right now Lee, his mother, Edith, and the men are playing scrabble in front of the fireplace, all but Lee and I blissfully unaware of the death threat that came in the mail this afternoon.

But not the one we were expecting.

This one, was for Lee.