He refills her glass.
“I like to drink wine more than I used to,” she says.
“It’s good for you, Pop.”
“I love that scene.”
They’ve watched a lot of movies this past week.
“I’ll cut back the wine when my face doesn’t hurt.”
“Hang in there.”
“I have a question for you, Casey. I believe that Brock and Mahina and the Go Dogs set our boats on fire. I’m almost certain that you did not. Am I right?”
Casey feels that big ugly surge of confusion/anxiety/stupidity rack his brain as he contemplates his answer. Lie or not? Simple but so … complex.
“I didn’t set the fires because I didn’t think it was right.”
Casey studies her eyes, the black pupils set in garnet orange and bruise purple, like the pendant around his neck. It hurts him just to look at them. How do you let them do this to your own girl?
“And I’ve got a question for you,” he says. “How did you frame Monterey 9 for the Barrel?”
She studies him blankly, finally nods. Takes another drink.
“Early morning, after we set the fire, we broke into an Imperial Fresh Seafood Sprinter in their Monterey Park lot. Loaded in some canisters of gasoline, and the cell signal timers, the wires, batteries, everything. And a detailed plot drawing of the Barrel, small x’s where the bombs had been planted. Fang placed the anonymous tip to LA police, who patrol Monterey, named two of the Imperial Fresh Seafood pirates we’ve been fighting with for decades. We’d put the bomb stuff in their garages. The frame might not have been strong enough to fool a good defense, but it was enough for the cops to make the arrests and get them off our backs.”
“What about the Sierra Sports Sprinter?”
“Our van. Our people. Forged plates. A Sierra Sports emblem one of our people found in a thrift store.”
Casey tries to follow the consequences. Tries to think like Brock would think.
“So, if you hadn’t told Detective Pittman about all that, the two framed suspects might have been convicted. And the people who torched the Barrel would be free.”
“Yes.”
In his mind’s eye, he sees the flames lashing the walls of the Barrel, melting the surfboards, eating the paintings and the furnishings and the hardwood floor.
And the Empress II boiling over with flames. And Bushmaster and Stallion and the panga …
Which is when Casey admits to himself who set Jimmy Wu’s boats on fire.
“Who are the real Barrel fire setters?” he asks.
“Fang and Danilo.”
Casey tries to reconcile their faces with the security camera video. Can’t make firm connections, and wonders how a jury could. Again, it’s Bette who can identify them. Convict them.
“You’ve sacrificed a lot for us. Turned in your father. His business. Your coworkers.”
Your face, he thinks.
She shakes her head and looks up at him, a quizzical smile on that battered face.
“And I did it for me, too, Casey.”
His heart swelling for her, he takes off his surfboard pendant with the orange Mandarin Spessartite garnet embedded on the deck. It’s the orange of his father’s famous big-wave gun, and the orange of his mother’s hair.
Years ago, he hired the aunt of one of the Barrel waiters to make this pendant. She was a well-known Taxco jewelry maker. Sent her pictures, dozens of them, so she could get the shape of the gun right, especially that wicked narrow tail. This was before he had any money. So he borrowed from his mom against his busboy wages: two thousand dollars, because the Mandarin Spessartite was so rare. It took him a year to pay her back.
Bette eyes it. Casey likes that he can’t tell what she’s thinking.
Now he stands before her and spreads the heavy silver chain, setting the necklace over Bette Wu’s head and onto her fine pale neck.
“Thank you,” he says.
She stands and lifts a lock of hair off Casey’s forehead, managing a half smile. Softly runs a finger along his reef-cut scab.
Casey gets that funny little jolt he gets when she touches him.
Mae looks up at him like she’s felt it, too.
The phone buzzes and Bette checks the caller.
“I’ve got something for you, too,” she says.
Accepts the call and walks out of earshot to the sliding glass door. Then raises a stop-sign palm to Casey, turns, and goes into the house. Mae sits and watches.
