Deadly Catch by E. Michael Helms

Author:E. Michael Helms [Helms, E. Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781616148676
Publisher: Seventh Street Books
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

I made it back to my bivouac before dark. Nobody was around, so I stripped down and took a quick dip in Little Gator Lake to wash off the sweat and bug juice. Inside the tent, I put on a fresh set of utilities, ate a pack of jerky, and washed it down with scotch. Not a bad combo after a long trek through the wilderness. I tried calling Kate to let her know I was still among the living, but I couldn’t pick up a signal from my campsite. I was bushed, and sleep came easy.

The first day of July dawned hot and muggy. I broke camp before the sun topped the trees, saddled up, and hit the trail. The hike back was uneventful except for a three-foot water moccasin I spotted about a mile from trail’s end that posed no threat. It was still a relief when I got back to my truck and found it safe. I stopped in Crawfordton again for breakfast and was back in St. George just past one.

Inside my trailer, I showered and put on a pair of shorts and T-shirt. I started to shave but then decided what the hell. I liked the look of the two-days’ growth and let it go.

The parking lot at Gillman’s was damn near full when I pulled in at two-thirty. The store was buzzing with tourists in town for the big weekend. Kate was behind the counter working the register for a long line of customers, too busy to notice me when I’d come in. Sara was manning a table in front of a large banner announcing registration for the fishing tournament. I walked over and stood in line.

“Oh, Mr. Mac,” she said, breaking eye contact when she saw it was me at the head of the line. “What categories are you entering?” The usual smile and perkiness in her voice were missing. I guess I was fairly high on her poop list at the moment.

I flashed a smile, hoping to break the icicles loose. “Just speckled trout, single boater.”

“That’ll be fifty-five dollars, please.” I was surprised I couldn’t see the frostiness in Sara’s breath as she jotted down my entry on the proper sign-up sheet.

I counted out the correct cash and laid it on the table in front of her. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” she said and handed me a flyer with the contest rules without looking up. “The weigh-in deadline is seven o’clock, Friday and Saturday evening.”

I idled down the aisle where the lures were located and picked up a silver MirrOlure and a blue and silver Rapala, then moved to the end of the line Kate was working. I hoped I’d get a warmer welcome from her.

When I was a few customers away Kate glanced over and smiled. At least I’d managed to avoid stepping in her piss pot. When I got to the register I handed her the lures. “Movie and dinner tonight, O’Malley’s?”

“Can’t, Mac. I don’t get off until seven.” She did a double-take.

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