Twice Bitten, Once Shy: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #5

Chapter 5

Cheese and Rice

"Can't say I was expecting that," Zandra says from the dock on the Wisconsin River.

The "boat" moored to the dock is a lot more than Ivy made it sound. It's a three-level, paddle-powered river beast, complete with an old-timey smokestack. It wouldn't look out of place in a movie about poker players in the Old West.

Wisps of steam from the water rise and stretch toward the warm, morning sun.

Is the Wisconsin River deep enough for this mini-Titanic? The water level is high this year, I guess. And it's not like this thing teleported to the dock.

Ivy busies herself with the crew loading supplies up the ramp from the dock into the boat. Jade, having finished onboarding the bar, takes in the view with Zandra.

"Registrations went way up when word got out you'd be here. I bet we get a few more yet. The attendees don't come until late this afternoon," Jade says. She prods Zandra with a light elbow. "Aren't you excited?"

I wish I could get excited about anything.

"Sure," Zandra says before hacking into her sleeve. She wipes her mouth clean with a tissue from her pocket and then lights a cigarette.

"I think the class you picked will go over great. Not sure about the demo, but mainly because I don't know a lot about that sort of thing," Jade says.

Neither do I.

"We'll see," Zandra says and puffs.

They stand in silence for a few awkward moments, watching the crew haul large crates of audio equipment up the ramp. A sweet breeze rolls in from the river, quickly stamped out by Zandra's acrid cigarette.

"Hey, I've got an idea. The other instructors are on board already. Why don't we go meet them?" Jade says.

This cigarette is like a timer. I'm done when it's done.

When nothing remains but the filter, Zandra flicks her cigarette into the water and finally responds to Jade with, "Sure."

Jade clears the ramp up to the boat just fine, but Zandra struggles given her bad ankle. The competing angles of the bones and ligaments don't mesh with the tread. One of the crew, a burly man with a gray beard and arms like Popeye wearing a skipper's cap, breaks from lifting a bag of something heavy onto his shoulders. He strolls up the ramp and offers a bent arm to Zandra.

"Need some help?" the man says. His breath matches Zandra's.

It smells like we smoke the same cigarettes. There's some fakey wintergreen mixed in there, too. Maybe he chews.

Zandra wants to skip the man's offer, but her sense of balance slips her arm into his. She wobbles up the ramp, but she does not fall. He relinquishes once they reach the top.

Instead of saying, "thanks," Zandra grunts an, "OK," instead.

"Don't want anyone falling into the water. What do you think of the ship?" the burly man says.

I think it's a boat, not a ship.

"It floats," Zandra says.

"It does indeed. I'll keep it that way, too," the man says. He takes his hat off and swipes sweat from his forehead. "I'm Captain Melville. Everyone calls me Captain Mel. Been running the Curd Queen up and down the Wisconsin for five years now."

The name of the boat is the Curd Queen? You could get seasick just saying that out loud.

"Captain Mel came highly recommended," Jade says. "One of the best."