A Fine Kettle of Fish Read online

  A Fine Kettle of Fish

  By Kaye George

  Copyright 2013 by Kaye George

  Cover Copyright 2013 by Dara England and Untreed Reads Publishing

  The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Also by Kaye George and Untreed Reads Publishing

  Death in the Time of Ice

  The Bavarian Krisp Caper

  “Henry, Gina, and the Gingerbread House” in Grimm Tales Anthology

  http://www.untreedreads.com

  A Fine Kettle of Fish

  Kaye George

  Fin sat up straighter when a new guy walked into the bar. He looked like trouble. Joe, the bartender, caught Fin’s eye and gave a nod. Joe agreed. The new guy lurched across the floor to take the stool next to Fin, even though there were empty ones all up and down the bar. He ordered a beer and a shot. The alcohol reek said it wasn’t his first drink of the night.

  “How many does this make?” asked Joe when he set the bottle and the glass in front of the guy.

  “Never mind,” he mumbled. “None of your business.” He tossed back the shot. He was as dark complexioned as Joe, who wore a permanent five o’clock shadow, but this dude’s black hair bristled on his head like a wad of steel wool. His face sagged on his bones, like some hard living had dragged him down by his skin.

  Fin swiveled to face him. “What’s your name, pal?”

  “Malcolm Barnard. My friends call me Mal. You can call me Malcolm.” His eyes were naturally narrow and with his squint you could hardly see his black pupils.

  “OK, Malcolm. Just want to set you straight. It is Joe’s business how many you’ve had. He loses his license if he serves you the one that puts you over the limit.” Fin was pretty sure, though, that Mal was already there.

  “What’s your name, anyway?” Mal was in a belligerent mood tonight. Unless he was always that way.

  “Phineas Pudlow.” He waited for the guffaw. And got it. “My friends call me Fin, but you can call me Fin, too.”

  “I ain’t callin’ you anything. I want you to shut up so I can drink.” Mal grabbed the can, crushing the thin metal slightly in his paw, and lifted it for a long swallow.

  Joe did a quick shake of his head at Fin. Fin knew Mal wouldn’t be getting any more to drink from The Fine Kettle O’ Fish tonight.

  Fin’s girl, Alice, a stunning rail-thin brunette who was sitting on his other side, poked him with her sharp elbow. “Leave the poor slob alone, Fin. He doesn’t look too good.”

  Alice’s friend Violet came from the back room where she’d been fixing her makeup, climbed onto the stool beside Alice, and asked Joe for a glass of seltzer. Violet, who was working tonight, never drank booze until her last set was over. When Joe pushed the glass to Violet, he reached over to give her hand a squeeze. They’d been an item for two years now. It looked like they would stick it out for awhile.

  Fin knew Vi had had some tough breaks. She’d knocked around a little before Joe picked her up and dried her out. Dancing on the stage at the bar was a couple steps up from what she’d been doing when she and Joe met.

  The new guy leaned back and frowned at Vi behind the backs of Fin and Alice, but put his eyes back on his beer when first Joe, then Fin, glared at him. Fin knew Violet looked good in her costume: low-cut green bodice, short black skirt, fishnets, and spike heels. The green matched the color of the fish in the kettle on the sign outside. Her long, soft, blonde curls fell over her shoulders, gold against the green.

  Vi had confided in Alice, and Alice had told Fin one night after a very nice roll in the sack, that Violet had given birth to a child with a spinal defect when she was only a teenager, and had lost the baby after only three months. The baby’s father had never married her and would have nothing to do with her after the baby’s death. Her only sibling, a brother, had died a few years later. Meanwhile, her life spiraled downward.

  The two men in the bar were protective of Violet. No one laid a hand on her in this place. She’d been through enough.

  Fin caught a movement from Vi out of the corner of his eye.

  “You cold, Vi?” asked Alice. “I got a sweater in the car.”

  “No, just got a shiver,” answered Vi. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  The new guy stayed long enough to watch Violet sing her number and do her dance. It was kind of a half striptease. The blouse and skirt came off, but she wore plenty of underwear and those fishnets and high heel shoes when she finished.

  Malcolm Barnard took off before Violet redressed and made her way back to the bar.

  * * *

  The next night Malcolm came in earlier than the night before. Fin didn’t think he’d had anything to drink yet. One at the most. Violet, not yet dressed for her set, was helping Joe wipe glasses and put them on the overhead rack. Malcolm took the stool next to Fin again.

  “That was a nice display last night,” Mal said to Violet.

  A small frown line marred her forehead between her light eyebrows, but she answered him. “Glad you liked it.” She had a sweet, little-girl voice.

  “You ever do any private stuff?”

  “No.” Vi turned her back to him. She looked good even in a tee and jeans—filled out the tee to perfection.

  Fin stiffened in case any rough stuff got started. Fin wasn’t that big and knew he didn’t look that tough, except for the deep scar over his left eye, but he’d surprised a lot of people who assumed he was a pushover. He worked out, and knew some moves. He even helped Joe as a bouncer when Joe needed it, although Joe always packed heat, just in case.

  Joe leaned over, putting his dark face in Malcolm’s. Mal had added another day’s stubble. “She’s for looks,” Joe said. “Strictly off limits to bozos like you.”

  Mal sneered. “What kinda bozos is she for? Bozos like you? Gimme a beer and a shot.”

  Joe took his time getting a beer from the cooler, then poured the shot with maddening precision.

  “What’s your problem, jackass?” said Mal. “I ain’t got all night.”

  “Oh?” said Joe. “I do.” He set the drinks in front of Mal who tossed the shot down like he was dying of thirst, like he’d done last night.

  Mal was staring at Violet, like he’d done last night. Fin could tell it made her uncomfortable, just like last night. There was no law against looking, though.

  Violet left to get dressed for the night.

  The outer door opened to admit a woman Fin hadn’t seen before. The Fine Kettle O’ Fish didn’t get many women customers and he knew them all, so he looked her over. Mid-twenties, maybe early thirties at the outside, with flaming red curly hair. The color was probably fake, but her rage and her flushed skin weren’t.

  “There you are!” She stalked over to Mal. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Mal reared back, away from her blazing anger. Fin saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

  “You need to get hold of yourself,” the woman continued, her voice a little lower. “If you’re gonna f
all apart, drink yourself to death, you’re not gonna do it living in my place. You can come get your stuff any time. If you’re not out in two days, I’ll set your crap on the sidewalk.”

  “I’ll get it, Bitsy,” Mal said in the most subdued tones Fin had heard from him. “Give me a few hours. I’ll get out tomorrow.”

  “No wonder you’ve been married three times,” Bitsy said. “Who could live with a psycho like you?”

  Fin wondered what kind of women would marry this guy. But there must be two more somewhere.

  “I’m seeing a lawyer about a divorce next week,” she said. “Find a place to sleep tonight until you get moved out.” She left muttering something about bastards and sons of bitches.

  “Whoa,” Fin said. “You got her riled up, buddy.”

  “I can’t take it anymore,” Mal said. “I just can’t....”

  Fin took another look at him. His narrow eyes were squeezed shut and tears sprang from the corners, ran down his face. He lowered his head and his shoulders shook with his noisy sobs.

  “Hey,” Fin said, putting a tentative hand on his back.

  Mal sprang back to his snarly self. “Get your hands off me!”

  Violet had come from the back when he started crying. She approached, probably intending to try to comfort him, but she took a step backward at his outburst.

  “And you!” He pointed a shaky finger at Vi. “You’re no help at all.” He fumbled a set of car keys from his pocket and lurched from the stool. Stumbling into Violet, he made a stab at the air to right himself, but ripped her fishnets with a key.

  Mal sank to the floor, continued crying. “Fishnets, damn fishnets. Ruined my life.”

  Violet shuddered. “Fishnets,” she whispered. She ran from the room. Alice went after her.

  Joe came from behind the bar and looked at the weeping heap on the floor with disgust. “How we gonna get him outta here?” He looked at Fin for an answer.

  Fin shook his head. “Sounds like he might be dealing with some heavy stuff. From what little Bitsy said, he’s falling apart. Maybe we should cut him some slack.”

  Joe looked like he was going to spit on him. “You cut him slack. I want him outta here. He’s bothering Vi.”

  That was true, Fin had to admit. Violet seemed awfully upset by this Malcolm character. Maybe Fin should find out what his problem was so the guy could get over it and leave them alone. Fin helped him to one of the high-backed booths against the wall and asked Joe to bring him a cup of strong coffee.

  Mal was still muttering about fishnets.

  “I don’t think the damage is that bad,” said Fin. “She has other stockings. It’s not that big a deal.”

  Mal looked up at Fin with haunted eyes. They were still narrow, but they looked deeper than they had.

  “But...” he started. He took a sip from the steaming mug, grimaced. “You don’t understand.”

  “So explain it to me.”

  “Those nets have been haunting me for years. The nets were my biggest mistake. I’m never gonna shake it. I relive it every time I try to sleep.”

  He did have those deep circles under his eyes.

  Fin put on his concerned face, the one that made people confide in him, but hesitated before he spoke. “Why don’t you tell me about it? That might make it easier.”

  He immediately regretted his offer. Fin had been on the receiving end of hair-raising confessions before. The confessor always felt better afterward, but Fin seemed to take on some of the burdens people shared with him. They weighed him down after awhile. His mother had wanted him to be a priest. Maybe that was, in some way, connected to the way people seemed drawn to him when they wanted to spill their guts.

  Malcolm sat silent for a good long while, nursing his hot coffee.

  “You got woman troubles?” asked Fin.

  “Ha. I’ve always had women troubles. A long time ago, about ten years, I did a rotten thing to a pretty young thing. She had my baby and I…really blew it.”

  He must have seen Fin’s look. “I know, but I can’t help myself sometimes. My first wife left when she thought I wasn’t paying enough attention to her. I don’t know why I get that way. I always want what I had before, never what I have right then. I don’t treat women the way they want. After she left, I tried to change.”

  “It’s not that hard to treat women right, Mal. Most guys do it.”

  “It is for me.”

  “So that’s what’s bothering you, that you can’t keep women because you don’t know how to treat them?”

  “No, that’s not it. That’s just the beginning.”

  Fin puzzled over that for a minute. “What’s the middle? And the end?”

  “The middle is that the brother of the girl I was with ten years ago—”

  “The one you treated badly.”

  “Yeah, that one. It wasn’t all my fault. There was something wrong with that baby. I made her swear not to tell anyone it was mine. It was defective. You couldn’t expect me to stay with a woman who had a baby like that.”

  Fin smacked his palm hard onto the table top and Mal jumped. “I damn well could. Go on about the middle.”

  Violet had come up behind Mal and stood listening to his story. Fin avoided looking at her so Mal would finish up his story and leave.

  “Her brother somehow found out. He said after the baby died that she disappeared. They figured she was dead somewhere. Never heard from her again. Her brother, Sean, was my business partner for awhile. I used to gamble a little and I’d borrowed some from our company. He took me out fishing and told me he’d found out about the loan I’d given myself.”

  “The money you’d embezzled, you mean.” Christ, this guy could probably sugar coat a chain saw massacre.

  “If you wanna call it that. That’s what Sean called it. I thought he was about to turn me in, so I, well, I swung the anchor at his head. He quit breathing.”

  “You killed him.” Fin’s voice was soft. “He quit breathing because you killed him.”

  “I had to do something. I woulda gone to prison. The water was cold, but not cold enough for hypothermia. I knew a tour boat was due to come by in a few minutes. If those fishing nets hadn’t been laying in the bottom of the boat, I wouldn’t have thought of it. I wrapped him up in fishing nets and threw him overboard. Then I tipped the boat over. When the tour boat sent someone to rescue me, Sean was good and dead and I said he’d gotten tangled in the nets and I couldn’t untangle him.”

  “You bastard,” Violet breathed. She’d stepped closer as he spoke and she was beside him.

  Mal looked up at her and squinted.

  Violet was pale and breathing hard. “You killed my brother.”

  “You’re Violet, aren’t you?” said Mal. He didn’t sound that surprised. “I thought you were dead. Your ghosts have been haunting me. Yours and Sean’s. All these years.”

  “You not only left me when I needed you most, treated me like dirt, you killed my brother. I thought that was an accident.”

  “Where have you been? No one could find you. I thought you were dead, too.”

  “Not quite dead, Mal. On the streets for a long time. Until Joe came along.”

  Fin then noticed that Joe stood behind Violet. “This the fucker that left you after the baby died?” Joe asked.

  “He did more than that.” When Violet started sobbing, Joe stepped around her and broke a whiskey bottle over Mal’s head before Fin could blink. As Mal fell out of the booth, Joe whipped out his pistol and pointed toward Mal’s chest.

  Fin was out of his seat in a flash, knocking the gun out of Joe’s hand. “Don’t do it,” he said. “Don’t do it, man.”

  Joe was breathing heavy. He eyed Fin. Fin was afraid Joe was going to fight him. But Joe blew out a breath, sagged onto the seat of the booth. Violet bumped him over and sat beside him, rubbing his shoulder, talking too softly for Fin to hear.

  Mal started to come around. He blinked and wiped the whiskey out of his eyes. For an instant his ey
es blazed. He looked like he would come for Joe, but Fin took a step toward Mal. Mal relaxed back onto the wooden floor.

  “What made you look for Violet here?” asked Fin.

  “I wasn’t lookin’ for her.”

  “OK, what made you come inside?”

  “The sign. The fish. I guess I was drawn by it.”

  Violet looked over. “Me, too,” she said. “I’ve always loved that sign.” She frowned. “But if that’s what made you come in here....”

  Mal picked himself up slowly, then stooped to grab the gun which still lay where it had landed when Fin knocked it out of Joe’s hand. Mal took a couple of steps backwards, waving the gun back and forth, covering the trio with the weapon.

  “Think about this,” said Fin, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice, in spite of his hammering heart. “You don’t want to do this, man.”

  “Why don’t I? I’ve already killed a man. Why shouldn’t I kill another one?”

  Fin had no answer for that.

  “I know just the one to kill,” said Mal with a slight smile.

  Fin shuddered, then watched in horror as Mal pushed the barrel of the gun against his own temple. Before Fin could get to his feet to stop him, Mal squeezed the trigger.

  * * *

  Joe read the accounts of the suicide and, eventually, the uncovering of Malcolm Barnard’s past crimes aloud at the bar to a rapt audience in the evenings, before Violet’s show. Malcolm Barnard got a lot of press, all of it negative, but Violet’s name was kept out of the reports. After the night’s update, Violet would change into her costume. She wore two shades of pink now, one soft and one hot, to match the new sign for The Flirty Flamingo.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, Fin, under the weight of the confession Malcolm Barnard had made to him, pondered the man. He’d ruined Violet’s life. He’d robbed her brother, Sean. He’d killed Sean when the embezzlement was discovered. Maybe he’d confessed that he fathered the baby to Sean, too, and had that sin to cover up as well. He’d done harm to people. But, in spite of the rationalizations he’d shown to Fin, the man had been consumed by his wrongdoings. They’d eaten him up so that he’d had to turn to drink, had failed at marriage over and over. He knew he’d done wrong, deep inside, even though he’d never made any attempts at righting his wrongs. Fin wondered if Mal’s suicide would atone for his crimes and give him a measure of peace in the afterlife. He didn’t know the answer to that.