Worse than a Horse Thief

The fishermen build a nice campfire. It's heat is comfortable even with the warm breeze off of the Sea of Cortez. We are sitting about ten feet in front of the motorhome, looking at the small line of white foam washing up on the beach every time the sea laps the shore. Through the licking flame of the fire I see the silhouette of Naomi. She looks out of place tied to the dock among the fishing boats and sailing yachts in the marina. I worry about her safety. Lou sees me staring.
"She's all right. No one is gonna fuck with her. Stop worrying."

Mike throws the door to the motorhome open a little too hard and it hits the side of the rig with a clatter.
"Damn, Theo... be careful why don't you." Andy tisks, "Two hundred grand and he has to slam the doors."
Mike walks slowly toward us with four plates, two in each hand, like a waiter. "Well, you could lend a hand with our guest's dinner plates instead of chewing me a new one there, Andy."

Andy stands and takes the plates off of Theo's hands and gives them out. Lou takes his and gives it a sniff.
"Holy shit... that smells great." He wipes a fingertip across the top of one of the pieces and gives it a taste. His eyes perk up. "Oh brother, you have to try this." He puts a huge piece into his mouth and devours it.
I take a bite. It is probably one of the best pieces of fish I have ever tasted. I look at Mike, "Did you cook this yourself?"
"Oh sure, Andy hates the cookin' so it falls to me. He drives... I cook."
Lou looks his way and smiles. It is enough to relay the message to Mike.
"You like that there fish, eh?"
"What's in it?" Lou manages to say around a mouthful.
"Oh... " He turns his palm up and counts off on his fingers, "olive oil, sea salt, garlic, cilantro, a little bit of ground ginger and some soy sauce." He finishes with the index finger on his left hand, "I could have sworn there was seven." He snaps his left hand and holds up the seventh finger, "sesame seeds."

Justin looks at Andy as he pickes up a piece of fish and takes a bite. "You wouldn't have a fork, would you."
Andy looks at Justin for just a moment. "Yes. I have a fork. In fact I have my mother's silverware in that rig just for show. But we are in front of a campfire, on a beach, eating fish that we caught today and drinking Mexican beer and tequila. So no, I don't have fork.
Justin is looks at Andy for a second or two longer and then realizes that the man is made of stone and fairly impenetrable, so he looks away.
I say nothing. After seeing the hostage almost lose his temper today at one of Lou's digs I don't think he is stable. He seems normal, but so did Norman Bates.

The night rolls on. What was two cases of Tecate and a half gallon of local hooch is now a pile of empty cans and a last round of the passing bottle. These boys can drink. I give 'em that. Andy smiles just a little more, and the sleeves roll up on his shirt when he is drunk. That's a nice option. He tells a couple of fishing trip tales of past trips with "Theo" as he calls him. One in particular where they caught three fish at once.
"Not three separate fish, mind you," he holds up three fingers... looks closely at them and then nods his head, "But three in one."
"What?" Lou grabs the passing and nearly empty bottle of tequila and tosses it back, then passes it on to Justin who just holds it for a while.
"Three in one." Andy repeats his claim, holding up his three fingers.
"Like one of them Turduckens." Mike adds with a wide smile.
All we need is a little weed right now and the night would be perfect. But Lou must sense the same thing that I do with these guys. It would be disrespectful.
"A... a turd what now? Lou squints at him through the firelight.
"A Turducken... thats a turkey stuffed with a duck that is stuffed with a chicken."
"The hell you say." Lou looks side to side... like he has lost something. Then he sees the bottle in Justin's hand. Justin gives it to him and Lou hits it, passing it the other way now.

I look down at the beer that Justin has near his feet. It is the same one he started the evening with because I turned the tab when I opened it like I do to mine. We are all shitfaced and he hasn't even finished one beer.

"But this was a grouper with a mackeral with a smelt I think it was." Mike tells us.
"A Groumackermelt?" Lou asks him.
"Oh now, that one is funny. A Groumackermelt." He turns to Andy and gives him a clap on the shoulder. "Groumackermelt." The laughing fit starts for Mike and makes it around the campfire in seconds flat.

The fire calms us. As the flames die down to glowing embers, so does the conversation. We are all lost in thought, or just blanking on the flames like men have done around fires for tens of thousands of years. I look down the beach and realize that we are one of the few fires left attended. Most everyone with the exception of a small group several camps down have retired for the night.
I could do this forever. Just might. But in all of this beer and tequila and world class cooking I have forgotten why we are out here.
"I have a problem, Andy."
He nods to Justin, who had decided to take a little walk on the beach, "He is a strange one."
"Not him. He isn't really part of our group. He just needed a ride toward the states so we gave him one." I scoot to the edge of my beach chair and give Andy a concerned look. "I have to get to the states as quick as possible. It could be a matter of life and death."
"Yeah, that's what you were saying on the boat ride up here. What are you going to do now that your buddy put your plane in the drink?"
"Well, that's what I am asking. I have a lot of money, Andy. If you would allow me to pay you, I would appreciate a ride into Arizona."
"Well... we weren't planning on leaving just yet." He looks at Mike, "Did you hear that, Theo?"
"Hey, Andy, it's his cousin Mitch. He sounds like he might be in a whole lot of trouble if it's life or death. Besides... Arizona isn't that far of a ride. We could be back for some afternoon fishin' or night time fishin'. Or hell, morning fishin' that next morning. These guys seem like awful nice fellas. I don't mind helpin' them."
Andy turns back to me. "I tell you what. You guys come on back in the morning and we will pull up stakes and head up to the border. You just buy the fuel. Sound good?"
I give his hand a shake, "That would be great, Andy. Just great."

We don't make it back to the hotel. That Theo can drink like a gopher makes holes. Just when we think it is time to go home, he comes out of the rig with a bottle of Acavide, some Danish liquor that is eighty proof and tastes like rye bread. It is ice cold, like the Muerte Verde.
We do shots, a couple of rounds at least. Not a one of us doesn't grimace at the taste. But it is curious enough to try it again as it passes by.
"Caraway seed?" I look at bottle in the firelight with one eye closed.
"That's right, friend. This is what ole' Thor drank before he makes the thunder." Mike says, finally slurring a few of his words.

That's the last thing I heard before the calling of the gulls in my ear and the morning sun trying to blind me as I creaked open my eyes.
I see Lou spread eagle in his beach chair, his neck at a totally odd angle from his body. I would have thought someone snapped it if it weren't for the snoring.

We slept on the beach. Just me and Lou. Justin in no where to be seen. I can see Mike in the motorhome. It smells like he is making breakfast. He turns to do something and sees me, he waives and I waive back.

"Wake up, princess."
The snoring continues. I bounce an empty can off of his skull and he opens one eye.
"If I had my skinning knife I would make a nice wallet out of your... "
His eyes open wide and he bolts up. I thought he was stung by a scorpion or something. But his hand went to his shirt, inside, and he instantly knew something was wrong.
"What?" I don't need any more bad news.
"The diamonds."
"What about them?"
"They're gone."