This is the real Chapter ten from the third book, “Charles Mandrake and the Return to Skelderheim.” I want you to be able to see if the book is worth a read by showing you exactly what’s in it. No excerpts here since they don’t really give you a feeling of how the book is going to read. Enjoy!
Dockside Salvage
A truck was backing up near the fish plant with a warning beep too many. A woman came out of Mrs. Johnson’s Bakery carrying two tied paper boxes while a man coming the other way stepped aside for her and lifted two fingers instead of saying hello.
Pier Street Market sat in the commercial band just east of the split right on the harbor, its sandwich board propped at the corner with the weekly produce prices in marker that had bled in the last rain. Todd pushed the door open and held it. The bell above the frame was a single flat note, nothing like Mel’s.
It was every bit a small grocery store in a Maine coastal town. To the left was produce. Then there were nine aisles in the middle running all the way to the right wall, and the coolers lined the back. Mrs. Beasley was at the register ringing up groceries for a man wearing a yellow hat.
“He’s missing his monkey.” Charles thought to himself with a smile.
“We need more coffee. We have only a bag left.” Anna said at the first aisle.
“Code Red.” Todd said.
“I still wish they sold Klebber’s.” Charles said grabbing a cart as he and Todd broke off. Todd knew the layout by heart from years of stocking it, and made a sharp turn down aisle four. The coffee sat in the center of the left set of shelves, a smaller area than it ought to be, according to him.
The lower shelves had the usual national brands: six Maxwell House, three Folgers, and two Five O’clock coffee tins. Starbucks bags right above. Those were good enough for tourists and RV’ers. Rebellious Todd had intentionally stocked them on the bottom shelves when he worked there, and they’d been there ever since.
It had been early August when he’d come up to the observatory one morning with a paper grocery sack after morning work. Besides for a half-gallon of milk, eggs, butter, and English muffins, Todd had brought a bag of Carrabassett coffee. The coffee bag was labeled “Einstein,” and had a hand-drawn picture of the man himself.
“It’s a medium roast from central and south America.” Todd had said proudly, “And I thought it right for Myles Pibbles 2.0.” Charles had made a pot immediately.
A bag sat on the shelf, and even though Charles had liked the blend, the trio had gravitated towards the brand’s Mountain Espresso. Doubling the grounds in the coffee maker resulted in the closest thing to Klebber’s they’d found Earthside. Charles grabbed four bags.
“That’s a three day supply.” Todd said pretending to be Klebber. “Costs you two red bags or a coil of that fine rope the big guy has.” Charles chuckled.
Todd put eggs, butter, cream cheese, bagels and bread into the cart.
At the back of the store, Azaya had both hands against the glass door of the freezer, looking in. Sella stood beside her, head tilted.
“What are those red boxes in there?” Sella said.
“Those are microwavable dinners.” Anna pulled a Salisbury steak dinner tray from the case and handed it over.
Sella held it flat on her palms. “It feels too cold to eat.”
“Remember how Charles has that box that heats things up?” Anna said. “This goes in that box, called a microwave, and about five minutes later, it’s hot and ready to eat.”
“Right.” Sella studied the front panel. “So you heat this up, and it’s a whole dinner?”
“Yes.” Anna said.
“Is this for small kids? There doesn’t seem to be much in here.”
“Todd eats four to six of them at a time if he’s left unsupervised.”
Azaya looked up at Anna. “So kinda like a Meal Runner, but without a child and dog cart?”
“I guess that’s accurate.” Anna said.
Azaya stepped back from the glass and looked up at Anna. “So what do kids do if they don’t work?” She looked around the market. “Actually, I haven’t seen one coin runner since we got here.”
“Children are treated different. They don’t work like they do in Skelderheim or Eberhard. We go to school and learn.” Anna looked around. “Here, children go to school almost every day.”
Azaya mouth dropped open, and she stared at her. “That’s horrible! How do kids survive?”
Anna laughed. “I’ll explain that later. Let’s finish shopping.”
“If you’re walking, do you want me to have Ken run it up to the observatory?” Mrs. Beasley asked Charles at the checkout. “If you’re going to be there in about an hour, I’ll just put your cart in the walk-in until he gets back.”
“I would appreciate that very much.” Charles said.
Back outside, the tourist shops had their doors wide open, racks and tables with stuff spilled out, taking up space. Mr. Michaels swept his doorstep two doors down, a pipe clenched in his teeth. He paused and smiled as the group went by.
Past the shops, the street widened to the working waterfront. A winch cycled through its line on the near pier, low and slow. Trap stacks ran along the dock boards in rough rows, and the brine off them was sharp.
Pier 9 was at the end of the block. The bay doors of Dockside Salvage stood open. Inside, chains hung from the ceiling beams. A couple boxes sat near the bay doors. At the workbench, Finch was pulling apart a console.
“Are you here to grill today’s catch and hear stories as it gets dark?” he asked Azaya, nodding at the grill that was warming up.
“I would like that.”
Finch took her over to where the boats came inside for repairs. She looked down and there was a crate that was tied to the edge of the dock with six fish in it. She knelt down and grabbed a fish and pulled it out.
“I will show you how I cook fish.” Azaya was moving to the work bench.
Finch stood surprised for a moment, then curiosity got the better of him. He put a large wooden cutting board out and Azaya climbed up on a chair, and put the fish down.
“Hold it.” She pointed the fish at Finch. He took it while she rummaged around her bag and found the knife he’d given to her. Todd, Charles, Anna and Sella grouped around and watched. No one said anything as she quickly opened the knife’s blunt blade and took the fish from Finch.
The head came off quick. “No pain.” Azaya said. She pitched it a couple inches past Finch’s head into the water. Then she put her hand on the top of the fish lightly, and with a single stroke, went down the center right against the bone. She pulled out the innards and tossed them as well. Finch had moved over to a safer spot, away from the flying entrails.
Finally, she ran the knife down the underside of the bones, pulled them out cleanly, and tossed them into the water. The whole process took twenty seconds. She stopped and looked at her work for a moment, then looked up.
The trio was standing and staring at her with their mouths dropped open.
“That was pretty good.” Sella nodded, putting a hand on Azaya’s shoulder.
“Good…” Todd breathed. “I don’t believe I just saw a five year old gut a fish better than most fully grown men.”
“I’ve lost my touch.” Finch said looking down at his hands for a moment.
Azaya wiped her hands off and took the fish over to the grill. She laid it open. Finch came over with the salt and pepper. Azaya sprinkled the fish, then went over to the crate for the next one. This time, she grabbed one with each hand.
“Gah Na Tonnah.” She said to Finch putting her fish down on the board.
Finch snapped his head up at the trio, then looked at Azaya.
“You do speak Khuratai, no?” She cocked her head for a moment. “Prep the fish.”
“Um.” Finch looked at the fish in his hands. “I might know a few words.”
Mouths in the Trio dropped again. Sella smiled.
Azaya turned back, and made equally quick work with the second fish, and then handed the blade to Finch. He looked at the knife in his hand for a moment, then a big smile came over his face. He put the fish down on the board.
Charles saw what happened, but he wasn’t sure what happened.
Finch only made two cuts. One for the head, then one down the center. He snapped the fish like a wet towel against the board, and then yanked everything out in one go, bones and all! The head hadn’t even stopped spinning. Maybe five seconds. Maybe.
Azaya looked up. “Yes. Thought so.”
Charles’s phone rang. It was Ken saying that he was about to load the groceries.
“I’ll bring Azaya up after dinner.” Finch waved the group off.
Halfway up the hill, Anna snapped around. “I totally forgot to talk to Finch.”