repast

         Dinner was surreal, exotic and downright mysterious, in a dreamy submarine tableau. Pirate Jenny was reminded of the dinner scene aboard the Nautilus with Captain Nemo as host. She sampled seafood delicacies never before encountered. But in the end she decided to fill up on some delicious chowder.
          Kit suggested Anchor steam beer to go with it. She smiled, "You know best."
          He was an elegant man in his sixties. Sliding into old age and frailty. High cheekbones, aquiline nose. Hollows instead of jowls. White hair exploding from a lozenge-shaped face like a Crab Nebula.
         Tonight he wore a black sport coat over a black tunic. Very priestly.
         "Mister Pico--"
         "Kit, please."
         "I'm worried about Johnny Luck. He doesn't answer at home."
         "No idea on his where-abouts?"
         "Only that he was going crabbing at Dutchman's."
         "That place is dangerous."
         "Yes. But he is quite experienced."
         "Try phoning The Jolly Roger. Maybe Cap knows something."


                                                                                       *


         The pub was popular with non-whites. The talk was easy and the drinks were cheap. Establishing a tab, however, would depend upon how Cap liked the cut of your jib. Upstairs was a warren of bedrooms known as The Pirate's Hideaway. The owner was a buxom quadroon woman named Hannah Ramirez. She served a zesty continental breakfast with Jamaican mountain java by the pot.
         Johnny Luck and his Cayman friend Cap had been diving mates until a mishap rendered the older man crippled from a case of the bends. Insurance compensation allowed Cap to open The Jolly Roger. The two friends loved to play domino. Pirate Jenny figured she might locate Johnny Luck without much further ado.
         "Hello, Cap. This is Jen. Is my Rover there?"
         "No, missy. Ain't seen 'im today."
         "If he shows up can you call me?" She gave him Speedboat's cell number.
         "Sure thing, missy."
         "Luvya, mate. Bye."


                                                                                      *


        In the meantime everyone had retired to Kit's den and library. They were admiring a framed lithograph of Thomas Hart Benton's poker scene from the broadway production of "A Streetcar Named Desire."
        Kit was saying, "I found it wrapped in storage. Belonged to McEwan. The sad chap lost his wife to AIDS."
         Pirate Jenny entered the room. "Oh my God! That's poor Mac's picture!"
         "You knew him?"
         "Of course I did. I flew his friends in from Key West."
         Kit sighed. Gazing at the picture, he uttered, "McEwan and I were kindred spirits."