Season Four—Episode 17 (De-Bait-Able)

 

By 3:00pm that afternoon, the skies had cleared and there was a strategic game plan in place for the hodgepodge group of opposites now teamed up with Ms. Tawny Bishop as their new leader. MNR Officer Marlin Salty grumbled the most about not being in charge. But to Rusty, it seemed as though the man was willing to complain about most anything and everything—especially not being in charge.

To find the key to the missing persons, and whomever was responsible for those missing—Tawny was insistent on business as usual for Flathers and Scales Fishy Outfitters. Or at least a watered-down version of the operation where all members of the search would be participating at one level or another.

For Rusty Flathers… This act of continuation seemed De-Bait-Able, considering Tawny had officially put him in charge as lead guide for their newly arriving guests and now he felt like he couldn’t lead his way out of a wet paper bag.

Plus, Rusty was balking on several other points:

–Why would I want new customers to arrive when I can’t even find the ones we lost?

–How can I be expected to find fish when I can’t even find my way around the lake?

–What’s usual about business as usual, when I now have more staff at the island, pretending to be staff?

These said thoughts raced through Rusty’s frizzy-haired noggin but were kept to himself. Perch on a plate, he didn’t dare dispute her plan. And gosh darn it her silver-tongue tone was a deadly musky charmer.

Rod Gills hitched a ride with Rusty as he captained Hooked on Poutine to the mainland for the newly arriving guests. There was a 4:00pm pick-up slated and Rod would be acting as the “camp hand”, plus he needed to brief the gang at Raker’s Marine as to his whereabouts and recent swearing in as Stash McGivern’s temporary assistant with the Ontario Provincial Police.

“I’ll run up and see if the guests have arrived,” offered Rod as they secured the boat at the mainland dock. “Plus, I need to let Minnie know what’s happening.”

“Yeah… Supposed to be three guys from Cleveland,” replied Rusty. “The reservation is under the name Pikeannoli. Three guys total.”

Rod’s wife Minnie was a firecracker. As in, he opened the back door to the marina and made his way quietly across eggshells through the shop and up to the front desk.

Then he cautiously approached his bride from behind and put his hand on her hips. Yep, an M-80 was children’s play. Her reaction to his reappearance would be classified nuclear.

“Rod Gills!” she turned and unloaded, “Where in the blazes have you been! You think this marina can run itself! There are camp orders backing up—two tourist boats have been towed in off the lake—I have a salon appointment in twenty minutes—And you have been gone God only knows where all day!”

Gritting his teeth and casting caution to the wind, “Hi hot momma,” was Rod’s response.

“Hot momma my… Get your greasy hands off my hips and where in the hell have you been?!”

 “Shhhhhhh darling… Double top secret…”

“Double what? You have no secrets, Rod Gills! You smell like a waste fish—have the hair of a musk ox—and everyone from here to Jackfish knows you’re an escape artist when it comes to getting work done around here.”

“Not this time honey, there are shenanigans happening at the new Flathers place, and Stash McGivern shanghaied me this morning to be his assistant deputy,” Rod quickly spewed before Minnie got the urge to slap his face.

“What sort of happenings?”

“Can’t say right now,” pleaded Rod in earnest, “But I’m looking for their next arrivals, and then I have to get back out to the camp.”

“Can’t say because you’re as clueless as the day is long!” Then before Minnie could continue to contest his news bulletin and the potential of missing her appointment to sit and gossip under a dome-shaped hood dryer, the bell rang on the glass door of the marina, and three gentlemen entered the building.

Tall, dark hair, middle-aged and overweight led the trio. Next was a mid-sized redhead, medium frame, younger man with a contractor’s build and muscles that had not aged. And finally came number three—short—quite short—balding and beyond his prime with a crinkly frame.

“These three guys couldn’t be more different,” thought Rod as he caught a glimpse of them and scampered out the back of the shop before being seen.

Then Minnie turned to say, “Must be Flathers guests,” but before she could get the words out Rod was already around the side of the building and coming through the front door.

“Hey fellas, my name’s Rod,” he burst out. “Any chance you guys are heading out to FSFO (Flathers and Scales Fishy Outfitters)?

“Ahhhh… Yeah…” Nodded the overweight dark-haired guy as he extended a hand for greeting. “I’m Alvin Pikeannoli, and these are my brothers Cy and Ted.”

“Ok great,” responded Rod. “Well, the boss is waiting in the passenger boat, you can pull your vehicle over to the loading dock and we’ll get you going.”

“Oh, we didn’t drive…” overweight dark-haired guy stammered.

And then the redhead jumped in, “Yeah, we flew, so the cab already dropped us and is gone. Just need to grab our bags from outside the door.”

“Alrighty then,” an innocent Rod replied, as he watched Minnie from behind the counter mouthing the words, “WHAT CAB SERVICE?”

Then without breaking focus she raised her chin and simultaneously reached under the counter to shut off the OPEN sign.

–To Be Continued—