Raburn had built a wooden platform with slots that slid over the forklift blades the same as a pallet. He drove the narrow forklift around to the back of Marquez’s truck, leveled the platform with the open tailgate, and they wrestled, slid the sturgeon out and onto the platform. In the room in back they slid the sturgeon onto his gutting station.
Raburn pressed the belly of the sturgeon. “You’ve got yourself a cow here.”
They cut in, exposing eggs. For the millions of eggs a female produced, perhaps ten million in a lifetime, few offspring would come of them. Raburn lifted out a brown ovarian sack and carried it over to his screen. He mixed the salt solution, worked the eggs loose, and was gentle in the way he did it. The eggs were left in the 4 percent salt solution. Salt would penetrate and preserve them. They’d be stored at twenty-nine degrees.
There was little conversation between them, but there was a tension in the room. Marquez knew that with a motion he wouldn’t have time to stop, Raburn could turn and drive the blade into his chest. Raburn’s body language made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with him.
Marquez washed his hands after they’d cleaned off the table. Outside, it was still raining and the morning was dark. He walked back over to the bowl where the eggs were. From here you either ate the caviar or you needed a way to preserve it, a means of production, an understanding of preservatives, vacuum packing, pasteurizing. August wouldn’t go for pasteurizing. There was a stigma about what that did to taste for the market he dealt with.
Marquez rested a hand on the bowl. He smelled the salted roe and dipped his fingers in, slid a few eggs out and tasted with Raburn watching him. The eggs burst with intense flavor.
“Is your brother here this morning?” Marquez asked.
“He took Cindy to the dentist. She has a bad tooth.”
“Are the kids with them?”
“I’m supposed to drop them at school.”
“Let’s go look in a couple of buildings before you take the kids.” When Raburn frowned, Marquez said, “I’ve got active search warrants in the truck, but I’m not asking to search.”
Raburn had a hard time with that, especially after helping out with the big sturgeon. His wide face openly showed his bitterness.
“Never stops,” he said, and they drove down to the equipment storage shed that Marquez had walked through once before. Roberts called as they came inside, and he moved away from Raburn to talk to her. He saw the same look of disgust on Raburn’s face as he’d seen the night Raburn had booted the ovaries off the embankment.
“One of the fertilizer companies talked to me. They settled for sixty cents on the dollar on a nineteen thousand dollar debt. The woman I talked to gave me the name of their lawyer, and I called him. He told me the Raburns settled all their debts at once and told everyone they’d taken on another investor, but only the Feds and the State got paid in full. And you were right, there was a state tax lien as well. I’m trying to call the Secretary of State’s office, but it’s probably going to be easier to drive over there and see if anybody got added to the corporate documents.”
“My guess is no.”
“Mine too. I’ll call you from there.”
The equipment storage building had once been a barn and held more than equipment used to tend the orchards. Marquez walked around with Raburn, asked about the fertilizer stored here and the small repair shop and the tools. There was a greenhouse. They walked inside it, and the air was musty and damp.
“My brother is experimenting with growing mushrooms.” There were flowers and other seedlings in the greenhouse, and Marquez slowed and looked at those before they moved to the door. “I’ve got to take the kids to school.”
“I’d like to see the house.”
“Do you have a warrant for the house?”
“I’ve got a warrant for all the buildings.”
“Why are you such a hardass today? There’s nothing in their house, so why do you want to look in it? If you thought there was anything there, you would have looked before now. Why invade their privacy? Besides, I’ve got to take the kids to school. I’ve got to get going.”
In many ways Raburn was right: Marquez didn’t know what he was looking for, and it was more about pushing Raburn to see what would happen. He’d thought over Raburn shooting up his boat and had decided there could easily be more behind it than just trying to get out of the deal he’d made with time. Or get away because he was afraid of Ludovna. So he’d gotten new search warrants. He was getting in Raburn’s face. He pointed at the canning building. It was small, had cinder-block walls and a metal roof and door, no windows.
“All they do in there is apple and pear butter.”
“Open it for me and go ahead and take the kids to school. I’m fine here alone.”
Raburn unlocked the door, then strode in ahead of him and opened all the cabinet doors. The metal cabinets lined the walls, and their doors banged against each other as Raburn threw them open.
“What’s the problem, Abe?”
“Oh, there’s no problem. Look at whatever you want.”
There were six- and eight-ounce glass jars with the Raburn Orchards label and boxes of jars for both apple and pear butter. Marquez picked up one of the jars, looked at the red-orange label, the color of the top similar to the burned color of the remaining pear leaves on the trees. He moved along looking in the cabinets. On the opposite wall there were four cabinets with locks.
“What’s in those?”
“Same stuff, but they hire seasonal help and were getting things stolen so they bought locks for half the cabinets. Do you want me to go find a key?”
“Do you mind?”
“Hey, why would I mind, and why would the kids mind being late to school?”
“Where are you going to get the key?”
“I don’t even know where one is, and come on, man, this is the canning room. If you’re looking for some apple butter I’ll get you a case. Do you want me to comp you a case of apple butter? Do you want apple butter for everyone on your team? I’ll get as many cases as you want.”
“Take it easy.”
“What do you mean take it easy? I just cut up your fish for you, and now you’re jacking me around.”
“Where are the keys?”
Raburn shrugged, acting now like he didn’t have any idea.
“Isaac can open it for you when he gets back. The key is probably in the house, and it’s stupid for you and me to look for it.”
“Let’s open them now.”
“Why can’t it wait? I’ve got to drop the kids off.”
“I’ll walk down to the house with you.”
When they got there Raburn remembered a key high on a shelf in the kitchen. Marquez walked back up the gravel road and opened the cabinets. Inside, he found more six-ounce and eightounce jars. Then he found the two-ounce glass jars he was looking for. The labels would go on later. August would put those on.
“Those are for pimentos,” Raburn said, as he put his head back in. “He’s got a friend growing pimentos and Cindy jars them for him. It’s just another way to make a little money at farmers markets. I’m leaving.”
Raburn walked away, and not long after, Marquez heard his truck idling outside. The oldest Raburn boy sat in the passenger seat and Raburn’s niece in the jumpseat in back. Both kids stared at him, wondering who he was, and he waved at them.
“Better take them to school,” he said.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ll be here when you get back.”
Marquez picked up one of the jars and out of the corner of his eye saw Raburn back in the doorway, agitated, not wanting to leave him here alone. But he didn’t find anything else in the cabinets. He went through each shelf carefully.
“How long will it take you to drop them and get back?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Better do it.”
“There’s nothing more to see, and this is my brother’s space. You don’t need to come in here anymore. He’s got his business, and he’s not involved.”
He drove off with the kids. When he did Marquez walked back to the cabinet that held the two-ounce jars. The jars were the right size. He looked around at the room again. Raburn hadn’t wanted him in here and maybe that was his growing resentment, or he was emboldened, or maybe it was as simple as violating his brother’s space. But his gut told him it was more than that. He’d watched the way Raburn threw open the cabinet doors. Making a show of it, but he couldn’t hide his nervousness. He turned one of the glass jars in his hand and looked around the room again.