He may even have broken my nose, I thought. Which would explain why I was having so much trouble breathing through my nostrils.
As I reached up to give my injury a gingerly probe, I heard the engine of a car revving. Looking to my left, I saw the Studebaker, as yellow as a canary, backing up, idling, then roaring out of the Wolcotts’ drive.
—Wait! I shouted.
But as I leaned to my side in order to call Emmett’s name, the boat took a dip toward the water.
Lurching back, I carefully resumed my place in the center.
Okay, I thought to myself, Emmett knocked me out with the rifle. But then rather than taking me to the police station as threatened, he set me adrift in a rowboat without a paddle. Why would he do that?
Then my eyes narrowed.
Because little Mr. Know-It-All had told him I couldn’t swim. That’s why. And by setting me adrift on the lake, the Watson brothers figured they would have all the time they needed to get into the safe and claim Woolly’s inheritance for themselves.
But even as I was having this ugly thought—a thought for which I will never be able to fully atone—I noticed the stacks of cash in the bow.
Emmett had gotten into the old man’s safe, all right, just like I knew he would. But rather than stranding me empty-handed, he had left me with my rightful share.
It was my rightful share, wasn’t it?
I mean, isn’t that about what fifty thousand dollars would look like?
Naturally curious, I began moving toward the front of the boat in order to do a quick accounting. But as I did so, the shifting of my weight lowered the front of the boat and water began pouring in through a hole in the bow. Retreating quickly to my seat, the bow lifted, and the inrush stopped.
This wasn’t just any rowboat, I realized, as water sloshed about my feet. This was the rowboat that was being repaired by the boathouse. And that’s why Emmett had loaded the stones in the stern. To keep the compromised bow above the waterline.
The ingenuity of it, I thought with a smile. A boat with a hole and no oars in the middle of a lake. It was like a setup for Kazantikis. The only thing better would have been if Emmett had tied my hands behind my back. Or put me in cuffs.
—All right then, I said, feeling every bit up to the challenge.
By my estimate, I was a few hundred feet from shore. If I leaned back, stuck my hands in the water, and paddled gently, I should be able to make my way safely to solid ground.
Reaching my arms over the back of the boat turned out to be surprisingly awkward, and the water turned out to be surprisingly cold. In fact, every few minutes I had to interrupt my paddling in order to warm my fingers.
But just as I was beginning to make progress, a late afternoon breeze began picking up, such that every time I took a break from paddling, I would find myself drifting back toward the center of the lake.
To compensate, I started paddling a little faster and taking shorter breaks. But as if in response, the breeze blew harder. So much so, that one of the bills flitted off the top of its stack and landed about twenty feet away on the surface of the water. Then off flitted another. And another.
Paddling as fast as I could, I stopped taking breaks altogether. But the breeze kept blowing and the bills kept taking flight, fluttering over the side of the boat, fifty bucks at a crack.
Having no other choice, I stopped paddling, rose to my feet, and started creeping forward. When I took my second little step, the bow dipped an inch too far and water began flowing in. I took a step back and the inflow stopped.
There would be no doing this cautiously, I realized. I was going to have to make a grab for the cash, then retreat quickly back to the stern before too much water had entered the boat.
Steadying myself with my arms before me, I prepared for the lunge.
All it required was deftness. A quick motion combined with a gentle touch. Like when you’re removing a cork from a bottle.
Exactly, I thought to myself. The whole endeavor shouldn’t take more than ten seconds. But without Billy to assist, I’d have to do the countdown on my own.
At the word Ten, I took the first step forward and the boat rocked to the right. At Nine I compensated by stepping to the left and the boat lurched left. At Eight, what with all the rocking and lurching, I lost my balance and tumbled forward, landing right on top of the cash as water rushed in through the breach.
Reaching for the gunwale, I tried to push myself up, but my fingers were so numb from the paddling that I lost my grip and fell forward again—whacking my broken nose on the bow.
With a howl, I reflexively scrambled to my feet as the freezing water continued to rush in around my ankles. With all of my weight in the front of the boat and the stern rising up behind me, painted stones rolled toward my feet, the bow took another dip, and I went head over heels into the lake.