The fishermen would still be out on the water and wouldn’t return until later, so he couldn’t go to the bar to listen to voices before seeing Annabelle.
Barry headed back to the hotel and found an outfit that he thought would help him blend in, and then he used his knife to cut holes into it and fray the shorts to made them look old.He took them outside and threw them into the dirt, stepping on them for good measure.He put them on, feeling he now looked the part of dirty old fisherman.
Barry parked farther down the road than the last time, closer to the bar.He walked down the path to the local fish market.Many of the local fishermen had staff that sold fish throughout the day.
He could ask some questions and learn about their fishing methods to help narrow down the search.
Chapter 22
Barry knew he’d reached the fishing market before he saw the fish.The pungent odor was strong here, and the seagulls swarmed the area like bees to honey.It looked nothing like the fish markets from back home.It was also a far cry from the seafood section at the grocery store.Many stands had large umbrellas to cover their fish while a few others just had large wooden tables with their products on display.
Ice was laid out, and the fish were arranged throughout.There were other vendors with conch and lobster.Some had a butcher block to fillet your fish for you.
Barry scanned the wooden stalls, looking for large amounts of fish and someone with different types.Barry had done some research about the different species of fish found in the area.He’d even learned that trawling could lead to picking up species not meant to be snagged.
Barry stopped at one table.“You’re in luck, fresh snapper,” the vendor said, coming over to him.He was of dark skin and wearing a bright purple colored shirt and dark black jeans.He had a thick island accent.
“How fresh?”
“Just brought in last night.”
“How often does the boat go out for this?”
“Almost daily.Need to so we can bring in more fish.”
“Is this the whole haul?”
The man nodded.“We used to pull in more, but there seem to be less fish these days.The fishing grounds are shrinking.”
“You said snapper, but this is a grouper.”Barry pointed at the fish that, like Where’s Waldo, was well hidden at first but suddenly stood out.
The man looked down at the fish in question.“They get into the nets sometimes.Usually, we put ones like these back, but some slip past us.I can give you a discount if you want it.”
So maybe not the boat he was looking for.“That’s alright.Does that happen often?Fish you unintended end up in the nets?”
“It does, but most put the ones they don’t mean to catch back.”
There were more honest fishermen here than he’d first thought.“What boat is this catch from?”
“Why?”the man countered, looking apprehensive.
“There are so many boats selling here, I’m curious who this spot is supporting.”
“But you’re not buying anything to support him.”
“Is he hiring?”
The man chuckled as if Barry had just told a joke.“You are no fisherman,” he stated as if he could see straight through Barry’s ruse to the real man underneath.“Do yourself a favor and stick to touring.”
Barry pulled out a few twenty-dollar bills and handed them over.“Here, to the support of your captain.”
“Badu will thank you.”The man smiled, pocketing the money.
“Do all the fishing boat sell from here?”
The man planted his hands on the counter and leaned across it.“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m a curious person.”Barry shrugged, striving to appear innocent.
