Эллери Куин - The Killer Touch

“Green? But they were brown—”

“Tinted contact lenses.”

“Oh... is that why her eyes watered?”

“They do when she first puts them in. Later the tears stop.” He ground out his cigarette in the dirt. “Of course it was easy to dye her hair, but that left the problems of weight and complexion. I put Bunny on a strict diet and told her to get tanned in a hurry. Meanwhile she wore dark glasses and stayed out of sight. Joss couldn’t see well. I remembered that, and I figured that white women look basically alike to the native boys. The fact that my wife seldom makes close friends made the problem simpler. I told Bunny not to talk to Joss at the start, for fear the woman would recognize the change in her voice. Gradually Bunny would show more and more of herself, until the reality of her presence replaced the memory of my wife.” Rolf sighed. “The only thing we couldn’t change was Bunny’s height. Now that’s all I’ll tell you until you put the gun away.”

Burt held onto the gun; he didn’t feel he needed it any more, but he couldn’t put it aside without losing part of the initiative.

“I can tell you a few things,” said Burt. “You pulled the switch night before last, didn’t you?”

Rolf shrugged. “Think what you like.”

“She flew in to Grenada and you picked her up in the launch, brought her here, and removed your wife. What did you do, kill her?”

Rolf looked up, startled. “Of course not.”

“Then let me see her.”

“No.”

Burt paused. “Did Bunny come in as Tracy Keener?”

Rolf hesitated, then nodded. “You’d have a hard time proving which one was real. Bunny’s papers are foolproof.”

“Still the authorities would be interested to learn that two Tracy Keeners were on the island at the same time.”

“It would be embarrassing,” admitted Rolf, “should Grenada and St. Vincent ever compare notes, but hardly enough to excuse your taking me in at gunpoint. I can promise you this, Burt: should you try it, I could produce my wife within a few hours, and she would be in good health. She would swear that she left this island of her own free will, and has remained away only because she wanted to. And there you would stand with egg on your face.”

Burt believed him; Rolf could produce his wife within a few hours. That meant... well, hell, it meant she could be anywhere, on the big islands of St. Vincent or Grenada, or on any one of a hundred smaller clods of land. It would take a month to search everywhere, even if he had a boat. And he didn’t have a boat.

“If your wife is not a prisoner,” said Burt, “what’s to keep her from deciding to take off?”

“Pressure,” said Rolf.

“What kind of pressure?”

“The most irresistible kind,” said Rolf with a faint smile. “It comes from inside her.”

Burt felt a chill climb his back; it seemed inconceivable that a man would turn his wife into a heroin addict merely in order to control her. But then, with Rolf, nothing was impossible.

Burt shoved the gun back in his hip pocket. “I suppose your wife knows Bunny took her place.”

“She knows it’s for her own good.”

“How’s that?”

“To remove her from danger.”

“Danger on this island?”

Rolf nodded.

Burt frowned. “You could have left her at home.”

“They’d know where to find her.”

“Who’s they?”

“I am... involved in a deal which puts me in considerable danger. My wife could be a means of getting to me.”

“Yes, but if the masquerade works, doesn’t that put Bunny in the same danger?”

“She’s less sensitive to danger than my wife. And she knows how high the stakes are.”

“How high?”

“Mmmm. Say the liquid assets of a certain small Latin American government in exile.” Rolf leaned forward. “Interested?”

“What do I have to do?”

“Be my bodyguard while I’m here on the island.”

Burt smiled. “You don’t need a bodyguard.”

“You’re wrong. I’m an offensive fighter. I haven’t the patience to guard my back. Besides, if they come, there’ll be more than one.”

“And I’m to capture them and take them to jail?”

Rolf laughed aloud. “Extradition papers, that sort of thing? Don’t be silly.”

“Then you expect me to kill them.”

“You’d find that more practical.”

Burt felt his throat tighten. “I’m not a hired gun, Rolf. I’m not even an instinctive killer, despite what Joss may have told you. I’m a cop, and I serve the law. I’ve been told that’s far above any individual interest—”

“No sermons, Burt.” Rolf rose to his feet and rubbed his forehead. “I’m going to get more of Bunny’s treatment. We’ll talk some more, of course. You haven’t heard all of my terms. Maybe you’ll find that you have no choice but to defend me.”

“More pressure, Rolf? Bunny won’t be so eager this time.”

“Ah, Burt. There are outside pressures... and inside pressures. I prefer the latter.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re a cop. You’ve got the gun. Figure it out.”

He walked away laughing to himself. A minute later the screen door slammed on cabin two. Burt walked back to the beach club and found it dark and silent except for the squeak and thump of rats fighting over discarded tidbits of food. He stood on the beach and watched Rolf’s launch rock in the gentle swell of the lagoon. It would be easy to rewire the ignition and go to St. Vincent and... what? He still wouldn’t know where Tracy Keener was. No doubt she was the reason for Rolf’s cruise earlier today; he’d know enough to dole out no more than a day’s supply of the drug at a time. The secret of enslaving an addict was to restrict the supply.

So he’d be going again tomorrow.

Burt climbed up to the watchtower and sat on the parapet. He could hear the wind rippling the grass below with a sound like sliding silk. He rubbed his aching leg and thought of Bunny’s cool fingers. He tasted her lipstick on his mouth and wondered if it had been all work and no play for her.

A rock clattered. He peered over the parapet into a pair of wide, white eyes. A familiar T-shirt bulged below them.

“Maudie,” he whispered. “Go back home.”

“Maman sleeping. She know nothing.”

“Go back anyway.”

“Yes, sir.”

Burt sat back down inside the tower and leaned against the low wall. A minute later he heard a sound like marbles rattling. He peered over the edge and saw Maudie huddled against the base of the tower with her arms hugging her stomach.

“Oh, hell. Come on up.”

She crawled over the edge and sat down, stretching her warm young body beside him. “I help you watch, sir.”

“Uh-huh,” said Burt.

Five minutes later the tight-curled mat of her hair fell onto his shoulder. She snored softly. Burt stretched her out on the stones and pillowed her head with his jacket. He felt a wave of warm protectiveness toward the sleeping girl.

Yeah, he thought, that’s what Rolf meant. I’m a cop, and I’m hung up with these people. Whether they like it or not, whether they accept it or not, I’m responsible for the safety of everyone on the island: Joss, Maudie, the boys, Jata, Tracy Keener... even Rolf and Bunny. Because if the danger which threatens Rolf should threaten the others, I will have to act.

Dawn came up unpleasantly, with a bleak drizzle which soaked Burt to the skin and rendered Maudie’s T-shirt as transparent as onionskin. He sent the girl home and climbed down the hill through dripping grass. Coco sat on the steps of the beach club looking morosely at the rain dripping off the thatched roof.

“Nobody up yet?” asked Burt.