Джон Макдональд - The Last One Left

“My God, Garry!”

“I didn’t know I was doing it until — I’d done it.”

“Where was the Boylston girl?”

“The way I figure out what must have happened, she heard the shots and she was smarter. She went forward and up through the hatch. She had to see Mary Jane there. And she wasn’t — real good to look at. Then, from up on top of the lounge deck she saw me finish off Stel. I went after her, almost caught her, and then I got hold of her dress and that ripped off, and she dived before I could stop her. She dived right into the runabout, head first. It had eased up on us after we lay dead in the water. She didn’t see it before she dived. She hit the edge of one of the engines hatches head first. It killed her. It smashed her head or broke her neck or both. I decided I could take care of her later. It would save time. I remembered the little spare anchor aboard the Muñequita. Big enough to take her on down, and easier than lifting her back aboard. I went and got the money. It was in an aluminum suitcase. I knew that I could get back on the track and finish it like we planned. I didn’t know how close we’d gotten. I went up and turned on the depth finder and I nearly jumped out of my skin. It showed eighty feet. The wind had drifted the boat in too close, and any minute a wave could lift it and drop it on a coral head. You have to understand why I did what I did.”

“What do you mean? What did you do?”

“It racked me up. They were all making — a silence. I kicked the engines on and made a slow hundred and eighty, but tight, and then got out of there, back out until the bottom had been gone for maybe two miles. I killed everything again, and I went down and dragged Stella below decks, and I lashed them all to solid things. I worked fast because I’d gone down into the bilge first and opened her up. I could feel her moving heavier in the swell. Then I put the bottle of gasoline, a half pint whisky bottle, in the pocket of my pants and went out onto the deck carrying the suitcase. Just as I left the lights flickered and went out below as the water got up to the battery cables. I went back and looked and the Muñequita was gone. I got the end of the tow line where I’d fastened it to a center cleat. I saw how it was frayed, and I realized I hadn’t even thought about cutting the tow line with the wheels when I turned around. I couldn’t see it anywhere. It was probably way back where I’d made my turn.”

“You damn fool! You stupid damned fool!”

“I got my knife off the deck, thinking maybe I could cut the

dinghy loose. It was lashed forward. But she was riding low and heavy and she began to kind of tremble and hesitate and I knew she was going. I could get pulled down, I thought. So I went over the rail and swam. That suitcase, thank God, was watertight. It didn’t have enough buoyancy to hold me, but it would float by itself. I pushed it in front of me. I swam until I was winded and I turned around and looked and the boat was gone. Absolutely nothing there. I hadn’t heard a thing. Then there was a big belch and whiteness when a bubble of air came up. I paddled around. There were some cushions floating. I collected two of them, and then I saw something lighter colored and it was that styrofoam board of Stella’s. It held me fine. I figured out from the wind and the stars which way I had to paddle. When dawn came I found I was a little too far north. I made my way to South Joulter, let the board float off and waded ashore with the money. The thing I was scared of was boats being around the corner in the anchorage or further down toward the flats. I ran and shoved the suitcase into the brush and piled sand on it. Then I walked around the shoreline. Nothing. I climbed to the highest point and I couldn’t see a boat anywhere. That meant I had a chance to find a good place for the money.”

“My God, Garry, if anybody had the slightest suspicion, they’d take that island apart and...”

“Why should they have? It’s a good place. There’s some rocky ridges. Way above high tide. There’s a hell of a big old rusty boiler up there. It must have been part of a wreck long ago, a pretty good-sized vessel. Take a hurricane to throw it way up into the rocks. It maybe weighs a couple of tons. One end is rusted away. That end is half buried in drifted sand, and half full of drifted sand. I’d shoved the knife into my belt. I used it to dig up a bush that blocked the open end. Then I dug down into the soft dry sand inside the boiler and worked the suitcase down into it and smoothed it over. I planted the bush back in the hole where it had been, and I brushed away my footprints when I backed away from there. It’s safe. It will be safe as long as we want to leave it there.”

“But what happened to the boat the Boylston girl was in?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand why the air search didn’t find it. I thought I’d have to explain about it when I was taken back to Nassau. But while I was on the island I worked it out.”

“Oh sure, you worked it out.”

“I knew she was dead. So it would have to be one of those freak things. As if she’d come out onto the cockpit deck just before the Muñeca blew. I hadn’t seen her. It had blown her into the air and blown her clothes off and dropped her into the boat we were towing. I worried about there being no burns on her. Then when I realized she hadn’t been found that first week, they weren’t going to be able to tell much about burns when they did find her.”

“But why didn’t they? What could have happened?”

“It would drift pretty fast. Too much flotation for it to go down. It might get awash. One thing could have happened. She was pretty and she was new. And she was better than ten thousand worth. There are some rough people in those islands. Weight the body and drop it over the side. Run the boat up one of those creeks on Andros, cover it with brush and wait for the fuss to die down.”

She shook her head slowly. “Luck, Captain. You were shot with luck. And you apparently almost died of burns and exposure. Oh, that makes it look real good, but if you had, maybe that money would have stayed right there forever. You cut it close.”

“The way I did it, I found an old piece of cloth in the sand on the beach and I tied it around the end of a stick and soaked it with the gasoline. The matches stayed dry enough. I held it in my left hand and ran the flame up and down my right side. You could hardly see the flame in the sunlight. I could smell the stink of my hair scorching. It didn’t seem to last long enough and it didn’t seem to hurt enough, so I used some more gas and did it again. I buried the bottle and the matches and the rag in the sand. It began to hurt worse. The next morning it was a lot worse. It looked so bad it scared me.”

She laughed aloud.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just thinking about the money. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel like laughing and dancing. It’s sitting there, man, and it’s waiting for us. You act so sour. Doesn’t it make you feel good?”

“Just wonderful. Sure.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Six people. That’s a lot of people. I keep thinking Mary Jane is wondering where the hell I am. Like I should phone. And then I remember. Crissy, you don’t know how many people it takes to add up to six. More than you think.”

She squeezed his left ankle. “You did fine. What are you so gloomy about? Oh! Did you expect a better show of gratitude? So okay! Only can you wipe that goop off first with a towel. It smells funny.” She stood up and reached both arms back to undo the top hook and get the dress zipper started. “No, I didn’t mean anything like that,” he said sharply. She stared at him, then walked to the head of the bed and leaned over him and put her mouth down upon his. In a little while she straightened up. “When the man says no dice he means no dice.”