Randy White - Black Widow

I stood. “Beryl… Beryl. Take it easy. Don’t do something you’ll regret later.”

It stopped her. But I couldn’t tell if she meant it when she answered, “You’re right. Why lower myself? He’s the sicko. Not me.” Icy.

“Get some rope. Or some tape-the belt won’t hold. Can I trust you to keep an eye on him? I’ve got to find Shay.”

Beryl said, “Oh yes. You can trust me,” in a flat, robotic voice as Senegal wrapped an arm over her shoulder, pulled her close, and said, “Hooker taught me all sorts of knots. I’ll do it.”

Senegal, with her bruised cheek, hair a mess, eyes puffy from crying, sounded okay, solid. “Magnificent,” Montbard had said about her. I could see it.

I answered her by shaking my head as I picked up the Colt, checked the chamber, then the clip. "No. I need your help. And I need you to be strong.” I signaled her closer, as Beryl went to retrieve her clothes. “Hooker’s hurt. A dog bit him. It’s his hand and wrist, so I think he’ll be okay. But it’s not nice to look at. He’s in a van behind the house. I want you to collect all the first-aid stuff you can find. And hang on to this in case Ritchie comes back.” I touched the safety, then handed her the gun.

Senegal looked stricken.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad enough he needs to get to a hospital fast. But it has to be Saint Lucia, not here. That’s important. Understand?”

The woman surprised me, saying, “Then we’ll take him to the plane. Right away.”

I said, “What plane?”

“Shay came in a private plane with a man named Eddie. He’s at the airport now, waiting. We were supposed to be there by ten-thirty. The girls were going to overnight with me on Saint Lucia.”

I was thinking, Eddie DeAntoni. At the marina, he’d asked if I was coming to Saint Lucia alone, or with women.

“What time is it now?”

“Quarter-past-ten.”

“How many does the plane seat?”

“Six, I think he said. It’s very fast and fancy.”

Just like Eddie.

I told Senegal, “Then get going. Tell Beryl. Leave your clothes, leave this guy, just go. In the van, there’s a woman named Norma-you’ll like her. She’s flying with you. Shay will come with me by boat.”

I used the flashlight to signal the van, then ran toward the beach.

I was almost to the lagoon, running hard, when I saw the silhouette of someone jogging toward me. There was no cover, so I dropped to one knee, gun in hand, and watched.

It was Shay. Because I thought Ritchie might be chasing her, I waited until she’d passed before calling her name. When she hesitated, I added, “It’s me. It’s okay. Where’s Ritchie?”

“Doc?” I’d startled her. She walked slowly toward me. “Did you see Beryl and the English woman? Are they okay? Clovis is with them… that’s why I was running, because I was worried-”

I said, “They’re fine. No danger, I promise.” I asked again, “What happened to Ritchie?”

I felt a chill when she replied, “Are you alone? We need to talk.”

“Yes. It’s just me.” I slipped the pistol into the back of my pants.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to see anyone in my life.” The girl ran the last few steps, and let me swing her off the ground as we hugged. She laughed, smiled… her smile faded.

“Beryl told you about Corey?”

“Yes. Was it a blood clot?”

“That’s what the doctors finally decided. But what really killed her was this island. What happened here. Feels real strange to be back. Feels like it was five years ago, not just a few weeks.”

I noticed that remnants of her Southern accent had returned. Ds softened or changed to Ts; the nasal emphasis on strange.

“Ritchie showed up tonight. They tell you?”

I said patiently, “Yes. That’s why I keep asking where he is.”

“I’m trying to tell you, okay? Beryl had this plan, a way to get revenge. At first, it seemed… I don’t know, exciting. When we talked about it, it was like we were actresses, seeing it on a movie screen. But that’s not how it was. It got real. Then it got too real. We decided, screw it, we’re leaving tonight. But then they showed up. Ritchie and the other guy. While we were packing.” Shay cleared her throat. “Doc? You mind if we walk along the beach? It’s nice by the water.”

I said, “Okay,” watching her pull a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket, then light one. She hadn’t smoked since she was a teen, living in Dexter Money’s home.

Shay tossed the match away and said, “That’s how it started. Beryl wanted to even the score, after all the hurt they caused us. Plus, for her, I think it was a way to get back at the man who kidnapped her when she was a girl. I’m guessing. She never really said. Does that make sense?”

I nodded, thinking about Beryl back there with Clovis, his hands belted behind him. What would Senegal do if Beryl asked for the gun?

Shay said, “When Corey died, that made up my mind. Revenge, hell yes. I asked Eddie, the Italian guy at Dinkin’s Bay, if he’d fly me down. He’s always had a thing for me. When we told him we were pulling out tonight, staying on Saint Lucia, he went to get the plane ready. That’s where he is now, waiting for us.”

I looked at my wrist-no watch-and hoped that Eddie would get Sir James to the hospital in time to save his hand. Maybe save his life.

I told her, “Forget about revenge. There’s no need for it now. I have your video. The original. I stole it-along with the money you paid out. You can get on with your life now, so stop worrying-”

“You got our money back? Doc, that’s great! How’d you manage… ? No, tell me later when we have more time. My God, I can certainly use it. All hundred and nine thousand?”

I said, “Plus interest. And something extra for Corey’s family.”

Odd. The video no longer seemed important to her.

The girl clapped her hands together. “You are the most amazing man I’ve ever met! I knew my luck had to change. Beryl probably couldn’t wait to tell you what happened between Michael and me. We ended it for good, the day after Corey died. Getting our money back-that’s the best news I’ve heard for a while.”

“Beryl didn’t tell me. The wedding’s off?”

“Yes, thank God.”

“Why?”

“I found out the damn truth, that’s why. Monday afternoon, Michael calls me and says Ida-you remember his witch of a mother?-he tells me Ida has somehow gotten ahold of photos of me with that slimeball, Ritchie. I tell him bullshit, his mother’s making it up. I tell him it’s impossible-and it should’ve been impossible. I still had four days to pay the people here. And you had the only other copy of the video.”

But it was possible, Shay told me. To prove it, Michael brought the photos to her apartment. Graphic shots lifted from the video.

I said, “So he ended it.”

“No!” she said, offended I’d made the assumption. “He thought the pictures were sexy-that’s how freaky he is. I ended it! I ended it because I thought it through logically, just like you’d do. I even went to your lab and sat on the dock. Plus, I got your e-mail with those questions. Did Michael’s family have other business connections in the Caribbean? Who recommended Saint Arc? What’s Ida’s maiden name?

“So I started asking Michael questions even before he pulled out the pictures. He got very nervous, because he knew. That witch set me up, and the whole time, he knew. Fucking Ritchie sent her those prints- Ritchie or some other contact she has down here. Ruining my life wasn’t enough for his mother. She wanted to bleed my bank account dry, too.

“I’m going to have children one day, Doc. You think I want Michael’s blood in my babies? His sick genes? No way.”