Richard Laymon - Island

Dawn finally came.

Andrew woke up and came over to the fire. He was shirtless, barefoot, and wearing his khaki shorts. He said, “Lovely morning, eh, kids?” Then he did a couple of quick knee-bends, arms forward for balance. Then he rubbed his hands together. “How was the watch? No trouble, I take it?”

“What’re you so peppy for?” Connie said.

“Ah, the child’s in a snit, and it’s barely sun-up. Lover’s quarrel?” he asked.

“Give me a break.”

“Tell you what, a good brisk swim oughta set things right. I’ll race the both of you.” Grinning and rubbing his hands together, he looked toward the inlet. “We’ll make it a race to the…” His face changed. Something was wrong. As I stood up to see what it was, he said, “What’s that doing out there?”

A boat was floating on the water, maybe four hundred yards out. For a second, I thought that rescuers might be on the way. But then I checked the beach and saw that our dinghy wasn’t where it ought to be.

Connie stood up, too. She studied the situation, then made a face.

Andrew turned on me. “What do you know about this?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“Connie?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“You two were supposed to be keeping watch.”

“We didn’t notice anything unusual,” I said.

“Well something unusual sure as hell happened. That dinghy didn’t just get up and walk off the beach.”

“No, sir.”

As if the three of us all wondered the same thing at once, we turned suddenly toward the sleeping areas. Billie, Kimberly and Thelma were where they ought to be: none of them had snuck past us and taken the boat out for an early-morning excursion.

“And you are sure you two don’t know anything about it?” Andrew asked Connie and me.

We both shook our heads.

“We obviously had a visitor last night,” Andrew said. “He slipped right past you and set our boat adrift. Did you fall asleep?”

“No, sir,” I said.

“You?” he snapped at Connie.

“No.”

“Mess around?”

“With him?” She wrinkled her nose. “Get real.”

“We didn’t do anything,” I said.

“Apparently, that includes keeping watch. Good thing our friend didn’t decide to slit a few throats while he was in the neighborhood.”

Connie cringed and looked a little sick.

“A couple of terrific sentries you two are,” he said.

I considered pointing out that the visit might’ve occurred during someone else’s watch—even his—but decided not to bother. After all, we should’ve at least noticed that the dinghy was missing.

Connie didn’t try to give the skipper any excuses, either. The way she looked, I bet she was thinking about how she’d gone over to the rocks, all by herself, to take her leak last night. I bet she was wondering where the killer might’ve been while she was there.

“What’s all the fussing about?” The question came from Billie. We looked over at her. She lay on her side, propped up on one elbow. Her upper breast seemed about ready to fall out of her bikini, but so far it was staying put.

“Our friend,” Andrew explained, “snuck in here last night right under the noses of our two sharp-eyed sentries and set the dinghy adrift.”

Frowning, Billie thrust herself up to a sitting position. She was wonderful to watch—all that shifting flesh barely contained by her black bikini. Nothing came loose, though. Once she was on her feet, she took a few moments to adjust her top and bottom. While she fiddled with the bikini, she frowned out at the dinghy.

“Maybe a wave just came in and took it off,” she suggested.

“Not a chance,” Andrew said. “This was done on purpose. By a person. By the man who murdered Keith, more than likely.”

“What’ll we do?” Billie asked. “We aren’t going to just let it go, are we? What if we decide we want it? Even if you don’t think we should try for another island…”

“It isn’t going anywhere,” Andrew said.

“It’s almost gone now.”

“I’m going out to get it.”

She looked at him. She gazed at the boat. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You can’t swim that far.”

“Of course I can.”

“I don’t mean you can’t. I mean you’re not going to. You’re sixty years old, for Godsake.”

“Don’t give me that age crap. I can outswim anyone here.”

I raised my hand a little—like a schoolkid who thinks he might know the answer but isn’t quite sure. “I’ll swim out and bring it back,” I offered.

“Don’t make me laugh,” Andrew said. “I’ve seen you swim—if one can call it that.”

“Maybe we should just let it go,” Billie said. “It’s not worth…”

“No!” Connie blurted. “It’s our only way out of here! We’ve got to get it back!”

“She’s right,” Andrew said. He unbuckled his belt.

Billie put a hand on his shoulder. “No. Come on, now. Kimberly’s the swimmer of the family. She should be the one to go, if anyone.”

Kimberly appeared to be asleep. She was face down in her nest of rags, sprawled limp, one leg out to the side and bent at the knee. One arm was under her face. The other stretched away from her as if she were reaching for something.

Maybe reaching for Keith.

She still had his Hawaiian shirt on. The gaudy fabric rippled in the breeze. The shirt had gotten mussed in her sleep, so it let some of her back show above her bikini pants.

Man, she looked great.

“I’m not going to wake her up for this,” Andrew said. “No, sir. Not me.” He took off his khaki shorts, handed them to Billie, and stood in front of us wearing nothing except his white briefs. They were sagging a bit, so he tugged them up. (Like Thelma, Andrew had come to the picnic with no intention of swimming. They both left their suits on the boat.) Billie was frowning. “Andrew,” she said. “Don’t…”

“For Godsake, woman.”

“Don’t make me a widow,” she told him.

He narrowed an eye at her. “The day I can’t swim out as far as that dinghy, I might as well be dead.” He winked, then grabbed her upper arms, pulled her against him and planted a big kiss on her mouth. “That’ll have to last you till I get back.”

“I wish you wouldn’t go.”

“Christ, now, you’re gonna jinx me!” He smacked her on the rump.

Hard enough to make her flinch and wince.

“Back in a flash,” he said.

Then he whirled around and marched with a jaunty swagger toward the water.

“The idiot,” Billie muttered. Even though she was annoyed, she seemed proud of him.

“He’ll be all right,” Connie said. “He can swim that far without even getting winded.”

“He is in great shape,” Billie admitted.

The way he was wading through the knee-deep water, I thought he looked rather like an old, bow-legged monkey. But I kept the observation to myself.

“Should I go with him?” I asked Billie.

“Get real,” Connie said.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“He wouldn’t like it,” Billie told me, not taking her eyes off Andrew. “He thinks he’s perfectly capable of doing everything.”

“Made me climb the tree and cut down Keith yesterday,” I said.

Billie shook her head. “Did he? He isn’t fond of heights.”

“Dad’ll be fine in the water,” Connie said.

The water of the inlet was very shallow. Andrew waded out nearly as far as the point before he began to swim. Because of the reef, there was no real surf. Just small, calm waves that shouldn’t give a swimmer any trouble at all. He moved along smoothly, taking his time. The dinghy kept drifting farther away, but he was slowly gaining on it.

The next thing I knew, Kimberly stood beside me.