I'll Get You For This (6 page)

  She pushed past me and scurried downstairs. At the foot of the stairs, she stopped. A thickset man in his shirt sleeves had come out of the front room. He stood gaping at her.

  "Hey, you," he said, stepping up to her. "Not so fast. They want you!"

  Miss Wonderly gave a startled squeak, spun on her heel and tried to bolt up the stairs, but he reached out and grabbed her.

  "They want me too," I said, coming down slowly.

  The man let go of Miss Wonderly as if she'd bitten him. He stepped back, his face going a dirty white.

  "I don't know anything about anything, mister," he said in H low, hoarse voice.

  I smiled at him. "You don't look as if you do," I said, and put Miss WonderIy's bag down. "Where's your telephone, bud ?"

  He waved his hand to the room from which he had just come. I jerked my head and he went in. I followed him. Miss Wonderly pressed herself against the wall. She didn't look as cute as she had when she'd pressed herself against my hotel wall, but then, she was dressed this time. It makes a difference.

  The room was, big and untidy. There were shutters up at the windows to keep out the sun.

  An old woman was holding the telephone receiver to her ear. When she saw me, she gave a gasp, and dropped the receiver. It fell with a little crash on the table. Then she sat down heavily in a rocking-chair and threw her apron over her face. I thought she looked pretty dumb sitting like that, but it seemed to give her some comfort.

  I took hold of the telephone and jerked. The cord came away from the wall, and I tossed the instrument on the floor.

  "Now you won't be able to talk to anyone about anything," I said, winking at the man. "That'll be a nice change for you."

  He jerked and shook and sweated plenty. I seemed to scare him.

  I left them huddled and silent, and collected Miss Wonderly. She seemed scared too. Hell! I

was scared myself.

  We ran down the steps, and I slung her bag into the car. We bundled in, and I shot out of Essex Street like a cat off a hot stove.

  "Have you thought of a place, honey?" I asked, as we bolted along Ocean Drive.

  She shook her head. "No."

  "Well, concentrate or else we'll be in a jam."

  She banged her clenched fists together and started to cry. She was scared all right.

  I looked across the Bay. The opalescent waters of the Atlantic and the Gulf were changing hues as clouds moved overhead. Scattered green islands gleamed like emeralds on an azure field. On the distant horizon the Gulf Stream pencilled a line of indigo, with here and there above it a smudge of grey smoke from the funnels of a passing steamer.

  "How about those islands?" I said, slowing up. "Know any of them?"

  She sat up, and her tears dried like magic. "Of course, the very place," she said. "Cudco Key. It lies to the left of the islands, and it's small. I know a shack there. I found it when I was out there once."

  "Fine," I said. "If we can get there, that's where we'll go."

  I didn't know where we were, but as we were heading in the same direction as the islands, I didn't worry. We passed Dayden Beach, and I looked at the moored raft. It seemed a long time since we sat on it together. We kept on, and after a while I saw a wharf ahead. That gave me an idea.

  "We'll trade this car for a boat," I said.

  "I'm glad you're with me," she said. It came from the bottom of her heart.

  I patted her knee. It was a nice knee, and she didn't take it away, so I left my hand on it.

  We stopped by the wharf and got out. I made sure my gun was handy, and I kept a firm grip on my cigar box. That was one thing I wasn't losing. We looked around. There were a number of U Drive pleasure boats moored along the wharf, but they weren't fast enough for me. I

wanted something that'd shake a police boat if it came to shaking police boats.

  I found what I was looking for after a while. She was a trim thirty-foot craft; mahogany and steel and glistening brass. She looked very fast.

  "That's her," I said to Miss Wonderly.

  While we were looking at the boat, a fat little man came out of a house on the water-front, and hustled down to the boat. He gave us a hard look, then stepped on board.

  "Hey!" I said.

  He looked up, and climbed off the boat again. His face was burned nearly black by the sun, and his hair was bleached yellow-He didn't look a bad guy in a tough, hard way.

  "Want me?" he said, eyeing us over, then he grinned. "By Golly!"

  I hunched my shoulders and grinned back.

  "Not you—your boat," I said.

  "Chester Cain, by Jeese!" he said. He took elaborate precautions to keep his hands still and not to make any move, but he wasn't scared.

  "Sure," I said.

  "That's okay with me," he said. "The radio hasn't let up for the past half-hour. The whole town knows you're on the mn." He eyed Miss Wonderly. She apparently made a hit, because he pursed his mouth in a soundless whistle. "So you want my boat?"

  "That's the idea," I said. "I'm in a hurry, but I'm not going to rob you. Take my Buick and a grand?"

  His eyes opened.

  "Do I get the boat back?" •

  "Sure, if they don't sink her."

  "Sink her? They'll never see her."

His optimism made me feel good.

"She that fast?"

"Fastest boat on the coast. Fate was kind to you, sending you to me."

"I guess so. So you'll trade?"

He grinned. "I don't want to, but I'll trade. I never did like that buzzard Herrick anyway."

"Sure this is your boat?" I asked.

  "You bet. Tim Duval's the name. I use her for Tunny fishing and other things. When you're out of this jam, you come on a trip with me. You'll like it." He winked. "I'll be glad to have her back, but keep her as long as you like. She's gassed up and ready to go. She'll take you to Cuba if you're figuring on going that far."

  Miss Wonderly came staggering back with the two suit-cases. She wasn't scared to make herself useful. She looked kind of cute in her blue crepe—like she was in a fancy dress, and it showed off her figure. Duval had trouble keeping his eyes off her. I had trouble too.

  We dumped the grips on board, and then she ducked down into the cockpit.

  "Get into the cabin, sweetheart," I called. "It'll be safer there." I didn't want anyone to see her as I pulled out along the long wharf.

  She went into the cabin and shut the door.

  "Want me to come along?" Duval asked hopefully.

  I shook my head. "No."

  He shrugged. "Okay," he said. "I'd sooner travel alone— with her. Nice, eh?"

  "Huh uh," I said, and gave him the keys of the Buick.

  "You won't have any trouble with that boat. She's sweet to handle;" he said, taking the keys. "I'll look after the heep for you."

  "Yeah, look after her," I said.

"Sure will."

I went aboard and started the engines.

Duval cast off the lines.

"I think Flaggerty's a buzzard too," he said.

That told me he wasn't going to sell us out as soon as we were out of sight.

"So do I," I said.

I spun the wheel and edged the boat through the narrows to the cut that led to the outer bay.

  The swell was long, fairly easy. After a while I rounded the breakwater and we were in the bay.

  I looked back.

  Duval was waving. I waved back. Then I gunned the engine and the boat leapt forward with a roar, throwing water and cream-white foam.

  Cudco Key was a tiny island five miles from the chain of islands skirting Palm Bay. It had a dazzling white beach bordered with coconut palms, white orchid trees, covered with pale white flowers delicately veined with green, and the woman's tongue trees with their long slender pods in which seeds rattle monotonously at the slightest breeze. Further along the coast, and inland were mangrove and buttonwood thickets. Spires of smoke hung in the air where mangroves were being burnt for charcoal.

  I ran the boat into the heart of the mangrove thickets, and I was fairly sure that no one would spot it from the sea.

  We left our grips on board and we struck inland to find the shack.

  Miss Wonderly had changed into bottle-green linen slacks, a halter and an orange wrap around to keep her curls in place. She looked cool and cute.

  It was hot on the island, and I had stripped down to a singlet and gaberdine slacks, but I

sweated plenty.

  We kept to the thickets. Miss Wonderly said there were only a couple of dozen Conch fishermen living on the island, but we didn't see any of them.

  I got the surprise of my life when we found the shack. It not only commanded a fine view of Palm Bay and Paradise Palms in the distance, but it wasn't a shack at all. It was a hurricaneproof house that had been built as an experiment by the Red Cross some years back in their drive to counteract storm damage.

  These hurricane-proof houses are built like small forts. They're made of reinforced concrete and steel; steel rods anchor the house to solid rock. The roof, floors and walls are of concrete, the walls a foot thick. All partitions extend from the roof through the house to bedrock. Window-sashes are of steel, with double-strength glass and double shutters. Wood is used only in the triple-strength cypress doors. Drain-pipes run from the roof to a cistern cut in the bedrock under the house, providing water in emergencies.

  This house was on the far side of the island, and because of its exposed position no other dwelling was within two miles of it. It was a successful experiment, but no one lived in it now. I guess the Conchs preferred their wooden shacks or else someone was asking a high rent.

  "Your shack, eh?" I said, looking at the place. "Some shack."

  Miss Wonderly clasped her hands behind her back, and raised herself on her toes. She admired the house.

  "I only caught a glimpse of it from a boat," she said. "I was told no one lived in it. I didn't think it was as good as this."

  "Let's try and get in," I said.

  It wasn't easy, and in the end I had to shoot off the lock of the front door. The place was dirty and as hot as an oven, but after opening all the windows the air got better.

  "We can make this pretty comfortable," I said, "and it's safe. Let's have a look around."

  I found a small harbour that had been built while the house was under construction. Mangroves had overgrown it, and it was practically invisible. I only came upon it by nearly falling down the ramp that had been covered with dead foliage.

  "This is terrific," I said, after I'd cleared away the undergrowth. "We'll get the boat round here and settle in. Come on, let's go."

  As I steered the boat around the island, I came upon the village community dumped down on the east shore. There were three or four ketches moored to the sea wall, a dozen or so wooden shacks and a big wooden building that looked like a store.

  "Stay in the cabin," I said to Miss Wonderly. "I'm going in to get some provisions."

  There were a bunch of men standing on the sea wall as I edged the boat to a mooring ring. One of them, a big fellow, stripped to the waist and barefooted, shambled forward and caught the rope I tossed him.

  The men eyed me over as I climbed on to the sea wall, eyed the boat over and exchanged glances.

  "That's Tim's boat," the big fellow said, rubbing his hands on the seat of his dirty white canvas trousers.

  "Yeah," I said, and in case they thought I'd stolen it, I added, "I hired it off him. I'm on a fishing vacation."

  "Swell boat," the big fellow said.

  "That's so," I said.

  I made the rope fast, conscious that they hadn't taken their eyes off me for a moment, then I strolled over to the store, hoping that no one would start anything. No one did.

  The storekeeper told me his name was Mac. I told him my name was Reilly. He was a wizened little guy with bright eyes of a bird. I liked him. When I started buying, he liked me. I bought a load of stuff.

  We roped in some of the loungers, including the big fellow, to cart the stuff down to the boat. Mac came, too, but he didn't carry anything.

  "Duval's boat," he said, when he reached the sea wall.

  "That guy seems pretty well known around here," I said.

"Sure is," he said, and grinned.

I lit a cigarette and gave him one.

"Kind of quiet here," I said, looking up and down the deserted beach.

"Sure is," Mac said. "No one bothers us. We get along."

"I guess you do," I said.

  "Hear there was some excitement over at Paradise Palms," he said, after a pause. "A political killing. The radio's been yelling its head off."

  "I heard that too," I said.

  "I reckon it's no business of ours."

  I wondered if that meant anything.

  "You alone?" he went on, looking down into the boat.

  "Yeah," I said.

  He nodded, then spat into the sea.

  "Thought maybe you'd brought your wife along."

  "Not married," I said.

  "We all can't be."

  The big fellow climbed off the boat and came over. He was sweating plenty.

  "That's the lot," he said, then added, "the cabin's locked."

  "Yeah," I said.

  Mac and the big fellow exchanged glances. I guess they were thinking hard.

  I gave the big fellow a fin. He took it like it was a C note. He was excited.

"Maybe we'll see you again," Mac said hopefully. "Any friend of Tim's my friend."

"That's good news," I said, and meant it.

"I reckon Duval wouldn't hire his boat to anyone but a right guy," Mac went on.