Strip for Murder (26 page)

Except me. I was infamous. But my sentence had been suspended and I was with Laurel, and life was good. I'd never been so bronzed and healthy in my life. Or so full of yeast and wheat germ. Besides, I'd never had my own nudist camp, total membership two people. It had to be my own. I had been banned from every nudist camp in the United States.

There had, of course, been quite a hullabaloo. I had been charged with everything from ballooning without a license to invading the planet, and other things too horrible to mention. One waggish idiot even had the gall to accuse me of being a press agent for the American Sunbathing Association. Arson, I think, was another charge. Oh, they got a lot of charges out of me. Anyway, Fairview had been insured. But that was all behind me now.

Laurel rolled over close to me, picked up a handful of white sand, and let it trickle onto my chest. Then she leaned even closer and whispered in my ear.

“No,” I said. “Thank you, no. Not that the thought doesn't appeal to me. It's just impossible. Ha-ha.”

“Oh, you can do anything.”

“No. Some things I can't do. Really I can't.”

Sunlight glinted on that soft hair, hair like copper and brass melted together, and her bright blue eyes were merry. “I'll give you a million dollars.”

I stifled an imaginary yawn. It was a little gag of hers.

“Oh, all right,” I said pettishly. “You and your damned money.”

Quite a while later I said in a weak voice, “Well, I guess you're about broke by now. I hope to hell you're broke. We'll figure it up later. What will you do when you're a pauper?”

Laurel smiled beautifully, sleepily. “Oh, I'll think of something.”

I knew she would. She always did. But naturally I wouldn't really take any of her money. It was enough that we were together, enjoying today and looking forward to tomorrow. It was enough that we were here, on a secluded beach in Hawaii.

Hell, yes. Hawaii.

THE END

of a Gold Medal Original by

Richard S. Prather