Part 12 (1/2)
'What?”
”Don't try to make love to me, huh? I haven't got anything with me. And... I might be too willing. That's sort of nasty, isn't it? After... what we had to do.”
”It happens that way. The body wants to celebrate being alive when somebody else is dead. Anyway I'm going to leave you alone here for a while, Betsy.”
Sleepy eyes opened wide. ”No!”
”I'll hang the DO-NOT-DISTURB signs on both doors, and I'll lock you in. You'll be fine. I ought to be back by five-thirty or six.”
”Where do you have to go?”
”Just an errand. Nothing crucial.”
”Okay, so be careful, lover,” she murmured. She was on her side, fists under her chin, knees pulled up. In moments she was making a small buzzing sound, with slow deep lift and fall of the narrow, overburdened rib cage. I closed the draperies to darken the room, and floated a blanket over her.
The phone made half a ring before I caught it. It did not disturb her.
It was Meyer. ”I am free,” he said. ”Marked fit for duty. I am an object of awe and curiosity. My once handsome face looks like a psychedelic beach ball. There are two gentle maidens here aboard my humble vessel, taking turns holding my hand and applying cold compresses and fixing me little taste treats. They say to say howdy. Shall I return?”
”Stay where you are. Enjoy.”
And how are things on the frontier?”
”Confusing. A fine young man had the taste to give Miss Agnes a lot of tender loving care, but I have to get a part for her out of Palm Beach before she can move.”
”Would the man let you move?”
”No point in asking him until I get the part installed.”
”What are you doing for excitement?”
”Mighty interesting golf match on television today.”
”McGee, do not make childish attempts to mislead me. My brain was not damaged. When we left, you were down. You wanted no part of that brouhaha over there. Your voice dragged. Now there is a lift, a hint of a pleasurable urgency. You have become involved.”
”Now that you mention it, I guess I have.”
”Have you been able to pay my respects to Deputy Arnstead?”
”Not yet. He seems to be absent. Or shy. But I still have hopes.”
”If the car was roadable, and Sheriff Hyzer said you could leave, would you?”
”Probably not.”
”Have you come across an opportunity for some small salvage contract, perhaps?”
”One might turn up. Meyer, I'm glad you're okay.”
”I share your gladness.”
After the conversation ended, I looked at the screen. A very somber young man in orange garments was hunched over a putt. A knot of muscle bulged at the corner of his jaw. He stabbed at it, and the ball went by the hole on the high side and stopped inches away. The young man looked at the heavens with an expression of agonized desolation, of cla.s.sic despair. I punched the set off while he was still on camera. I hung the signs, locked her in, and left.
Thirteen.
b.u.t.tERCUP CAME at me, running low and rumbling in antic.i.p.ation of the clamp of his teeth in the flesh of the stranger. I squatted and held my hand out and said, ”Easy, b.u.t.tercup. Easy boy.”
He braked to a stop, leaned, and took a delicate sniff, compared it with the memory banks, and looked dejected. Cora Arnstead came out onto the porch and said, ”Who is it now? You home, Lew?”
”Sorry. It's Travis McGee again, Mrs. Arnstead.”
”You got anything to tell me about my boy?”
”Sorry. I wish I could tell you something.”
”That Billy Cable was here today looking for him, too. They fired my boy. No reason why I should fall all over myself helping them. If they want him, they can find him.”
”How is the stock making out? Anything I can do?”
”That's nice of you to offer. But I've got the Silverstaff boy from up the road taking care. He was here most of the morning getting caught up. Come on the porch and set.”
A haze had moved across the sun. She leaned back in the cane chair and widened her nostrils. ”Smell that stink, do you?”
”Afraid not.”
”Acidy smell. We get it now most times the breeze comes out of the northwest. Phosphate plants up that way. Wind from the south, and you get the county incinerator smell. n.o.body gives a d.a.m.n, Mr. McGee. They talk about it, but they don't really care enough to do anything. So one day people are going to grab their throats and fall down dead all over the state of Floryda, and I hope I'm safe dead and gone before it happens. What do you want with me?”
”Sheriff Hyzer is trying to locate Lew. Now if he doesn't find him pretty soon, he might come out here or send somebody out here to go through his room, looking for a clue.”
”And?”
”He'll find that hiding place just the way I did. I didn't exactly give you an inventory of what's in there.”
”Figured you didn't. Filthy stuff?”
”Some standard, under-the-counter dirt, and some pretty vivid love notes from some of his women. And a collection of Polaroid pictures he took of a batch of his girl friends, all naked. They could cause some trouble in the wrong hands.”
”Like if Billy Cable got aholt of them?”
”That's right, Mrs. Arnstead.”
”You said he had a lot of those speed pills in there. Would there be maybe enough so he could get into trouble on that account, too?”
”More than enough. They come under the narcotics legislation.”
She glowered into s.p.a.ce for a long ten seconds. ”I don't hold with lying, Mr. McGee. I wouldn't want anybody to come here and find that place of his and find it empty and ask me if I'd let anybody into that room to take stuff away. And if they asked me if I emptied it out and asked me what was in there, I'd have to tell what I took out. No, sir, I can't let you go in my boy's room and take away his personal private stuff and get rid of it any way you see fit. I can't give you permission. Maybe you'd be so kind, Mr. McGee, as to go on in the house and back to the kitchen and get me a gla.s.s of water. Best let it run a long time for coolness.”