I wasn't asleep yet, she said.
He nodded. There have been new developments within the last half hour, things I thought you should know about.
She felt that she probably didn't want to know, no matter what these new developments were, but she also knew he was going to tell her anyway, even if she would prefer to remain ignorant.
He said, Of course, we have no conventional telephones, as you know them, here on
Distingue.
When we wish to place a call, we contact the marine operator on Guadeloupe, by means of our radio-telephone which is kept upstairs, in Mr. Dougherty's study. The Guadeloupe marine operator then dials the number we want, in a conventional manner, and makes a patch between the mainland line telephones and our radio-phone. It sounds very complicated, but it is really quite simple and efficient, as it would have to be for all the business Mr. Dougherty has to do by telephone. It's more expensive than normal telephone service, but Mr. Dougherty hardly worries about expense.
Relaxed a moment ago, Sonya felt a minimum of tension slowly creeping back into her, like dirty water. Rudolph Saine was usually a man of few words, direct and to the point. In offering this long explanation of the radio-phone, he seemed to be avoiding, for as long as possible, some ugly bit of news.
Though the radio-telephone is simple and efficient, it is also-vulnerable, he said. It does not function well during bad weather, and not at all during a major seasonal storm. And with a single hammer blow, anyone could mangle enough of its insides to make it useless. He cleared his throat and delivered the bad news: Someone has done just that. They smashed a number of tubes- which I might have been able to replace from our stores. But they also wrecked much of the printed circuitry, which I can't repair without expert help.
Who? she asked.
The same man who attacked you, I presume. Or someone who's working with him.
How could he get into Seawatch, clear up to the third floor where the radio-telephone is?
Saine smiled sourly. If he lived here, that would be no problem at all: a flight of stairs, an unlocked door
He shrugged.
Then you're still convinced that it's a member of the household staff? she asked.
Yes. But I'm not overlooking other possibilities. If there is a stranger on
Distingue,
he could have entered the house in a number of ways, located the radio-telephone and demolished it while I was questioning everyone in the kitchen.
How would he even know about its existence? she asked.
He would know that no telephone lines are run to small islands like
Distingue,
and he would also know that a man like Mr. Dougherty would require constant communications with the outside world. Even a psychotic can reason out something like that. He seemed, by his tone, to be castigating himself for allowing anyone to get at the radio-phone, as if he should have been at two places at once, in order to prevent such a disaster.
Then you've not been able to call the Doughertys?
No, he said. But I'm sending Bill Peterson to Guadeloupe to make the call and to bring back some island police officials. Our man has gotten suddenly bold, and I don't want to take any more chances; I don't want to give him even the slightest opening at the children.
Of course, Sonya said. And though she longed for the big, comfortable bed and a lengthy, deep sleep, she said, What can I do to help, until the police get here?
Nothing, Saine said.
I'm really feeling all right, she protested. I probably look worse than I actually am.
I'll be with Alex and Tina, he said. In their room, with the door locked and my revolver un-holstered. No one's going to get to them before we get some help here. I just wanted everyone in the house to know what's happened. And I wanted to recommend that you keep your door latched, as I see you already had done.
She nodded, feeling slightly numb.
She recalled, against her will, Lynda Spaulding's warnings, and she wondered when, on top of everything else that had gone wrong, they could expect the hurricane
And one other thing, Saine said.
Yes?
He smiled thinly. I wanted you to know that I no longer consider you much of a suspect, Sonya.
Unless I choked myself to throw you off the track, she said.
He smiled more warmly. I hope, however, that this admission on my part will not lead to a corresponding laxity in your attitude toward me.
It won't, she said. I still suspect you.
Good.
I'm serious, she said.
I know you are. I urge you to continue to suspect me, to suspect everyone here. If we are all somewhat paranoid, we may survive this affair. Otherwise, we're sure to lose. He stepped back from the door. I must go now. Remember to slide your latch in place.
I will.
She closed the door and bolted it. Only when the bolt snicked into place did Rudolph Saine turn and walk heavily away, down the hall.
In the space of a few hours, they had gone from a state of uneasy anticipation to a stage of seige.
BOOK THREE
THIRTEEN
The man was upset by the need to improvise. After all, he had spent a great deal of time, long nights lying awake, planning it all out in detail, such perfect detail, not a single factor overlooked: how long he would wait, biding his time until the family had been lulled into a false sense of security; when to strike; how to gain entrance to the children's locked room without alerting them or anyone else; how to kill both of them without letting them cry out for help; what sort of alibi would be iron clad, satisfactory to both the island police and the family
His plan, indeed, was like a gleaming, well-oiled machine which he tended to with profound dedication; all that it wanted was the flip of a single switch, and it would run so smoothly, like a Swiss watch, soundlessly, efficiently, a plan to end all plans, a plan to end two small lives
But now he was improvising, because he felt that his plan had become suddenly inadequate, that events on
Distingue
had taken away the usefulness of his marvelous plan and demanded, instead of carefully thought-out strategy, flexibility, freshness of mind, quick and accurate insight into all new developments, and even quicker action.
With the Doughertys gone, the time seemed most ripe. There were two less watchful antagonists to deal with now. And if he could kill the children while they were away, frolicking in California, he would not only ruin their lives, but laden them with an unbearable pack of guilt: they would never be able to forget that, while they were in California having fun, their children were destroyed in a most unmerciful manner
Improvise
He was now forced to improvise, because he had been careless in the gardens and had stumbled right into the girl. She had thrown him off his time table, she sure had. Now everyone
knew
that he was on the island, and he could not afford to hesitate any longer. Fortunately, he had smashed the radio earlier in the day, but now there were other things to attend to, other precautions he must make. Improvisations
He should have killed the girl.
He hated himself for his failure.
He should have used the knife instead of his hands.
The knife would have been surer.
Somehow, he had panicked, and he had let her get away.
Had he only followed her far enough, he would have found her lying unconscious in the middle of the path, and he could have killed her with ease then. She deserved it for what she'd done to his foot. Thank God that she hadn't drawn blood and that he was still able to walk without limping. A limp would have ruined him, marked him at the start.
He paced back and forth in his room, keeping his foot limber, stopping now and again to look at his reflection in the mirror.
He thought he was a handsome man.
He spoke to his reflection, too. He said, Jeremy, you're just right for the part of the avenging angel. You've got a righteous jawline, a look of strength about you, of tremendous competence.
Jeremy was not his real name. Sometimes, he forgot this. He had been talking to the nonexistent Jeremy for years now and, at times, he felt that he
was
Jeremy and no one else.
He liked being Jeremy.
Jeremy was colorful and daring.
And composed.
Jeremy was afraid of nothing.
Jeremy had the courage to strike out at those who deserved to suffer, had the tremendous, admirable strength of character required for him to act as both judge and jury, to mete out the proper punishment, no matter how severe it had to be. He had a knack for seeing, at a glance, who had led a life that was far too easy; he had a talent for picking those who simply must have their lives balanced by some pain. God had meant everyone to live through some pain, even the rich. Jeremy could act as God's instrument. He could put people in their place, he sure could, real fast.
And he would.
Soon.
Maybe tonight yet.
Jeremy, he told the mirror, this is a big night for you. Tonight, you're going to make fools of everyone. You're going to make fools of Saine and Peterson and Mills and Dalton and everyone else in this house. Not to mention Kenneth Blenwell, or the vacationing Doughertys, who're going to look like even bigger fools
He chuckled to himself.
He was happy.
He was a child on Christmas morning, with a single gift to give: death. He would give them death, just punishment, pain.
He stood before the mirror a moment longer, talking to himself, to his. Jeremy-self. As before, when he named those he would make fools of, he included his own, real name in the list. After all, when he was Jeremy, he was not his real self; he hated his real self as much as he hated nearly everyone else on
Distingue.
He was only Jeremy now, no one else. When Jeremy mentioned the killer's real name, real self, he spoke of another individual, someone else altogether. And when the murders were committed, and when Jeremy faded out, relinquished control of the mind, when the real man and real identity returned, the real man would never understand that he had killed with his own hands.
Basically, though neither the Jeremy-self or the real self would understand this, he was not an evil person. He was simply schizophrenic, completely and totally insane.
FOURTEEN
Despite her injuries, and despite the immediate danger which hung over Seawatch like a black cloud, Sonya managed to fall asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. She slept soundly, dreamlessly, and she woke shortly before nine o'clock Monday morning, stiff and sore but decidedly better than she had been when she crawled between the sheets the night before. She had felt as if she were a hundred years old, then; now, overnight, she had lost seventy-five years, anyway, and was almost her old self. Her headache was gone, and her eyes no longer felt red and grainy. Her throat was less swollen than it had been, but it was still quite sore, a condition which she knew she would have to endure for a few days yet.
Her drapes were drawn tightly shut, still, and they prevented all but a few tiny streams of sunlight from entering the gloomy chamber. She lay there in the shadows, staring at the ceiling, wanting to think out her situation before she got up to face another day.
The big question in her mind, now, was whether or not she should remain as the Dougherty governess and tutor
Originally, she had taken the position, because it had seemed like a fun thing, working for a millionaire, living in a mansion on a private island in the Caribbean
She had always gone out of her way to avoid bad scenes, depression, sadness
And she had been sure that here on
Distingue,
she would meet only happy people, people who were on top of the world, who knew how best to enjoy everything life had to offer, who had little or no reason to be gloomy. She had expected much laughter, many interesting friendships, perhaps a few parties, for diversion, of the sort you read about on the society pages of all the better, metropolitan newspapers.
Actually, she had expected almost anything but what she had found when she arrived on
Distingue.
Of course, once this horrible business about the children was over and done with, perhaps they would be much happier and more pleasant to know than they now were. Everyone was under tremendous pressure over this affair, waiting for the worst and praying for the best, passing time like cattle under the swaying blade of an automatic executioner. When that pressure was removed, they might be-
No, she thought, things would not be so much better, even if the present crisis passed. Even if they caught the would-be killer and packed him off to some remote prison or asylum, there would still be a lot of negativism on the island: Henry Dalton and his grumpiness; Leroy Mills' strange, quiet, almost secretive ways that made her think he was always planning to do something of which he was utterly ashamed; the Blenwells at the far end of the island, hating everyone else, talking about killing the parrots, sitting in their dark drawing room like creatures who would ash and rot if they came into contact with direct sunlight
No, already there were too many bad memories associated with this island, memories that would haunt her if she remained. It was best to go.
They'd be disappointed with her, at first.
But they'd understand.
She would write out her resignation that afternoon and give it to Joe Dougherty when he and Helen arrived back from California this evening.