The Three Sirens (84 page)

Courtney’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious?”

“The most ex-Mrs. Hayden the world has ever known.”

Courtney fidgeted. “Well—” he said.

“You were a divorce lawyer, you know all the questions, but you don’t have to be embarrassed about asking them. In fact, you don’t have to ask a thing. I’ll be only too glad to tell you, if you are interested.”

“I am interested, of course. Is it Tehura?”

“She’s the least of it,” said Claire. “Let’s be social. What’ll you drink?”

“I’ll have a light Scotch and water, if you will.”

“No sooner said than done.”

He sat, and watched her thoughtfully as she brought out the bottle of whiskey, the two tin cups, and the pitcher of water. While she made ready the drinks, he said, “You appear quite gay for an ex-anybody. They were never that way when they came to my office. They were always angry.”

“I’m just relieved,” she said, sitting down. “I’m good and relieved.” She handed him his drink, and could see that his face was uncomprehending. “I’ll tell you what it’s like, Tom,” she said, picking up her own drink. “What it feels like, I mean. It’s like that ugly meeting you hate to undertake, waiting for the hour to fire someone, or better, to tell someone you’ve learned the truth about how they’ve been swindling you, and the anticipation of the meeting gnaws at your nerve ends, drives you crazy, and suddenly there it is, and you have it out, and everything you wanted to say you’ve said, and it’s over and good-by. You are relieved. That’s how it feels.” She lifted her tin cup. “Toast?”

“Toast,” he said, holding up his cup.

“The fifth freedom,” she said. “Freedom from marriage, bad marriage, that is.”

They drank, and she observed him over her cup. His eyes would not meet her eyes.

“I’ve embarrassed you, Tom,” she said suddenly. “I see something now. You are very conservative about the holy wedlock—”

“Hardly.”

“—and you think I’m being frivolous about it, and you are secretly disappointed, maybe offended.”

“Not a bit. I’ve been the route many times, Claire. I guess I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“You’re better than that. You knew we weren’t getting along, you knew that.”

“Maybe I—I thought about it, yes.”

She took another sip, and she said with earnestness, “Tom, don’t make any mistakes about me, not at this late date. Some women are made for careers, and some for being alone, and some for tumbling into a hundred beds, and some are made for being wives and mothers. I’m the last category. I was made to be a wife and have a billion kids and the hearth and home and pumpkin pies and his slippers ready. Maybe that is dull to you, but that is the meaning of life to me. It is all I ever wanted. Small ambition? So I thought. I was wrong. It’s wanting too much, I guess.”

“Not too much, but a lot.”

“It takes two, Tom, to make one wife a wife.”

“Yes, I believe that.”

“Marc couldn’t help. He couldn’t help himself, let alone help me. We’ve been married two years, and we’ve had no contact. He never grew up, so how could he have children? Or a wife? Well, don’t let me go on. I won’t give you two years’ worth of that. I’ll simply say we’ve been having it out every day, and this morning was the blowup. This morning he said he had enough of me for the rest of his life, and he said more, and I hit him, and he hit me, and the final bell rang. Fight’s over. For him it was two years ago. For me, today.”

“And Tehura had nothing to do with it?”

“Not really. Had I weakened, that shameful incident would have been the capper. You know I went to see her, don’t you?”

“You said you would. I didn’t know if you had. What happened?”

“Have you seen her lately, Tom?”

“Not much, no, not actually. I’ve been too busy.”

“I realize she was your girl once, and I know, for myself, what she was less than a month ago. But she’s changed. I tell you, she’s not recognizable. And I blame it on Marc, her friend Marc. She must have been susceptible, but it took a Marc to transform her into one of us, the worst of us.”

“In what way?”

“No more the guileless half-primitive. She’s shrewd, she’s feline, she’s bursting with ambition. In short, civilization’s tot. As for my diamond pendant—yes, she has it. She did not steal it. We both knew that. Marc gave it to her. Part of the grand seduction, I suppose. The point is not that he would give it to her, but that she would want it and accept it. I read her the book on Marc. You know what that made me? I quote her. Jealous wife who mistreats and is unable to keep a husband.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Sorry, Tom.”

“It’s just that—” He kept shaking his head. “I know her so well. You understand. No one here knows her as well as I do. When you speak of her, I don’t recognize the same person.”

Claire shrugged. “Your client. See for yourself.”

“I may,” he said. “In fact, I will. I don’t want to tangle with Marc, but I feel a responsibility for her. If she’s off the straight and narrow, I’ll try to set her right again. I’m troubled by that whole necklace episode. Do you mind if I discuss this openly with her?”

“I told you to see for yourself, go ahead. But if you are thinking you want to pry her away from Marc, to save Marc for me, forget it. You won’t be doing me a favor, but a disservice. If you really want to see her for her own sake, to help the poor girl, that’s another matter. I’m with you.”

“That’s all it would be,” said Courtney. He rose abruptly, and paced restlessly about the room. “There has to be more to it than a mere affair. I tell you, I know Tehura’s mind. She, none of them, make anything of an affair. That’s as natural as kissing is to us. But when a girl changes so drastically, wants diamond necklaces that are not her own—I don’t know—something is going on, something more than an affair. I’ll find out, you can be sure. Tomorrow morning-”

It was then that the interruption came. They were both alarmed by it. The indistinct but harsh sounds of words, as if fired from rifles, rattled across the compound to their open door. Claire leaped up and, with Courtney, she ran outside.

The sight that met their eyes was that of Sam Karpowicz, in a state of dishevelment, gesticulating wildly, pouring out indistinct words at Maud, who stood in her nightdress before the stoop of her hut next door, nodding and nodding.

“Something’s wrong,” Courtney said to Claire, and the two rushed to find out what it was.

They reached Sam and Maud, just as Maud, touching the botanist’s arm, had begun to speak. “Yes, it is terrible, Sam. We’ll have to act with dispatch. I would suggest that we consult Paoti—”

“What is it?” Courtney interrupted. “Is there anything I can do?”

Sam Karpowicz, shaking with distress, turned to Courtney. “It’s awful, Tom, awful. Somebody’s raided my darkroom, stolen at least a third of my printed photographs, negatives, reels of sixteen-millimeter movie film.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Sam asserted, forcefully. “Positive,” he repeated. “When I left you a little while ago, I went into the darkroom to develop what I did tonight. I was too busy to notice anything peculiar right off. But I realized, as I worked, that there were funny gaps in the room. I’m very methodical. I pile this here, that there, and suddenly there were no piles. I began to check my layouts and reels against my written inventory—do you want to see?—a third of it gone. It must have happened either this afternoon or this evening.”

Maud said, “We simply can’t figure out who would do a thing like that.”

“That’s what beats me,” said Sam. “None of us on the team would have to steal film. I mean, here we are together. And the natives. What good would it do them?”

Claire spoke for the first time. “Unless there’s some religious fanatic among the natives—the way there is in some societies who feels capturing images on paper is capturing the soul, or something like that. Could that be it?”

“I doubt it, Claire,” said Maud. “I’ve found no tabu whatsoever against photography.”

Courtney gripped Sam’s arm. “Sam, does anyone else know about this?”

“I only discovered the robbery ten minutes ago. I dashed right in the house and woke up Estelle and Mary, to be sure they hadn’t been fooling around with the photographs. They were as mystified as I. Then I asked Mary if she’d seen anyone hanging around here today—you know—but she said she was gone most of the day. Earlier in the day, she said, Marc was about—”

“When?” asked Claire sharply.

“When?” said Sam Karpowicz with surprise. “Why, it must have been—it was after we went to Maud’s lunch—Mary stayed behind a while, and later went out with Nihau, and that was when she saw your husband.”

Claire glanced at Courtney, then back at Sam. “That’s odd. He left early this morning to go on an exploration into the hills with some of the villagers. He said he wouldn’t be back until after midnight, maybe tomorrow, and now you say—?” Once more, she looked at Courtney. “Tom, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Courtney.

“It would explain a lot of things.”

“Yes,” said Courtney gravely. “We may be way off, but—”

Maud had elbowed herself closer into the group. “What’s going on? If it concerns Marc—”

“It might,” said Courtney. He consulted his watch. “Almost one o’clock. Nevertheless, I think I’d better go over and see Tehura.”

“Let me go with you,” said Claire.

Courtney frowned. “It could be embarrassing.”

“I don’t care,” said Claire.

Sam Karpowicz said, “What’s this got to do with the missing film?”

“Maybe nothing,” said Courtney, “or maybe everything.” He scanned the faces of the other three. “If you all want to come along with me, it’s okay. But I’d prefer to see Tehura alone, first. I think I should do this before you go to Paoti.”

Without reluctance, Maud Hayden relinquished leadership of the evening to Tom Courtney. She showed her worry as plainly as Sam showed his perplexity. Courtney and Sam had started toward the bridge and, out of some instinct, Maud linked her arm in Claire’s before following them.

* * *

In the dim light of Tehura’s hut, the three of them, Courtney, Maud Hayden, Sam Karpowicz, stood huddled across the room, their eyes fixed on the limp body of the native girl, broken across the stone fertility idol.

Courtney it was who had come upon her first, sprawled unconscious, her pulse giving up its almost imperceptible beat. He had noted the blood behind her sightless eyeballs, and the blood caked at her eyes, mouth, and ears. He had hurried out and shouted his order to Claire, “Bring Harriet Bleaska, fast!” And when Claire had gone, he had beckoned Maud and Sam into Tehura’s room.

Then they had waited.

Once, Maud, in a strained voice, had addressed Courtney. “What is it, Tom? You know more than you’ve told me.”

He had only shaken his head, and stared down at Tehura’s figure, remembering the pleasure of their old love, and the pain of this shocking sight, and none of them had spoken again.

It seemed five eternities, but it was no more than five minutes, before they heard the approaching voices and footsteps. Harriet Bleaska, in a robe, carrying a small black medical valise, came in alone. She acknowledged the three of them, and, seeing Tehura’s limp body, fell to her knees beside her.

“Better leave me with her for a little while,” she called over her shoulder.

Tom guided Maud outside, and Sam was behind them. Beyond the door waited Claire and Moreturi, speaking to one another in undertones. When they looked up, Moreturi came up to Courtney.

“Tom,” he said, “how is she?”

“I think she’s alive, but—I really don’t know.”

“I was coming into the village with the others, we had our catch of fish, when Mrs. Hayden and Miss Bleaska told me what happened. Could it be an accident?”

“I honestly don’t know, Moreturi.”

Claire had joined them. “Tom,” she said, “Marc was out in the hills this afternoon. He fished with Moreturi.”

“It is true,” Moreturi said.

Courtney scratched his head, trying to make something of this, and he suddenly asked, “Did he come back with you?”

“No,” said Moreturi. “He ate some food with us, but when it was dark, he left in the middle of our meal.”

“Did he speak of Tehura at all?”

“Not that I can remember.”

Then they heard Harriet Bleaska’s voice, and as one they turned to the open doorway, which she filled. “Tom,” she had called out. Now she repeated it, “Tom.”

He made a step toward her, when she said, “Tehura is dead. Less than a minute ago, it happened. There is nothing to be done.”

They stood, all of them, like statues of grief in the semidarkness. The only movement, finally, was by Moreturi, who buried his face in his hands. The only sound, at last, was Maud Hayden’s, a kind of wail, and she said, “Poor child.”

Harriet had emerged from the doorway toward Tom Courtney. “It was a fracture of the skull, a severe one,” she said. “It was too violent, the fall, to be an accident. Her head hit the stone idol, I suppose, and there was brain injury and a torrent of internal bleeding. You saw evidence of the blood. She was unconscious most of the time I think, but dying all the while. She kept trying to say something, even with her eyes closed. I couldn’t make it out, really. It might have been—just before she died—there was—” Harriet squinted at Claire, confused, and stopped.

“There was what?” Courtney demanded to know.

“I thought she said ‘Marc,’ ” Harriet said quickly. “I could be wrong.”

“You are probably not wrong,” said Claire.

“And then,” said Harriet, “something I didn’t understand—maybe it’s Polynesian. First, she said, ‘ask’ and she said this twice, ‘Poma.‘What is Poma?”

“A person, a girl who is Tehura’s friend,” said Courtney.

Moreturi had composed himself, and was beside Courtney. “She said,‘Ask Poma’?”

Harriet was troubled. “I think so.”

Moreturi and Courtney exchanged some private look. Courtney nodded and Moreturi announced, “I go to Poma, to tell her our Tehura is dead, to ask Poma what she knows of this.”

Moreturi sprinted off into the night.

“There was one more thing,” Harriet was saying. “I should mention it now. The fracture is behind and above the base of the skull. But there is evidence of some lesser injury in front, on one side of her mouth and cheek. There is swelling and a bruise. It is as if she had been struck, not by an instrument, I don’t think, but struck. Maybe someone punched her, knocked her down, and that’s how she fell against the stone thing.”