“What did you think you were doing?”
“Walking home.”
“It’s not a good time to play tourist.”
“I see that.”
She inspected the billy, frowned, and
put it in her pocket. “Walking all the way back to the
castle?”
“My ride didn’t come through.”
She gave me a puzzled look.
I told her about Creedman.
“What’d you want with
him
?”
“He invited me.”
Her expression said I was a cretin.
“Come on, I’ll get Dennis or a deputy to drive you.”
“Dennis already offered,” I said. “I turned him down, so
I doubt he’ll want to.”
She scraped something off the bottom of the frypan.
Hefted the utensil as if considering braining me.
“Men,” she said. “Why does everything have to be a
contest? Come on, we’ll go ask him again. He’ll do it.
He’s been raised on the Fifth Commandment.”
Her fingers prodded the small of my back. Strong. Her
skin was creamy and unlined, her body big and strong.
She’d been eighteen when she’d given birth to Dennis,
but even up close she could pass for his sister.
“Come on,” she said, “I can’t be here forever.”
She walked very fast, swinging the pan in a semicircle,
big breasts heaving, mouth slightly parted.
I said, “What did you see that boy Duane do on
North Beach?”
She grinned.
“Never really saw him.
Heard
him.” Chuckle.
“Fooling around with his girlfriend.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Not for North Beach. Kids go there all the time.”
Avoiding South Beach because of the murder?
“So what was the big threat?” I pressed.
She laughed, high and girlish. It relaxed her face and
made her seem even younger. Shifting closer to me, she said,
“The big
threat,
Dr. Delaware, was that the boy was no
good
at it. His girlfriend was not very happy with
him.”
More laughter as her hip nudged mine. “You know, wham
bam, thank you ma’am?”
“Ah,” I said.
“Ah.” She smiled, tightening the arc of the pan and
scraping her flank. Her dress blew up,
revealing brown leg. “Ah.”
Chapter
30
She went into the center first. I stuck my head in, saw
Dennis huddled with Betty’s family, and backed out quickly.
I waited next to the police car, keeping my eyes on the
street. Quiet had settled over the waterfront. The rain
clouds seemed to sag.
Deputy Ed Ruiz came out a few minutes later and
said, “Let’s go.”
The ride to the estate was silent. He stopped in front
of the big gates. “This far enough?”
“Thanks.” I got out.
“When you leaving Aruk?”
“Soon as the boats come in.”
He stuck his head out of the car. “Listen, I’ve got
nothing against Dr. Bill. He helped my daughter out of a
real bad situation a few years ago. Scraped herself on some
coral, got this infection, we thought she’d lose the leg till
he saved it.”
His toothless mouth folded inward.
“I’ll forward your regards,” I said.
“But things change, you know? Not everyone’s down on
him. Some people know him better than others.”
“The ones he’s helped directly?”
“Yeah. But others, they
don’t
know.” He let the
wheel spin back. “Ben did those girls and you know it.”
“Let’s say he did. What does Dr. Bill have to do
with
it?”
Silence.
“You think he’s somehow involved?”
He didn’t answer.
“But people are saying he is?”
“People talk.”
“Maybe,” I said, “someone wants Dr. Bill to leave, and
this is a golden chance to get rid of him.”
“Why?”
“Because he owns too much of the island.”
“That’s the
point,
” he said angrily. “He owns
too
damn much. Nothing much to go around and each year it’s
less. People get tired of wanting. Those that want, start thinking
about those that got.”
Gladys was running a manual carpet sweeper over
the second-floor landing, looking tired but moving
quickly. As I approached the door to my suite, she
put a finger to her
lips.
“Robin’s napping,” she whispered. “That’s why
I’m using this instead of the Hoover.”
“Thanks for telling me,” I whispered back.
“Can I fix you some lunch?”
“No, thanks. Is Dr. Bill around?”
“Somewhere. Claire came by to see him, brought KiKo for
us to take care of. I’ve got him in a cage in the laundry
room. Claire had the children with her—poor little things,
so scared. Robin let them play with Spike.”
She looked ready to cry. “Dennis promised to have
someone watch them. So who does he send? Elijah Moon,
everyone calls him Moojah. He’s supposed to be a police
deputy, but he’s my age, got a belly out to here. What good
can a fat old man do?”
I started down the stairs, then stopped.
“Gladys?”
“Yes, doctor?”
“You cooked for Senator Hoffman when he was the base
commander.”
“I was head cook, sailors working under me.” She
frowned.
“Tough job?”
“He liked his food fancy. All sauced up, always had to
be something new. We used to send over for that really
expensive beef from Japan—cows that do nothing all day but
sit around and eat rice.”
“Kobe beef.”
“Right. And vegetables you never heard of and oysters
and all kinds of expensive seafood. Nothing local, mind you.
Had his crabs shipped from Oregon—Dungeness crabs. New
England lobster. Philippine scallops. He was always
clipping recipes out of magazines and sending them over to
me. “Try this, Gladys.’ Why do you ask?”
“I was just curious what kind of relationship he and Dr.
Bill had. The night we had dinner at the base, they talked
privately and Dr. Bill was really upset afterwards.”
“I know,” she said. “The next day, he didn’t eat a
thing for breakfast or lunch. And him so thin in the first
place.”
“Any idea why?”
“No. But he never liked Hoffman.” Her eyes misted. “I
don’t believe Ben did anything, sir.”
“The people down in the village do.”
“Then they’re stupid.”
“For all Dr. Bill’s accomplished, there’s a lot of
resentment toward him.”
She gripped the sweeper and the soft flesh of her arms
quivered. “Ungrateful
welfare
bums! Dr. Bill tried to get
them to work, but they don’t want to know about that, do they?
Did you know he offered free leases on the Trading Post and
hardly anyone was interested? Even those that rented stalls
hardly showed up except to cash those
welfare
checks.
Government keeps sending those checks, why should anyone
bother? The nerve, to resent him!”
Anger had pulled her voice out of a whisper. She
slapped her hand over her mouth.
“What with Ben’s troubles, it’s too bad about Dr. Bill
and Hoffman,” I said. “It would be good to have friends in
high positions.”
“Lot of good he’d do,” she said. “That one was always
for himself. Used to come up here and eat Dr. Bill’s food
and cheat at cards. Illegal bridge signals, can you believe
that? He was no gentleman, doctor.”
“Did Dr. Bill know he cheated?”
“Of course, that’s how I know! He used to joke about it
with me, saying, “Nicholas thinks he’s fooling me, Gladys.’
I told him it was terrible, he should put an end to it. He
laughed, said it wasn’t important.”
“Cheating at bridge,” I said. “So Hoffman’s wife went
along with it.”
“No, she—it was—” She colored. “What a
thing! Shameful! Half the time Hoffman invited himself. Played
tennis and sunned, ordered food from the kitchen, like I was
still working for him. Like
everything
here was his.” The
hand clamped over her lips again. This time, she blushed
behind it.
“Everything?” I said.
“You know, a big shot—used to having things his way.
I’ll tell you something else, Dr. Delaware: the man was
heartless. Back when I was still his cook, a plane full of
sailors went down—men and their wives and children,
returning to the States.” She dipped a hand.
The crash Moreland had mentioned after Picker’s
accident. Nineteen sixty-three.
“All those people,” she said. “A tragedy. So what did
Hoffman do? That evening, he sends over a crate of scallops on
ice and orders me to fix him coquilles St. Jacques.”
She resumed sweeping. “Miss Castagna said you’ll be
leaving soon. I’m sorry. From the way you treat Miss
Castagna I can tell you’re a gentleman. And
we need more kindness.”
“On Aruk?”
“In the whole world, doctor. But Aruk would be a good
place to start.”
I was surprised to find Moreland in my office, slumped
in an armchair, reading a pathology journal. He looked like a
skeleton coated with wax.
Putting down the magazine, he sat up sharply. “How’s
Ben?”
I summarized my time in the cell.
He said nothing. The journal’s table of contents was on
the front cover and he’d circled an article: “Bloodstain
evidence.”
“Defense research?” I said.
“Someone called him on an emergency? Someone who
sounded like Carl?”
“That’s what he said.”
His fingers looked frail as sparrow’s feet. They
cracked as he flexed them. “Meaning you don’t believe him?”
“Meaning it’s not much of a story, Bill.”
A long time passed.
“Doesn’t that indicate to you,” he said, “that he’s
innocent? Surely someone as intelligent as Ben could concoct
a
first-
rate story if his object was to get away with
something.”
“He’s intelligent but he’s also highly troubled,” I
said. “Drink was once a problem for him, and he obviously
reacts strongly to it now. And he’s got at least one prior
sexual offense. Indecent exposure in Haw—”
“I know about that,” he said. “That was nonsense. I
took care of that for him.”
I let the non sequitur stand.
He said, “So even after speaking with him you judge him
guilty.”
“Things look bad for him, but I try not to judge.”
“Yes, yes, of course. You’re a
psychologist.
”
“Last time we spoke, that was why you wanted me to see
him, Bill.”
He picked up the journal, rolled it, hefted it.
Blinking.
“Forgive me, son. I’m on edge—you’re certainly
entitled to your opinion, though I wish you felt
differently.”
“I’d love to change my opinion, Bill. If you’ve got
information, I’m listening. More important,
communicate it to the lawyer you hired.”
He bent low in the chair.
“Maybe you’ve done all you can do for the time being,” I
said. “Maybe you should start
looking after your own interests. Down in the village
there’s a lot of hostility toward you.”
“Alfred Landau is the best,” he said softly. “His firm
handled Barbara’s will, after she died. . . . She was a
wealthy woman. What she left me enabled me to buy up more parcels of
land. Alfred was . . . most helpful.”
“Did he handle Ben’s arrest in Hawaii, too?”
“Minimally. That was a military affair. I made a few
calls, used my former rank.”
He stood. “You’re absolutely right. I’d better call
Alfred now.”
“You’re not concerned about what I just told you? The
anger down in the village?”
“It will pass.”
I told him about the near confrontation with the four
boys and how Jacqui had stepped in.
“I’m sorry it came to that. Thank God you weren’t
harmed.”
“But
you’re
not out of harm’s way, Bill. Betty’s
family is enraged. Lots of idle talk’s circulating about you.”
That seemed to genuinely perplex him.
“You’re a have among have-nots, Bill.”
“I’ve always shared.”
“Despite that, you’re still lord of the manor. And the
serfs aren’t doing well.”
“I—it’s hardly the feudal system—”
“Isn’t it?” I said. “Betty’s murder is the spark that
lit tinder, but it’s obvious to me after just a few days here
that things were heating up well before.”
He shook his head. “The people are good.”
“But their lives are falling apart, Bill. Their entire
society is shutting down—when’s the last time the gas
station pumps worked?”
“I’ve put in for a shipment.”
“You own that, too?”
“And I ration my personal vehicles the same way I do
theirs. They know that—”
“They also know how you live, and measure it
against their own existence. More people leave than stay.
Betty and her
husband
were planning to leave. Perfect
climate for provocateurs, and you’ve got some: Skip Amalfi’s
been having fun whipping up the crowd. And I wouldn’t be
surprised if Tom Creedman starts to take a more active role.
I was up at his place after visiting Ben, and he—”
“You didn’t tell him anything, I hope.” His eyes were
bright with alarm.
“No,” I said, trying to hold on to my patience. “He
asked, but I played dumb.”
“Asked about what?”
“If Ben had told me anything significant; what you and I
were working on. He also clearly wanted to convince me to
leave, which makes sense if he’s still working for Stasher-Layman
and they want to control Aruk. Have you seen the
interior of his house?”
He shook his head.
“Rooms full of brand-new furniture, computer equipment,
expensive appliances.”
“Yes, I remember he received a large shipment shortly
after he arrived. Right after I asked him to leave here.”
“Meaning he’d planned all along to settle down in his
own place, came up here to snoop. What was he looking for,
Bill?”
“I told you I don’t know.”
“Not a clue?”
“None.” Taking hold of the journal, he rolled it again
and let it unfurl.
“Jo Picker has something to do with Stasher-Layman,
too.”
That lifted him off the chair. “What—how do you
know?”
“Robin saw their literature in her room. She’s another
one from Washington and she was here alone the night the
roaches ended up in our room.”
“I—we’ve already established that was my fault.
Leaving the cage open.”
“Do you actually remember leaving it open?”
That absent look came into his eyes. “No,
but . . . I . . . you
really believe she could be working for them, too?”
“I think it’s likely, and I’m bringing it up to warn you.
Because you’ll be dealing with her after I’m gone. Which is
what I came to tell you: Robin and I are leaving on the next
boat.”
He took hold of the chair. It slid forward and he lost
his footing. I shot up and got hold of him just before he
tumbled.
“Clumsy oaf,” he said, jerking away and pulling at his
shirt as if trying to rip it off. “Clumsy goddamned old
fool.
”
It was the first time I’d heard him swear. I managed to
sit him back down.
“Pardon my language—the next boat is when, a week?”
“Five days.”
“Ah . . . well,” he said in a clogged voice,
“you must do what you feel is best. There’s a time for
everything.”
“Time is important to you,” I said.
He stared at me.
“Ben told me that. It made me think of your last note.
The Auden poem—time’s deceit. Your question about
Einstein. What exactly were you getting at?”
He looked up at the ceiling. “What do you think it
meant?”
“To take time seriously but to understand that it’s
relative? What kind of deceit were you referring to?”
More of the absent look. Then:
“Einstein . . . in his own way, he was a magician,
wouldn’t you say? Turning the universe on its end, as if reality
was one big illusion. Forcing us all to look at reality in a new
way.”
“Unencumbered by time.”
“Unencumbered by prior
assumptions.
”
He lowered his gaze and met mine.
“And you want me to do that, Bill?”
“What I want really doesn’t matter, does it,
son?”
“A new way,” I said. “Being skeptical about
reality?”
“Reality is . . . to a good extent what we
want
it to be.”