Deadly Welcome (18 page)

They watched the changes in him as the weeks went by, the new nervousness of the smile, the increasing intervals of inattention, a suggestion of a stammer, a slight facial tic, a weight loss. They were ready for him if he tried to run. The final strip of pink paper was planted with diabolical efficiency and perfect timing between the inner pages of the newspaper he usually purchased on his way from the embassy to his hotel. In order to guarantee success, slips had to be placed inside a hundred issues of the paper. To other purchasers they would be meaningless. But he could not help but think that his was the only copy containing such a slip, and he could not of course understand how, with such busy traffic at the newsstand, it had been managed. Two hours after he entered the hotel, one of those watching him saw him dive from the wide windows to the cobblestones four stories below, and swore later that he had seen a wide, idiot smile in the light of the street lamp as the man fell.

And that had been a mistake, of course. Too strong an attack on the area of strain, so that the subject had
broken. A Donnie Capp could resist greater pressure. Now he sensed that he was suspect. He would know of the slow crumbling of his position of strength. The inspection of the boat. The circulation of the gossip about the return of Lucas. And, finally, this unmistakable hint that it was known that the person who had struck Jenna and the person who had strangled her were not the same. Until that moment, Capp would have been certain that only he and the one who struck the blow would have known of that strange division of effort.

Doyle wondered if he had pushed Capp a little too far. The man was capable of murder. He tried to guess what Capp’s action would be. He had, perhaps, three choices. He could give up any thought of the money and content himself with the knowledge that the murder could not be proven. Yet he could not be entirely sure it could not be proven. Or he could gamble on being the first to find Lucas and make him lead him to the money and then run with it. Or he could, if bold enough, attempt in some safe way to eliminate the people who now seemed suspicious of him. He would know that included Doyle, Buddy Larkin and perhaps Betty Larkin. But he could not be certain if others had been told, or how much was known—how much they could have been told.

Doyle made his guess based on an appraisal of Capp’s nature. The man was direct and brutal, but not essentially clever. Had he been clever he would not have been so impatient. He would have let Lucas help Jenna find the money, or find that there was no money. And if the money had been there, he could have begun his own action from that point. So, considering the factor of impatience, if Lucas had not yet finished his journey, the waiting would be difficult for Capp. And he would feel easier taking some sort of action, no matter how dangerous, than merely waiting. The more he thought of it, the more convinced he became that Capp was now highly dangerous—the
lion grown contemptuous of the kitchen chair and the noisy blanks.

And so he drove back through the washed air, under the deep blue afternoon sky, and talked again with Buddy Larkin. He told Buddy that he had every intention of taking care of himself, and he would feel much better if Buddy made it his business to exercise the same care for both himself and Betty.

Buddy was mildly incredulous.

“Listen,” Alex said, “your good old familiar Donnie is like a lighted fuse. If Lawlor wasn’t the big thickheaded exhibitionist he is, if I could be sure he’d listen, I’d go talk to him. But we’ve got a hell of an involved chain of deduction. Too many ifs in it. If we had a little more evidence, I’d try to get him locked up.”

“It’s because he beat you up, Alex. You’re jumpy.”

“I’ll tell you something you don’t know, if you promise not to take any action whatsoever—except to be careful.”

“What is it?”

“Promise first. It may sound childish, but promise first.”

Buddy did. Alex told him of the truck and the narrowness of his and Betty’s escape. And he told him why he had told Betty not to tell him. “Because I was afraid you’d turn into a wild man and get yourself in trouble and mess up any chances we have of trapping Capp.”

Buddy, with iron face, turned slowly and smacked a stone fist against the shed wall. A pair of nippers ten feet away bounced off a hook and clanged on the slab floor.

“If he had …”

“Settle down! Do you still think it’s stupid to use a little care?”

“No! Christ! I think he’s gone crazy.”

“He hasn’t gone crazy, Buddy.”

“No?”

“No. He went over the edge six months ago. And this whole town is to blame. You lawful people didn’t care if he whipped heads just so long as he whipped the heads on the people who had no way of fighting back. You were even kind of sneaky proud of him. Toughest deputy on the west coast of Florida. And you thought that Old West outfit of his was amusing. You folks grew yourself a paranoid. Nobody has told me, but I can tell you just how he lives. He has a small place somewhere. With a lot of privacy. And he keeps it as bare and neat as a monk’s cell. He’ll have a gun rack and he’ll keep those guns in perfect shape. He’ll scrub the floor on his hands and knees. After he makes his bed, you can bounce a coin on it. No books, no television, no hobby except the guns and hunting. Nobody will ever drop in on him. When he wants a woman he’ll go after one that’s drab and humble and scared, and it will be as close to rape as the law allows.”

“You’re so damn right, Alex. How did you know about that?”

“I’ve seen so many of them. In the army, mostly.”

“I never thought of it before, but there was a guy like that in my outfit. BAR man. God, he kept that thing in shape. He could do a sniper’s job with it. Never had a word for anybody. Neatest damn marine I ever saw. Sneak out at night by himself and come back with gook hardware. A killer. Volunteer for every patrol. He finally bought it, but he sure had a lopsided score before he did. He cost them. Donnie has a little cinder-block place he built by himself, off to hell and gone behind the new school.”

“Keep an eye on Betty and on yourself.”

“I will. Can’t he get to you out there on the beach?”

“If he wants to try. And if I happen to stay there. But I won’t. I’m going to buy some bug juice and some netting and scoop me a hole in the sand south of the
cottage, down under the tree shadows. In case he comes calling.”

“I’ll stick close to Betty.”

“Good deal.”

The birds woke Doyle in the first gray of dawn. He made a cautious inspection of the cottage and the surrounding area before going in with the blankets. By the time he had washed and shaved, the sun was beginning to cut the morning mist and promise a perfect day. The Gulf had quieted down.

Just as he was pouring a cup of coffee, he heard a racing engine approaching at high speed. He went to the back door. Buddy Larkin skidded to a stop in the pickup and scrambled out and ran heavily toward him, his strong face stamped with panic.

“Come on!” he said. “I’ll tell you on the way. I think he’s got Lucas and Betty too.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“Mom woke me up about an hour ago,” Buddy said, backing the truck around recklessly. “She was worried because Betty hadn’t come in.”

“I thought you were going …”

“Hell, I did what you said. We all went to bed, about eleven I guess it was. He wouldn’t come right into the house. Mom said when she woke me up that she heard voices down in the kitchen about two o’clock so she put on a robe and went down. Betty was down there, talking to Lucas Pennyweather. Mom said Lucas looked completely pooped. He said he’d done an awful lot of walking. Seems that Lucas was out in the side yard hollering
to me. I sleep like I’m dead. Betty is a light sleeper. She heard him and got up.”

They bounced almost clear of the road when they hit the crown of the wooden bridge.

“Lucas said he had come back and gone right to the Mack and run into Arnie Blassit, and Arnie said he was to get hold of me right away. So Lucas walked back to the house and he was calling me. Betty let him into the kitchen. Mom came down in time to hear Lucas telling her he was supposed to see me, but he didn’t know what about. Betty told him it must be some kind of a mistake, that Arnie was probably drunk and got confused. By then it was a little after two. Lucas looked so tired Mom asked him to stay in the spare room. But he said no, he thought he’d be getting back to the Mack and get a ride on down with Arnie to the shack and get settled. He’d left his stuff on our back porch. Betty said he might miss Arnie.

“So nothing to do, but Betty decided she’d best drive the old man back to the Mack, and if Arnie had left, she’d drive him on down to Chaney’s Bayou to the shack. Mom said Lucas looked pretty grateful. So Betty left in the jeep and I didn’t hear a thing, damn it. Mom stayed awake. When Betty wasn’t back quick, she figured she’d had to take the old man down to the shack. Finally she dozed off, and when she woke up again, about an hour ago, she looked out the window and the jeep wasn’t there, and Betty wasn’t in her bed, so she got nervous and woke me up.”

They got out of the truck and hurried to the boat yard office. John Geer was sitting in the office looking unkempt and upset.

“Any luck?”

“He’s flying a party over to Clewiston. They got word there for him to call here soon as he gets in. I couldn’t get Daniels.”

Buddy explained to Alex. “First thing I did was check and found his boat gone. His car is at Garner’s. Got
the glasses and got up onto the work-shed roof. Couldn’t see a thing. Phoned the Coast Guard. But they’re running a big air search for an outboard cruiser lost in the Gulf somewhere off Sarasota. I figure a plane search is the answer. Take a look at the chart.”

A big chart was open on Betty’s desk. Just south of the key bridge, the mainland cut sharply back, so that the bay became very wide. The marked channel hugged the bay shore of Ramona Key and Kelly Key. There was a bay area of ten miles long by an average of four miles wide to search, including the shore line of both keys and the mainland shore line. Forty square miles, so densely pocked with islands that a lot of it was like a great saltwater marsh, with winding tidal streams. He saw the oddly shaped indentation of Bucket Bay on the mainland side, eight miles down, opposite Kelly Key.

“Skippy Illman flies charter out of Fort Myers. He’s got a good little twin-engine amphib. He’s a friend, and once he phones in and gets the pitch, it won’t take him long to get on down here. When will he phone in, John?”

“Fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“I got hold of Lawlor and I told him just enough so he ought to come roaring over here with some of his people.”

“Maybe he didn’t take Betty with him.”

“Then where the hell is she if he didn’t? I found the jeep. In the lot behind the Mack. And then I came over to get you.”

“Did you look around that area? Look thoroughly?”

Buddy swallowed with an obvious effort. “See what you mean. Let’s go back. Stick by that phone, John.”

They turned into the alley and parked beside the empty blue jeep. They looked into it. Buddy pointed at an old canvas duffle bag on the floor. “Didn’t see that before. Belongs to Lucas, I guess.”

Doyle heard a screen door bang and he turned and saw Janie, pasty and squinting in the morning sun, wearing
a shiny green-satin housecoat with a ripped hem, come out with a bulging brown bag and stare at them curiously as she went over to a row of four lidless garbage cans buzzing with flies and dropped the bag in.

“What’s going on?”

“Did you tend bar last night, Janie?” Buddy asked.

“Just till it got too rough and Harry made me quit. That was maybe nine.”

“Is Harry around? I’d like to see him.”

“I’ll get him.”

They quickly searched the brush around the perimeter of the parking lot. Harry came out in his underwear top, baggy cotton slacks, his belly hanging over his belt, the sun shining on the dark spots on his bald head, picking his teeth with a certain amount of daintiness.

“I looked out and seen your jeep earlier and wondered what the hell,” Harry said.

“Did you see Lucas last night?”

Harry strolled over and stood by the jeep with them. “Hell, yes. The old basser made it all the way back. He talked to Arnie and then he took off after only one drink, and everybody in the place trying to buy him one.”

“I suppose Donnie was in.”

“Sure. He’s always in and out a half dozen times on a Saturday night. Wisht he’d stay to hell away. He puts a gloom on the place. But he’s sure handy when folks get troublesome.”

“Harry, see if you can remember. I know how busy you are. How many times did Donnie come in after Lucas was here?”

“That ain’t hard, because Lucas was here late. Half an hour before closing. Donnie come in one more time about quarter of, and everybody was still talking about old Lucas. I see him come in but I didn’t see him go. He couldn’t have stayed more than a minute. One of the times Donnie was in earlier, Gil Kemmer was in jawing at him and I was sure Donnie would take him out
back and work him over but he didn’t pay any attention to Gil. Seemed funny. Gil was sore on account of Donnie clubbing Lee Kemmer up so bad he had to be took off the road gang and put in the hospital over in Davis. The way I figure …”

“Thanks, Harry.”

“Anything I can do, you just let me know.” He walked back toward the screen door. He turned and said, “Say. Janie and me are going to get married, Buddy.” Doyle saw the girl standing behind the screen and heard her giggle. It was a singularly empty sound.

And then, as he turned, something caught his eye. It was a brown smear on the sharp corner of the windshield frame. Adhering to it, and moving slightly in the east wind, was a small swath of hair, perhaps a dozen long glossy strands, ginger and cream, unmistakably hers.

Buddy examined it and then the men exchanged quick glances, as though involved in some kind of special shame, a climate of inner revulsion.

“Let’s get back to the office,” Buddy murmured.

John Geer shook his head dolefully as they walked in. Buddy said, “I’ll take it. You go get that Prowler ready to roll. Take the aluminum dink off the Huckins next to it and just dump it in the cockpit. Put that little three-horse of mine on the dink and make sure it’s gassed up.”