Murder Sees the Light (19 page)

I was making slow progress. I'd done for the bend at the end of Big Crummock and put paid to the sandbar at the shank of the long run home. I grinned at the first sight of the second island. It was like a talisman, pointing up to the sky. It got bigger as I got closer. My palm was getting weary holding out the lake and the heel of my foot was keeping the other leak from sinking me. I was clearing the island when another of the holes blossomed a fountain. In shifting to put my other heel over it, I put the right heel through the mend, and water started coming into the boat wholesale and retail combined. I revved the motor up full and lifted the prow sufficiently so that I wasn't filling up from the forward hole, but the holes near me were making up for that.

I was just coming abreast of the Woodward place when the motor cut out. I looked behind me and saw the reason: it was mostly underwater. I was in fact sinking. Three-quarters of the way home and I was sinking. My plan to stay near the shore was a good one. Unfortunately, I'd abandoned it when I first saw the island. I was like a racehorse sniffing his stall. And now I was up to the gunwales in Big Crummock Lake. The flotation tanks at the ends of the boat only served to make me more ridiculous than I would have been without them. I couldn't go anywhere; I could only wallow. I remembered the rules my camp counsellor told us: one man scuppers the group and nobody leaves the foundering boat, not even the rats. So I wallowed.

I didn't hear the other motor start. I only became aware of the noise when it got close. I was so far down in my troubles and the water that I didn't even look up to see who was off to the rescue. I heard the motor move into a lower gear, felt a hand on the gunwale, and looked up into the face of my bearded rescuer, Norbert E. Patten.

“You!” We both said it at once. Patten added: “Delivered from the deep.” I was glad to see him, even with a dirty bandage on his right hand. “Have you got a painter?” he yelled over the sound of his idling motor. His boat was the aluminum twin of mine but the motor was bigger; it could have torn all my patches off with one mighty jerk. I flipped him the limp, dripping rope. “I'll make it fast,” he said, putting the rope around a cleat on the transom. “You'd better come over the side, Benny.”

“Where do I stand on salvage?” I asked lamely. “It's not my boat.” He didn't seem to think I was being funny, keeping my head and all that, so I shrugged and climbed aboard his craft. He lent me a steadying hand, and I found myself tripping over cans of bait and landing nets. As soon as I'd picked myself up, I could see that he had his act in gear and we were heading towards his familiar dock.

“Who sprung you from the hospital?” I asked.

“I checked myself out after a couple of hours. There wasn't anything they could do that you hadn't already done. Luckily the thing wasn't poisoned, Benny. Just the same I'm in your debt again, fella.”

“You've evened the score now.” I was beginning to feel strange: cold and sweaty at the same time. Not poisoned? Damn it.

“What happened to you anyway?” he asked after tying up both boats to his dock. “That thing's not seaworthy.” An unconscious humorist was my rescuer. He didn't show it playing chess.

Suddenly, I began to come apart at the seams. Shivering started it, then the feeling that my gut was trying to climb past my tonsils. He saw that I was soaking, threw me a rough wool sweater, and motioned me up to the house. I followed leaving wet marks from my feet all the way up to the front door. Pausing there, because I didn't want to warp his floors, I waited until he grabbed my arm and hauled me into the cabin.

Twenty minutes later, I was in dry clothes—Patten's, I think—and trying to get my jaw to stop snapping like a new elastic. Except for the girl, Lorca, Patten was alone in the place. She had appeared wearing a bathrobe fresh from a swim, had looked at the shivering wreck that was dripping everywhere, brought a towel that still smelled sweetly of shampoo, and began pulling off my wet clothes. She made no more than a stab at this. Since this wasn't really a matter of life and death, the proprieties might be observed. She tried to get circulation moving in my blueish feet. My skin was grey with dirt and exposure. My fingers and toes had water-logged furrows running between dead-looking white puckered flesh. My fingers were filthy under the shock, with gravediggers fingernails. I saw a face in a mirror but couldn't focus on it. With a turban made from an undershirt, it looked like Gunga Din's.

Lorca'd made coffee and brought a blanket to wrap around me. Patten stood by like he was directing a play or movie.

“Fix a fire, Lorca. How you feeling now, fella?” I nearly chipped a tooth smiling my assurances that I was on the mend. Lorca put birch logs together, crumpled a two-day-old copy of all the news that's fit to print and started a fire in front of the couch I was sitting on. Patten finally settled down at the other end and watched me like I was a burning fuse. When he thought I was calmed down enough to talk, he started with the questions.

“What happened out there?” I shook my head as though I'd just arrived on the scene myself.

“Boat leaks,” I offered, sipping the coffee and feeling light in the head.

“Leaks? Hell, it was full of holes. What were you trying to prove, fella?” He leaned forward like a referee waiting for a foul. “I have to know what's going on on this lake, fella. I don't believe in chance.”

“Somebody chopped holes in the hull up on the north side of the lake,” I said, “Not my idea of clean sport, exactly. I bent it back into shape again and used pine gum to seal it.”

“So,” said Lorca, “that explains the disinfectant smell.”

“Saw somebody do it in a movie once,” I said. My shivers had turned my speech into clipped British publicschoolboy understatements. Lorca took my empty mug from me and retreated to the kitchen.

“That took fast thinking. Any idea who did it?”

“No, but I guess it probably has something to do with you.”

“Yes,” Patten said through his teeth, “I wanted to get around to that, fella. It didn't hit me until I was being processed at the hospital that you've known who I was right from the start. What's your game, Benny? I know you're on my side, but who are you working for? Did Van send you? P.J.? What's your story, Benny?”

“That's not my secret, Mr. Patten. Sorry.” I stirred uncomfortably under the blanket. It must have made quite a show—half drowned rat, half drowned Sinbad.

“Not your secret? What kind of talk is that? Don't forget who I am, Benny. I could have you blown away in a minute. I won't have secrets. Get that straight. There's no secret you can hide from me.” He was getting red in the face and those lidless eyes were bulging in their dark hollows. If there'd been a crack of thunder right then, I would have got up and run. There was that crazy look on his face you see on television. He looked like he was possessed.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Patten, but it's not my secret to tell.” It wasn't any better, but I hoped he would accept it the second time around.

“We've got to have a serious little talk, fella,” he said making each word a poison-pen letter.

“Fine,” I said, “fine. Always glad to talk.”

“They've tried to get me twice, and now they're shooting at you. They know you come here. That's it.”

“You can't lump these things.” He was calming down now, letting his right hand pull the fingers of his left, one finger at a time. “All we know is that three things have happened. For all I know there are three guys out there with grudges. And we can't forget Aeneas, the Indian guide. He's part of this, too. He didn't die of old age. I don't have any answers, I'm just trying to ask better questions.”

“Well, there are bloody well answers about you I'd like to hear. I've been lied to, taken advantage of. Security's out the window.”

“That's the only safe way to look at security. Relax. You're getting the shakes from me.”

“Cooperman, I'm staying on top of this. There can only be one man in control, you understand? I'm the Lord's anointed, not you. Remember that.” I told him I would.

Noises from the kitchen sounded like they were coming to a head. In a moment Lorca brought me a cup of warm soup—vegetable from a can, the way my mother makes it. It tasted good and I said so. My clothes had been hung up on the backs of chairs in front of the fireplace. Patten sat in the full glare of the fire, the flames reflected in his lenses. He looked into the fire which was curling the bark and taking hold of the hardwood logs. Lorca seated herself on the step to the left of the fireplace with a pillow at her back and started brushing her damp hair so that it too shone in the flames. She moved like she knew I'd been calling her Body Beautiful at the beginning of my stay in the park. “There's more coffee on the stove,” she said.

“Thanks,” said Patten without looking up. After a while he went on as though he'd been interrupted in the middle of a lengthy self-justification. “You know, Benny, I always knew I had enemies. The forces of darkness have always been turned against me. And I looked around and I was friendless, and daggers grew behind every smile. Lord, I was prepared. He prepared me, but fella, I wasn't ready for the enemies within, the enemies of my bosom. Van Woodward was the best friend a man can have. I've known him since I was a teenager. I met him right here in this cabin. He showed me that there was a great world out there, and that I could get out and shake the dust of this place off me. And now, now … I don't know about him any more. I don't trust him. I don't know who I trust.”

He looked like he'd just got news of an overdraught and a tax audit in the same mail. I excused myself and went on a bathroom hunt. When I found it, it looked just like a city bathroom. Up here in the park, that ordinariness must have cost a fortune. I took the opportunity of having a locked door between me and the others to ransack the drug cabinet. I saw signs of expensive items for sensitive skins, sleepless nights, contraception, and nervous stomachs. Lorca was devoted to odd shampoos and hair conditioners. I sniffed three of these before I found her supply of bourbon. Smart not to leave it in her room. Out in public was as good as in a vault. The label alone would keep a mere man well away. I bowed to her cleverness before rejoining the party in front of the fire. I was still shivering and could feel the welcome heat of the fire.

“Don't misunderstand me, Lorca,” Patten was saying, “My idea of hell is a half-filled stadium. Hey, that's good! Write it down.”

“It's not original.”

“It will be. Write it down. Ah, feeling better? I am.”

“That soup went down well. Thanks.” The thanks was directed at Lorca. She short-changed me with her responding smile.

“Sure, anytime. By the way,” she said, getting up, “I took these things from your pockets.” She handed me my wallet and some keys. As she put the wallet in my hand, she gave me the whisper of a smile. I found a place in my borrowed trousers for the wallet and keys. So, the game was up as far as she was concerned. How long would it take before she mentioned it casually to Patten?

“How would you like a roll in the hay, Mr. Cooperman? For medicinal purposes of course.” She was looking at Patten. “I saw it in a movie.”

“Just coffee, thanks.” She went back to brushing her hair. Patten's eyes moved from the fire and settled for a moment on Lorca before coming to me. They looked pained, even persecuted.

“Lorca's rebellion sometimes takes strange turns,” he explained. “She's really very immature, fella. I wouldn't take her seriously. I never have.”

“Norrie, you're a bastard you know? There isn't anything to do up here but screw, and you won't even talk to me. You didn't tell me it was going to be like this.”

“You may do as you please, Lorca. I wish you wouldn't whine in public. I told you we would be here for some time. You came because you wanted to and because of certain favours—“

“You don't have to go into that. It's just that I get so lonesome without anybody to talk to. No telephone, nothing. I just want to know how long it's going to be, that's all. Pardon me for living.”

“Would you count Lorca as an average sinner, Mr. Cooperman?”

“I'm not the only sinner, am I, Mr. Cooperman?” She was going to make her big play now. I wondered how fast I could run in my condition. “You must tell us all about your real-life experiences selling ladies' ready-to-wear. I'll bet it's more exciting than we thought.”

“You should use a little hair conditioner before brushing your hair. It gives it more body. It's amazing what a belt of conditioner can do. It can sometimes turn you right around so you see things differently.” It was my best shot. After that I had nothing but blanks. Her hand stopped mid-stroke and stayed that way while a smile slowly warmed her face. Then she continued brushing her hair until it gleamed with life.

A car drove up outside. Lorca jumped up and took a fast look out the window, while Patten gripped his knee.

“It's them;” she said, shaking her hair from her face.

“And about time.” Spence came into the house along with Wilf. They each set down cardboard boxes of groceries on the kitchen counter. When they saw me camped out in front of the fire with my clothes drying they looked at Lorca, who slipped them reassurance and me a conspiratorial smirk.

“Wilf,” Patten said, “you remember Ben Cooperman from over at the lodge. I brought him forth from the waters, you might say. Somebody hacked up his boat.” Wilf bobbed his impressive bald head impatiently. There was something on his mind. He tried to catch Patten's eye.

“We saw somebody as we were driving through the lodge.”

“Benny,” he paid no attention, “Wilf'll see that you get home safely. Spence, see to his boat, will you?” Wilf nodded in the same abstracted manner, like I wasn't the most important celebrity of his day. Spence, too, was trying to find a way into my host's face. I excused myself and headed again for the bathroom, where I moved a yellow terrycloth robe away from the door to make way for my ear. I couldn't catch all of it, but I heard a little.