Dark Destiny

by Edward S. Aarons

  "I'm telling you this," she said, "because you were Bill's only friend. You don't realize how he was counting on you after you came back to Isla Honda. He knew you were in love with me, but that didn't matter to him. He rather felt glad about it, because it solved his problems of inadequacy with me. Do you mind my talking like this?" she asked abruptly.

  "No, please go on," Sam said quietly.

  "Were you in love with me?" she asked, looking at him.

  "I think so."

  "But not now?"

  "I don't know."

  She looked at the sea again. "I'm glad you're honest about it, anyway. You've no idea how long I've been living dishonestly. Ever since we came to Isla Honda, as a matter of fact. Even before that, though, right after I married Bill, I began to realize that it was Ashton who ran the show, dominating Bill and that I had been taken, so to speak, because of the fact that I could support them both."

  "Was Ashton broke?" Sam asked.

  "He lived on a front, that was all. Sitting back and sneering at the world with his intellectualism, feeling superior about everything, hating me and my background but not enough to prevent him stooping, as he thought it, to use me."

  "What did you do about it?"

  "I let Bill and Ashton have my money. It didn't matter."

  "All of it?"

  She shook her head. "No. Most of it, though."

  "But why?"

  "I told you. I thought I was in love with Bill. Before I discovered what it really was all about, it was too late and I'd signed away some of my inheritance." She turned to face him suddenly, her expression appealing, oddly tortured. Her hand held his arm. "Sam, you must believe me. I know what my reputation is, you've read about me in the newspapers. It's true I was a fool and helped contribute to some of those sordid stories by drinking too much and doing some crazy things to help me forget the mistakes I'd made, but for the most part they weren't true. I mean I did some of those things, but I didn't intend to do them and I didn't want to do them."

  "I think I understand," he said.

  Her voice tightened. "No, you don't. Listen. It may be difficult for you to understand how one person can demoralize another so completely as Ashton demoralized me. The man is dangerous, insidious, even a little insane, I think. He worked very subtly. It was. with little things at first Pressing me to have another drink, one I didn't really want And then another, until I'd lose my sense of balance. I remember how he'd laugh at me then and call Bill in and tell him how disgusting I was, how spoiled and useless and degenerate. It wasn't true, but I was helpless to fight him. I don't have a mind like his. Very few people do, fortunately. I couldn't cope with him. I tried to fight him, but it wasn't possible. Bill always believed everything Ashton told him about me. After the first two or three weeks of our marriage, Bill never even slept with me."

  "Why do you tell me this now?"

  "Because I want revenge," Mona said simply. "I want to destroy Ashton as he destroyed me. To let him see his own destruction just as he shattered and broke up my life and the might-have-been's that I had with Bill at first. But I can't do it alone. I need help and you can help me."

  There was an urgency and a plea in her voice that could not be denied. And there was torment, too, of things she had still left unsaid. He knew she had not yet come to the real reason for meeting him here in this lonely spot. The sea murmured on the sand near his feet and the wind rustled the underbrush around the girl's parked car. They might have been alone in the middle of the ocean. He began to relax his vigilance, to feel safe.

  He came back to something that had stuck like a splinter in the back of his mind. "Mona, when I picked you up yesterday at Johnny Capp's place, you said you weren't really drunk. You said you hadn't had anything to drink worth mentioning. Had you just blacked out about it or was it really true?"

  "It was true," she nodded.

  "Then what happened to you, really?"

  "It was Ashton's work. Trying to degrade me and humiliate me again. Ashton and that little deputy, working together. It was as much a frame-up as the situation you're in now."

  Sam stared at her. He felt an excitement in him, as if he were on the verge of an important discovery. "Tell me about it."

  She looked at him earnestly. "Will you try to understand? I'm not making excuses for myself. But I think you ought to know about all this because it will help you in what you have to do. Bill's death has helped me to see all this much more clearly than I did before. I understand what Ashton is now after. My fortune is nothing compared to the stakes he's playing for. And if. he destroys me in order to succeed, it won't bother his sleep one bit. No more than the death of his nephew."

  "What is he after?" Sam asked. "The money Charley was supposed to have embezzled?"

  "Of course. I heard him talking to Bill about it several days ago. He caught me listening and I thought he was going to kill me then and there, he was so angry. It was the first time I ever saw him really lose control of himself. But then he didn't do anything at all. At least, I thought he didn't. He had that man, Hennessey, over to dinner the next night, though."

  "Was that the first time you met Hennessey?"

  "Yes."

  "And when did you meet him next?"

  "At Johnny Capp's. Night before last. It was all arranged. I was supposed to meet Bill there not Hennessey.

  "Hennessey didn't mean anything to me. He never did and he doesn't enter into this thing except that Ashton used him to get a better hold on me." Mona laughed wryly. Her face looked pale in the bright sunlight that washed the beach. "The only thing is, the frame-up backfired when Deputy Frye came across me at Capp's place. He's after the money, too. They all think it's somewhere on Isla Honda… Is it, Sam?"

  "I don't know. I don't think so."

  "They're all after it," Mona said again. "They're willing to do anything to get it. I wasn't drunk that night at Capp's. I had a few drinks, but they must have been drugged and I didn't recall anything more about it until shortly before you arrived. That was when Frye woke me and I found myself alone in that filthy place."

  Sam looked grim. "What did Frye want?"

  "He told me he would call the police car and the newspapers unless I behaved and cooperated with him. In that case, he said, he would keep my name out of the papers."

  "What sort of cooperation did he want?"

  "He wanted me to spy on Ashton," Mona said. "To tell him what Ashton was doing toward recovering the money."

  "And you agreed?"

  "I did. I saw Frye as an ally against Ashton and I wasn't above using whatever means happened along to help me get even with Ashton."

  "You should have told me about Frye yesterday."

  Mona looked at him, her voice a challenge. "Would you have believed it? Would you have accepted it as anything but an attempt to excuse myself, considering how you found me? If Bill hadn't been killed last night, you still wouldn't believe me."

  Sam was thinking swiftly. "What makes Ashton and Frye so sure the money is somewhere on Isla Honda? Why haven't they assumed it was lost or spent in all the years that have passed?"

  "I don't know. They're sure, that's all. The same way you think it's still recoverable because of that body that was found."

  "Was Bill aware of all this?"

  "I think so," she nodded. "But you must understand that Bill was not a primary party to anything that happened at Isla Honda. He was helpless under Ashton's mind. Ashton had a genius for dominating others, using any means he could find to do so. With me, it was with the tiny hope I had left of salvaging my marriage with Bill. I thought Ashton was keeping the worst of my adventures from Bill-that was what he told me anyway, after he got me into them and out of them-but now I know that he was not only telling Bill about them but exaggerating them. That's why Bill started drinking the way he did. It was an escape for him and Ashton encouraged it, of course."

  "Was Bill drunk last night?"

  "Of course," Mona said.

  "How soon before hi
s death did you see him?"

  She frowned at the bright sea. "I'm not sure. Perhaps an hour or so. Maybe a little less."

  "How was he then?"

  "Very strange. He was drunk, but yet there was something odd and sure about what he was doing. He told me he knew everything, but when I asked him what he meant, he wouldn't say. He told me it was time that you were told about it, Sam, and I said that was all right with me, that if he knew something you should know, he ought to tell it to you. He said he would."

  "But he didn't say what it was?"

  "No," Mona said "He was very stubborn about it."

  "Where did he go then?"

  "As far as I know, he went to he bungalow to wait for you."

  "Was Ashton still up then?"

  "He was reading in the library."

  "How about Harry Lundy?"

  "I didn't see him."

  "And George, the houseboy?"

  "He was still up, in the kitchen, as I remember. Waiting up in case Ashton wanted something."

  "You heard no alarm at all?" Sam asked.

  "I went to sleep," she said. "The first thing I knew was when there was a commotion in the house and somebody said that Bill had been murdered. I didn't even take time to get dressed. I went downstairs and saw the garage lights on and then I saw you running along the beach. That's all I really know about it actually."

  "What did the police say about it today?"

  "Frye was in charge," Mona said wryly. "They haven't even found the murder weapon. They think it was a marlin spike or something like that, because there was some evidence of a weapon like that in the wound." She shuddered suddenly.

  "How did you get in touch with Benny Suarez?" Sam asked.

  Mona looked surprised. "But Benny called me."

  "At Isla Honda?"

  "Of course. He told me who he was and I'd heard about him, naturally, from things you'd said and also Ashton. He said if I knew anything that might help you, I ought to tell you about it and I agreed to come here with him."

  Sam stood up. He felt alarmed. "You were talking to him on the extension phone?"

  "All the phones in the house are extensions." Mona looked at his face and frowned. She stood up beside him. "Why? What's the matter?"

  "I don't know," he said.

  The sea and the beach looked the same. The sunlight was bright and peaceful. The shack leaned tiredly into the wind that came off the blue ocean. Its door was open, but he could not see inside, into the shadows within. He tried to remember if the door had been open before when he first arrived. He wasn't sure. He had the sudden feeling that he had been betrayed.

  "What is it, Sam?" Mona asked.

  "There's someone else here," he said.

  He started walking toward the shack. A piece of driftwood turned under his feet and he stopped to pick it up. He wished he had something more substantial in his hands. He felt curiously naked and defenseless. He paused and waited. Nothing happened. He drew a deep breath and heard Mona run after him.

  "Perhaps I'd better go."

  "Yes," he said.

  They walked toward the parked car. Mona looked very sober. She moved close to him, sharing his sudden feeling of fear.

  At her car she paused. She looked as if she wanted to say more, but she was silent. She forced an uncertain smile to her lips as she glanced up at Sam's tall height.

  "Will you be all right?" Mona asked hesitating.

  "I'll be careful."

  "Have I embarrassed you, talking the way I did about us?"

  "No," he said. "But you're not in love with me."

  For an answer she stood on tip-toe, her body against his and kissed him. It was a long kiss. He wanted to resist her, to push her away from him before it came to mean anything, but he could not. He felt her tremble in his arms. He felt a sudden allegiance toward her, as if her description of the way they had both been victimized by Ashton had brought them nearer to each other than ever before.

  The brush crackled behind him from the direction of the beach.

  When he released her and turned, he saw the two men advancing toward him. They were big men, strangers to him, but they wore badges on their shirts.

  One of them said: "Kid, this is gonna be fun."

  11

  Sam had put aside the piece of driftwood he had carried up from the beach. He stooped swiftly to retrieve it and the first man came at him with a rush, kicking at his wrist with a booted foot. The driftwood went spinning out of Sam's fingers. He straightened up from his crouch, brought his shoulder into the other man's belly and drove him back away from the car. Mona gave a little scream. The second man grinned and said: "Get out of the way, lady. He's resisting the law."

  Sam didn't waste his breath in a reply. He drove a fist at the first man, who was still stumbling backward holding his stomach with an expression of pained surprise on his long, coarse face. His knuckles smashed at the man's bulbous nose, but there was no force in the blow when he felt his weakened wrist turn at the impact. Pain shot up through his forearm. He felt the second man land on his back, arms grappling to pin his hands at his sides. Sam bent forward and the man flew off, crashing into the brush. One of his legs hit his companion across the knees and the first man cursed sulphurously. Sam lunged for the driftwood again. Both men were armed, their revolvers on their hips, but neither made a move to draw their weapons. He picked up the driftwood and backed away from the car, trying to draw them from Mona. His breathing was harsh.

  "Keep away from me," he said quietly.

  "You're under arrest," the first man said. His nose was bleeding and he sucked at the blood that ran down over his long underlip. "Don't make it worse for yourself."

  "You're not deputies," Sam said. "Who hired you?"

  "The hell we ain't. You take it nice and easy, you don't get hurt. You come with us, everything will be fine."

  "Keep away," Sam said again.

  He knew that what they probably wanted was for him to start running. It would make the whole thing simple for them if he did.

  Mona's face was white and stricken. She stood by the car, shaking her head as if to negate what was happening. Sam felt no anger toward her. The whole thing was his own damned fault for being so careless. He had not heard a car drive up and he would have seen their approach along the beach. The whole thing had been a trap, but he could not decide if Mona had had a part in it or not.

  He stood at the edge of the brush that yielded to the beach now and paused, weighing his chances against the two men who followed, stalking him. They were careful to keep out of range of the driftwood he carried. And still they made no move for their guns. Not yet. They were waiting for him to run.

  He spoke to them suddenly: "I'm not going to turn my back. You won't get a chance to shoot me that way."

  The first man with the bloody face laughed. "Suit yourself, Sam. We can take care of you easy."

  "Listen," Sam said. "What do you want? You're not regular cops. Who sent you after me here?"

  "You'll find out, chum. Drop that piece of wood."

  "Will you let the girl go?"

  They seemed surprised at his request. The second one looked back at the yellow convertible. He licked his lips. Mona still stood beside it and Sam wondered why she hadn't made an attempt to get behind the wheel and drive off.

  "Why, yeah," the second man said. "We got nothing to do with her. Have we, Al?"

  "Shut up," said the man with the bloody nose. His eyes were shrewd, watching Sam. "You'll give it up if we let her go?"

  "Yes," Sam said.

  Mona got into the car. She started the motor then looked across at Sam. About twenty feet separated them. Sam said: "Go ahead, Mona."

  "What will happen to you?"

  "I'll be all right."

  "But I can't leave you-"

  "Do as I say," he told her.

  She put the car in gear reluctantly and backed the big car up through the brush. There was no room for her to turn around in. She would have to back it up a
ll the way to the highway, he realized, for perhaps a quarter of a mile. He watched it until it disappeared.

  Al, the first man, moved closer to him. "Drop the stick. She's gone."

  "To hell with you," Sam said.

  "It's your funeral," Al said.

  They both came at him this time, the two of them at once. They were big men, powerful and strong and they took zest in their work. They followed no rules. Sam. slashed about with his driftwood and it cracked and splintered across the back of the stockier man. Al got in a blow with his ham-like hand that sent Sam staggering back, one knee in the sand. The beach offered only a yielding grip to his feet when he tried to get up. It made him slower than he should have been. The second man kicked him in the ribs. Sam grabbed at the man's ankle and pulled savagely, but it was like trying to uproot a tree. He got another kick for his effort and rolled desperately aside, trying to get out of range. The first man grabbed his loose shirt and half lifted him and slammed his head against the tree. Sam lunged up and drove a knee in Al's groin. The stockier one repaid him with a blow across the back of his head that drove him face down in the sand.

  The beach heaved and turned under him. He was aware of more blows raining down on him and he tried to protect his head with his arms. His mouth and nose were full of sand and he felt blood trickle down across his cheek from a scalp wound. The world spun in slow gyrations around him. He heard the scraping of his assailants' feet and the harsh rhythm of their breathing. The sounds blended with the beat of the surf and the agony of the blood in his body. Pain became a sullen pulse that beat all through him. From a great distance he thought he heard someone screaming and he tried to get to his feet once more. He was consumed with hatred for those who were doing this to him and it gave him strength to stagger erect again. The two men eyed him wearily. Sam felt a perverse pleasure in seeing their bruised and battered faces. He swayed in exhaustion, the pain throbbing in him. Al, the one with the broken nose, drew a deep breath.

  "Had enough?" he gasped.