Where Is Janice Gantry?

by John D. MacDonald

“Funny thing, Sammy. This much boat is for cruising. Marathon, Nassau, all over hell and gone. They use it often, but they don’t go no place. Hell, the way they use it, they could get along with that little punkin seed you got.”

  “Leave my boat out of this, old man.”

  A battered yellow motor scooter chugged along the dock area toward us. “You got off her just in time, Sammy,” J. B. muttered.

  The man parked the scooter on its brace and walked over without glancing at either of us. He walked directly to the section of rail, ran the palm of his hand across the two joinings, bent to inspect it inch by inch.

  He made a grunting sound which I thought was supposed to express approval. “Sure it’s seasoned good?” he asked J. B.

  “It’s top grade.”

  “I’ll do the finishing on it myself.”

  “When you come to rubbing it down between coats, you’d best use …”

  “I know how.” It wasn’t said with irritation or anger. It was said to inform J. B. that no help was needed. “Set those last couple screws and I’ll take her along now.”

  “It’s a nice craft,” I said amiably.

  He turned and gave me one quick glance of appraisal and dismissal. He was a solidly-built man in his forties with a face like carved dark stone, with weather wrinkles that turned his eyes to bright blue slits. He had a look of competence, self-sufficiency. He turned away without an answer and I knew he would never answer the casual comment. He did not need conversation with strangers. If I were going to pry him open, it would have to be with some other method.

  “Too damn nice,” I said with manufactured indignation, “for some clown to bash her into a dock. That’s what keeps the yards going, the people that don’t know how to handle a boat.” I would have thought he wasn’t hearing a word if I hadn’t seen the back of his neck slowly deepening in color.

  “When they got enough money they don’t have to bash their boats up themselves,” I said. “They can hire some guy to do it for them.”

  That brought him around to face me, his eyes more slitted than before, his jaw muscles working, brown fists clenched. “And just what kind of a license do you hold, mister?”

  “I don’t hold any. But I’ve been handling boats since I was four years old and I never shoved one half under a dock yet, friend.”

  “Shove off, mister.”

  “J. B., this comedy captain is talking rough to me. Friend of yours?”

  “Let’s not have any fussing going on,” J. B. said.

  “If a man racks up a boat he ought to be man enough to admit it.”

  Captain Stan Chase took a slow step toward me. “I didn’t damage the boat.”

  “What got to it? Big termites maybe?”

  “I wasn’t aboard.”

  It startled me. “I thought you ran this Matthews for the Webers.”

  “I do. And when I do, mister, nothing happens to it. Nothing!”

  “Then it looks like you should run it all the time, friend.”

  “I always have. Except this one time.”

  I could sense that the injury to the boat was as painful to him as a wound in his own flesh. This was basically a shy man, a quiet man, perhaps a good man.

  “It’s too much boat for an amateur,” I said.

  “He’s run it a lot when I’ve been aboard. He knows how to handle it pretty good. But not at night. It’s too tricky at night. He shouldn’t have tried it.”

  “Good as new,” J. B. said, “once you put the finish on it.” He patted the rail. “You’re all set now, Captain.”

  “If you didn’t think he could handle it,” I said, “why didn’t you go along?”

  For several long seconds I thought he wasn’t going to answer. “I wasn’t even there,” he said. He spat down into the shadowy green water of the bay. “They sent me up to Tampa to meet her sister coming in on a night flight. But she wasn’t on that flight. She didn’t get in until Wednesday. They had their wires crossed.”

  “Last Monday night?” I asked.

  “Yes. So what?”

  I shrugged. There was more that I wanted to ask. But I couldn’t go any further without making him suspicious. Why was he sent instead of Mahler? At what time did they ask him to leave?

  He spread a length of tarp and wheeled his motor scooter aboard and laid it down gently on the tarp. J.B. and I helped with the lines. He eased the Sea Queen expertly out of the slip, rounded the Jimson marker and took her out to the main channel and turned south toward her home berth.

  “Bet he hasn’t talked that much in a full year,” J. B. said, stowing his tools. “You stung him some, Sammy.”

  “I tried to.”

  “What good did it do?”

  “I’ve just got a mean nature, J. B.”

  “Well, if you have, you surely got the looks to go with it.”

  * * *

  I went home and showered and stretched out on my bed. The rain had brought the toads out and they were in good voice. Bugs, mourning doves and mocking birds were trying to drown them out. I felt tired but not sleepy. When the phone rang it was D. Ackley Bush.

  “Dear boy, thank you so much for returning the shell, but what made you think you could avoid giving me a progress report?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather wait for a complete story?”

  “Nonsense! You have been seen in the company of a young and lovely stranger. Who is she?”

  “Sort of a sister of Mrs. Weber’s, Ack. The same one who spent two weeks visiting her last summer.”

  “And I didn’t know?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “I often wonder if one can become senile without being terrible aware of it, Samuel.”

  “Your very best friends wouldn’t tell you.”

  “Why are you so elusive, my boy? Is the sister succumbing to those charms I have never been able to perceive?”

  “We have become buddies.”

  “Which is, of course, a much more effective way of learning all the secrets of the Weber household. Perhaps you have the conspiratorial knack, Samuel.”

  “Me? I’m just dating a fine item.”

  “Come and tell me all you’ve learned, dear boy.”

  “I haven’t learned a thing that would interest you.”

  “I can be very interested by very minor things. And how would you know what fragments of information are significant. You need to enlist a better mind than yours to sort out all the bits and pieces.”

  “Later on, Ack. Maybe. But not yet.”

  “You are very stubborn.”

  “I’ll be in touch, later on.”

  I heard him sigh. “I know. Don’t phone me; I’ll phone you.”

  By three minutes after nine I was parked in a very dark place with my arms around Peggy Varden, and for that little space of time the world made very good sense. She wanted the same kind of evening as before, which showed superb judgment.

  She made her report as we were heading for the cottage. “Absolutely nothing today, Sam. A perfect empty blah. Char has been out of circulation most of the day. She fell last night, somehow, and hurt her face. Her left eye is puffed almost shut and she feels miserable.”

  “Maurice put the slug on her.”

  “I’d like to think so, but they don’t ever get that … emotional.”

  I told her about LeRoy’s report of the incident. She was astonished.

  “It must be true! Golly, Sam, they must be cracking up.”

  I gave her all the rest of it after we were on my porch with the lights adjusted, music playing, tall drinks in hand. I told her all I could remember about the conversations I’d had with Cal McAllen, Pat Millhaus, Captain Stan Chase.

  “When I heard the boat coming I went out. I helped a little with the lines, but he was so sour about it I gave up. He likes to do everything himself. He rigged a canvas thing over the railing and he was working out there until dark, refinishing the new part.”

  “Now I’ve got some specific things I want you to find o
ut, Peggy. I don’t know if you can. But don’t press if you run into a block. Okay?”

  “Okay. No pressing.”

  “I’d like to know just when Chase was told to go to Tampa. I think Sis made that phone call at about eight-thirty, maybe a few minutes later. If they had an airline timetable in the house …”

  “I know they do. I’ve seen one.”

  “Good. Then, if they wanted Chase out of the way, they could look up a likely flight and send Chase up there in the Lincoln to meet it. And he would have gotten his orders after Sis talked to Charity. Now I wonder if the Mahlers would be sent anywhere too.”

  “But they wouldn’t have to be.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’re usually through by eight-thirty, Sam, and they hole up in their own apartment beyond the garage. Herman is getting a little bit deaf. They keep the television on loud, and I do mean loud. Their draperies are always pulled shut, and besides, their windows face north. Once they’re on their own time, they never come back into the main part of the house, or even set foot outside.”

  “And that would leave Sis and Charlie alone with the Webers and the two house guests.”

  “I don’t like this kind of … hinting,” she said in a very small voice.

  “Not hinting. Thinking out loud. But the direction I’m going makes me feel sick.”

  She came over to my chair. “Make a lap. The way you sound, Sam, I want arms around me, if you’re going to keep on talking.”

  I took her onto my lap and held her snug. “You’ve guessed what I have to say, Peggy. Two people and a small car are missing. That’s a big boat. It was taken out on that same Monday night. A section of rail was smashed.”

  She rocked her round forehead against the angle of my jaw. “I don’t like it, Sam.”

  “One big section of rail is detachable, wide enough to roll the car aboard. But out in the Gulf, with some roll and pitch, it wouldn’t be as easy to deep-six it.”

  She straightened up. “But why not just run the little car into the water!”

  “Where? These are shallow waters. No cliffs, no natural holes close to shore.”

  She shivered and tilted her mouth up and I gave her a kiss of comfort. But it turned into a lot more than was intended until finally she wrenched away and jumped up. “That makes me feel ashamed, Sam. We’re talking about a horrible murder, and all of a sudden we’re … necking. And I feel so … responsive. What kind of monsters are we? Are we that callous?”

  “We’re that human, Peggy. Fire, flood, war, disaster. One emotion seems to take the lid off the others. It’s a sort of affirmation. We have to prove we’re alive. Maybe it isn’t in the best taste in the world, but it isn’t shameful. Come on back.”

  “No thanks. Not right now. Don’t be annoyed with me, Sam.”

  “How could I be? Look, maybe I’m getting too intricate and gaudy about all this. It’s been building, bit by bit, in the back of my mind and now I can’t think of anything else, so maybe it’s time to check it all out.”

  “But how?”

  “Go to Jimson’s and look over the scrap J. B. discarded. And you could do something if you’ve got the stomach for it. This is the rainy season. The ground is soft. They couldn’t carry the Renault to the dock. They could have rolled the tire marks out, but not all of them. Look for tire marks, probably, because of the Mahlers, on the south side of the house.”

  She came back to my lap with a great sigh. “I can’t believe it, really.” She nestled against my throat. “I don’t want to believe a horrible thing like that about Charity!”

  “There were some handy helpers, remember. And you said she’s so nervous and restless you think she’s cracking up. I don’t want to believe it either. But when two people and a car drop off the edge of the world, you can assume a damn efficient disposal system.”

  “Who would believe us?”

  “Nobody yet. We have to find something specific to back it up, or we may come across something that proves we’re wrong.”

  “Isn’t it time for us to get some … professional help?”

  “Like from my old Sheriff-buddy-pal?”

  “Well … I guess that wouldn’t be so hot.”

  “There is one thing I can and will do right now, Peggy. And don’t you try to put up any battle, girl.”

  “Sir!”

  “That isn’t what I’ve got on my mind … yet. Whether this boat guess is right or wrong, Peggy, you are living in a creepy and deteriorating situation. It’s no place for you to be. So just do this final bit of checking tomorrow, and get yourself inconspicuously packed, and I’ll come around in the late afternoon and take you away from there.”

  “But what will I tell Charity!”

  “I don’t care what you tell her.”

  “She’s my sister.”

  “There’s no blood relationship at all.”

  “I’m perfectly safe there, Sam, really I am.”

  “I’m taking no chances with you. None.”

  “Mmmm. It’s that important, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I guess you’d better locate me a nice cheap, clean little motel deal, my darling. Because I’ve got a lot of vacation left. And it is my humble desire to cater to your foolish little whim. If you don’t want me there, I leave.”

  “Suddenly I feel one hell of a lot better.”

  “And you make me feel sort of valuable. And sort of protected.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to go back at all.”

  “Oh, I have to look for tire tracks.”

  “Of course. Tire tracks.”

  “Dearest, you have the most gigantic hands. The most gigantic and sneaky hands. So let’s ride in your boat and cool you off. Let’s go very fast in your boat.”

  There was a special gaiety for a time, as though we were both running from a blackness in the backs of our minds. On that night she wore yellow-green slacks and a Guatemalan blouse of coarse cotton, and she laughed often. We went again to Tad’s Sea-Bar. The jukebox volume was down, the draught beer chill, and her enormous admirer was absent. With very little warning all the sparkle and vitality went out of her. I had seen it happen so many times with Judy that I made the wrong assumption that it would be just the same with Peggy, that she had gone beyond my reach, back into some moody cave, and any attempt to reach her would only increase the remoteness.

  But this Peggy looked directly into my eyes and placed her hand on mine and said, “I’m sorry, darling. I’m down a deep well. Help me climb out.”

  “How?”

  “Lets go, right now.”

  I drove the Lesser Evil back down the bay through moonlight, and she stood in the half circle of my right arm, leaning against me, slightly huddled and very subdued. “It got to me,” she said. “It didn’t seem fair to be laughing and to be in …”

  “Be in what?”

  “Darn it! Darn it! Am I not a woman of total mystery, darn it?”

  “Be in what?”

  “Stop teasing me like that. I was not fishing. And I didn’t know what I was going to say until I almost said it, and you know very well what I almost said. I’m blushing and you’re making it worse. It’s up to the man to be the first one to say a darn thing like that.”

  “You couldn’t possibly have been going to say be in love!”

  “Sam Brice. I’m going to belt you one, right in the chops.”

  “This love routine, they give it a pretty big play. The songs and so forth.”

  She backed away to get a little room, and kicked me squarely in the shin. I throttled down immediately, knocked the lever into neutral, gathered her in and kissed her with a glad and total emphasis. I put my hands on her narrow waist and lifted her up and sat her on the small shelf effect above the instrument panel, her back to the slant of the windshield. I held her hands and looked up at her face in moonlight. Her small chin was level with my eyes.

  “Okay, Peggy,” I said. “Love. I’m sure. I’m very sure.”

&nbs
p; “I’m sure too. And I’m scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “It was love before. Can you accept that and not be jealous?”

  “Of course.”

  “And it was such a horrible, hurtful, shattering loss, I didn’t ever want to be … committed in the same way again, darling. I didn’t want any man to be at the center of my life. I … thought I wanted another marriage, but to a man who would love me and not ask for too much involvement on my part. So he could be at the edge of my life, so nothing could ever hurt me so badly again.”

  “But you couldn’t find him.”

  “I looked.”

  “But you’re one of the unfortunates, Peggy? All or nothing.”

  “Yes. I can’t seem to … maneuver my life.”

  “I wasn’t looking for this either.”

  “I know.”

  “I made the total offering. But the princess decided the dish wasn’t so special after all, so she quit nibbling and walked away. So I said the hell with it. If they don’t want me—invaluable, unique me—I’ll pull the welcome mat in and close the door. And if you train yourself not to think of any of the things that hurt your pride, you can be pretty comfortable counting off the years, honey.”

  “And a horrid waste of Sam Brice.”

  “So I re-enter the lists, eh? I go looking for dragons again.”

  She kissed my lips quickly, lightly. “Sam, Sam, not for me. All I want is love. Kindly leave off the tail fins and the country club. Do no more and no less than you want to do, Sam. Keep a roof over me. Keep me warm. Keep me fed. Keep me barefoot and pregnant. Rat races are for rats, not people. I’m terribly glad and I’m still scared.”

  “I don’t deserve this much luck. I am going to risk making you sore, Peggy. But right now I know something and I have to say it.”

  “You know you can say anything in the world to me.”

  “There have been two women in my life who have meant anything to me. Judy and Sis. In some crazy way you’re the best of both of them. I needed them only because I didn’t know I was looking for you.”

  She grabbed at me in an almost spasmodic way and pulled my head against her breast, against a precious roundness and warmth and a scented sweetness under the coarse cotton. “Sore at you?” she whispered. “If I’d missed hearing that I’d have never forgiven you. Mmmm. This is what it’s like, isn’t it?”