Moment of Violence

by George Harmon Coxe

  She got out of the skirt and blouse as quickly as she could and reached for the red dress that matched the shoes. She knew what she was going to do now. She was going to have two drinks and maybe even three. She was going to enjoy her dinner and then she was going to see a man who knew more about this island than anybody on it. She had met him once when she was small but she knew he was a good friend of her uncle’s. There were a lot of things that she wanted to find out about the Dunnings and Gloria and the lawyer, Roger Eustis, and that Crawford fellow who looked like a reformed gangster.

  12

  DAVID PAYNE was already in his swim trunks when Gloria Ludlow arrived shortly before six. For the past couple of hours he had been busy with a very simple occupation: thinking. He had made mental tabulations on things he knew, things he had learned, and things he had some reason to suspect. The results were not encouraging and whatever line he took, his mind kept coming back to the person Joan had surprised earlier that afternoon.

  There could be no doubt that someone had been here because the reports were missing from his jacket pocket, but his concern, when she told him what she had heard, had been directed elsewhere. For the first thing he had done when he returned to the bungalow after lunch was to take the Mauser from his hip pocket. Because he was eager for a swim he had shoved it under the pillow, and it was with enormous relief that he found the gun still there when Joan had told her story. As soon as she left he had put it far back in the bottom drawer of the ancient wardrobe and covered it with soiled underwear and shirts. Now, with the worry behind him, he waited at the back door as Gloria came round the car and up the steps.

  “You’re all ready,” she said.

  “And waiting.” He took her beach bag and led her into the bedroom. “You can change here. I’m not sure the police finished with Mike’s. I’ll be on the veranda.”

  It did not take her long, and when she came out in the black one-piece suit which contrasted so strikingly with her tawny skin and golden hair he decided she was worth waiting for. She saw the look in his eyes and understood it. She smiled as she lifted her arms to put on her cap, and he whistled softly, not wolfishly but in open admiration.

  “I’ve put on weight,” she said.

  He thought this might be so but her big-boned body accommodated it nicely. There was no bulge at the stomach and the lines of her breasts and hips and thighs were still properly proportioned.

  “If you have,” he said, “you put it on in the right places. Come on.”

  She gave him her hand and they went across the beach to the firm wet sand. They waded in together and, when they began to swim, he had to bear down a little to keep up with her. He was at her side when she stopped and turned over, and for a while they stayed close as they floated and paddled and treaded water. They talked too, as old friends will, of other times and other occasions as remembered things came back to them. They watched the last red rim of the sun disappear into the sea and finally, apropos of nothing, she said:

  “You’re wonderful, David. You really are.”

  “Hunh?” He peered at her, not understanding.

  “I don’t know anyone else who could take what you did from a girl and not be bitter.”

  “That was a long time ago. Maybe I was bitter.”

  “Not for long. You must have been hurt and upset, and maybe you hated me for a while—”

  “Not hate. I just made myself accept the fact that you picked the better man.”

  “Not ever. I don’t think I thought that even then. Sure, Mike was big and handsome. He was very dashing and reckless and you weren’t. But with Mike there was always something missing inside, a sort of moral insolvency.” She shook her head as though to rid herself of the thought. “Shall we go in? I’m ready for that drink.”

  They came dripping up on the veranda and she pulled off her cap. She shook out her hair and then, before he knew what was coming, she was putting her hands on the points of his shoulders and moving her body against him. He could feel the strong firm pressure of thighs and breasts, and her mouth, at first cool and salty, was suddenly hot and partly open. The kiss was as thorough as it was surprising and then, as his body wakened and he reached for her, she stepped quickly back and the moment was gone.

  “That wasn’t supposed to mean anything,” she said as she caught her breath. “It was just something I had to do. You see, it’s been a long time since I kissed anyone like you. I mean it.… Will you make the drinks while I change? I won’t be long. Whisky for me, please.”

  He watched her move into the hall and it took him another second or two to pull himself together and start for the kitchen. There was still a tingling inside him and his breathing was not quite right as he took an ice tray to the sink and began to work on it. Behind him he could hear the shower going, and as he poured whisky for her and rum for himself he could hear her bare feet scurry down the hall and into the bedroom.

  He was ready with her drink when she came out in her smart-looking pastel-green dress. A little water had seeped under the bathing cap so that her freshly combed hair had a two-toned look in spots. He saw at once that the gray eyes were at ease and her smile was unaffected, and he knew now that she had meant what she said about the kiss. There was no embarrassment in either of them as they touched glasses and said: “Cheers.”

  She moved over to a chair by the door and took cigarettes from her bag, and as he started down the hall to shower and change she called after him, saying there was lots of time and he didn’t have to hurry.

  She was still there when he came back a few minutes later, but her glass was empty and so he went into the kitchen to make refills. He pulled a chair up near hers and got a cigarette going, and from where he sat he could look out past the open doors. Offshore the silhouette of a small schooner was visible in the gathering dusk and he watched it a moment, seeing a riding light and wondering whether it was moving or anchored. He pointed it out to Gloria and said it was pretty and she said yes, wasn’t it. They continued to watch it in silence until she stirred in her chair.

  “I have to tell you why I said that kiss wasn’t to mean anything,” she said. “I don’t know how you feel about me or how you might feel someday but I know it couldn’t be serious. I’m not the same girl you were in love with once. It’s not just that I’m damaged goods now. It wouldn’t work anyway because we’ve both changed. Also there’s a man who has been very helpful and understanding the past couple of months.”

  Dave, reaching back into his memory for something that someone had told him, nodded. “You mean Crawford?”

  “Yes.” She gave him a small and crooked smile. “Don’t look so surprised. He hasn’t your background nor anything like it. He was never a member of the four hundred but he knows all about me and I think he’s in love with me. He has a little money and he’s willing to take me away from here—God knows I’d like to go—and we understand each other. Now that I’m something more of a realist than I used to be I think it might work out very well.… Now tell me about your talk with Mr. Worsham at the bank. Did you find out anything?”

  “Nothing very encouraging,” Dave said. “But I did find out something else.”

  He spoke of Eric Sankar then, telling her how Joan Allison had recognized him and how they had followed him to the Seaside Hotel.

  “Then he was the man Joan saw out back last night.”

  “That’s what she thinks.”

  “Well, if she’s right he might know what happened to that metal box and the fifty thousand dollars.”

  “It wasn’t in his room this noon.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I looked. Don’t ask me how I managed, but I did.”

  “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t take it. He might have been afraid to bring the money to his room. He could have hidden it somewhere else.” She frowned and put her glass down. “Did you tell the police?”

  “Sure. They probably questioned him this afternoon. The way they do things down here I doubt if they’
d have enough to hold him but I’m pretty sure they’ll investigate him. They’ll probably put some pressure on him because even if he doesn’t know anything about the money he still might know who shot Mike.”

  He might have said more but just then he thought he heard the sound of some movement on the beach beyond the veranda so he stood up and stepped to the door. It was quite dark outside now and he could see the offshore light where the schooner had been. He also saw something moving directly in front of him and a moment later he was watching two men walk into the reflected light from the living room and start up the steps.

  He knew, as they moved steadily across the veranda, that he had never seen them before. About the same height and neither tall nor short, they were clad in slacks, sport shirts, and rubber-soled canvas shoes. One was plump and the other rather slender and younger than his companion. Both had black hair and in this light their skins were dark. He saw this much in that first instant as he backed away from the door and then he saw the gun.

  They stopped just across the threshold as he moved back. They took a quick look at Gloria. They exchanged glances as though the sight of her surprised them. They spoke a few words in rapid Spanish and then the slender one, who held the gun, pointed it at Dave.

  “You will come with us, Mr. Ludlow, please.”

  Dave was still battling his surprise. He had no idea who they were or why they were here. He did get an inkling of what they had in mind and a sudden thrust of anger overcame his surprise.

  “What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Who are you?”

  They looked at him and then at Gloria. “You are Mrs. Ludlow?” the slender man asked.

  “Yes, I’m Mrs. Ludlow. Why?” Gloria said with some defiance.

  “It is unfortunate that you are here for now you will also have to accompany us.”

  Gloria came to her feet slowly, the gray eyes wide and puzzled as she glanced at Dave. The plump man moved round so that he was slightly behind her and suddenly, analyzing the expression on their faces and the unrelenting intentness of the dark eyes, Dave knew that this was no joke. Whatever their reason, these two meant business and an odd and shapeless fear began to build deep down inside him.

  “You must be crazy,” he said, his voice tight. “I’m not Mike Ludlow. My name is Payne, from the States. I didn’t even arrive until last night.”

  “This lady is Mrs. Ludlow. This is the Ludlow bungalow—”

  “Sure. But I’m not Ludlow. Ludlow is dead. He was shot to death last night.”

  He could tell that they were not listening. The man with the gun pointed it again. It was a big revolver and now, as he cocked it, the sound was loud and frightening in the otherwise quiet room.

  “We have no time to argue,” he said. “We will kill you here if you do not accompany us. But if we do this now we will also have to kill the woman. We do not wish to do this. That way is too easy for you. You will be treated as my uncle was treated.”

  “Your uncle?” Dave said, trying not to shout. “Who’s your uncle?”

  “His name was Raoul Becerra, as you well know.”

  “I don’t know. I never heard of him.”

  Again the man who spoke English did not seem to be listening. The gun was steady in his hand and when his companion rattled off something in impatient Spanish he was answered in kind.

  Dave watched them, the fear blossoming and the perspiration drying coldly on his spine. He saw the brown hand tighten on the gun. He tried to say something and found he had to swallow before he could clear his throat. For he was certain now that the man was getting ready to shoot, that further argument was useless. He had no chance to get the gun. The distance was too great and he knew it. He made one last effort to convince them of their mistake.

  “Listen to me,” he said. “I’m not Mike Ludlow. Believe me, I don’t know anything about your uncle.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” Gloria said, fear showing in her face now and her voice ragged. “I’m Mrs. Ludlow but he’s not my husband.”

  The man with the gun took a small breath. His mouth tightened. Dave could feel his body tense and he had trouble with his breathing.

  “All right,” he said. “But what about her?”

  “She will have to come for now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she can notify the authorities. She will come with us but she will not be harmed. You have my promise. We have come all the way from Venezuela and we do not have much time. You will come with us now or you will die here. It is your decision.”

  He started to move aside so that Dave could pass in front of him. Again he said something in Spanish to his companion and the plump man took Gloria’s arm and pointed toward the doorway.

  “You’d better go with him,” Dave said.

  “But they’re wrong.”

  “That doesn’t help much now. Maybe we can convince them later but for now we’d better go.”

  She started then, the plump man beside her. Dave followed and the man with the gun fell in behind him. They went that way down the steps and across the sand and now Dave saw the dinghy which had been pulled up on the beach. This told him where the men had come from and as he glanced seaward the riding light of the schooner still winked at him.

  It was the plump man’s job to get the dinghy afloat again. This left Gloria standing by herself and it was then that Dave made up his mind. He was not sure what motivated him beyond the certain knowledge that once aboard the schooner he would have no chance at all. He did not understand any part of this beyond the fact that he was expected to pay for one more of Mike Ludlow’s transgressions and that thought in itself may have helped him to make up his mind.

  For this was no sudden impulse even though it was born of desperation. He knew the risks. He understood that once he made a move for that gun he might be hit; he also knew that most gunshot wounds were not fatal and that if he could once get the revolver the odds were good that he could hold out long enough for Gloria to run back to the bungalow and telephone for help.

  He had slowed his steps slightly even as these things ripped through his mind and he sensed rather than actually saw the gunman’s position. The sound of shoes in the sand told him that the man was somewhere close behind and because this seemed like his best chance, he made his move.

  Hesitating not at all as he continued toward the dinghy, he turned his head just enough to get some lateral vision. He could see the metallic gleam not more than two or three feet diagonally behind him and now, not moving his head in that first instant, he struck back, his arm swinging wide and hard. He sidestepped as he spun about. He felt his fist strike squarely against the wrist. He heard the gun explode but he was still moving and he knew he had not been hit.

  He saw the sand spurt as the gun was jolted from the man’s hand and he was close now, completing his turn, hooking hard with his left. He felt it hit solidly, felt the welcome shock of the blow in his forearm. He swung again as an odd feeling of exultation coursed through him. He had forgotten what it was like to hit a man and as the fellow sagged he dived for the gun.

  He had it in his hand and was trying to pivot on one knee when he heard the sharp command. The words were in Spanish and he did not understand them but the meaning came through sharp and clear. It was the cadence that made him freeze there. There was, somehow, a deadly finality to the sound and as his head came up he saw the other gun in the plump man’s hand.

  He stayed as he was, waiting, his breath held, his stomach contracting. He opened his fingers and heard the soft thud as he dropped the gun. Then, from somewhere on the other side, he heard another sharp pre-emptive order. This too was in Spanish but the voice was different.

  The plump man heard it too and he understood the language. He turned, peering into the shadows. The gun which had been leveled at Dave swung slowly down and at another command he let go of it. He took an uncertain, backward step and moved his hands out, palms forward.

  The man who moved slowly forward as Dave s
tumbled to his feet was tall and rangy. The suit he wore was baggy and wrinkled and hung loosely upon his gaunt frame. The felt hat did not have much shape, but even from where Dave stood the bony face had a hard and weathered look.

  “What’s the trouble?” he said quietly when he had their attention. “Do you want to pick that gun up, lady?”

  Gloria stooped and retrieved the gun. Dave did the same with the other gun without being asked. The man he had hit was on his feet now, massaging the side of his jaw. He said something in Spanish to the newcomer and listened to the reply. When it was finished, Dave found his voice.

  He explained what had happened. He said he didn’t know why. He said they thought he was Mike Ludlow, that they wouldn’t listen when he told them they were wrong.

  Again the stranger spoke in Spanish and this time both men answered him. Dave could hear the word, Ludlow, mentioned and the original excitement in the voice dissipated as the words assumed a more normal pitch. Finally the man spoke to him.

  “Let’s go inside,” he said. “They’re still pretty hard to convince. Have you got a passport?”

  “Yes,” Dave said.

  “Maybe you’d better get it.”

  They went inside and Dave went back to the bedroom and brought his passport. The two men examined it intently, muttering in low excited tones. When they glanced up and returned the passport their surprise seemed genuine. No longer were they threatening. They were at once apologetic and, from their tone, sincerely so.

  “It is true then that Ludlow was killed last night?” the slender man said.

  “Right here in this room.”

  “Then we came too late.” He bowed politely. “And we are truly sorry for what we have done. As you say, we have nearly made a very bad mistake and it is good this gentleman came when he did. If you will return our pistols, please, we will go.”

  The tall man glanced at Dave to see if he agreed. When he saw the nod of consent he emptied the two guns and handed them back. He followed the pair to the veranda and when Dave and Gloria joined him the two gentlemen from Venezuela were wrestling the dinghy into the water. The slender man took the oars and his companion pushed off. Then they were rowing out into the darkness toward the now invisible schooner that lay somewhere beyond.