Paradise Island

by Peter Guttridge

  Chapter Nine

  Next morning Ruth was dozing in a hammock strung between two palmetto trees when she heard someone scrunching across the yard. She jerked awake and looked round. A blonde woman, her hair a Farrah Fawcett tousle, grinned and waved.

  ‘Barbara?’ Ruth said, startled.

  ‘Hello, darling. Sorry to burst in on you.’

  Barbara leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. The hammock swung and Ruth grabbed for the side before it pitched her out.

  ‘N-no, it’s fine,’ she said when she had righted herself. ‘I mean, of course it’s fine – it’s your house. God, you must think me rude. But what are you doing here? I thought you were going to Europe.’

  Her skirt rode up as she struggled out of the hammock.

  ‘Something came up in Atlanta I had to deal with. So as I was there I thought I might as well pop over here and see how you were settling in.’

  ‘Well, we’ve only been here a couple of days,’ Ruth said, pulling her skirt down. ‘We just weren’t expecting you.’

  Barbara looked round the yard.

  ‘I couldn’t phone because I forgot to pay the phone bill here.’

  ‘Oh - I was told the line’s down anyway.’

  ‘The electricity is working though? I’m in desperate need of a hot shower and a cold drink - the other way round never works for me.’

  ‘Electricity is fine. There’s some cola in the fridge.’

  Barbara gave her a look.

  ‘The sun must be over the yard arm somewhere in the world.’

  She grinned and gave Ruth a hug.

  ‘But darling you look great. How have you been?’

  Ruth tucked her hair behind her ear.

  ‘We’re settling in.’

  ‘Then I galumph along. Don’t worry - I won’t be staying long.’

  She looked down at Ruth’s legs.

  ‘The sand gnats got you, huh?’

  ‘What?’ Ruth said.

  Barbara pointed at the back of Ruth’s legs. They were blotched with red lumps.

  ‘Your shoulders too,’ Barbara said. ‘You’ve got to take a towel if you’re sunbathing and even then the little buggers will get you. It was on this island I discovered what a wonderful thing insect repellent is. Of course, that won’t protect you against the ticks. You have to watch out for those. The little buggers carry Lyme disease.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You think you’ve got flu then your face gets paralysed and your heart skips a few beats then you die.’

  Ruth felt the itching start beneath her dress.

  ‘Sounds great.’

  ‘I’ve got something to help the itching from those bites,’ Barbara said.

  ‘They’re not itching,’ Ruth said, smiling oddly.

  Barbara raised an eyebrow.

  ‘They will.’

  Ruth quite liked the itching. She was floating a little about what had happened on the beach. Was it possible she’d only been with the man for three hours in total?

  She and Barbara walked into the house arm in arm. Whilst Barbara showered, singing More Than A Woman horribly off-key, Ruth wondered if there was another reason her friend had turned up. Maybe one of the men on the island she was having a thing with?

  If she was honest, she resented Barbara’s presence. She’d been looking forward to some quiet time. Walking on the beach, lying in the hammock reading, maybe trying the yoga. Maybe trying Bob again. But Barbara in the house meant three things: party, party, party.

  Barbara came back into the kitchen in a loose cotton dress and a cloud of perfume, her wet hair plastered to her head and neck. She rummaged in the fridge and pulled out a bottle of expensive white zinfandel Ruth had splashed out on for some as yet unspecified special evening. Ruth felt a twinge of irritation as Barbara, without asking, uncorked it and sloshed it into a glass.

  ‘Want one?’ Barbara poured wine into a second glass without waiting for an answer. ‘Where’s David?’

  ‘In town.’

  ‘There are some good bars there.’

  Ruth was irked at Barbara’s assumption, even though it was one she shared.

  ‘He was going to the record store.’

  Barbara grinned over the rim of her glass. She wafted out into the garden, bottle in one hand, glass in the other. Ruth trailed behind her.

  ‘Why were you in Atlanta?’ she said when they’d settled at the picnic table.

  Barbara whacked away a big, loud bug.

  ‘Why not? It’s shiny and fun and there’s this revolving restaurant and cocktail bar at the top of a hotel. You get to it in a glass lift that seems to go up to the stars.’ She giggled. ‘Well, if you’re high. Coming down is a bit scary. But at night the lights and the view...’

  ‘Sounds lovely,’ Ruth said, feeling staid in her response. She’d hadn’t used drugs since university and had no interest in starting again.

  Barbara leaned over and gripped Ruth’s arm.

  ‘You know, I’m so glad I can still be wowed by things. I don’t ever want to be blasé about the world.’

  She wafted her hand at the trees and bushes pressing in on them.

  ‘The natural and the man-made.’ She took a long swig of her drink. ‘Talking of natural wonders, how are you finding the local flora and fauna?’

  Ruth curled strands of hair round her finger.

  ‘I haven’t really had time to explore.’

  ‘I meant the men-folk, dim-wit.’

  Ruth flushed and covered it by saying:

  ‘Barbara, I’m married.’

  Barbara snorted.

  ‘Right.’ Then more softly: ‘How are things?’

  Ruth wasn’t in the mood for that kind of conversation.

  ‘Oh, you know. Let’s see what happens here.’

  Barbara nodded then looked beyond Ruth.

  ‘Well, well,’ David said from the open doorway. ‘Look what the trade winds have blown in.’

  Barbara stood as David came over and they embraced.

  ‘Nice surprise,’ David said, releasing her.

  ‘Just passing,’ Barbara said.

  David leaned in to kiss Ruth on the lips. She caught the waft of beer and whisky and turned her face so he kissed her cheek. He didn’t seem to notice but, judging by the slightly odd expression on Barbara’s face, Ruth saw that she did.

  ‘Are you joining us?’ Barbara said.

  ‘In the time it takes to get a glass,’ David said.

  Wilson sat on the lumpy sofa on his verandah, holding the bourbon bottle in both hands. His head ached like hell. When he’d come round last night he’d immediately been sick a couple of times. He probably should go to hospital this morning. Instead he took a swig of the bourbon and listened to the racket the insects and the birds were making as the sun rose. His hand shook.

  He’d taken the first couple of hours of the morning off but knew he needed to make a start on the day.

  He had a knack for masking his emotions that made him a mean poker player. He doubted even Mr Smith knew what a funk he’d actually been in last night. His evening visitor had scared the bejesus out of him. Now he had to figure out what to do about him.

  Wilson had first met Luke Hanson off the island, in Savannah at the Top Of The World bar. In civvies but Harry Wilson still looked like a cop, awkward in regular clothes. He was too big to look good in anything but a uniform.

  He watched the US Marshal bring Hanson over to the table. There were no introductions. Wilson examined Hanson. Hanson returned his look. Wilson had rarely seen such alert eyes.

  ‘I’ve read your file,’ he said to Hanson. ‘I know what you did. Certainly the one thing you’ve copped for. You should know that I’m pissed as hell that you’ve elected to relocate to our little island. But I understand from the US Marshal service that I have no choice in the matter – which annoys me even more.’

  He took a sip of his drink. Hanson said nothing and what Wilson didn’t say was that he had, in fact, been first on th
e scene of the crime Hanson had been involved with. He never ever said it to Hanson or anybody on the island - or in the Marshall service for that matter - because that would have led to another conversation. A conversation about how Wilson blamed himself got what Hanson had been part of.

  Of course, Barbara wanted a party to announce her return to the island. When she found the phone was working again, between slurps of wine, she invited everyone she could think of to drop by that evening. That seemed to include pretty much everybody who lived now or had ever lived on the island. As an afterthought she turned to Ruth to say:

  ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Ruth said, conscious her voice was faint, almost as if she was fading away in Barbara’s presence.

  ‘Let’s see what I’ve got in the freezer,’ Barbara said. ‘Although I’ve invited Eddie Hopper – he usually brings food for all of us.’

  They went in the house and David wandered away to the record player. He shuffled through the albums. Put one on. Leonard Cohen’s lugubrious voice came out of the speakers.

  ‘Christ, David,’ Barbara said. ‘We’re having a party, not committing suicide. Can’t you put something a bit livelier on?’

  David kept his back to them.

  ‘Lenny’s sense of humour is often overlooked,’ he said.

  ‘That’s because he sounds like his voice is coming from a tomb in the bottom of a crypt,’ Barbara said.

  David picked the needle up clumsily and it scratched across the vinyl. He put on another album.

  ‘Try this,’ he said, shuffling off out into the garden.

  Barbara glanced at Ruth but Ruth focused on rummaging in the fridge.

  Bob Dylan was singing when Barbara wandered to the loo. Ruth carried on laying out food and drink on the big, low table in front of the two long sofas set at right angles.

  She poured herself a glass of wine. She wanted to go into the garden but she didn’t feel like talking to David. She sat on the sofa and closed her eyes.

  ‘You look like shit, Sheriff – all due respect. Is that why we’re meeting in a bar not the office. Hair of the dog?’

  Natasha Innocent raised an eyebrow as Johnny Finch blundered in where, as usual, no one else would fear to tread. Wilson did look rough though. Haggard underneath his tan.

  ‘I had a visitor last night,’ he said, ignoring Finch’s remarks.

  ‘Are you about to give us too much information, Sheriff?’ Innocent said, curious though she was about Wilson’s sex life.

  He gave her a look then looked beyond them both to Bob at the bar.

  ‘Three coffees, please, Bob.’

  ‘Coming up.’

  ‘What I’m about to tell you is as classified as anything we deal with gets.’

  They both nodded and waited whilst Bob came over with a tray full of coffee paraphernalia.

  ‘Figured you could polish off a pot between you.’

  ‘Figured right, Bob. Thanks.’

  Finch poured the coffee and they fiddled with milk and sugar and took their first sips then Wilson leaned forward.

  ‘For the past couple of years we have had a person in WITSEC living incognito on the island.’

  Innocent and Finch exchanged glances.

  ‘You didn’t think to share this information with your deputies?’ Finch said. Adding after a pause: ‘Sir.’

  Wilson sat up straighter in his chair.

  ‘Maybe you don’t know how WITSEC works. I’m told as a courtesy. I can’t naysay it. And I am forbidden to tell anyone else. I’m not allowed to tell you. Hell, the Mayor doesn’t even know.’

  ‘All due respect, sir, we watch your back,’ Finch said. ‘Doesn’t that put us into a different category to that of the Mayor?’

  ‘Well, I could have done with you watching my back last night.’

  ‘What happened last night, sir,’ Finch said, ‘which requires you to break your vow of silence?’

  ‘Tone it down, Johnny,’ Innocent said, her eyes on Wilson. ‘This guy misbehave?’

  ‘You’re assuming it’s a male?’ Wilson said. Before Innocent could say anything he added: ‘Okay, you’re right. But since he came onto the island this person has toed the straight and narrow more than most. Told me when we first met he was striving to be a new person and that attempt seems to be succeeding.’

  ‘So what’s changed?’ Finch said, sounding like he was trying to be more amenable after Innocent’s comment. ‘What happened last night?’

  ‘Our guy did some bad things when younger but ratted on some truly evil men and they’ve been looking for him ever since. I was visited last night by a man who represents them. He wants me to give him up. He told me I have twenty four hours. Then he whopped me over the head.’ He looked at Finch. ‘The reason I look like shit.’

  ‘What’s the name?’ Innocent said.

  ‘He said he was Bob Smith, just passing through, but I don’t believe that for a moment.’

  ‘I meant the WITSEC guy.’

  ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  ‘But this person has to move, pronto,’ Innocent said.

  ‘Or end it here, once and for all,’ Finch mused.

  ‘Once and for all?’ Wilson said. ‘You mean like a Last Stand? You’ve got to stop thinking in terms of Western movies, Johnny. You misunderstand the situation - but then you’re working on limited information. This guy said he was here to negotiate but I’m pretty sure he’s the trigger man. We’re lucky enough to stop him, they’ll just send another.’

  ‘Can’t we stop it at source?’ Finch said. ‘If we’re not going to run this bad person who has become whiter than white out of town can’t we do something about the people who are trying to get him?’

  ‘That’s a bit outside our remit, Johnny,’ Wilson said. ‘And it doesn’t stop our immediate problem.’

  ‘Do you have a description of the man who bopped you?’ Innocent said.

  ‘He was behind me. Judging from where his voice seemed to be he’s about five nine but that’s it.’

  ‘Sheriff,’ Innocent said slowly, ‘you don’t have to say if you don’t want but are the names Todd Clearing or Gary Barker involved in this?’

  Finch and Wilson both looked at her.

  ‘Go on, Tasha,’ Wilson said.

  ‘Eddie Hopper was saying last night that some guy in his restaurant had called out to him as Todd Clearing and insisted that’s who he was. Man was weirdly persistent. And Grady told me he’d been hoping to have a word with you about some guy who was asking about a Gary Barker.’

  ‘The same guy?’ Wilson said. ‘Do we have a description?’

  ‘I can get one – or two if there are two of them.’

  ‘Do that. So here’s the plan. Natasha gets hold of Eddie and Grady for that description – and let’s hope it is just one guy we’re dealing with. We circulate it around the island. Johnny, drop by the tollbooth to pass on what I’ve been saying. Get Hal to go to the Golf Motel and all the smaller places. Both of you keep your eyes peeled. This guy has to show up on the radar somewhere. Okay?’

  He saw Innocent’s look.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said.

  He remembered.

  ‘It’s your day off.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Josie is just back,’ Wilson said. ‘I’m guessing you’ve planned something.’

  ‘No – this is much more important.’

  Wilson touched the lump on the back of his head.

  ‘Yes and no,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure what we can realistically achieve today and I am going to be seeing Mr Smith again in 24 hours. When you’ve got the description, Natasha, take your day off. Johnny here can take up the slack – right, Johnny?’

  ‘Fine with me,’ Finch said.

  ‘There is something you definitely need to do today,’ Innocent said.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Warn whoever this WITSEC man is that there’s
a hit man after him.’

  Wilson nodded.

  ‘Good point - but I hadn’t forgotten. I have to warn him, I have to let the marshals know and I have to find out how the trigger man got on his trail.’

  He looked around.

  ‘For the next couple of hours I’m having all my meetings in here.’

  Innocent frowned.

  ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘The Sheriff is assuming Mr Smith is watching him,’ Finch said. ‘He’s wondering if Mr Smith might have tapped our telephones. He needs to let the WITSEC person know what is happening. He figures if he sees everyone in plain sight then Mr Smith won’t know which, if any of us, is the WITSEC person.’ He smiled at Wilson. ‘But that means you must already have communicated with the WITSEC person in some way to let him know to come and meet you.’

  Wilson looked at Finch and nodded.

  ‘Give that man a coconut.’

  Chapter Ten

  A cop was taking a piss in the bushes when the white van passed the tollbooth. Chris and Karen had rendezvoused with the brothers at the far end of the causeway. Chris had left his Gran Torino there. There had been a delay while Chris bought a baseball cap for Donny and insisted he squash it down on his damned cockatoo hairstyle. Donny was persuaded to take the safety pin out of his nose too.

  Donny was driving, Karen sitting beside him. The cop walked out of the bushes as they passed, gazed absently after them.

  ‘Fucker,’ Donny said, accelerating. Karen jerked backwards with the abrupt increase in speed.

  ‘I think you need to calm down,’ she said fiercely. ‘He hadn’t pegged us but if you carry on driving at this speed he will.’

  ‘I’m calm, I’m calm,’ Donny said, changing up.

  ‘Well, slow down then,’ Chris said deliberately.

  ‘Donny.’ His brother. Quiet, intense.

  Donny put his foot on the brake pedal. The van braked abruptly and everybody jerked forward.

  ‘Goddamn!’ Karen said as Donny accelerated again, but to a lower speed. ‘Slow the fuck down!’

  ‘Do it, Donny,’ his brother said, resting his hand on his shoulder.