CHAPTER 17
I revived slowly. The sound of water came through to me first, the sucking, slapping noise of little waves against wood. My shoulder hurt pretty badly. I was on my side, on a cushion in the stern seat of a boat. It was a very big boat, probably forty feet. Up forward I heard the sound of voices. The door to the cabin was open but I could see nothing. It would be dark for quite a while, too dark for anything but listening.
“Where did he go?” Mari asked.
“Back. Left something in the house.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He just said I should go on the boat.”
My ears caught him clearly now and I knew him. It was Grippo, of course. Nobody else on earth had that much gravel in his throat.
“You know what to do?” she asked.
“The boss won’t like it.”
“Do we care what the boss likes, darling?”
“Listen, baby—”
But they had no more time for listening. There was the sound of footsteps on the dock and Luigi climbed aboard almost over my head. For a moment he stood there, looking down at me. Then he moved off into the cabin. Mari joined him there and they talked, two silhouettes against the cabin lamp.
The dull glow from inside allowed me a fair view of my surroundings. It was a broad deck, spacious and built for sunning. On the starboard side was the rubber mat, tacked down here to prevent scuffing. Alongside this mat, the metal cover of the gas tank intake. The feel of the thing made me think. In several directions.
Because we were beginning to move out into the bay.
Mari and Luigi were standing near the cabin door.
“The clever little man is awake?” Mari asked.
“No thanks to you,” I said.
“I’m no Annie Oakley,” she laughed. “I do much better with a knife.”
“Please,” said Luigi. “Cut it out, will you, honey?”
“But, darling, aren’t you used to it yet? Your friend is a softy, Conacher. Wouldn’t you say he’s a softy, detective?”
“Not soft,” I said. “Stupid, maybe.”
“Did you hear that, darling? Why don’t you kick his face in for that remark?”
“Please,” Luigi said again. He turned to shout an order to Grippo at the wheel. He told Grippo to slow down and be careful to watch for the channel markers. I took a cigarette out of my pocket and asked Luigi to favor me by lighting it, because I couldn’t do it with one hand. He lit my cigarette, cupping the flame from the wind. His face was pale and sick-looking in the quick light.
“Where are we headed?” I asked him.
“Don’t tell him, darling,” Mari said, stepping close to me. In the east the sky must have begun to lighten with the dawn. I could see her more clearly now. She was beautiful, even at this crazy hour. And she was evil. “Let the clever detective guess,” she laughed. “Give him three guesses.”
“I’m not good at ship games,” I said. “Not even shuffleboard.”
“A very clever little man,” she said. “Tell him where his cleverness will take him, darling. Or shall I?”
“What do you mean, Mari?” Luigi asked.
“You know what I mean.”
‘Not that again. I thought I told you that idea was out.”
“You thought you did,” she laughed. “And did I say the idea was out?”
“Hell, Steve and I are old friends,” he pleaded. “He’ll listen to reason, I tell you.”
“Ask him, darling. Ask him to listen to reason.”
“I’m listening,” I said. “What’s the angle, Luigi?”
“The police, Steve. You don’t have to tell them. I can make it pay off for you, but big. I can set you up so you won’t have to work for the rest of your life. It would be that kind of money. Real big, Steve. What do you say?”
“I say stuff it, Luigi.”
“Did you hear what the clever little man told you?” Mari asked. “Now will you admit I’m right?”
He was leaning wearily against the cabin door and his face was loaded with worry. Facing her he seemed the weaker member of the partnership, a strange position for Luigi Calabrese. But the answer lay in his eyes, his hopeless, love-struck eyes, the eyes of a dreamy adolescent. He was hooked by her, all the way. Could he be so far gone that he would butcher his old friend? Or was some small spark of resolve burning in him?
“You may be right,” he said, “but I can’t go through with it, Mari.”
“Idiot,” she said. “You’re in this too deep. You can’t crawl out now.”
The tension began to build as they faced each other. The scene hung above me in the morning light. Whatever had once held them together seemed cancelled out in her mind. She faced him resolutely, measuring him, scorning his silly, dewy-eyed pleading. It was happening fast, in a tick of time. Yet, certain elements came through to me clearly. Luigi would not change his mind about me.
“I just can’t do it,” he said.
“Then I’ll do it.”
“No.”
“Grippo!”
And then the motor coughed and died and Grippo came from the cockpit. We were in the channel running off the edge of the inlet, out in open water. The seas rolled in broad waves here, nothing sharp or rough, but pitched enough to throw the boat around a little. Grippo came out and joined the group, rocking uncertainly on his short legs. They had turned to watch him arrive and I used the moment to loosen the screw cap of the gas tank with my free hand. I had it completely off by the time all three faced me again.
“Get back to the wheel, Grippo,” said Luigi.
“Sorry, boss. No can do.” He had an automatic and handled it as casually as he would a handkerchief. “Maybe you better go inside?”
“A brilliant idea,” said Mari. “Grippo has a truly personal interest in the clever little detective. Isn’t that so, Grippo?”
“Real personal,” Grippo said.
“And it will all wash, darling. Don’t you see how perfect it is? Even the flesh wound on his shoulder won’t be challenged. He’ll be found back there on those rocks, a bruised and battered corpse. They’ll say he probably fell off a row boat while fishing. Come on inside with me, lover. It will all be over in a minute.”
And it was.
When Grippo turned my way again I saw that he had a metal bar in his left hand, the gun in his right hand. He came at me, the bar lifted over his head, ready to bludgeon me with it. At that moment, Luigi started after him. Grippo hesitated, unsure of his next move. And in that instant I leaned to the starboard side.
And dropped my lit cigarette into the open gas tank.
I was half over the side when the big blast came, a deafening clap of noise behind a great red wall of flame. Something cracked against my hurt arm, a stab of pain that made me scream out as I hit the water. Then I was diving deep, working to move away from the boat above me, fighting to shake off the shock of the icy ocean. My lungs were aching when I finally hit the surface and sucked hurriedly of the wonderful air.
The first great shock was the light. Dawn had broken. The ocean was a rolling lake, a smooth and grayish mass. Overhead a few lazy gulls wheeled in the wind. I came up facing the mainland, watching the distant crest of breakers against the rocky barrier off the inlet. But when I swung around, the scene was altogether different. Straight ahead of me, her superstructure ripped completely off, Luigi’s cruiser burned with a fantastic heat, so strong that I could feel it from over a hundred yards away. Great tongues of flame licked at the hull and sent black clouds of smoke whirling into the morning air. Some of the oil and gas had escaped to the sea and now burned steadily on the water. Silence added drama to the mad scene. I could hear the hissing, macabre sound of the flames. The hull was charred and burned almost down to the water. Then, as I watched, the hopeless hulk rolled and slipped into the ocean. There was the brief hissing noise of sea against flame.
And then I found myself swimming toward the edge of the burning oil. Luigi was there, clinging desperately to a torn section of the cabin, half of the mahogany door. His face was blackened and streaked with blood. The explosion had damaged his face badly and he seemed in deep shock.
“Easy, Luigi. Can you hang on? The dinghy’s in good shape over there.”
“Mari …”
He shouted her name out of delirium. He was still screaming it when I came back with the dinghy and managed to get him aboard. He passed out then and I collapsed alongside him, unable to find the strength for rowing ashore. We drifted for some time until the sun came out and we were picked up by a Coast Guard cutter. They gave me a shot of brandy and fixed my wound and clucked sadly over Luigi.
“His face looks pretty bad,” one of the sailors said. “We’d better take him ashore to a hospital.”
“Nobody else out there where the boat went down,” another sailor said. “The other two must have been trapped in the cabin. You want to give me their names, for the record, mister?”
I had another stiff drink and gave them the names.
THE END