Dressed, I opened the door to the exam room and looked outside quickly. It was just Assistant Superintendant Javier and his silent partner, who was holding a plastic garbage bag. “Throw all your extra clothes in here.” We bundled everything up and he handed the bag to the constable, who turned and headed for the rear of the building. Javier, Marilyn and I turned the other way and headed for the front door. “Remember, honey, friendly and peaceful!” I said to Marilyn. Javier laughed.
As soon as we hit the lobby a flash went off and I stopped to blink my eyes. There were three men in the lobby, two black and one white, and at least two of them had cameras pointing at us. Another flash and I stopped. “Hold on, fellows, give us a chance to say hello! We’re not going anywhere.” It was time to try and control the situation. I put my right arm around Marilyn’s shoulders and smiled. “Better?” Javier stepped away and the cameras flashed again.
“Wow, it must be really quiet in the Bahamas to have all of you out like this!” I commented, grinning at them. Defuse, defuse, defuse…
All three immediately started talking, all at the same time, and generally the same damn questions over and over. What happened? Why were we there? Who were we? Why were we arrested? How bad were my injuries? Did I know the thieves and killers? How was I able to capture them?
I could feel Marilyn tensing next to me. She was tired and nervous and definitely not in her element. I just gave her a reassuring hug. “Calm down, fellows! I’ll answer your questions, just one at a time, just one at a time. Let’s do this in order.” I pointed at the one on the right. “You first.”
“Who are you and where are you from?”
“Who are you and where are you from?” I returned.
“Michael Westcott, Nassau Guardian. You didn’t answer my question.”
I reached out my hand and he instinctively took it. I shook his hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Michael. I’m Carl Buckman and this is my wife Marilyn. We’re from Maryland, in the States. Next?” I turned to the guy in the center.
“Gregory Hancock, the Tribune. What happened?”
That started a civilized conversation. I shook Hancock’s hand and gave them a brief synopsis, downplaying everything, and trying to be gracious and polite. In particular:
It was all very minor, nothing to get worked up about. It was over before you even knew it had started.
Injuries? What injuries? We were just brought here to be checked out! We’re fine!
Everybody should thank Assistant Superintendant Javier for arresting the criminals so quickly. What great policework!
This is the sort of thing that can happen anywhere, so, no, we don’t have any bad feelings about Eleuthera or the Bahamas.
Everybody has been so friendly. We’re having a great time.
The island is so peaceful and quiet. We recommend vacationing here, and we’ll be sure to visit again.
Marilyn was asked several questions, but she just made some general noises for the reporters, and then I amplified on them. She did let out that I was a decorated and medically retired combat soldier, which really got them interested, so I had to explain that. They scribbled everything down. Thank God they didn’t have any recorders or video gear, but that stuff was still somewhat pricey in those days.
“Hey, I’d love to keep talking to you, but Marilyn and I are pretty beat. We really need to get back to the resort and get some rest. Otherwise we’ll never be able to enjoy the rest of our vacation here.” I had deliberately avoided any mention of where we were staying. Better to seem like normal tourists staying at some resort than millionaires staying at an exclusive and very expensive villa.
The reporters immediately started asking more questions, but we just nodded and smile and the Assistant Superintendant shuffled them out the door. When he returned, we simply followed him out the back, to a police car with our silent driver. Fifteen minutes later we were back at la Valencia. We got out and grabbed our bag of clothing and said thank you. Mr. Talkative simply nodded and gave us a little salute before driving off.
I stood there in the driveway as the sun rose and looked at my wife. “I’m going to bed!”
“Me too!”
Chapter 68: Hero
Back inside, I took another pill and drank about half a beer while getting undressed and climbing into bed. Marilyn had already fallen asleep by the time I got into the sheets. I tried to close the drapes and shut out the daylight, but the entire place had been designed to be light and airy. Even the curtains seemed bright. It didn’t matter. I was out like a light in about thirty seconds and didn’t wake until dinner time.
I woke to find myself alone in the bed, but I heard the shower running, so my wife couldn’t have been up much earlier than I was. I lazed there a few minutes, getting back into things, until I crawled out of bed stiff and sore. I picked up my beer to finish it, but it smelled flat and stale and made my stomach churn. I took it into the bathroom with me and poured it down the sink.
My wife stuck her head out of the shower and asked, “How are you feeling?”
I smiled at her. “I’m fine. You?”
“I’m not the one with the stitches.”
I waved it off. “I’ll be fine.” I took the empty beer bottle and padded out to the kitchen. In one of the drawers I found a roll of duct tape, so I carried it into the bedroom, along with a plastic bag.
The shower was off, so as soon as Marilyn was finished drying her hair I asked her to come out. “Here, let’s make a covering of some sort and duct tape it over the bandage.”
“Won’t that hurt when you take it off later?” she asked, tearing a length of tape off the roll.
“Honey, I need a shower!”
Marilyn shrugged and nodded, and between the two of us we taped the bag over the bandage so it would be watertight. So armed, I headed into the bathroom and took a long and hot shower. Afterwards I had her tear it off, which hurt worse than the stitches! “Yowza! Watch it!” I yelled.
“You should have shaved your arm before I did this,” Marilyn commented.
“I will never ask you to go get waxed,” I replied. If it was anything like this, it really had to suck!
“I don’t understand.”
Probably not, now that I thought about it. Marilyn shaved, and occasionally plucked an errant eyebrow. She wasn’t into waxing. I explained, which earned me a loud, “Forget it!” I just nodded in agreement.
“I guess we’re not going swimming anytime soon,” she said.
“Not me, anyway. You can, and I can watch. I’ll be happy to oil you up in between laps,” I offered.
Marilyn had a robe on. “What are we doing for dinner?”
“Go out, I suppose.”
“I don’t want to go out. I’ve had my fill of going out for the time being,” she replied.
I shrugged and held my hands up. “I don’t think we have much choice. There’s nothing in the fridge, or at least not enough to cook. We only got some snacks and stuff, unless I do omelets the rest of our stay.”
“No,” she answered, grumbling slightly.
“Get dressed. We’ll go get a pizza, maybe bring it back.”
“Okay.”
We dressed quickly and sorted through some of the flyers that Finch had left for us, finding a nearby place that did pizzas. I grabbed the flyer and the car keys, and we went in search of dinner. It was Sunday night, and relatively quiet. We placed our order and then sat down at a table over in the corner.