“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Don’t know where he’s staying, but I’d sure like to find him. Appreciate your help.”
“Happy to help, if I can,” Charlie said. “What’s his name?”
“He’s a tall guy,” Williston said. “Skinny. Brown hair. Wears gold-rimmed glasses.” Williston paused. “There’s a girl with him.”
David didn’t look up. He was raising the coffee cup, and he kept on raising it while he listened.
“What’s his name?” Charlie asked again.
“Put it this way,” Williston said. “He may be traveling incognito. I wouldn’t want to give him away. Have you seen him around?”
Charlie shrugged. “Don’t recall.”
“Put it this way,” Williston said. “It might be worth your while to recall.”
“What’s the girl look like?”
“Blonde, about five-four, good body, good legs.”
“Lots of girls like that in this town.”
“Yeah, but put it this way. They ain’t all with a skinny guy wearing gold-rimmed glasses.”
“Don’t recall seeing either of them,” Charlie said.
Williston turned on his stool. “How about you?” he asked.
David looked up. “How about me what?”
“You see the people I’m inquiring about?”
“I haven’t been listening to your inquiries,” David said. He turned on his stool, and he and Williston had a short staring contest, and then Williston’s stare turned slightly ugly and he said, “I thought everyone in small towns listened.”
“Not everyone,” David said, and he turned back to his coffee.
“You mind listening now?” Williston asked, an edge to his voice.
“What do you want?” David said.
“I’m looking for some friends of mine. A tall, skinny guy with glasses, and a blonde girl. You see them around?”
“No,” David said. “And I don’t intend to.”
“Put it this way,” Williston said. “You can get too bright for your own good.”
“Don’t bother me,” David said. “I came in here for coffee.”
Charlie looked as if he were expecting trouble, and to tell the truth, David was expecting it, too. But people who barged in and started shoving their weight around had always annoyed him. Williston got off his stool and walked over to where David was drinking his coffee. He stood there with his hands on his hips, looking down at David as if he were a spider.
“I didn’t know I was bothering you,” Williston said.
“Put it this way,” David said. “You were, and you are. Go find your friends by yourself. I don’t know anything about them.”
“This is a real friendly town, ain’t it?” Williston said.
“As friendly as most.”
“If you’re an example of—”
David got off the stool and Williston stopped talking. David saw him clench his fists, so he guessed Williston expected him to take a swing. Instead, he reached into his pocket for some change to pay for the coffee. He saw Williston’s hand move unconsciously toward the opening of his coat and linger there until he realized David was only reaching for money. David put his change on the counter. He was heading for the door when Williston put his hand on his arm and turned him around.
“Where you going?” he asked, smiling pleasantly.
“Outside. Take your hand off my arm.”
“You’re the sensitive type, ain’t you?”
“Take your hand back while you’ve still got fingers, mister.”
“Tough, too,” Williston said mockingly, but he pulled back his hand.
David walked to the door and stepped outside.
Leslie Grew and the blonde were waiting on the dock, standing there with the rain coming down around them. The blonde was wearing a dark blue trench coat, the collar turned up against the wind. Her hair was in a long ponytail, and the wind whipped it over her shoulder and occasionally lashed it against her cheek. Her face was wet, a good face with strong cheekbones and a generous mouth. She was wearing black-rimmed eyeglasses.
David walked over to them.
“I guess you’re in trouble,” he said.
“Who told you that?” Grew wanted to know.
“Nobody. Sam’s a clam. But there was a heavy inquiring about you in the diner. He wasn’t the type you take home to Mother.”
Grew and the girl exchanged a hasty glance.
“Are you taking us aboard?” the girl asked. Her voice was surprisingly husky.
“I want a hundred and a quarter for the week,” David said. “If you do any fishing, the bait and tackle are extra.” He paused. “I don’t imagine we’ll be doing much fishing, will we?”
The girl smiled, her gray eyes crinkling at the edges. “I don’t imagine so.”
“Have you got your baggage?”
“Yes,” the girl said. “On the dock.”
“I don’t think I know your name,” David said.
Again, the pair exchanged glances. David caught the quick flicker of their eyes and then Grew said, “David Coe, Miss Meadows.” He paused, as if he were testing the name. “Wanda Meadows.”
“How do you do,” David said. “Come on, I’ll help you with your baggage. We can shove off as soon as I get some provisions.”
There were two valises and what looked like a typewriter case on the dock alongside the boat. David picked up one of the bags, and it almost pulled him back down to the dock. “What’ve you got in here?” he asked. “An anvil?”
Wanda stared at him levelly. “A Luger, among other things,” she said, and walked past him to the gangplank. Grew picked up the typewriter case and followed her. They went down into the cabin, and David put down the bags.
“The dinette on your port forms into a double berth,” he said. “Galley’s over here on the starboard. I’ve got two transom berths up forward, where the john is. You can take the double, Miss Meadows. Mr. Grew and I will sleep up forward.”
“Thank you,” she said. “And please make it Wanda.”
“I will. Have you given any thought to where you want to go?”
“Anywhere, it doesn’t matter,” Grew said. “Just so we’re away from shore.”
David considered this. “Well, I can carry meat for about three days in my icebox. I don’t think she’ll hold more than that. If we’re going to be out for longer than that, we’ll have to put in some place. I’ll need some money in advance if I’m going to stock up.”
“I’ll have to cash a traveler’s check,” Grew said. “I’ll go with you.” He turned to Wanda anxiously. “Will you be all right?”
“I have a gun,” Wanda said. “And I know how to use it.”
Grew nodded to himself, sighed, and patted her hand. “Very well then. Shall we go, Mr. Coe?”
The rain had a cutting edge to it.
They ducked their heads and went off the dock and onto Pass-A-Grille Way. They walked up to Eighth Street, then crossed the boulevard. Grew didn’t say anything. He kept walking with his head bent against the rain, and every now and then he’d raise it and look around.
“Who’s after you?” David asked suddenly. “Man named Williston?”
Grew looked up sharply. “So he’s the one who was asking questions.”
“Is there going to be any gunplay on this little voyage?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why’s the girl carrying a Luger?”
“For protection.”
“Against what?”
Grew didn’t answer that question. Instead, he said, “If you’d rather not carry us, Mr. Coe...”
“I frankly would rather not carry you, Mr. Grew. But the question is whether I should let the Helen lie idle for the rest of this blow, or take her out and earn myself some eating money. I also didn’t like the looks of your friend Harry Williston. You don’t seem like a match for him.”