She sat still for several minutes, waiting for her legs to stop trembling. Then she spread her blanket on the floor and lay down beside Johnny. She tried not to touch him but the gentle rocking of the boat kept pressing her against him. She couldn’t relax; it had been too long since she’d lain beside a man.
She jumped as his arm slid around her. “Please don’t.”
“Why did you come down here?” he asked.
“Your boatman watches me. He’s been watching me all night.”
She felt him turn. “Albert! Take your blanket and sleep out on deck.”
Oh, Lord, she thought, he’s jumped to the wrong conclusion. She lay tense as Albert stumbled out, swearing in patois.
“Better?” asked Johnny.
“Couldn’t you... push him overboard?” Her voice sounded strange and distant.
“A good boatman is hard to find.” He laughed gently. “Come here.”
Slowly, she gave in to the gentle pressure, of his arm and turned to face him. I must be the worst kind of bitch, she thought. This is only my first day as a widow...
Daylight pressed against her eyelids when she awoke. Her mouth was dry and her bones ached from sleeping on the deck. Inside, she felt a sweet relaxation which had been missing for three years.
She opened her eyes and saw Johnny working at the little stove, wearing a pair of green swim trunks.
“Where’s Albert?”
He answered without turning. “He took the dinghy to the village for supplies.”
“Oh.” She relaxed, feeling the prickle of the blanket against her skin. Oh, Lord, I’m naked. She put her hand to her stomach and caught her breath. The letter... She groped under the blanket and found the woolen suit wadded at her feet. The letter was crumpled in the side pocket.
She took a slow breath. Have to keep my head, she thought, and stop behaving like a love-starved widow...
She pushed down the blanket and stretched, forcing her fingers through tangled hair. “Johnny, could I have my suitcase?”
She watched him pull it from a compartment beneath the bench and thought: It’s nice to have a man around.
He set the suitcase beside her and she saw that his face was drawn, his lips tight.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
He’s lying, she thought. Maybe it was no good for him. She watched him set a basin, soap and towel on the bench. “Did I do something wrong?”
He shook his head. “You can wash up on deck. We’ll eat when you’re done.”
He went back to the stove. Troubled, she dressed in shorts and a blouse. She rolled up the letter and shoved it inside her bra.
On deck, she took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh; the dawn sky showed the fluttering streamers of a thousand state fairs. Goats bleated in the hills, and a fleet of pirogues pulled a net across the bay. The men were standing up, flailing the water with long, narrow oars. Even the hotel looked quaint and peaceful.
Norma wished she and Johnny were alone. She wished she’d never found the letter.
They were finishing a silent breakfast when Albert came aboard and dumped a bag of supplies on the bench. “Chief, the corporal says your alibi checks out. You’re free to go.”
“Okay. Get started.”
Norma stiffened, feeling a tremor of fear. She didn’t want to be left alone again. “Johnny, you aren’t leaving?”
He picked up the plates and carried them to the rear of the cabin. “We’re taking a little cruise down through the Grenadines. You come too. You’ll enjoy it.”
“But the murder—”
“Let the cop worry about it.”
She heard the engine start. Albert spoke behind her. “The corporal’s got a new slant, anyway. He says it was a love-killing.”
She whirled. “But I told him—!”
Albert grinned. His jaw bulged as though he’d stuffed his cheek with hard candy. “He says a professional would’ve used a gun. Not a cutlass. Too untidy.”
“The fool! They’re smart enough to make it look that way.”
Albert shrugged. “All I know, he’s rounding up all the guys who ever scored with the woman. Seems like there was several.”
“Oh!” She felt her cheeks burn with anger. “Turn around. I’m going to the village.”
Albert grinned his swollen grin.
She whirled. “Johnny!”
Johnny shook his head. “You gave him your story. You can’t do any more.”
“I can show him—” She caught herself. Her voice trembled as she said, “Will you take me to the village?”
“I’m sorry.” said Johnny. “You’ll have to stay with us.”
Panic seized her. She whirled and threw herself at the wheel. “Turn, damn you!”
Albert, still grinning, brushed her away with his arm. She whirled and ran past Johnny, out on the afterdeck. She screamed, but the fishermen with their paddles were between her and the village. Nobody could hear her.
She put her foot on the railing.
Strong hands gripped her arms and pinned them behind her back. “That’s a hard way to go,” said Johnny.
She kicked back with her foot and twisted. The buttons popped off her blouse and a strap broke. The letter fell out, struck the railing, then rolled off into the sea. She caught a glimpse of it swirling in the wake of the launch, then it was gone.
She heard Johnny’s voice in her ear. “They wouldn’t catch half the men your husband named, Norma. The rest would be after you.”
She stopped struggling. Her breath came in short, sobbing gasps. “Your name wasn’t in it, Johnny. I looked.”
His voice was flat. “Usually I call myself Aquila.”
Aquila. She remembered it. Havana, Miami, Chicago, Las Vegas, Oh God, so many, many murders...
Suddenly the strength drained from her body. The landscape tilted, and she felt herself falling...
After a long time, Albert’s voice filtered down through a cloud layer:
“Chief, we could slice her wrist and roll her overboard. The sharks wouldn’t leave even a fingernail.”
Sickness coiled in her stomach. Johnny’s voice grated like boots on gravel. “She lost the letter. We can scare her into keeping quiet. No need to kill her.”
Albert laughed. “Chief, there’s something they didn’t tell you. She’s been on the list all along. We just wanted to take her and her husband at the same time.”
Her muscles drew tight but she didn’t move. She felt the deck pressing against her back and heard the rush of water past the boat.
After a moment, Johnny spoke in a tight voice: “I thought you found her husband too easy. How long have you had him spotted?”
“Two years.” Pride sounded in Albert’s voice. “This way, neither one has time to scream to the cops. Clever?”
“So clever I want to throw up. Get back to the wheel.”
“In a minute, chief. I sent a message this morning. They know we’ve got her. I report from St. Vincent at midnight tonight. If she ain’t dead, you are.” He laughed. “You ain’t a big man with the outfit anymore, chief.”
Johnny’s voice was barely audible: “I’ll take care of her. Get back to the wheel.”
She heard Albert’s footsteps fade into the cabin.
She opened her eyes. Johnny sat on his heels beside her. His face was tired, and deep lines cut from his nose to the corner of his mouth. His eyes flicked over her. “You’ve been listening.”
She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Could you do it, Johnny? Could you kill me?”
He looked out to sea, his lips tight. “I go into it like a mechanic. They aren’t people to me. Just machines I’ve got to turn off.”
“Even after you make love to them?”
He scowled down at his hands. “Maybe that was a mistake.”
She tasted bitterness in her throat. “I should’ve saved it. Maybe I’d have something to bargain with now.”