As his foot found the top rung of the ladder and he swung his second leg after the first, she cried shrilly, “You don’t care how you upset people, do you? Come in here and say those things about Vince-I’m just beginning to forget I heard them. Then you come in again and climb out the window! How much can a person stand?”
Shayne redirected the lamp’s beam before starting down. His big rangy body cut off the light. When one of his feet went into the water he twisted aside, flattening himself against the boat, to let the beam thrust past him. The jet-black shadow glided up silently, grazed the planking and was sucked back down, twisting. Shayne’s teeth grated together. He reached down and tried to grasp it when it rose, but he was blocking the light again and he couldn’t see what he was doing.
His fingers slipped across a hard, rounded surface, cold and unpleasant. Under his touch, the object rolled in the water and a narrower shadow separated itself from the main bulk. It was a black-clad arm. Immediately the menacing shape changed into the figure of a man, clad in a black diver’s outfit, with a narrow canister of oxygen strapped to its back.
Shayne went down two more rungs, going into water up to his knees. When the body rose this time he caught it by one arm and brought it up. The other arm was hooked around a rung of the ladder, over and under. The fingers in their black glove were locked on the rope. With difficulty, wet to the thighs, Shayne rolled the body over on one side, supporting it across his knee while he tried to free the rope from the clutching hand. The further it came out of the water, the heavier it was. He decided against going back on board to look for a line. He was afraid he had dislodged the body just enough so the next swell would carry it away.
The face mask was ajar, and apparently the airtight suit had filled with water. For an instant the powerful beam struck a cold cheek and a staring eye. That was the only glimpse Shayne was ever to get of the face of Vince Donahue.
The beam danced away. Betty’s voice called, “Don’t! I’m scared!”
One of Shayne’s arms was hooked through the ladder. With the other he kept the black-clad body from sliding away. He said calmly, “Betty, point the light down here.”
Lee cried from the deck, “Is that a body?”
“Leave it alone,” Betty said hysterically. “Let somebody else find it.”
Shayne kept his voice level. “It’s Vince. I want to get him out and see if there’s anything we can do for him. Turn the light this way.”
“No,” Betty whispered in horror. “It’s not Vince.”
“I’ll do it,” Lee said. “Hold onto him, Mike.”
He heard her footsteps leaving the deck. As he shifted his grip he touched a slack line. Following it through the water, he found it looped around Vince’s wrist. Perhaps he could lash the body to the ladder until he could get something more substantial down from on deck. He hauled it in, working carefully with one hand. It came easily, and something came with it. In a moment he touched a floating bait bucket. He unclamped the lid knowing what he would find inside even before his hand went in and felt the packages of bills.
He fastened the lid again and picked at the knot at Vince’s wrist until it came loose. Passing the free end rapidly around the rung of the ladder, he slipped it through the bight and made it fast with a quick pull.
The girls were arguing at the cabin window above him. Lee said angrily, “He needs the goddamn light!”
The beam drifted back toward Shayne, then abruptly winked out.
There was a scrabbling sound from the window. Lee said, “Betty, help me find the plug. Or get out of the way.”
“It can’t be Vince,” Betty said harshly. “He can swim like a fish. It’s somebody else. I can tell you one thing, I’m not going to look at him.”
Shayne jacked the body another foot or so out of the water. The ladder kept twisting under him. Without a block and tackle be couldn’t get the body on board unless he could open the suit to empty out some of the water. He wrestled with it in the blackness, swearing savagely. The black rubber was as slippery as though it had been polished and oiled.
He freed the tab of the zipper under the chin, carefully levered the body on one knee and worked the zipper down. Water spurted out. For a moment the swell became stronger and the ladder swayed away. He tilted the body at a steeper angle. Already it felt much lighter. In another moment, he thought, he could begin manhandling it up the ladder.
The light came on again. Lee’s voice said, “Get back inside, Betty. You can’t see anything.”
The beam wavered violently, coming to rest on the back of Vince’s head.
“What did I tell you?” Betty said triumphantly. “It’s a Negro. We can’t help if he’s already drowned. Why let it wreck the party?”
“Betty, watch out or you’ll-”
There was a sudden cry. The ladder lurched convulsively in Shayne’s hand, and Betty lost her balance and fell on him, knocking him into the water. He swallowed a mouthful of bay water before he came up, sputtering. He still had contact with the rubber-clad body, but the suit was rapidly filling with water. The zipper was out of reach. Betty was splashing frantically several yards from the boat. He wrestled the body upright and pulled it against the ladder, trying to get one of the arms in over the rungs. The weight of the water carried it under. Every time his grip relaxed it slipped again.
Betty seized him around the neck from behind in a frantic clutch. Vince’s body slipped again, and for an instant Shayne almost lost his hold.
“I can’t swim,” she said complainingly.
He swore at her, trying to fight her off with one elbow without letting go of Vince. Above at the window, the lamp had pulled out again and Lee was calling, “Betty?” From the stern, the man and the girl who had been smoking reefers looked down idly.
Thrashing around, Betty pulled him under. He wanted to find out what had happened to Vince, and he didn’t really care what happened to Betty. But between a dead man and a live girl, he had no choice. The body was now entirely submerged. Betty’s throat gurgled in his ear. He forced the body back to the surface for an instant, looped the loose line around its chest and tried again to catch one of the arms in the ladder. When he let go, the body hung precariously.
He pushed off with a powerful backward kick. In the clear, he quickly broke Betty’s grip on his neck, bringing his shoulder up hard beneath her jaw to make her easier to manage. He brought her back to the ladder with one sweep of his arm. He yelled at Lee. The light came back on. The beam stabbed downward, and he saw the black shoulder slide past the ladder. He grabbed for it. His fingers slid across the hard surface without finding anything to fasten on. Then it went under.
He whipped the light line around Betty’s arm, fumbling the end into a loose knot. He tried to wedge her against the rope with her head out of water, but it couldn’t be done. He made a sweeping motion with one arm, groping down and away, reaching as far as he could without letting go of Betty. The tide was running strongly. He felt the pressure of the current against his spread fingers, but there was no doubt now that the body was gone.
He gave the line a tug to be sure the bait bucket was still secure. Then he hoisted Betty’s limp body on one shoulder and climbed toward the light.
12
He swung through into the cabin. Betty’s head knocked against the sill as he pulled her after him. But after what he had gone through on her account, he saw no reason to handle her gently.
Holding her like a partly open jackknife, her head down, he let the water she had swallowed drain out onto the carpet. He shook her, then dumped her on the floor to start artificial respiration. He took the lower part of her rib cage in both hands and came down hard. She spewed out more water, diluted with Scotch. He helped her expel one more breath. When her eyes opened he got up off his knees, leaving her to recover the rest of the way by herself.