The last faint visibility was gone. He jettisoned some of the lead and rose slowly to the surface. The sun was gone and the dusk was gray-blue. He pulled out the earplugs and heard Mick’s shout. Mick was far down the beach. He squinted. Mick and Lew and Townsend were standing by something on the sand. O’Day was running toward them. Park shoved the face mask up onto his forehead and went toward the shore in a long, powerful, eight-beat crawl.
He walked over and looked down at her. She was as blue as the early dusk.
Mick said in a half whisper, “The crabs got her a little on the arm but that’s all.”
“Wrap her in a blanket and take her over to the old icehouse. Lew, you phone it in. Take O’Day with you.”
O’Day stood and looked down at Laura’s body. He didn’t move. Lew Cherezack tugged at his arm. Park stepped over and slapped O’Day across the face. The big man turned without a word and went back toward the house with long strides.
Mrs. Mick Rogers had laid out a buffet supper, but no one had eaten much. The certificate stating accidental death by drowning had been signed. Mrs. Rogers had packed Laura Hale’s suitcase and placed it in the station wagon. The undertaker had said, over the phone, that he couldn’t pick up the body until midnight.
Johnny Loomis had passed out and Mick had put him to bed, just before leaving for Winter Haven with a subdued and depressed Pamela. Carlos had complained bitterly about the death, saying that it was bad luck before tomorrow’s corrida. He had gone nervously to bed after the arrangements had been made for Lew to fly him and his helper to Monterrey at dawn. Park Falkner sat on the lowest terrace facing the sea. Taffy was in the next chair. Townsend, Branneck, and O’Day were at the other end of the terrace. A subdued light shone on the small self-service bar. O’Day, with an almost monotonous regularity, stepped over and mixed himself a Scotch and water. It seemed not to affect him.
The other three were far enough away so that Park and Taffy could talk without being overheard.
“Satisfied?” Taffy asked in a low tone.
“Please shut up.”
“What was she, twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Think of the wasted years, Park. Having fun with your tossed salad?”
“I didn’t figure it this way, Taffy. Believe me.”
“Suppose you tell me how you figured it.”
“Not yet. Later. I have to think.”
“I’ve been thinking. The little gal was vain, you know. Careful of her looks. You know what seawater will do to a woman’s hair, don’t you?”
“Keep going.”
“I know she had a bathing cap. She didn’t wear it. So she drowned by accident on purpose. Suicide. That’s a woman’s logic speaking, Park.”
“I noticed the same thing, but I didn’t arrive at the same answer.”
“What... do... you... mean?” Taffy demanded, each word spaced.
“You wouldn’t know unless I told you the whole story. And I don’t want to do that yet.”
Branneck stood up and yawned. “Night, all. Don’t know if I can sleep with this burn, but I’m sure going to try.” The others murmured good night, and he went into the house.
O’Day said thickly but carefully, “I haven’t asked you, Falkner. Can I stay until... they take her?”
“Stay the night. That’ll be better. I’ve had a room fixed for you. Go up to the second floor. Second door on the left. Mick took your bag up out of your car before he left.”
“I don’t want to impose on—”
“Don’t talk rot. Go to bed. You’ll find a sleeping pill on the nightstand. Take it.”
Only Taffy, Townsend, and Park Falkner were left. After O’Day had gone, Townsend said dryly, “This is quite a production. Lights, camera, action.”
“Stick around for the floor show,” Taffy said, her tone bitter.
“I can hardly wait. Good night, folks,” Townsend said. He left the terrace.
Taffy stood up and walked over toward the railing. She wore a white Mexican off-the-shoulder blouse. Her slim midriff was bare, her hand-blocked skirt long and full. She was outlined against the meager moonlight, her silver hair falling an unfashionable length to her shoulder blades. In the night light she looked no more than twenty. In the hardest light she looked almost thirty.
Park went to her. “We’ve known each other a long time, Taff. Do you want to help me? It won’t be... pleasant.”
She shrugged. “When you ask me like that...”
“Go on up to your room and get one of your swimsuits. Meet me by the garages.”
She came toward him through the night. He took her wrist, and together they went into the icehouse. When the door was shut behind them, he turned on the powerful flashlight, directed it at the blanket-wrapped body on the table. Taffy shuddered.
“I want to show you something, Taff. Be a brave girl.”
He uncovered the head, held the flashlight close, and thumbed up an eyelid. “See?” he said. “A ring of small hemorrhages against the white of the eye. Something was pressed hard there.”
“I... I don’t understand.”
“I found it right after they examined her. Both eyes are the same. Other than that, and the sea damage, there’s not a mark on her.”
“Wouldn’t contact lenses do that?” Taffy asked.
“They might, if they didn’t fit properly, or if they had been inserted clumsily. But I don’t think she wore them. She was grateful to me for having her come down here. She... attempted to show her gratitude. The offer was refused, but in the process of refusing it, I had a good close look at her eyes. I’d say no. I have another answer.”
“But what?”
He took the plastic cups out and held them in the flashlight glow.
Taffy gasped. “No, Park. Someone would have had to—”
“Exactly. Pressed them down quite hard on the eyes. No point in it unless the pressure also served some other purpose. Smothering her. Evidently she was smothered while in the sun, while on her back. Maybe she was sleeping. The smotherer dragged her into the sea, forgetting the cap or ignoring it.”
“Did he use a towel to do it?”
“I wouldn’t think so. A little air would get through. She’d struggle longer and the plastic cups would have slipped and made other marks. And I don’t think a pillow was used. Look.”
He curled back her upper lip. Up above the ridge of the gum was a fine dark line of damp sand.
“No,” Taffy said in a whisper. “No.”
“It wouldn’t be hard to do. Taffy, maybe I won’t ask you to do what I originally planned.”
She straightened up. “Try me.”
“I want that swimsuit. She’ll have to be dressed in yours. You go on along. Leave your suit here. I’ll change it.”
Taffy said tonelessly, “Go on outside, Park.” She pushed him gently.
Outside he lit a cigarette, cupped his hands around the glow. The luminous dial of his wristwatch told him that it was after eleven. The sea sighed as though with some vast, half forgotten regret. The stars were cool and withdrawn. He rubbed the cigarette out with his toe. She came out into the darkness and silently leaned her forehead against his shoulder. He held her for a moment, and then they walked back to the house together. He took the damp swimsuit from her. When the door shut he went up the stairs to his own room. He sat in the darkness and thought of Laura Hale, of the way the hard core of her showed beneath the blue of her eyes. Mick came back after driving Pamela home, and later he heard another car, heard Mick speak to a stranger. Soon the strange car drove back across the causeway, the motor noise lost in the sound of the sea.
Mick knocked and came in. “Sitting in the dark, hey? They took her off with ’em. I delivered Pamela. She thinks Carlos is coming back to see her after he fights.”