“How long since you were there?”
“Couple years — but I hear about it. They got a swell knock-down drag-out café there now — the Red Barn.”
Kells said: “It isn’t outside Federal jurisdiction.”
“No. A cutter goes out and circles the island every month or so. But they pay off plenty — nobody ever bothers ’em.”
“That’s very interesting,” Kells stood up. “How would Rose get out there?”
Bernie shook his head. “A dozen ways. He’d probably get one of the boys who used to run players to the Joanna to take him out. It’s a two-hour trip in a fast boat.”
They walked back towards the waiting room.
Kells said: “It’s an awfully long chance. Do you suppose you could get a line on it from any of your friends?”
“I don’t think so. I know a couple fellas who worked for Rose and Haardt, but with Rose wanted, they wouldn’t open up.”
Bernie took out a knife and a plug of tobacco, whittled himself a fresh chew.
Kells said: “Try.”
“Okay.”
They went into the waiting room and Bernie went into the telephone booth.
Borg had found a funny paper. He looked up at Kells and said, “I’ll bet the guys that get up these things make a pile of jack — huh?”
Kells said they probably did.
Borg sighed. “I always wanted to be a cartoonist,” he said.
Bernie came out of the booth in a little while. “There’s a man named Carver got a string of U Drive pleasure boats down at Long Beach,” he said. “He says a couple men and a woman hired one about eight-thirty and ain’t come back yet. One of ’em sounds like Rose. The other one was a little guy; and the woman he don’t know about — she was bundled up.”
Kells smiled as if he meant it, said: “Come on.”
“We wouldn’t get out there till daylight in my boat. Maybe I can borrow the Comet — I’ll go see.”
Bernie went out and came back in a few minutes, shaking his head.
“He wants fifty dollars till ten in the morning,” he said. “That’s too damn much.”
Kells took a sheaf of bills out of his pocket, peeled off two.
“Give him whatever he wants out of this,” he said. “And does he want a deposit?”
“No.” Bernie started for the door. “He keeps my boat for security.”
Kells and Borg followed him out, across the wharf, across a rickety foot bridge and down to a wide float.
Bernie gave the man who was waiting there one of the bills, said: “I’ll pick up the change when I come back.”
The man asked: “Don’t you want me to come along?”
Bernie glanced at Kells. Kells said: “Thanks — no. We’ll get along.”
The Comet was a trim thirty-foot craft; mahogany and steel and glistening brass. She looked very fast.
Bernie switched on the running lights and started the engine. The man cast off the lines; Bernie spun the wheel over and they swung in a wide curve away from the float and out through the narrows to the cut that led to the outer bay.
The fog was broken to long trailing shreds, but thick. The swell was long, fairly easy.
Bernie snapped on the binnacle light. “I hope I ain’t forgotten the course,” he said. “I think it’ll clear up when we get out a ways — but I’m usually wrong about fog.”
Borg said, “That’s dandy,” with dripping sarcasm.
Kells went down into the little cabin, lay down on one of the bunks. He watched red and green and yellow buoy lights slide swiftly by the portholes. After a while they rounded the breakwater and there weren’t any more lights to watch.
Kells was awakened by Bernie whispering: “We made it in an hour and fifty minutes.” Then Bernie went outside.
It was very dark. Borg was lying in the other bunk, groaning faintly.
Kells said: “What the hell’s the matter?”
Borg didn’t answer.
“You aren’t sick!” Kells was emphatically incredulous.
It was quiet for a minute and then Borg said slowly: “Who’s the best judge of that — me or you?”
Kells got up and went outside. Bernie had doused the running lights; there was a thin glow from the binnacle — and darkness. The fog felt like a wet sheet.
Bernie said: “There’s a big cruiser tied up on the other side of the wharf. I coasted by close — I don’t think there’s anybody aboard.”
“Any other boats?”
“I couldn’t see any.” Bernie switched off the binnacle light. “There’s another little cove on the other side of the island, but nobody uses it.”
Kells said: “We’re not tied up, are we?”
“Sure.”
Kells looked at Bernie admiringly. “You’re a wonder. It didn’t even wake me up.”
Bernie chuckled. “You’re damn right I’m a wonder.”
They climbed up on the wharf, crossed quietly. The cruiser was big, luxurious, evidently deserted — Bernie couldn’t make out the name. Except for a few rowboats and the Comet, it was the only boat at the wharf.
Kells said: “Well — I guess I’m wrong again.”
They walked up the wharf, and Bernie found a path and they walked along the bottom of a shallow gully, up to the left across a kind of ridge.
The fog was so heavy they didn’t see the light until they were about twenty feet from it. Then they went forward silently and a big ramshackle shed took form in the gray darkness. The light came from a square window on the second floor.
Bernie said: “This used to be a cattle shelter — they’ve built onto it. I guess it’s the place they call the Red Barn.”
They found a door and Kells knocked twice. There was no answer so he turned the knob, pushed the door open.
There was a kerosene lamp at one end of a short bar. The room was long, windowless; the ceiling sloped to a high peak at one end. There was a stairway leading up to a balcony of rough timbers, and there was an open door on the balcony leading into a lighted room.
At first Kells thought the downstairs room was deserted; then by the flickering, uncertain light of the lamp he saw a man asleep at one of the half dozen or so tables. There was another man lying on a cot against one wall. He rolled over. “Wha’ d’ you want?” he said sleepily. Kells didn’t answer — the man looked at him blearily for a moment and then grunted and rolled back with his face to the wall.
A man came out on the balcony and stood with his hands on the railing, silently staring down at them. He was of medium height, appeared in the inadequate light to be dark, swarthy.
Kells said: “How are chances of buying a drink?”
The man suddenly stepped out of the doorway so that a little more light fell on Kells’ upturned face. Then he threw back his head and laughed noiselessly. His shoulders shook and his face was twisted with mirth, but there was no sound.
Bernie looked at Kells. Kells turned and glanced at the man on the cot, looked up at the swarthy man again. The man stopped laughing, looked down and spoke in a hoarse whisper:
“Sure. Come up.”
He turned, disappeared into the room.
Kells said “Wait,” to Bernie. He went up the stairs two at a time and went into the room.
It was a fairly large room, square. There were a few rather good rugs on the floor, a flat-topped desk near the far wall, several chairs. There were two big lamps — the kind that have to be pumped up, hiss when lighted.
The man closed the door behind him, went to the desk and sat down. He waved his hand at a chair but Kells shook his head slightly, stood still.
The man’s face was familiar. It was deeply lined and the eyes were very far apart, very dark. His mouth was full and red, and his hair was very short, black.