‘You have a fine punch, but you’re throwing it wrong,’ Harry said. ‘Your elbow is away from your body. Keep it close like a golf swing. Try again.’
He braced himself as Solo’s fist smashed into his side. He was lifted off his feet and he thudded flat on his back. He lay still, stunned, feeling the jar of the punch go through his body. He had deliberately leaned into the punch knowing this was the only way to make Solo happy.
Solo dropped on his knees and caught hold of Harry’s head.
‘Sweet Maria! Are you all right? I didn’t mean it, Harry. I’m sorry...’
Harry shoved the hot, sweating hands from his head and sat up. He put his hand to his aching ribs, then he grinned.
‘That would have sat even Dempsey on his pants,’ he said. ‘You sure have a fine punch, Solo... phew I...’
‘Are you okay?’ Solo was still worried.
Harry got slowly to his feet and began to dust the sand off his slacks.
‘Sure.’ He rubbed his ribs. ‘You remember to keep your elbow in, and you’re the boss.’
Solo grinned delightedly.
‘I wouldn’t say that. You throw a mean punch too, Harry, but maybe we’re in the same class, hey?’
Harry knew then he would have no further trouble with Solo.
‘Weight counts, Solo. A good big ’un will always beat a good little ’un.’ He gave Solo a sharp dig in the ribs. ‘Boss!’
Solo squirmed with delight.
‘Well, maybe. You get on the beach now, hey? I get back to the cooking.’
Harry picked up the suitcase.
‘Be right with it.’
Solo’s eyes went to the white suitcase with its band of red.
‘That your stuff?’
‘Yeah... I picked it up now I’m staying.’
‘Sure, you’re staying.’ Solo patted Harry’s shoulder. ‘You fix the high dive board, hey?’
‘I’ll fix it.’
Harry left him and made his way to his cabin. As he pushed open the door, he became aware how flimsy it was. He entered the cabin, stripped off his clothes and put on trunks. He then tried the catches on the suitcase, but found them locked. This wasn’t the time to see what was inside the case. Solo would be expecting him to be on the beach any minute now. He hesitated, then decided the cabin wasn’t the place in which to leave the case.
He carried the case outside, made sure no one was watching him, then took the case to the back of the cabin where a big pile of deck chairs were stacked. He buried the suitcase under the chairs, smoothed down the sand where his footprints showed, then returned to the cabin. From his rucksack he took a reel of black cotton He snapped off a length of cotton, left the cabin, closed the door, then fixed the cotton across the bottom of the door so that if someone entered the cabin, the cotton would snap.
Then he walked down to the beach.
He saw Charlie and Mike, the two coloured helps, carrying trays of drinks to the people lounging under the sun umbrellas. He paused to look at the fourth umbrella under which Carlos and his wife had been lying. The man had gone, but the woman was still there, reading a magazine.
He felt an urge of curiosity to see her at close quarters. He walked over to where she was lying and paused by her.
‘Can I get you a drink, Mrs. Carlos?’ he asked.
The woman put down her magazine and looked up at him. Her big sun goggles partially hid her face, but he saw her nose was short, her mouth small; her lips, carefully painted, were thin. He guessed she would be closer to forty than thirty: a woman who took care of herself with a long history of massage, sauna baths, daily visits to the hairdresser: a contestant in the battle most women make to look younger than they are.
He felt the hidden eyes behind the sun goggles quizzing him.
‘No, thank you.’ Her voice carried a faint accent that Harry thought he recognised. He was now almost certain this was the woman who had been driving the Mustang. ‘Who are you?’
‘Harry Mitchell, the new lifeguard around here.’
‘Hello, Harry.’ She smiled. ‘Solo will tell you we — my husband and I — are often here. Can you swim? The last boy Solo hired...’ She lifted her hands and laughed.
‘Do you swim, Mrs. Carlos?’
She looked at him.
‘Probably better than you.’
‘Is that right? I’m going in now. Do you bet, Mrs. Carlos?’
She shook her head.
‘Not on a dark horse.’
‘If you’re so good, how about a fifty yard start to that raft and ten dollars to one?’
‘My! My! You must think you are good. Can you afford to lose ten dollars?’
‘That’s my business, isn’t it, Mrs. Carlos?’
‘Excuse me.’ She stared up at him, then shook her head. ‘No. I am good, but now I can see you would be better. I’ll have a gin and tonic instead.’
‘Yes, Mrs. Carlos.’ His tone was curt. That she had thought he couldn’t cover a bet angered him. He turned abruptly and headed for Charlie who had distributed his last drink. Seeing him coming, Charlie ran to him, grinning widely. Harry told him to take Mrs. Carlos a gin and tonic, then he walked away until he reached a pedal boat. He sat on it, his anger still gnawing at him.
Had she recognized him as he had recognized her? He wondered.
She had given no sign that she might have recognized him, but that didn’t mean anything. She was very sophisticated and cooclass="underline" not a woman to be fazed easily. He frowned down at the sand. Was he mistaken? He thought again of the woman in the Mustang: the same build: the same accent, but, of course, he could be mistaken. What would the wife of a man as wealthy as Carlos be doing with a dead body? It didn’t make sense.
He stroked his nose and looked across the hot sand to where the woman was lying. She had picked up her magazine and was reading again.
Irritated that it was now a problem he couldn’t immediately solve, he shrugged, pushed himself off the pedal boat and walked down to the sea. He stood watching the bathers, thinking of the woman and thinking of the white plastic suitcase.
It wasn’t until just before dinner that Harry was able to return to his cabin. A blonde, plump teenager had come up to him, flushed and giggling, and had asked him for a swimming lesson.
At the end of half an hour, there was another giggling girl waiting.
By their prowess, Harry knew both of them could swim and they were making this an excuse to fool around with him. This was part of the job, and he went through the motions.
There was then a constant demand for drinks and he had to help Charlie and Mike to handle the rush. It wasn’t until 19.00 hrs. when the bathers had gone in for a shower before changing for dinner that he found himself free to go to his cabin.
He paused at the door to check the black cotton and his eyes narrowed as he saw the cotton was snapped. He pushed open the door and entered the stuffy little room. He looked around. Nothing had apparently been disturbed, but he knew someone had been in there.
He stepped cautiously out and looked to right and left, then he went around to the back of the cabin and checked that the suitcase was still under the pile of deck chairs. Satisfied, he took a shower, put on slacks and a shirt and went along to the kitchen for dinner.
He was the only one to sit down at the table. Neither Nina nor Manuel was there and Solo was busy at the stove. Solo grinned cheerfully at him.
‘You go ahead,’ he said. ‘I see you were giving lessons, hey? Nice cuddly girls, hey? Everyone is very pleased, Harry. I’m pleased too.’
Joe produced a plate of Chicken Maryland with fried bananas.
‘You’re trying to make me fat,’ Harry said.
Solo laughed.
‘You need good food... a big man like you. You need food like I need food.’ He paused to peer into the oven. ‘Mrs. Carlos was asking about you. She’s very interested in you.’ Solo shut the oven door and winked at Harry. ‘She’s my best and richest customer.’