I Will Fear No Evil (63 page)

“Then there is no point in an autopsy, Roberto. Will you sign a death certificate?”

“Well . . . when death takes place not in a hospital and not under medical care, it is customary to notify the authorities and—”

“Roberto!”

“Yes, Joan?”

“You’re
not
going to do that to Jake. Notify
whom
? Somebody in Washington? We’re in Federal waters, and the coroner of San Diego County has no proper interest in this death. But he’d be likely to try to milk it for publicity, once he finds out who Jake is, who
I
am—and I
shan’t
let that be done with Jake’s death. Jake
was
under medical care—
yours!
You’re our ship’s surgeon. It might be that you saw him die. Think about it.” (Joan, don’t ask Bob to lie. It doesn’t matter if some coroner has his M.E. chop me up.) (I shan’t permit it! Besides, Jake, I’m pregnant. Do you want me to have to go through
that?
Crowds and questions and pulling and hauling and sleepless nights?) (Mmm . . . tell him to make it an airtight lie, dear.) (Boss is a stubborn bitch, Jock—but she’s usually right.))

“Hmm—” Dr. Garcia took off his stethoscope, put it aside. “Now that you mention it, there was still some heart action after I reached him. Lacking means to determine the instant of brain failure, I am forced to take cessation of heart action as the moment of death.” (That boy would make a good witness, girls—come to think about it, he
did
make a good witness at the identity hearings.)

“In that case, Doctor, it seems to me that the circumstances are not open to question—and you may be sure that I will spend any amount of money to keep anyone from turning Jake’s death into a circus at any later time. I would like you to certify death and the circumstances and mail a copy to whatever
Federal
authority should be notified—when next we touch shore. No copy elsewhere, we have no permanent residence other than this vessel. Oh, mail a copy to Alec Train; he has Jake’s will, he’ll need one for probate. And be sure to supply Captain Finchley with a duplicate original for the log.”

“All right, Joan, since that’s the way you want it. And I agree: Here we have a natural death and there is no point in letting bureaucrats poke around in it. But—right now I want to give you something to make you sleep. Nothing much, just a heavy dose of tranquilizer.”

“Roberto, what was my pulse?”

“That’s none of a patient’s business, Joan.”

“It was seventy-two, dead on normal—I counted my heart beats during that thirty seconds from your first glance at your watch until you let go my wrist. I need no tranquilizers.”

“Joan, your heart action should be higher than normal—under the circumstances.”

“Then possibly I need a stimulant, not a tranquilizer. Roberto, you sometimes forget—even though you have been through the whole thing with me—that I am not a normal patient. Not a young bride subject to hysteria. Underneath I am a very old man, almost three times your age, dear . . . and I’ve seen everything and no shock can truly be a shock to me. Death is an old friend; I know him well. I lived with him, ate with him, slept with him; to meet him again does not frighten me—death is as necessary as birth, as happy in its own way.”

She smiled. “My pulse is normal because I’m happy—happy that my beloved Jake met death so easily and happily. Oh, I’ll go to my cabin and lie down; I usually nap during the heat of the afternoon. But how about Eve?”

“Eh?”

“Have you done anything about
her?
She’s young, she’s probably never seen death before. She almost certainly needs a tranquilizer—not I.”

“Uh . . . Joan, I’ve been busy. But—Olga. Will you find Winnie and tell her I said that Eve was to have a minimum dose of ‘Tranquille’?”

“Yes, Doctor.” Mrs. Dabrowski left.

“Now, young lady, I’ll take you to the cabin.”

“Just a moment, Doctor. Captain, will you get way on with both sails and auxiliary, and make course for the nearest point of the seventy-five-mile limit? I want us to be in international waters before sundown.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am. That would be about west by south, maybe basic course two-six-oh. I’ll plot it.”

“Good. Then pass the word, quietly, that burial services will be at sundown.”

“Joan!”

“Roberto, do you think I would turn
Jake
over to an
undertaker?
Taxidermists! He wanted to die like his ancestors; I shall bury him like his ancestors—his dear body untouched and returned home before the sun sets.”

“ ‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die—’ ”

Joan paused in her reading. The Sun was an orange-red circle almost touching the horizon. On a grating at the rail, steadied by Fred and the Doctor, Jake’s body waited, sewed into canvas, with ballast weights at the feet. (A primitive rite, Johann.) (Jake, if you don’t like it, I’ll stop.) (Jock, you should be respectful; this is a funeral.) (It’s
my
funeral, isn’t it? Do I have to pull a long face for my own funeral? Johann, I
do
like it. I respect symbols, primitive symbols especially. Thank you for doing this—and thank you most of all for not letting my carcass fall into the hands of licensed ghouls.) (Just wanted to be sure, Jake. I’d better go on; I’ve marked several more passages.)

(Go on, Johann. Just don’t try to pray me into Heaven.) (I shan’t, Jake beloved. We three will face whatever comes, together.) (Right, Boss. Jock knows it.)

“ ‘All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again. Who knoweth the spirit of man. . . ?’

“ ‘Two are better than one. . . . For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up. Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?’ ” (Boss, that reminds me. Do we have to sleep alone tonight?) (Damn it, Eunice, don’t you
ever
think of anything else?) (Come off it, Boss. What else is worth thinking about? Stocks, bonds, and other securities? I’ve been telling Jock about your discovery—that sex is more intense for a woman than for a man. He doesn’t believe it. But he’s eager to find out.)

(Jake, are you
that
eager? I intended to show respect for your memory.) (I appreciate the thought, Johann. But you needn’t carry it to extremes. I can’t see why you should mourn me when I’m still here. Uh, tell me—is it
really
better?) (Let him judge for himself, Boss—whether it’s better to spread Eunice . . . or to
be
Eunice. A more scientific comparison than you have been able to make.) (Quit talking like a kinsey, Eunice. All right, partners; I’ll think over the changes. But I’ll be damned if I’ll make a disgraceful spectacle out of us tonight. Not
this
night. It’s got to be discreet—or no game.) “ ‘And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a three-fold cord is not quickly broken.’ ”

(Boss, I like that. This makes up for the funeral I never had. Not even a memorial service.) (But you did have a memorial service, Lively Legs.) (I
did?
Who was there?) (Just me, dear. I hired a little chapel and an organist. I read a couple of poems you used to like. Some flowers. Nothing much.) (Jock, I’m dreadfully touched. Boss! He really
does
love me. Doesn’t he?) (He does, darling—we both do.) (I wish I’d been there, Jock.) (I didn’t know where you
were
, dearest. Maybe just as well, you’re not very well behaved at funerals.) (Oh, pooh all over you, you dirty old ghost—nobody can hear me.) (Careful whom you call a ‘ghost’, Lively Legs; it might slop over onto you. Let Joan get through with this and splash it.)

“ ‘Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might—’ ‘—for thy days are few and they are numbered—’ ‘—man goeth to his long home.’ ‘The silver cord is loosed, the golden bowl is broken.’ From the deep we came, let the body of our brother Jacob now be returned to the deep.”

Joan closed the Book; Fred and Dr. Garcia lifted the end of the grating; the body fell into the water, disappeared.

She turned away, handed the Book to Mrs. Dabrowski. “Here, Olga. Thank you.”

“Joan, that was beautiful. I don’t see how you did it.”

“Wipe your eyes, Olga; farewells must never be sad—and Jake was ready to go. I knew my husband well, Olga; I knew what he wanted, it was not hard.”

She pressed Olga’s hand and turned away. “Winnie! Stop that. Stop it at once. Jake does not want you to cry.” (What makes you think so, Johann? I feel flattered by having a lovely little creature like Winifred weep over me.) (Oh, pipe down, Jake. You were the star of the show, now stop taking bows. Talk to Eunice.) Joan took the smaller woman in her arms. “You mustn’t, Winnie. Really you mustn’t. Think of your baby.”

Winnie bawled against her shoulder. “Joan, don’t you miss him at all?”

“But, darling, how can I miss Jake when he has never left me? The Jewel is
still
in the Lotus, and always will be. Eternal Now.”

“I guess so—but I just can’t
stand
it!”

(Dear Doctor, maybe? He’ll be giving Winnie a sleeping pill, surest thing.) (Not Roberto, Eunice. Under his aggressive atheism he’s got a touch of what he was brought up on, he’d be shocked. Some other night.) “Roberto, you had better take care of Winnie.”

“I will—but are
you
all right?”

“You know I am. I have a prescription for you, however.”

“All right. It won’t hurt you to take a real knocker-outer tonight. Say phenobarb.”

“Let’s
not
say ‘phenobarb.’ My prescription is for Winnie. Get her to eat something. Then sit with her and recite the Money Hum for at least a half hour. Then take her to bed and hold her in your arms and let her sleep. And
you
sleep, sir; you’ve had a rough day, too.”

“All right. Do you want to join us in saying them? We could come to the cabin—then you could go straight to bed. I’ve learned that it’s better than barbiturates.”

“Doctor, if you wish, you may come to my cabin at nine o’clock tomorrow morning—and kick me out of bed if I’m not up. But I will be. Don’t go there any sooner than that. Tonight I shall recite that hypnotic prayer. With Jake. He’ll be able to hear me . . . whether you think so or not.”

“Joan, I have no wish to attack anyone’s faith.”

“You haven’t, dear. I appreciate your solicitude. When I need it, I will draw on it—freely. But now you take care of Winnie.” (Boss, how about Fred? No one to dodge. Jock, you’ll be right in the middle. Lucky Adolf. But Fred won’t know it.) (Eunice, you’re out of your pointy little head. We almost scared Fred to death once before, just by being
us.
Before we got him gentled. Look at him, he’s worse off than Winnie. With nobody to console him. But
we
can’t console him, not this night.)

“Captain.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Let’s bust up this wake. People should not stand around moping. Meal hours have become disorganized; can Hester throw together some cold supper quickly? Perhaps with volunteer help? I’d volunteer but I have something to do.” (Oho! The Tom Cat. Jock, this is going to be fun.) (Lively Legs, is there a man in this vessel you gals haven’t spread for?) (Oh, sure, Jock honey. Hank. He’s got his eye on Eve and thinks we’re an old hag. And now that her Uncle Jock has left her, Eve might trip him.) (Now that I’m dead, I regret having resisted that delicious little jailbait. Wouldn’t have cost me more than a million to buy my way out of trouble—and I had a rich wife.) (If you two lechers will shut up a moment, I’ll set you straight about something.
Not
Thomas Cattus. Certainly not before the midwatch and could be later with this wind against us. Captain Tom Finchley is going to be busy skippering.) “Captain, I want you to get way on and set basic course for San Clemente Island anchorage.”

“Yes, Ma‘am.” He trailed after her, and added softly, “I better start calling
you
‘Captain’ now. Set an example.”

She stopped. They were sufficiently alone that she could speak privately by lowering her voice. “Tom Cat.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t call me ‘Captain’—
you
are Captain until I’ve passed my tests. Then we’ll see. And don’t call me ‘Ma’am.’ I’m either ‘Mrs. Salomon’ or ‘Joan,’ depending on the company, just as before. But in private I’m still your ‘Pussy Cat’. I hope I am.”

“Well . . . okay.”

“Let’s hear you say it.”

“Pussy Cat. Brave little Pussy Cat. Puss, you surprise me more, longer I know you.”

“That’s better. Tom Cat, Jake knew all along about your tomcatting with me.” (Oh, what a lie! Eunice, she
never
told me—and I suspected only once and decided I was mistaken.) (I know, Jock. Boss is a deceitful one and not at all truthful and besides she tells fibs even to
me
.)

“He
did
?”

“Yes, Thomas Cattus. But Jake Salomon was a true gentleman and saw only what he was expected to see. He never teased me about my little follies. Simply indulged me. But he didn’t tell on himself, either. Do you know if he ever made it with Hester?” (Now see here, Johann—) (Pipe down, Jock; I’ve wondered, too.)

“Uh . . . hell, Pussy, all men are alike, all after the same thing.”

“And all women are alike, we’ve all got it. Well?”

“Hester spread for him first chance we gave ‘em. But she didn’t
tell
me. Ashamed. Had to catch ’em at it, then twist her arm.”

“Surely you didn’t hurt her?”

“No, no, Puss, I don’t rough a broad, never. Didn’t catch’em, not to hurt, neither. Backed out fast—then
asked
later. Told her I knew for certain, so how about coming clean, was all. She did. She hadn’t told me—because of
you.
”

“Oh. I trust you then told her about me?”

Her sailing master looked horrified. “Pussy, you think I’m out o’ my frimpin’
head
? Look, I like what you got, just fine. But I ain’t foolish. I don’t rat on broads. If I did, you’d be last on the list. Believe.”