The Corpse Without a Country (13 page)

One hand was pinned under me; the other was between my chest and hers. She had me where she seemed to want me.

Her breath was making me a little drunk. Besides, she didn’t have the least idea how to kiss a man, and I wasn’t in the mood to be her teacher. I tried pitching upward from the hips.

Emily weighed a little too much for me.

I turned my hand over, felt bare flesh between my fingers and pinched.

Emily lifted her lips from mine. She murmured, “Oh, lover!”

I gave a twist that threatened to tear every muscle loose. But she moved. Her weight shifted enough for me to get my hand out from between us. I reached behind her and got her halter strap and jerked. Emily went off me, sideways.

She sat up, one arm across her front. The halter was still in my hand. I thrust it at her. “Sorry.”

She gave me a dirty look. I realized that I wasn’t supposed to be sorry; I was supposed to be struck by passion. She had been reading too many modern novels.

I realized, too, that if I went on like this, I was losing a potential ally. I swallowed part of the awful taste in my mouth and got to my knees and maneuvered around behind her.

I whispered, “Here, let me help you put it on.” And before she could say anything, I added, “I need a bath … first.”

She didn’t move. I located a fairly clean-looking spot beneath her right ear and bent forward, nibbling at it. Her breathing took on the quality of a steam engine.

She raised her arm. We fitted the halter into place. I tied it and then got to my feet. She looked dreamily up at me and held out her hands.

“Help me up, Petey.”

Petey!

I helped her up and eased her to the edge of the bunk. She reached out and almost got me by the back of the neck. I let my lips slide off hers and got away just in time.

“With Ridley so near?” I murmured.

She burped and her eyes closed. I lifted her legs and stretched her onto the bunk. She began to relax. A faint snore fluttered her lips apart. I tiptoed up into the pilot house.

Ridley gave me his flat-lipped grin. “Have fun?”

I said, “Let’s have a little talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?” he asked. He sounded surprised. “You’re here. You’re going someplace. Why worry until you get there?”

I said, “I’d kind of like to know where I’m going. I might even want to know how I got here, and why. And I’m wondering why you have your beak in this affair.”

“I like to eat,” he said. “Ever try eating poetry?”

“The college pays you,” I said. I wanted to add a comment about their foolishness in doing so but I held back. He was too fast for me right now and his fist was too hard.

He said, “I like to eat well.”

And that wound up the conversation. To the rest of my questions, I got shrugs for answers.

I wondered if Emily might not be persuaded to wake up and talk. But I was almost afraid to find out. She might wake up and not want to talk.

I went down the companionway into the cabin and looked at her. She stirred but her eyes stayed shut. I touched her shoulder. She rewarded me with a soft, burbled snore.

I pushed her to one side and joined her. The activity had done my head no good at all. I thought it was worth risking her proximity to get a little rest. I might need some strength when I got to wherever Ridley was taking me.

The boat continued on through the chop. It became a lulling motion as I grew used to it. The last thing that crossed my mind before I fell asleep was a thought of Jodi. I could taste Emily’s lips on my mouth. I wondered if I would ever taste Jodi’s again.

I thought of getting up and asking Ridley. But the effort was more than I could manage. I fell asleep.

I
WOKE UP EXPECTING TO FIND
Emily sober after sleeping off the beer and so not interested in me any longer. But I was wrong. When I opened my eyes, she was leaning on one elbow and looking hungrily down into my face. She gave me a tremulous smile. I could feel damp spots on my cheek where she had been kissing me.

I said, “I’m hungry.”

She responded as I always thought a woman should. Instead of arguing or wasting time kissing me some more, she wriggled around me, slid off the bunk, and trotted away.

I rolled over and looked out the port by the bunk. The choppy motion had stopped; we were at anchor. I could see a curved strip of sand beach and behind it a thick stand of timber. We were in the east bay on Boundary Island.

I climbed to the deck. My head still hurt and the taste in my mouth was no better. And I had a loose tooth, thanks to Ridley. But there was life in my muscles again. Considering everything, I felt better than I had any right to feel.

I found the head and washed up. Then I let my nose lead me to the galley. Coffee was bubbling on the kerosene stove; it smelled wonderful. Emily was busily putting together some sandwiches. Ridley hadn’t been in the pilot house and he wasn’t here either.

I said, “Where’s our chum?”

She gave me what I think was meant to be a seductive smile. “Skin diving,” she said. “We don’t want him, do we?”

I agreed that right now we definitely did not want Ridley. I made the statement emphatic and punctuated it by making a pass at the back of her neck with my lips. The cow-eyed look she gave me in return made me feel like a three-dollar bill.

But this was no time for scruples, I told myself. And it was a fine time to have a little chat with Emily. I sat down and let her serve me. When the food was on the table, she joined me at the built-in table, choosing the same side I had. The bench was narrow and Emily wasn’t, but we managed.

I drank a cup of coffee before I felt strong enough to cope with her. Then I said, “Honey, how did you ever get yourself into this mess?”

Emily wasn’t drunk but she hadn’t lost all effects of the beer. Tears began to run out of her eyes and her mouth trembled. She said, “I loved him so much!”

“But you don’t love him now?”

As the Bible puts it, she smote me hip and thigh—but gently. I-retaliated by squeezing my fingers on her bare knee. Then I reached for more coffee.

“How could I … now?” she whispered.

I chose to misunderstand. “Because of the murder?”

She twisted around and stared into my face. “Tom is dead?”

“Not Tom,” I said, “Mike Fenney.”

All I got for that was a blank look. I said, “Do you think Ridley could have killed him?”

“Oh, he wouldn’t; he wouldn’t kill anybody.”

I doubted that but I let it ride. The time had come to get down to cases. I said, “Just how deeply are you involved? What else did you do besides spy at the office?”

“Nothing really,” she whispered. She looked stricken.

I said, “What about the reports Tom made? Didn’t you tell Ridley what was in them?”

She nodded. “I made an extra carbon when I typed them and I gave that to him.”

I said, “Damn it, then he must have given the copies to Ilona. So why would she chase me to try to get the report?”

“Oh, no!” Emily said. “Ridley wouldn’t give her anything. She’s the enemy.”

The hell she was! I said, “Next question: what happened to the wire recording you told the boss you messed up?”

She looked down at the table. “I stole it and gave it to Ridley,” she whispered.

“And who did Ridley give it to?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.” She must have felt my scepticism because she added, “I really don’t, Peter,” as thought the most important thing in the world was my believing her.

And that was as far as I got. Ridley came in from the after deck. He was wearing an overall type rubber diving suit. He had a pair of diving goggles pushed up on his forehead. In his hand he held a spear with a nice, fat salmon impaled on it.

He said, “That’s enough of this collaboration.” I think he was trying to be funny. But when he added, “Get out on deck, Emily,” he didn’t sound at all funny.

She didn’t even look at me as she got out of the booth, walked past him and outside, and shut the door behind her. I started to follow, but Ridley wiggled the tip of his spear at me. “Go back and sit down, hero.” His voice had a sneer in it.

He went on deck. I could see him talking to Emily. He pointed toward the island. Then he helped her get the plastic dinghy from the top of the cabin and launch it. She got in and began to row the short distance to the shore.

Ridley came back inside. He had left his spear on deck and he was carrying the fish in his right hand. I took a step toward him. I said, “I want to talk to the lady some more.”

Ridley sneered. I swung for the sneer. He slapped the fish across my face with a movement of his right hand and then sunk his left into my middle. He was still faster than I.

He tossed the fish into the sink, turned, and went out on deck. He didn’t bother to lock the door. I wasn’t worth the effort.

I went to a porthole and watched Emily rowing ashore. When she reached the beach, she pulled the dinghy up onto the sand and walked away, westward into the timber. She acted as if she knew where she was going.

I wasn’t through talking to Emily. The more I thought about questioning her, the more urgent the need became. I went aft, opened the door, and stepped out on deck.

Ridley was gone and so was his spear. It was beginning to darken. The sun had finished its slide behind the peaks of Vancouver Island and the long, lovely purple shadows of evening were stretching out from the island toward the boat. The cool, crisp air tasted wonderful.

I decided Ridley was spear fishing again, and I waited for him. The darkness was growing heavy when he came up the jack ladder. He was still carrying his spear, empty this time. He pushed up his goggles, saw me, and grinned. “Nice time of night, isn’t it.”

I said, “What did you do with Jodi?”

“Jodi? Oh, you mean the cute little artist. I haven’t seen her since the night she tried to kick me into impotence.” If he was lying, he was doing a good job of it.

He went to work to strip off his rubber suit. I might not have been there for all the trouble he took to protect himself. He was either very sure that he could handle me or he assumed I wouldn’t attack him when he was in no position to defend himself.

But as far as Ridley was concerned, I’d parked my chivalry back in Puget City. I let him get the suit half off, so that his arms were tangled in it, and then I let him feel both fists on the side of his head.

He was bent over. He made one of those quick moves, stepping away from me, and jerked his arms free of the rubber suit. I didn’t wait for him to get his fist cocked. I charged, ramming my head into his middle. His grunt was a symphony in my ears.

He went backwards against the railing. He hung there, his arms flailing for balance. He made a beautiful target. I aimed for it.

I ground my left into his mouth, giving him back the fat lip he’d given me earlier. I brought my right around and flattened his ear. Then I stepped back and watched him hit the water. He landed flat on his back, sending up a fine spray.

I hauled the ladder up on deck.

And now everything was going my way. All I had to do was start the boat and go for help.

Before I could even get the motor started, the inevitable fly came buzzing around the south headland and landed bow-first in my ointment.

Reese Fullers sleek cruiser came fast through the darkness, riding without lights, and aimed for the fishboat. I had a glimpse of Ridley treading water and waving. The cruiser slowed, swerved, and went to pick him up.

I had no illusions about trying to outrun Reese’s twin screw job with the fishboat. I went forward and dove off the port bow. When I surfaced, I started swimming for the beach.

For a while I thought I had it made. I reached the shallows, floundered up onto the beach, and sprinted for the trees. I was nice and dark behind them, with the protective kind of darkness that I needed very badly right now.

A powerful searchlight on top of the cruiser’s cabin came alive and sprayed white glare over me. A voice yelled, “There he goes!”

Someone let loose with a rifle. The bullet raked a tree trunk not three feet to my left. I went heading into underbrush that slashed at my bare skin.

I tripped and fell and lay thinking that whatever had gone on before no longer counted. Now, they were playing for keeps.

I
UNTANGLED MYSELF FROM THE
brush and started running again. The character with the rifle kept shooting his bullets into the darkness. None came very close, but they did keep me moving.

A fat piece of moon now and then slanted a little light down through the trees, but for the most part I ran in deep darkness. My bare feet began to hurt like the devil, but I didn’t dare stop.

Once I stopped to get my wind. I couldn’t hear the rifle any longer but I could hear soft waves washing the shore. I realized that for all my running I hadn’t got very far. I was almost back to the beach.

I listened some more before moving on. I heard the sound of a motor rise and then fall away. A moment later I heard it again, closer. Then it died. Almost on its heels came the sound of another motor, this one less powerful. It too died. I placed the second motor as south of the island. I thought the first sound had come from the west, but I couldn’t be sure.

I began running again, but this time I was more careful. I stopped now and then to orient myself. After about forty minutes, I reached the bare peak that was the high point of the island. Here I sat down to rest and to look around for what I might see.

I looked at the stars and the rising piece of moon. I studied the warm glow of cities and towns not really very far from where I sat. I watched the running lights of a large freighter as it felt its way through the strait. I stared hungrily at the little dots of light on the islands to the south.

The world was full of people. A good many of them were only a few minutes away by air or car or boat. But I was very much alone. I was sitting on a bare knob of rock on a square mile of island, naked except for a pair of damp shorts, and slowly congealing in the night air.

I wondered if Ridley and Reese were going to wait until daylight to come ashore and hunt me down. Or did they think I was important enough to find and kill now?