"You are a soldier?"
"I was. I left the Army in January.", I told him.
"Why?"
Was his theory now that I was a crazy soldier killing for no reason? I reached down and pulled up my pant leg, exposing the zipper factory that my right knee had become. "I made one jump too many."
"A jump?", he asked, confused.
Marilyn spoke up at this, angrily. "My husband was an officer in the Eighty-Second Airborne, and decorated for bravery! Why are you treating him like a criminal?! Those men stole my purse, and a bunch of others, and he stopped them! Why are you arresting him!? You should be arresting them! Let us go!"
I took her hand and pulled her close. "It's all right, just settle down. Things will be fine." I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and hugged her. The last thing I needed was to have Marilyn thrown in jail with me. If nothing else, she needed to be free to call a lawyer!
Javier looked at me with a wry smile. "Are you sure you were the soldier and not your wife?"
"My wife is very protective.", I replied, also smiling.
He turned to face Marilyn. "You are not under arrest. You have never been under arrest. I simply wanted you kept together so we could talk. We have already arrested those men. I simply wanted to hear your side of everything."
Marilyn was still looking mulish, but I just patted her hand. "They've been arrested?", I asked.
Javier nodded. "You are an extremely fortunate man, Mister Buckman. We have been after this gang for several months. If they are who I think they are, you are lucky to be alive."
Marilyn gasped at that, but I just gave him a curious look. "Oh?"
"Yes, they are a mix of pickpockets and strong arm thieves. They go from island to island, which makes it difficult to track them or know if it is the same group. Two of them are pickpockets, and they go through and lift wallets, like yours, and then when they leave, they race through and steal purses. The third man takes care of anybody who tries to stop them. We think this is the same group that killed a German tourist in February, with a knife. You are lucky."
I thought about it for a second, and then looked over at my wife, who was white as a ghost and shaking. I just hugged her some more. "No Assistant Superintendant, I'm not. They were just very unlucky. I was in the airborne artillery, but we were all combat soldiers. Those men are lucky. I knew guys who would eat them for breakfast."
He snorted at that. "Well, I'd prefer if you didn't tell the reporters that."
"Reporters? What reporters?"
He grinned at me. "The reporters outside the clinic. This is a very small island, and very peaceful. The local reporter for the Guardian is out there, and probably the fellow for the Journal. This is national news!"
I stared at him in disbelief. "Oh, please, you have got to be kidding me!" He shook his head and I gave my wife a horrified look. "This just gets better and better! The next time, I'm letting them take the purse, the wallet, and you!"
"I'm not talking to any newspapers!", she told me.
"Shit!", I muttered. Then I looked over at Javier. "Okay, but if you want me to behave, you need to get me some clean clothes." I looked at Marilyn, and she had some blood on her sundress. "Her, too."
"Mmmm?", he replied, noncommittally.
"Mmmm! Yes. You know where La Valencia is? Send Mister Talkative here out there and bring us back some clean clothing. Then I'll see your reporters and sing the praises of the Bahamas. Sound reasonable?"
"Reasonable." He motioned our guard out. "So, you are staying at La Valencia." He looked at me curiously. He must have known what it cost to stay there.
"You know it?"
"I know it. I shall also have a talk with Mister Finch. I know him, too."
"It's a small island, isn't it?"
"And very friendly and peaceful. Remember that when you talk to the reporters.", he replied.
"Well, then why don't you be friendly and get one of your officers to drive our car back to La Valencia for us. No way am I up to driving around tonight. Or is it the morning already?" I turned to Bellinger, still listening in. "Hey, Doc, what about those painkillers you mentioned. My arm is starting to kill me!" The Novocain had worn off and my entire arm was throbbing. "I'll be able to say the words friendly and peaceful better if my arm doesn't hurt so much!"
Doctor Bellinger left and came back with a bottle of pills. "These are Tylenol with codeine. Take one now, and don't drink while you are taking them. They should have the pain and inflammation down in a day or so, but if you still have pain after that, come back and I can give you something a little stronger. These should be good, though."
I nodded to him and popped open the bottle. I dry swallowed one, and then said, "Thanks. I've had them before. These should be okay." Codeine is not my drug of choice, since it makes me nauseous. In fact, most opiates make me nauseous. If nothing else, this would keep me from becoming an addict to pain pills. I'd take another after we got out of here and he wasn't watching. Marilyn would complain, but that's pretty much a wife's main job, and I didn't need her doing her job in front of the doctor.
The doctor left, and Assistant Superintendant Javier excused himself, saying he'd be right outside. Marilyn and I shrugged at each other and sat back down on the exam table. "Are we really going to have reporters out there?", she asked in disbelief.
"It must be a slow news day in the Bahamas.", I answered.
"Why are you being so nice with that Javier guy!? He was awful to you!"
I smiled at that. "He was just doing his job. Trust me, he could have been a whole lot worse!"
"How? How could he be any worse?!", demanded Marilyn.
"Well, for one thing, he could have thrown us both in jail!", I said with a laugh.
"Jail! For what?"
"Well, let's see. A couple of drunk foreigners start raising hell in a quiet local restaurant. The wife, dressed provocatively, by the way..." Marilyn looked shocked at that, but I continued. " ... starts dancing around the place and bothering people. Her husband, equally drunk and rowdy, gets in a barroom brawl, wrecking the place and putting three innocent locals into the hospital with life threatening injuries. How does that sound for a scenario?"
"That's ... that's crazy!", she sputtered.
'Yeah? Well, it's also highly possible! What if there's a fourth guy in the crowd, who swears I attacked them? What if the bartender or a waitress is in cahoots with the bad guys? We end up in jail while the cops sort things out. I've been in jail, honey, and you wouldn't do well there."
Marilyn stared at me for a few seconds. "You're serious."
"It happens. Now, the odds of anything bad happening in the Bahamas are pretty remote. The U.S. is right next door and the locals know where their money comes from. Still, why take a chance? If I need to smile and say nice things about the Bahamas to the reporters, it is a cheap price to pay. Trust me, by this time tomorrow, this will have all blown over and we'll be able to finish our vacation quietly."