In contrast, his mouth became dry. Disturbed, he swallowed more Coke. “Is it a coincidence that the man happened to show up and pick me as a victim while I was looking for my friend, who happened not to show up? I try to keep an open mind. I do my best to have healthy skepticism. But the coincidence is too hard to ignore. I have to believe that my friend and the man with the knife are connected.”
“And he was trying to stop you from helping your friend?”
“Unless you can think of a better explanation.”
“Well, one part of your logic troubles me. Since she didn’t show up, you wouldn’t have been able to know what she wanted, so it wouldn’t have been necessary for you to be stopped.”
“Or maybe-”
Buchanan’s heartbeat matched the thump-thump-thump of the paddlewheeler’s engine.
“Maybe someone was afraid that when she didn’t show up, I’d become so upset that I wouldn’t stop until I found out where she was and why she needed me.” Buchanan’s voice hardened. “If so, they were right to be afraid. Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
10
The steamboat rounded a bend.
“At the hospital, you said you had something for me to look at.”
Holly straightened. “Yes. But you wouldn’t give me a chance.”
“Because I wanted my belongings back. Now I’ve got them.” Despite his headache, Buchanan mustered strength. He had to keep playing the game. “I’ll look at whatever it is you want me to see. Anything it takes to settle your suspicions. I need to help my friend. But I can’t do it if you keep interfering. Ask the rest of your questions. I want to be done with this.”
Holly opened her purse, studied him as if doubtful about something, then pulled three folded newspaper clippings from an envelope.
Puzzled, Buchanan took them and glanced at the date at the top of the first one. “Six days ago.” He frowned.
He frowned harder when he saw that the story was datelined Fort Lauderdale.
EXPLOSION KILLS THREE
FT. LAUDERDALE-A powerful explosion shortly before midnight last night destroyed a car in the parking lot of Paul’s-on-the-River restaurant, killing its occupant, identified by a remnant of his driver’s license as Robert Bailey, 48, a native of Oklahoma. The explosion also killed two customers leaving the restaurant. Numerous other cars were destroyed or damaged. Charred fragments of a substantial amount of money found at the scene have prompted authorities to theorize that the explosion may have been the consequence of a recent escalating war among drug smugglers.
His heart now pounding faster than the thump-thump-thump of the paddlewheeler’s engine, Buchanan lowered the clipping and turned to Holly. No matter what, he couldn’t let her detect his reaction. His head ached even more fiercely. “All those people killed. A terrible thing. But what does this have to do with me? Why did you show it to-?”
“Are you denying that you knew Robert Bailey?”
“I don’t know anything about this.”
And that was certainly the truth, Buchanan thought.
He strained to look calm as dismay flooded through him.
Holly squinted. “Mostly, he called himself ‘Big Bob’ Bailey. Maybe that refreshes your memory.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Jesus, Buchanan, you are making me impatient. You and I both know he bumped into you in Cancun. I was there.”
Buchanan felt as if he’d been jolted by electricity.
“I was watching from a corner of the restaurant,” Holly said. “Club Internacional. I saw it happen. That’s when all your trouble started. When Bailey stumbled into one of your lives.”
Buchanan came close to revealing his shock.
“Those two drug dealers became suspicious when Bailey called you Crawford instead of Potter. They took you down to the beach. Bailey went after you. He told me later that he interrupted a fight. You shot the two drug dealers and their bodyguard. Then you ran along the beach into the night, and the police arrested Bailey, thinking he was responsible.”
“You’re not a reporter. You’re a fiction writer. When was this supposed to have happened? I’ve never been to Cancun. I’ve never. .”
“Not as Brendan Buchanan you haven’t, but you sure as hell were there as Ed Potter. I told you I was in the restaurant. I saw it happen!”
How? Buchanan thought. How did she get there? How did she know I’d be there? How did-?
“You saw me taking pictures of you outside the jail in Merida,” Holly said. “Of course, that doesn’t prove you knew Bailey, even though I saw the police bring him in to see you at the jail. But later, near Pier Sixty-six in Fort Lauderdale, you saw me photographing you and Bailey talking to each other in the channel. I already showed you the pictures I took.”
“You showed me photographs, yes, and I admit one of the men did have some resemblance to me. He wasn’t me,” Buchanan said. “But he did resemble me. The thing is, I’ve never been to Fort Lauderdale, either.”
“I believe you.”
“Good.”
“As Brendan Buchanan. But as Victor Grant, you very definitely have been to Fort Lauderdale.”
Buchanan shook his head as if disappointed that she persisted in her delusion. “And one of the men in the photographs you showed me is Bailey?”
Holly looked exasperated.
“I don’t get it,” Buchanan said. “Did you know this Bailey? Were you following him? Why are you so interested in. .?”
“I wasn’t following him. I was following you. And why am I interested in Bailey? Because he worked for me.”
Buchanan felt his stomach cramp.
Two children ran by, clambering down stairs to a lower deck. Their mother hurried after them, shouting for them to be careful. Buchanan was grateful for the interruption.
“Oh, he wasn’t working for me when he bumped into you in Cancun,” Holly said. “But I made sure he was working for me after that. What’s the word you people use? I recruited him. A thousand dollars, plus expenses. Bailey was really down on his luck. He didn’t think twice before he accepted.”
“That’s still a lot of money for a reporter to be able. .”
“Big story. Big expense account.”
“Your editor won’t be happy when your story doesn’t hang together.”
Holly looked furious. “Are you on another planet? Do they teach you people to deny everything no matter how obviously true it is? Or are you so out of touch with reality that you can honestly convince yourself that none of this happened, because it happened to someone else, even though that someone else is you?”
“I’m sorry about what happened to Bailey,” Buchanan said. “I meant what I told you. It’s a terrible thing. But you have to believe me-I had nothing to do with it.”
Who did, though? Buchanan thought. How did-?
The answer was suddenly obvious.
They had plastic explosive in the walls of the cooler I gave him. When he got in his car, he must have opened the cooler to look at the money and. .
That’s all he had to do to detonate it-open the cooler.
But what if he’d opened the cooler while I was with him?
“What’s the matter?” Holly asked.
“. . Excuse me?”
“You turned pale again.”
“It’s just this headache.”
“I thought perhaps it was because you’d glanced at the second clipping.”