I pointed the pistol at Clovis’s head, stepped toward the pool.. . then stepped back. The knife-he would use the knife when he saw me. He would use it to cut Senegal, or he would use Senegal as a shield to escape.
I glanced over my shoulder, wondering where Shay was, where Ritchie was, as I heard Clovis say, “Darlin’, what don’t you understand about this game? It’s strip poker, but without cards.” There was a nauseating slickness to his laughter. “I win every hand. .. or I cut this old woman’s face a little. Which would be too bad, because-” Clovis got a handful of Senegal’s hair. “-she ain’t too bad-looking.”
He yanked the English woman’s head back, and Beryl yelled, “Leave her alone!”
Clovis grinned. Used the knife like a conductor’s baton: tap-tap-tap. Beryl took a big breath. She began unbuttoning her pants.
“That’s better, darlin’. You make me happy when you cooperate.”
I knelt, put left elbow on knee to steady my hands, and let the man’s head blur behind the precise notch-and-blade of my gun sights. I needed an opening, a few feet of separation.
Clovis put his lips close to Senegal’s ear as he released her hair. “What’s gone wrong with your pretty friend? First night we met, this girl, Beryl, she was eager to cooperate. Oh man, she was so eager! She ripped her clothes off. Hell, she ’bout ripped my clothes off, too. Couldn’t wait to get her rich-girl hands on my sweet bamboo!”
He looked at Beryl. “You don’t remember how sweet it was? How you moaned, first time I gave you what I got? Never felt nothin’ like it, that’s what you said. Ain’t that true, pretty darlin’?”
The way he emphasized the word “true,” I knew he expected Beryl’s signature reply. Hard to imagine the Ice Queen beauty with this Peter Lorre weasel. But there it was.
He said it again. “True?” When she didn’t answer, his tone turned nasty. “But now, instead of bein’ happy to see us local boys, treating me and Ritchie right, the bitch pulls out a silly little popgun. Like she don’t appreciate what I give to her. Bitch-” He pointed the knife at Beryl. “-you try to trick me, you’re gonna end up turning tricks for me.”
For the first time, I noticed the little Colt. 380 on the deck near Clovis’s feet. The gun I’d loaned Senegal.
I looked over my shoulder again, seeing palm trees, seeing pumpkin-sized coconuts on sand, seeing a watery darkness in the distance, but no Ritchie.
I used the SIG’s decocking lever, then hustled to the nearest palm, picked out a coconut, and put it under my arm like a football before jogging to the opposite side of the patio. The hedge was thicker there, but I found an opening and peeked through.
Clovis was facing me now. He’d grabbed Senegal’s hair again, but his eyes were locked on Beryl as she stepped out of her pants, showing long, tanned legs and a golden pubic shadow beneath white panties.
The man grinned his Peter Lorre grin. “That’s nice, darlin’. I think I’m gonna have me some of that. Why don’t you relax, have some fun with your bamboo man? Or maybe you’re the type likes to be forced.”
He stepped away from Senegal. I let him take another step before I lobbed the coconut toward the far end of the pool. Lobbed it like a hand grenade. It was big, oil laden, and sounded like a bowling ball when it hit the water.
Clovis whirled, then crouched. He looked at the pistol lying on the deck, probably thinking he might need it, as I crashed through the hedge and tackled him chest-high. I got a brief look at his eyes-brown, dazed, like protuberant marbles-as we tumbled into the water.
I kept my arms locked around the man as I took him under, pinning his arms to his sides. Maybe he’d held on to the knife, maybe he’d dropped it. It didn’t matter.
I exhaled a slow stream of bubbles as we sank to the bottom-couldn’t have been more than five feet deep. Kept my hands locked as Clovis struggled… waited as his efforts became panicked
… waited, eyes open, watching the oversized bubbles of the man’s ascending scream.
I stayed on the bottom and waited, feeling his chest heave as he inhaled water, then heave again as reflexes demanded oxygen. Gave it another five seconds before I pushed Clovis to the surface… then shoved him away when he began to vomit, unconscious now.
It was one of those kidney-shaped, decorator pools. I got a hand under his chin, walked him to the steps, then pulled him onto the deck. “Where’s Shay?”
Beryl was the first to recover from the shock. “Shay… she left with Ritchie. Ritchie took her to the beach. She pretended she wanted sex, so he wouldn’t force her. They left us with this… animal. I couldn’t help her because of him.”
Beryl had her hands over her breasts, but it was an indifferent modesty. Her denim-blue eyes glazed as she focused on Clovis. I watched Beryl lower her hands. I saw her hands become fists as she started toward the man. He was lying belly-down in his own mess, still alive. I was on one knee, using my belt to bind his arms behind him.
I stood. “Beryl… Beryl. Take it easy. Don’t do something you’ll regret later.”
It stopped her. But I couldn’t tell if she meant it when she answered, “You’re right. Why lower myself? He’s the sicko. Not me.” Icy.
“Get some rope. Or some tape-the belt won’t hold. Can I trust you to keep an eye on him? I’ve got to find Shay.”
Beryl said, “Oh yes. You can trust me,” in a flat, robotic voice as Senegal wrapped an arm over her shoulder, pulled her close, and said, “Hooker taught me all sorts of knots. I’ll do it.”
Senegal, with her bruised cheek, hair a mess, eyes puffy from crying, sounded okay, solid. “Magnificent,” Montbard had said about her. I could see it.
I answered her by shaking my head as I picked up the Colt, checked the chamber, then the clip. "No. I need your help. And I need you to be strong.” I signaled her closer, as Beryl went to retrieve her clothes. “Hooker’s hurt. A dog bit him. It’s his hand and wrist, so I think he’ll be okay. But it’s not nice to look at. He’s in a van behind the house. I want you to collect all the first-aid stuff you can find. And hang on to this in case Ritchie comes back.” I touched the safety, then handed her the gun.
Senegal looked stricken.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough he needs to get to a hospital fast. But it has to be Saint Lucia, not here. That’s important. Understand?”
The woman surprised me, saying, “Then we’ll take him to the plane. Right away.”
I said, “What plane?”
“Shay came in a private plane with a man named Eddie. He’s at the airport now, waiting. We were supposed to be there by ten-thirty. The girls were going to overnight with me on Saint Lucia.”
I was thinking, Eddie DeAntoni. At the marina, he’d asked if I was coming to Saint Lucia alone, or with women.
“What time is it now?”
“Quarter-past-ten.”
“How many does the plane seat?”
“Six, I think he said. It’s very fast and fancy.”
Just like Eddie.
I told Senegal, “Then get going. Tell Beryl. Leave your clothes, leave this guy, just go. In the van, there’s a woman named Norma-you’ll like her. She’s flying with you. Shay will come with me by boat.”
I used the flashlight to signal the van, then ran toward the beach.
I was almost to the lagoon, running hard, when I saw the silhouette of someone jogging toward me. There was no cover, so I dropped to one knee, gun in hand, and watched.
It was Shay. Because I thought Ritchie might be chasing her, I waited until she’d passed before calling her name. When she hesitated, I added, “It’s me. It’s okay. Where’s Ritchie?”
“Doc?” I’d startled her. She walked slowly toward me. “Did you see Beryl and the English woman? Are they okay? Clovis is with them… that’s why I was running, because I was worried-”
I said, “They’re fine. No danger, I promise.” I asked again, “What happened to Ritchie?”
I felt a chill when she replied, “Are you alone? We need to talk.”