The Crimes of Jordan Wise

having problems with her just as he'd predicted and I felt like six kinds of fool for taking her back. It was typical of him that he didn't give me any I-told-you-so's. All he said was, 'You got no exclusive on being a fool, mon.'

I laid the groundwork for her disappearance by saying that she'd been acting secretive of late and I thought it was because she'd been having an affair and might be thinking about leaving me again. I said I needed a few days at sea, on Windrunner in case she had any notions of leaving while I was gone and taking more of my possessions with her, but that I didn't want to go out alone. It took some coaxing, but he finally agreed to accompany me. I'd already called the Weather Center and the forecast was good for the next several days. We set a sail date for Monday morning, three days hence.

On Friday Annalise asked to use the Mini. Beach trip, she said. I said no, I had a lot of errands to run. Well, would I drop her off downtown? I said, 'Why? You have a rendezvous with the man you're screwing?' That set off a fresh rush of indignant denials. She wasn't screwing anybody, she said, why couldn't I stop making these ridiculous accusations? But if she did have an affair, who could blame her since I couldn't do anything for her anymore. Underneath her pique was the emotion I'd intended to stir up: anxiety. She didn't want to push me too hard or too far; she still needed me to pay for her ride. So she lapsed into a pout and the old 'Why are you so mean to me?' bit. I dropped the subject. I had what I wanted. If whoever she'd been sleeping with was still on the island, she'd stay clear of him for the next couple of days.

To get her away from the marina, I gave her enough money for the Water Island ferry and a day at Honeymoon Beach. When she was gone, I drove over to Red Hook and picked up a new mizzen at a sailmaker's shop. On the way back, I made two more stops in Charlotte Amalie. The first was a marine hardware store, where I bought two small hasps and padlocks, two extra padlocks, two lengths of anchor chain, and several lead sinkers. The second stop was an air-conditioning and refrigeration dealer, where I bought several packs of Freon refrigerant.

On Windrunner, I stored the Freon packs in the big ice chest in the galley, under ice to keep them frozen. Then I installed one hasp-and-padlock on the door to the aft sail locker, emptied the locker of the spare sails stored there, and put the lengths of anchor chain and the extra padlocks inside. I stowed the old spare mizzen and the lead sinkers under the berth in the main cabin. The new mizzen and the other spare sheets went into the forward sail locker, the second hasp-and-padlock onto that door. Annalise wouldn't notice the new locks. I knew Bone would; if he asked me about them I'd say somebody had been seen prowling around the yawl and it had prompted me to take security measures.

In the main cabin I plundered a dozen tablets from Annalise's extra supply of Valium. She wouldn't miss them. She had a half-full bottle in her purse; I'd checked on that the night before while she was in the head. I emptied out an aspirin tin, put the dozen Valium inside and the tin into my pocket.

After lunch, I ran Windrunner over to the fuel dock and topped off the gas and water tanks. I knew the Puerto Rican who manned the pumps fairly well. I pulled a long face when I came in and grumbled enough to get him to ask what was the matter. 'Problems with my wife,' I said. 'I think she's fixing to run out on me again.' He was sympathetic.

Maybe I ought to show her who was boss, he said. 'Slap her around?' I said. 'HeU, no. I've never laid a hand on her and I never will.'

That finished the preparations. Now I was ready to build the wall.

Saturday morning, I let Annalise have the Mini to go shopping. She was back in time for lunch, and she stayed on board Windrunner all afternoon, sunning herself and sipping rum punches on the foredeck, while I made pre-sailing checks and went over the charts. I hadn't told her I was going out, of course, and she didn't know enough about boats to understand what I was doing.

That night she tried to kindle some sexual interest in me. Her hands felt like sea slugs on my bare skin. I said, 'Leave me alone, will you? I'm too tired,' and rolled away from her.

Sunday, her last day, she slept late and moped around when she finally got up. She suggested we go to Harry's Dockside Cafe for lunch; I said I didn't feel like it, why didn't she just go by herself. I gave her some money—twice as much as she needed to buy a meal. As I expected, she spent the extra on liquor; she was tight when she came back, and she didn't seem to care whether I noticed or not. I didn't say anything to her about it. She stayed in the cabin for a time—more liquor, Valium, or both—and passed the rest of the afternoon sleeping in the shade on the foredeck.

I thought I might be a little apprehensive as construction time grew near, but I wasn't. My resolve was too strong, the hate as cold as the Freon packs in the chest below. That's not to say I was looking forward to finishing the wall. No one in his right mind looks forward to a job like that.

Annalise woke up about five thirty. She said she could use a drink; she was bleary-eyed from a combination of the ones she'd had at lunch and the afternoon heat. I said I was hungry, we'd eat first and then have drinks. Supper was day-old French bread, some ripe Camembert, and papaya. While she was setting the table, I poured two large glasses from a bottle of red wine. With my back to her, I slipped two tablets from the tin of Valium and stirred them into her glass. She emptied half the wine before she even looked at her food. Neither of us ate much.

When her glass was empty, she asked for a rum punch. I built it strong, stirred in two more Valium tablets with the pineapple juice and Grenadine. She said when I handed it to her, 'Let's go topside. It's like an oven down here.'

'It's not that bad. There's the fan and a breeze through the porthole.'

'Why can't we go up on deck?'

'I feel like sitting here tonight.'

'Dammit, Richard, sometimes I think you're trying to torture me. Haven't I done enough penance for my sins?'

'I have no intention of torturing you,' I said. 'On the contrary. I'm making it as easy for you as I can.'

'Then why can't we go up on deck? This damn heat is making me woozy.'

'Drink your drink. You'll be all right.'

She drank it. And the refill I gave her, that one more slowly. I made the third with three full jiggers of rum and three Valium tablets.

'Whoo, that's strong,' she said when she tasted it. 'Trying to get me drunk, fella? Take advantage of me?'

'Yes,' I said.

'Well. Well, well, well. I better slow down, then, don't want to pass out.'

'We have plenty of time.' I raised my glass. 'Cheers.'

'Up your poop chute,' she said, and giggled.

She was sweating heavily by the time she finished half that drink. Her eyes had an unfocused glaze. She pushed the glass away.

'Had enough,' she said. 'Too much. Rum and wine . . . shouldn't mix.'

I pushed it back. 'Go on, drink up.'

'Why?'

'Drink it, Annalise. Can't let good liquor go to waste.'

She drank it, gagging on the last swallow. 'No more, no more.' She sat staring blankly at the empty glass. Then, slurring the words, 'Jesus, I feel shitty.'

I didn't say anything.

'Can't keep my eyes open. So hot in here . . .'

I didn't say anything.

'Think I'm gonna be sick . . .'

She started to get up, lurched a little and would have fallen if I hadn't cought her. I eased her down onto the double berth. She struggled in my grasp, tried to stand up again.

'No, the bathroom . . .'

'Stay right here.'

' . . . spinning . . .'

'Close your eyes. Lie still.'

I held her down until she stopped struggling, then turned her onto her side and knelt beside the bunk. Her