Why should I care? I reasoned to myself. I was being paid to teach him to shoot not to act as a mental nurse.
'Suits me.'
I unclipped the telescopic sight, ran a rag over it, unscrewed the silencer and put it and the sight into the box. I put the rifle back in its case and the box and the rifle case into the gun rack.
'Nine tomorrow, then?'
'That's it, soldier.'
I left the gallery and started across the hot sand to the bungalow. The time was 19.34.
Lucy had finished painting. As I walked into the living- room, I heard the shower going. I went to the liquor cabinet, took out a bottle of scotch and poured a slug. I drank it neat, then went into the bedroom.
Lucy came out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her.
'Did you bring Tim with you?' she asked, darting to the closet to find a dress.
'No. Raimundo is taking care of him. You finished with the shower?'
The note in my voice made her turn quickly. She saw the bruise and the swelling on my face.
'What happened? Your face !'
I stripped off my shirt.
'It's nothing, honey.'
'But what happened?'
I told her.
'He's as nutty as a fruit cake.' I said as I kicked off my shoes. 'Our luck . . . to get landed with him.'
She held the towel around her as she stared at me.
'I can't believe it. He hit you!'
I took off my slacks.
'He carries quite a punch. Anyway, what's it matter? In the state he was in he'd have hit his own father.'
I went into the shower. After standing under the cold water for some minutes, I felt more relaxed. I dried off and came back into the bedroom.
Lucy had put on a dress. She sat on the bed and watched me while I threw on slacks and shirt.
'Why did he hit you, Jay?'
'He was worked up. I don't know. He looked as if he were going to throw a fit.'
'But what did you do to him?'
'I did nothing to him !' I found I was shouting at her. I throttled back. 'I'm sorry, Lucy. I'm getting worked up myself. What's for supper?'
'There's something terribly wrong. He wouldn't hit anyone. This worries me.'
'Well, he hit me.' I tried to grin, but it didn't come off. 'He's neurotic. Let's forget him. I've had him in my hair all day. What's for supper?'
She got up.
'Would you like eggs and ham or do you want something more fancy?' Her voice was unsteady and her eyes cloudy.
'Eggs and ham would be fine. Come do . . . I'll help.'
We went into the kitchen and I sat on the table while she got the eggs from the refrigerator.
'Is he coming to sleep here?'
'I don't think so. I hope not.' I watched her as she set the frying pan on the stove. 'Now look, Lucy, don't get worked up. He has a screw loose. I'm sure of it. I should have let Raimondo handle him from the start. We made the mistake of being soft with him. Raimondo says he starts shooting tomorrow morning. That's all I want to hear. Let's forget him for tonight. I've had enough of him.'
She turned to face me.
'He's desperately frightened.'
'You call it one thing. I call it another. Let's forget him for God's sake!'
'Yes. Jay.'
I watched her break the eggs into the hot fat.
'You've forgotten the ham.'
She flushed and began to dither. She turned off the gas and put on the grill.
'That's not a hot idea, is it?'
She started shaking.
'Oh, Jay, I'm so worried. What does all this mean?'
'You're making a mess of our dinner,' I said. 'Come on, Lucy, forget him !'
I left her and went out on to the verandah. Maybe I was being unkind, but I had had enough of Timoteo Savanto and my jaw ached.
