was splashing frantically several yards from the boat. He wrestled the body upright and pulled it against the ladder, trying to get one of the arms in over the rungs. The weight of the water carried it under. Every time his grip relaxed it slipped again.
Betty seized him around the neck from behind in a frantic clutch. Vince’s body slipped again, and for an instant Shayne almost lost his hold.
“I can’t swim,” she said complainingly.
He swore at her, trying to fight her off with one elbow without letting go of Vince. Above at the window, the lamp had pulled out again and Lee was calling, “Betty?” From the stern, the man and the girl who had been smoking reefers looked down idly.
Thrashing around, Betty pulled him under. He wanted to find out what had happened to Vince, and he didn’t really care what happened to Betty. But between a dead man and a live girl, he had no choice. The body was now entirely submerged. Betty’s throat gurgled in his ear. He forced the body back to the surface for an instant, looped the loose line around its chest and tried again to catch one of the arms in the ladder. When he let go, the body hung precariously.
He pushed off with a powerful backward kick. In the clear, he quickly broke Betty’s grip on his neck, bringing his shoulder up hard beneath her jaw to make her easier to manage. He brought her back to the ladder with one sweep of his arm. He yelled at Lee. The light came back on. The beam stabbed downward, and he saw the black shoulder slide past the ladder. He grabbed for it. His fingers slid across the hard surface without finding anything to fasten on. Then it went under.
He whipped the light line around Betty’s arm, fumbling the end into a loose knot. He tried to wedge her against the rope with her head out of water, but it couldn’t be done. He made a sweeping motion with one arm, groping down and away, reaching as far as he could without letting go of Betty. The tide was running strongly. He felt the pressure of the current against his spread fingers, but there was no doubt now that the body was gone.
He gave the line a tug to be sure the bait bucket was still secure. Then he hoisted Betty’s limp body on one shoulder and climbed toward the light.
12
He swung through into the cabin. Betty’s head knocked against the sill as he pulled her after him. But after what he had gone through on her account, he saw no reason to handle her gently.
Holding her like a partly open jackknife, her head down, he let the water she had swallowed drain out onto the carpet. He shook her, then dumped her on the floor to start artificial respiration. He took the lower part of her rib cage in both hands and came down hard. She spewed out more water, diluted with Scotch. He helped her expel one more breath. When her eyes opened he got up off his knees, leaving her to recover the rest of the way by herself.
She flopped over on her back, her wet slip clinging to her thighs. Her long hair was as stringy as seaweed.
She looked up at him accusingly. “Where’s Vince?”
“I thought you said it was a Negro,” Shayne said in a disgusted voice.
He went into the bathroom and returned with a large, rough towel. He rubbed his coarse red hair briskly. Lee watched him from near the window, her eyes wide.
“Was it really Vince?”
Steve put his head in the door. “What’s going on in here, may I ask? Vince said to be quiet. This is a ritzy neighborhood, somebody’s going to report us. Wait and see.”
“You drowned him,” Betty said flatly, staring up at Shayne. “You drowned him like a kitten.”
“Yeah.” Shayne tossed her the towel. “Dry yourself off. You look like a drowned cat yourself.”
She shook the towel off and came to her feet, her eyes blazing. “He had on his scuba suit. It was only a joke! He’s always doing things like that.” She whirled toward Lee. “Isn’t he? You know how he’s always popping out of the water to scare people.”
“He was just floating there,” she said doubtfully.
“He was fine! He had his oxygen! Then this guy jumped on him and opened up his zipper and held his head under water.”
“Now why would I do anything like that?” Shayne said reasonably.
“For the good of society! I know the way your mind works. Just because he can’t cope, just because he gives himself a shot once in a while, you think he ought to be drowned like a damn kitten!”
Ignoring her, Shayne sat on the edge of the bed and stripped off his wet socks. He dried his feet on a pillow case.
“Do you think I’m going to let you get away with it?” Betty was standing over him, her fists clenched. Suddenly she began beating him on the top of his head with both fists. “Why couldn’t you give him a break? What did he ever do to you?”
He caught her arms and moved her out of his way. She was sputtering incoherently. When she tried to kick him between the legs he turned her around and put her down emphatically on the bed.
“Goddamn it, if you hadn’t jumped on me-” He waved in disgust. “Will you shut up?”
He had one more thing to do before he left. Vince’s death would have to be reported, but first he wanted to pull in the bait bucket and get it out of sight.
“I don’t understand what happened,” Steve said, puzzled. “What did you say about Vince?”
The other couple, wearing a minimum of clothing, had floated in from the stern in search of entertainment. The man said, “Vince go for a swim?” He giggled.
Lee had been on Shayne’s side while he was in the water, but now she seemed to be wavering.
“I couldn’t tell, Steve, it was so dark down there. I saw him open Vince’s suit. He did hold him underwater.”
“I thought you’d decided to be friendly,” Shayne remarked.
“I can’t feel very friendly toward people who go around drowning-”
Shayne swung out over the windowsill. Betty flung herself at him.
“He’s going to swim ashore!”
She caught him by the hair, jerking him inward, and Lee hit him with the empty Scotch bottle. She hadn’t completely made up her mind about him, and checked her swing at the last instant. He fell in across the sill and slid back into the cabin. Betty was all over him, scratching, kicking, pummeling the back of his head. Shayne felt a blaze of anger. Coming to his feet, he gripped her by the wet hair and swung her around.
“Will everybody listen to me?” he said savagely. “Let’s hope it penetrates. There was a stickup on Normandy Isle at about seven-thirty tonight. Vince threw this party so a watchman could testify that he was on board at seven-thirty, and five other people could testify that he was in bed with Betty and a bagful of junk. Betty saw him- hold still, damn you-Betty saw him mainline the stuff with her own two eyes, and she was so disappointed in him that she packed away a fifth of good Scotch. But this one time Vince didn’t use heroin. There are his clothes.” He pointed the struggling girl at the open closet. “He swam across to Normandy Isle and two old friends from St. Louis picked him up in a stolen car. He pulled the job and swam back. Don’t ask me why he couldn’t haul himself up the ladder. If Betty had kept out of it, we’d probably know.”
“Vince didn’t ever stick up anybody,” Steve said scornfully. “It’s not the kind of thing he goes in for.”
“There’s a first time for everything. Now there’s something down in the water I want to get. Relax for a minute.”
He pushed Betty toward the bed. The instant he let go of her she whirled and attacked him again.
“Who are you, anyway? I never saw you before in my life. You’re no friend of his.”
Lee put in, “He said he’s a detective.”
The word was like kerosene on a dying fire. Steve howled, “You bastards, when are you going to start minding your own business? What harm did Vince do you? But you’ve got to make your arrest quota, don’t you? He’s never been pulled in before. Naturally he didn’t want you to take him in for possession! Naturally he jumped out the
