shotgun.
“Thought I might take a walk in the woods and bag something for supper.”
“Sure,” Scott said. “A good idea. I never get time now for shooting. You could find coot or pigeon.”
So the following morning after a swim, Johnny took the gun with a pocketful of 6 shot cartridges and told Freda he would be back for lunch.
“Don’t get lost,” she warned him. “Keep to the path and don’t go far.”
He spent the whole morning in the jungle and enjoyed himself. He bagged four pigeons and two wild duck, and he felt ten feet tall as he walked into the kitchen where Freda was cooking steaks.
“Quite the man around the home,” she said as he showed her the birds. “Suppose, this afternoon, you go on making yourself useful? I’ve asked Ed to put up four shelves over there. If I’ve asked him once, I’ve asked him twenty times. The wood’s all cut. How about it?”
“Sure,” Johnny said. “I’ll fix it.”
They had lunch, then went to bed together and around 15.00 Freda said she would go across to the village and collect the mail and the newspaper.
“I’ll fix the shelves.”
It was because he spent the next two hours in the kitchen that Toni, sweltering in the sun, didn’t catch a glimpse of him, but he did see Freda as she came on deck, got in the motorboat and headed towards him.
Hastily, Toni hid the field glasses and lifted the rod from its clip.
Freda’s boat passed him by a hundred feet and he was aware she looked at him. He kept his head lowered and flicked the rod with what he hoped was a professional movement.
Some chick! he thought. Man! Could he use a piece of tail like her!
If it were really Johnny holed up in the houseboat, Toni thought, he certainly had it good. But was it Johnny? He surveyed the houseboat once again with his glasses, but he saw no sign of life. Hell! He was getting roasted alive out in this goddamn sun and he was aware that there were no other fishermen on the lake. Maybe he had better go back. He could be attracting attention Thy sitting out in the boat like this. Again he searched the houseboat with his glasses, then still seeing nothing, he laid the rod down and decided to return. He would come out later when the sun was less fierce.
Unused to the sun, he was now getting painfully sunburned. He moved over to the outboard engine, caught hold of the starting handle and yanked. There was a splutter and nothing else. Cursing, he yanked on the cord again. Again no results.
He glared at the engine and cursed it. Four more times he yanked at the starting cord with sweat streaming off him, but the engine wouldn’t fire. He sat on the side of the boat, his shirt soaked with sweat.
Salvadore had told him he would have no trouble with the engine. All he had to do was to pull the cord. Now the bastard wouldn’t start! He could get burned alive out here!
He had been crazy to have used the boat! He knew nothing about boats, or outboard engines. He couldn’t even swim! He looked longingly at the cool water around him.
His gun harness was chafing his skin. He was wearing it under his shirt. He reached inside the shirt, undid the harness and took it off, laying the gun by the fishing rod.
What the hell was he to do?
He went back to the engine and dragged at the cord. The engine spluttered and died.
Then he heard the phut-phut of an approaching motorboat. Looking up, he saw Freda returning from Little Creek. He waved to her and she cut her engine and steering her boat, came drifting up to him.
“Are you in trouble?” she asked.
Toni stared at her. His eyes took in the sweep of her breasts, the firm outline of her buttocks, her blonde hair and her brilliant blue eyes.
“Yeah. She won’t start.”
“It’s the heat. You’re oiled up. Take the plug out and clean it. You’ll start then.”
Toni looked around.
“I’ve got no tools.”
“I’ll do it. You hold the boats together.”
She opened a locker and took out a tool kit, then slid into his boat. As she got in, her foot caught in the harness of his gun and she stumbled, rocking the boats. He caught hold of her, steadying her and the feel of her arm in his hand sent a sexual jolt through him. He kicked the gun and the harness out of sight under one of the seats.
She was kneeling, her back to him and she opened the tool kit.
“You’re new around here, aren’t you?” she said as she got out a box spanner.
“Yeah. I’m a friend of Bruno.” He eyed her back, feeling lust go through him.
“I thought I hadn’t seen you before.” She got the plug out. “See? Oil.”
She turned, holding the plug.
“Never thought of it,” Toni said huskily. “I don’t know a thing about boats… just down here on vacation.”
“Salvadore is a good friend of mine.” She took a rag from the tool kit and cleaned the plug. “It’s always nice to see a new face.”
He eyed her wondering what she meant.
“I guess.”
“You won’t get any fish at this time,” she went on as she put the plug back and tightened it. “In another two hours, but it’s too hot now.”
“You can say that again… I’m frying.”
“Are you staying with Salvadore?”
“That’s right.”
She looked at him: her blue eyes inviting.
“Maybe I’ll see something of you.”
Was she giving him the ‘come on’? Toni wondered, and again lust stabbed him like a sword thrust.
“Why not?” He peered at her. “Bruno tells me you have your half-brother staying with you.”
“He left early this morning. He has business in Miami.” She smiled. “I miss his company. It’s lonely for me. My husband doesn’t get back until late.”
“Yeah. I can imagine.”
She got into her boat.
“You try now. She’ll start.” She reached for the starter on her engine. “If you’ve got nothing to do why not drop by around halfpast five?” Her blue eyes met his. “My husband doesn’t get back until seven.”
Before he could reply, she started her engine, waved to him and sent the boat fast away from him.
Toni stared after her, his heart thumping. If that wasn’t an invitation for a lay, what was? And what a lay! But wait, he told himself, suppose Johnny or whoever this punk was hadn’t gone? Suppose she was setting him up to walk into a trap? But why should she? He knew her type: a chick with hot pants. Maybe this guy hadn’t been her half-brother. Maybe he wasn’t Bianda. So he had gone and she had the itch again.
He pulled the starter and the engine fired. With his mind seething with excitement, he headed back to Little Creek.
Salvadore was on the quay and he helped Toni tie up the boat.
“Did you see him?”
“No, but I saw her. The goddamn engine wouldn’t start. She fixed it. She says her half-brother left this morning for Miami. She wants me to go over there at half-past five.” Toni wiped his sweating face with the back of his hand. “What do you think?”
Salvadore shook his head.
“If he’s there you could walk into trouble.”
“Yeah, but if he’s there why should she ask me over?” He leered. “It’s my bet whoever’ this punk is, he’s gone and she wants it. So okay, I go over there, take a look around, slip her what she wants, then tell the boss it wasn’t the guy and go back. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Salvadore looked at him for a long moment.
“It’s your funeral. You could be right. Anyway, why should I worry? You can take care of yourself. If you want
