'I've been thinking of what you suggested when we were coming back from Abaco. You know, when I think of it I've lived a pretty useless life.' She smiled wryly.
'The Cunningham family doesn't believe in women in business. They're supposed to be ornamental, be good in bed and make babies preferably boys to carry on the line. Damned misplaced southern chivalry. So I've been ornamental and that's about all.'
I smiled.
'What about the bed bit?'
'You won't believe this, but I was a virgin until I met that bastard back in Houston.' She shook the thought from her.
'Anyway, I think all that's going to change, and it's going to give a hell of a shock to my father me mixing with black kids and poor white trash. I think I can get it past Billy One though.'
'Stick at it. It's time the Cunninghams made something besides money.
Making people happy isn't a bad aim. '
We talked about it some more, and then she excused herself and walked across the concourse to the toilets. When she came back she was hurrying, her heels clicking rapidly on the hard floor. She stopped in front of me and said, 'There's something I have to show you, Tom.
I wasn't going to, but.. ' She stopped and bit her lip nervously, then thrust an envelope into my hand.
'Here!'
'What is it?'
'You remember Sue left her camera behind. Well, I took out the film and had it developed. I just picked up the prints at the International Bazaar and! went into the John to have a look at them.'
'I see,' I said slowly. I was not sure I wanted to see them. There would be too many memories of that last day.
'I think you ought to look at them,' Debbie urged.
'It's important.'
I took the prints out of the envelope and shuffled through them.
There were a couple of pictures of the Girl in one of which Pete posed in the bows, striking a mock-heroic attitude; three pictures of Sue herself, probably taken by Julie, which damn near broke my heart to see; and the rest were of Julie herself in various locations by the pool, by the boat, and on board supervising the loading of luggage. There was one picture of Debbie and also four duds, out of focus and blurred. Sue had not yet got the hang of the camera and now never would. I got a lump in my throat and coughed.
Debbie was watching me closely.
'Look again.'
I went through the pictures again and suddenly Debbie said, 'Stop!
That one. ' In the picture where Pete was in the bows there was a dim figure in the stern a man just coming on deck from below. He was in the shade and his face was indistinct.
'Well, I'll be damned!' I put down the print and took out the negative. A 110 film negative is damned small it will just about cover your thumbnail and the bit which showed the man was about as big as a pinhead.
'The crewman!' I said softly.
'Yes. You'll have something to show Perigord.'
'But I'll have it enlarged first. I'm not letting this into Perigord's hands without having a few copies for myself. His ideas of discretion might get in my way. I have a shrewd idea that once he gets this I'll never see it again.'
Debbie's flight was announced, garbled by bad acoustics, and I accompanied her to the barrier where we said our goodbyes.
'I'll write to you about our scheme, ' she said.
'Look after yourself, Tom.' She kissed me, a chaste peck on the cheek.
Then she was gone and I went back into Freeport to find a photographer.
Two days later I had what I wanted. I sat in my office and examined the duplicate negative, the copies of the colour print, and the six glossy black-and-white blow-ups of the pinhead-sized area of the negative which was the head of the crewman. The darkroom technician had done a good job considering the size of the image he had to work with. It could not be said to be a good portrait, being very grainy and slightly out of focus, but it was not all that bad.
The man was youngish I would say under thirty and he appeared to be blond. He had a broadish forehead and narrow chin, and his eyes were deepset and shadowed. One hand was up by his face as though he intended to hide it, and the head was slightly blurred as though it was in motion when the picture was taken. On the colour print it looked as though he was emerging from below, and perhaps he had suddenly been aware that he was on candid camera. If so, he had not beaten the speed of a camera shutter and a fast film.
I studied the face for a very long time. Was this a callous murderer?
What did a murderer look like? Like anyone else, I suppose.
I was about to ring Perigord when the intercom buzzed so I flicked the switch.
'Yes, Jessie?'
'Mr. Ford to see you.'
I had forgotten about Sam Ford. I pushed the photographs to one side of my desk, and said, 'Shoot him in.'
Sam Ford was a black Bahamian, and manager of the marina which was attached to the Sea Gardens Hotel on New Providence. He was an efficient manager, a good sailor, and did a lot for the branch of BASRA over there. Ever since the talk in Perigord's office and his expressed views on marina security I had been thinking about ours, and I had a job for Sam.
He came in.
'Morning, Mr. Mangan.'
'Morning, Sam. Take a chair.'
As he sat down he said, 'I was real sorry to hear about what happened. I'd have come to The funeral, but we had problems that day at the marina.'
There had been a wreath from Sam and his family.
'Thanks, Sam. But it's over now.' He nodded and I leaned back in my chair.
'I've been reviewing our policy on marinas. We have three, and soon we'll have another when the hotel is finished on Eleuthera. If things turn out as I hope we'll have more. So far the marinas have been attached to the hotels with the marina manager being responsible to the hotel manager. It's worked well enough, but there's been a certain amount of friction, wouldn't you say?'
'I've had trouble,' said Sam.
'I don't know about the other marinas but my boss, Archie Bain, knows damn all about boats. The times he's asked me to put a quart in a pint pot I swear he thinks boats are collapsible.'
I had heard similar comments from other marina managers.
'All right, we're going to change things. We're going to set up a marinas division with the marina managers responsible to the divisional manager, not to the hotel managers. He'd be running the lot with the centralized buying of ship's chandlery and so on. How would you like the Job?'
His eyebrows rose.
'Divisional manager?'
'Yes. You'd get the pay that goes with the job.'
Sam took a deep breath.
'Mr. Mangan, that's a job I've been praying for.'
I smiled.
'It's yours from the first of the month that's in two weeks. And as divisional manager you get to call me Tom.' We talked about his new job for some time, settling lines of demarcation, his salary, and other details. Then I said, 'And I want you to beef up on security in the marinas. How many boats have you had stolen, Sam?'
'From the Sea Gardens?' He scratched his head.
'One this year, two last year, and two the year before. The one this year was recovered on Andros, found abandoned. I think someone just took it for ajoyride.'
Five in three years did not sound many out of all the boars Sam had handled, but multiply that by the number of
