'All right, Kayles,' I said.
'Let's get down to it. You were hired over a year ago by Pete Albury as crew on Lucqyan Girl to help take her from Freeport to Miami. Also on board were my wife and daughter.
The boat never got to Miami; it vanished without trace. But my daughter's body was found. How come you're still alive, Kayles? '
'I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know you, your wife or your daughter. And I don't know this guy, Albury.' He nodded towards Sam.
'I know him because I put my boat in his marina, that's all. You've got the wrong guy-' Sam said, ' Maybe we have. ' He looked at me.
'But it's easily provable, one way or the other.' He regarded Kayles again.
'Where's your logbook?'
Kayles hesitated, then said, 'Stowed under this bunk mattress.'
Sam picked up Kayles's knife which he had laid on the chart table.
'No tricks or I'll cut you good.' He advanced on Kayles and rolled him over.
'Get it, Tom.'
I lifted the mattress under Kayles, groped about and encountered the edge of a book. I pulled it out.
'Okay, Sam.' Sam released Kayles who rolled over on to his back again.
As I flipped through the pages of the log-book I said, 'All you have to do is to prove where you were on a certain date.' I tossed the book to Sam.
'But we won't find it in there. Where's your last year's log?'
'Don't keep a log more'n one year,' said Kayles sullenly.
'Clutters up the place.'
'You'll have to do better than that.'
'That's funny,' said Sam.
'Most boat folk keep their old logbooks. As souvenirs, you know; and to impress other boat people.' He chuckled.
'And us marina people.'
'I'm not sentimental,' snarled Kayles.
'And I don't need to impress anyone.'
'You'll have to bloody well impress me if you expect me to turn you loose,' I said.
'And if I don't turn you loose you'll have to impress a judge.'
'Oh, Christ, how did I get into' this he wailed.
'I swear to God you've got the wrong guy.'
'Prove it.'
'How can I? I don't know when your goddamn boat sailed, do I? I don't know anything about your boat.'
'Where were you just before last Christmas but one?'
'How would I know? I'll have to think about it.' Kayles's forehead creased.
'I was over in the Florida keys.'
'No, you weren't,' said Sam.
'I met you in the International Bazaar in Freeport, and you told me you were going to Miami. Remember that?'
'No. It's a hell of a long time ago, and how can I be expected to remember? But I did sail to Miami and then on down to Key West.'
'You sailed for Miami, all right,' I said.
'In Lucayan Girl.'
'I sailed in my own boat,' said Kayles stubbornly.
'This boat.' He jerked his head at me.
'What kind of a boat was this Lucayan Gzr/?'
'A trawler- fifty-two feet- Hatteras type.'
'For God's sake!' he said disgustedly.
'I'd never put foot on a booze palace like that. I'm a sailing man.' He nodded towards Sam.
'He knows that.'
I looked towards Sam who said, 'That's about it. Like I,| told you, he has this tiddy little diesel about as big as a sewing machine which he hardly ever uses.'
For a moment I was disconcerted and wondered if, indeed, we had the wrong man; but I rallied when Sam said, 'Why do you keep changing the name of your boat?'
Kayles was nonplussed for a moment, then he said, 'I don't.'
'Come off it,' I scoffed.
'We know of four names already and four colours. When this boat was in the marina of the Royal Palm in Freeport just over a year ago she was Bahama Mama and her hull was red.'
'Must have been a different boat. Not mine.'
'You're a liar,' said Sam bluntly.
'Do you think I don't know my own work? I put up the masthead fitting.'
I thought back to the talk I had had with Sam and Joe Cartwright in my office a year previously. Sam had seen Kayles in the International Bazaar but, as it turned out, neither Sam nor Joe had seen the boat.
But he was not telling Kayles that; he was taking a chance.
Kayles merely shrugged, and I said, 'We know you're a cocaine smuggler. If you come across and tell the truth it might help you in court. Not much, but it might help a bit.'
Kayles looked startled.
'Cocaine! You're crazy right out of your mind. I've never smuggled an ounce in my life.'
Either he was a very good actor or he was telling the truth, but of course he would deny it so I put him down as a good actor.
'Why did you go to Cat Island?'
'I'm not saying another goddamn word,' he said sullenly.
'What's the use? I'm not believed no matter what I say.'
'Then that's it.' I stood up and said to Sam, 'Where do we go from here?'
'Sail this boat back to Duncan Town and hand him over to the local Government Commissioner. He'll contact the police and they'll take it from there. But not until daylight.'
'Scared of sailing in the dark? ' jeered Kayles.
Sam ignored him, and said to me, 'I'd like a word with you on deck.'
I followed him into the cockpit.
'What did you tell Bay- liss?'
'Enough of the truth to shut him up. He'd heard of the disappearance of Lucayan Girl so he'll stick around and cooperate.' He picked up the flashlamp Kayles had used and swept a beam of light into the darkness in a wide arc. There came an answering flicker from a darker patch of blackness about 200 yards to seaward.
'He's there.'
'Sam, why don't we sail back now? I know it's not true what Kayles said.'
'Because we can't,' said Sam, and there was a touch of wry ness in his voice.
'I was a mite too careful. I was figuring on what might happen if Kayles got loose and I wanted to hamstring him, so I got some ofBayliss's fish net and tangled it around the propeller. That engine will never turn over now. Then I cut all the halliards so Kayles couldn't raise sail. Trouble is neither can we. I'm sorry, Tom.'
'How long will it take to fix?'
'Splicing the halliards and re-reeving will take more than an hourin daylight. Same with the engine.'
'We could take Kayles back in Bayliss's boat, starting right now.'
'I don't think he'd do it,' said Sam.
'Fishermen aren't the same as yachtsmen who sail for fun. They don't like sailing around at night because there's no call to do it, so they don't have the experience and they know it.' He pointed south.
'There are a lot of reefs between here and Duncan Town, and Bayliss would be scared of running on to one. You don't know these folk; they don't work by c harts and compasses like pleasure boat people. They navigate by
