Bahamarama by Bob Morris

Author:Bob Morris
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: mystery, humor, crime, Bahamas, sea, thriller
ISBN: 0312997477
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2005-10-04T04:00:00+00:00

30

Back at the cottage, I noticed that someone had come in and straightened up and filled the ice bucket with the bottle of Schramsberg in it. I went through a stack of Barbara’s things until I found an address book. I looked up Steffie Plank’s home phone number, then went down to the main house to give her a call.

One of the Charleston women was using the phone in the salon. She saw me and gave a little wave—I’ll just be a minute, dear—and kept on talking. The other Charleston women were sipping cocktails in the salon while their husbands played gin rummy. It looked like a serious game. They had a pad for keeping score and everything. The television was on, but the sound was off, and the picture was all gray and speckly with horizontal bands cycling over and over. Dr. and Mrs. Something-or-Other were chatting with another couple in a corner of the salon by the stereo. Sarah Vaughan was singing, all deep and husky, “I Can’t Give You Anything But Love.” It was like being back in the 1950s—highballs and card games, songs with sweet lyrics, and shitty TV reception.

No one was sitting at the bar. I sat there.

“Barbancourt?” said Mr. Pindle.

“No, think I’ll go light tonight. How about a Kalik?”

“Silver or gold?”

“Silver,” I said.

“Smart man. That gold will kick your ass.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s kicked me before.”

“That what kick you last night, made you do all that hollering up there?”

“No, that was rum, all rum. And a little Beefeater’s.”

“Oh, man. Put the clear on the brown, you wake up with a frown.”

“Never heard that one before,” I said. “What about you put the brown on the clear?”

“You wake up pissing beer. Or you wake up lost an ear. I’ve heard it both ways.”

Dr. Something-or-Other came for a round of drinks. Mr. Pindle poured them. Dr. Something-or-Other stepped away and Mr. Pindle leaned on the bar by me.

“I heard about the picture man. Some bad business. Things like that don’t happen here,” he said. “They got any ideas about it?”

I shook my head.

“What about Ms. Pickering?” he asked.

I shrugged. It was better than lying about the kidnapping.

The woman from Charleston finished her telephone conversation. I stood and walked to the salon, but one of the other Charleston women beat me to the phone.

“Do you mind?” she smiled.

She started dialing. I went back to the bar. Sarah Vaughan started singing “Perdido.” A busboy was setting tables in the dining room. Chrissie Hineman was making sure all the tables had fresh flowers in their vases. She saw me and rushed over and gave me a hug.

She said, “You OK?”

“Fine,” I said. “Just trying to take it all in and figure out what to do next.”

“Well, you know Charlie and I are here for you, whatever you need.”

After Chrissie stepped away, Mr. Pindle said, “I know someone who saw ’em.”

“Saw who?”

“Ms. Pickering and that Gannon fellow. Last night.”

“Who’s that?”

“Jesteen, works in the kitchen, the one gave you the orange juice this morning.

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