Dead on the Island (13 page)

She opened the door and stepped out. I like
someone who's on time. She was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt.
There was no little alligator or polo player on the shirt, so it
probably wasn't expensive, but you could never tell about that.

"Are you sure you're taller than Tom
Cruise?" she said.

"Of course I am. Trust me."

"OK. So wiggle your ears."

"I'll wait until we get somewhere that the
light is better. You'll be more impressed."

She said she could wait, so we went down the
stairs. She didn't wince when she saw the Subaru, which was another
point in her favor.

"You don't exactly drive Tom Cruise's car,
either," she said as I helped her in.

I went around to the other side and slipped
under the wheel. "Or have his income. Let's face it, this is
reality."

"You do have enough money for dinner, I
hope."

"If you don't get carried away," I said.

She laughed. "I'll try to watch it."

I started the car and we drove up to the
seawall, to the Gaido's. "I have a craving for shrimp Creole," I
said.

She opened her door. "Sounds good to
me."

Gaido's is one of the best seafood
restaurants in Galveston, which means it's one of the best
anywhere. The waiters wear tuxes, but that doesn't mean the diners
have to. We talked, and I found out that Vicky had an interesting
story. She'd come to Galveston on spring break from Southwest Texas
State University six years before and decided to stay, for reasons
practically opposite those Dino had given for going to Texas
Tech.

"I'm from West Texas," she said. "Where it
never rains and where people complain if the humidity gets over 30
percent. If it gets to 90 percent, they think they've had a flood."
Everything about the Island, from the climate to the people, was so
different from everything she'd known before that time; she wanted
to be a part of it. "So I just went looking for a job instead of
going back to school. My parents couldn't figure it out. I didn't
try to. I just knew that I wanted to live here for a while. So far
I haven't been sorry, but I am thinking of going back to school
next fall."

"To Southwest Texas?"

"No, to A&M." She smiled. "I think I'll
study marine biology."

I liked to see her smile. She had white,
even teeth, and a way of turning her head that gave her a slightly
quizzical look. "I'm glad A&M has a branch here in Galveston,"
I said.

"Me too," she said.

The shrimp Creole came about that time, and
we ate. I had no trouble cleaning out the white oblong bowl, and
neither did Vicky. When we got back in the car, she asked about me.
I told her about Jan. Then I told her a little about Terry
Shelton.

I'd promised myself I wouldn't, but the more
I thought about things, the worse I felt. Dino was being taken, and
I thought I could have helped. Besides, I thought I could have
found Sharon Matthews, which might in some way have made up for not
finding Jan. So I told Vicky a little of it.

"You're not a bill collector, then?"

"Only sometimes." I was driving along
Seawall Boulevard, past the new Holiday Inn and the huge San Luis.
Soon we'd be beyond the seawall, on the western part of the
Island.

"And you think that Terry's death might have
something to do with this girl you're looking for?"

"That's right, but I'm not sure what. Did
you ever see a girl with him? Did one ever visit him at the
store?"

"I don't remember," she said. "I don't think
so. We didn't talk much, and mostly he just talked about his
parents' beach house on Bolivar. I think he might have wanted me to
visit him there, but he was too shy to come right out and say
it."

I wouldn't have blamed him for wanting Vicky
to come for a visit, but I was more interested in the beach house
itself. "Why did he live there? Why not with his parents?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure. I don't
think they liked his friends, the Heavy Metal bit. Like I said, he
was a little old for that sort of thing. So I guess he just moved
out to be on his own. After all, he was old enough."

Sure, I thought. On his own. With his
parents still providing him with a rent-free house and probably
spending money besides. "Do you know where the house is?" I
said.

"Not exactly. I got the impression it wasn't
far from Bolivar, though."

Bolivar, located quite near the ferry
landing, was the little town with the same name as the peninsula.
Well, it still wasn't any of my business, but I would have liked to
get a look in that house.

I turned right at Eight Mile Road and took
Vicky home. We shared a chaste kiss at the top of her stairs, but I
had a feeling that better things were in store, even if I was a
good twelve or more years older than she was. I told her I'd call
her soon. She didn't object.

When I got home, Nameless was nowhere
around. I went up and read for a few minutes, then tried to sleep.
It wasn't much good. I'd drift off for a second or two, and dreams
of Sharon and Jan would wake me up. There were some dreams in which
Jan was Sharon and some in which Sharon was Jan. Every time I woke
up, I was sweating.

So I was still pretty much awake when the
telephone rang somewhere in the neighborhood of three o'clock. I
got it on the first ring.

The caller was Evelyn Matthews. "Can you
come to my house?" she said. "Dino's been shot."

I didn't ask any questions. I just said I'd
be there. As I put on my jeans, I wondered what had happened. Dino
had ventured out of his house, for the first time in who knows how
long, and look at the results. Now he might never go outside again.
I wondered how badly he was hurt.

I also thought about how much alike Dino and
Sally Western I was on the way to becoming. Like them, I'd pulled
back into my shell, going out now and then to paint a house or for
my morning run, but more and more staying at home when I could,
letting all the food disappear before I'd go to the store for more.
If I kept on long enough, I'd go out less and less, probably even
giving up the running. Sally and Dino had someone to do the going
for them; I didn't. That was probably the only reason I hadn't
already become a recluse. If it hadn't been for Dino's getting me
to look for Sharon, when would I have left the house again other
than to run? It didn't bear too much thinking about. He'd gotten me
out, and despite himself, he'd gotten me interested. And now he'd
been shot.

I went downstairs. When I opened the door,
Nameless bolted in, nearly tripping me and causing a stab of pain
in the knee. I didn't hold it against him. I took a few seconds to
rip open a packet of food, watch him eat, and toss him back
out.

When I stepped outside, I was struck by the
peculiar odor of a coastal town, a mixture of dying hermit crabs,
salt water, and what I figured was probably diesel fuel. As often
happens, the temperature hadn't dropped much with the darkness, and
the humid air felt heavy and almost warm.

I had taken the pistol out of the car before
going out with Vicky, but I had it with me now. When I got in, I
shoved it under the seat. I didn't think I'd need it, but it was
nice to know it was there. Since the pistol was wrapped in the
towel, I used the car's wipers to clear the windshield. I'd have to
guess what was behind me, but at that time there wasn't likely to
be anything on the streets except me, not in February, not in the
middle of the week.

It took me only a few minutes to drive to
Evelyn Matthews' house. The streets were quiet and deserted; no
lights showed in any of the homes nearby. Cars that wouldn't fit in
the one-car garages were parked at the curb by neatly trimmed lawns
that turned briefly green in my headlights, then turned black
again. It had been a mild winter, as it nearly always was, and some
of the people on this street had already had to mow their yards.
The homeowners were all quietly asleep now, never dreaming about
what was happening in the house where the light was on.

I stopped in front and got out. Left the
pistol in the car. Evelyn Matthews came to the door before I could
knock.

"Come in," she said. She shut the door
behind me when I entered.

"How is he?" I said.

"He'll be fine, I think. The doctor--"

"Doctor? At this time of night? For a
gunshot wound?"

"Dino knew who to call. He's retired now. I
think he used to do some work for the uncles."

"Of course," I said. "I should have
known."

"Yes. Anyway, the doctor says that Dino was
lucky. One bullet went right on through, at the shoulder. It didn't
hit anything major. Another one took off a little bit of his
forearm. I think both of them hurt him a lot, but he wouldn't let
the doctor give him a sedative. He wants to talk to you." She
gestured with her right hand. "He's in the bedroom."

I went down a very short hall and into an
equally small bedroom. There was a lamp with what must have been a
forty-watt bulb on an end table. That was all the light in the
room, and it wasn't much. The lamp had a heavy shade. Still, it was
light enough for me to see that Dino wasn't feeling any too well.
He half-sat, half-lay on the bed against a stack of three pillows.
He still had on his pants, but his shirt and his shoes were off.
There was a wide white bandage wrapped across his chest and over
his left shoulder, not stained too badly. Another was wrapped
around his left arm.

"Hello, Dino," I said. "Wanna race?"

His face was twisted slightly with the pain,
but his voice was clear. "Fuck you, Smith. I could take you any
time."

"Sure," I said. "You want to tell me about
it?"

"That's why you're here. Sit down."

The bedroom was so small that there was no
chair in it. Aside from the double bed and the end table, there was
only a tiny chest of drawers. I looked around, and just about that
time Evelyn arrived with a folding bridge chair with a metal
seat.

"Thanks," I said, taking it from her. I
opened it and sat.

"It was a set-up," Dino said.

"They take the money and kill you besides,
huh? What about Sharon?"

"We'll get to her, but let's talk about the
first part." His voice cracked slightly. He waited a second or two.
"They didn't take the money."

"Why not?"

"I don't even think they wanted it. I'm
going to try to tell you the whole thing. I got the money together.
I have a little cash on hand. I put it all in a little
suitcase."

I didn't interrupt to ask just how much
cash, or how much he kept on hand.

"The guy on the phone told me to take the
money out to Scholes Field, out past the runways, down by the
bayou. There's a dirt road that runs back there and sort of peters
out. You know where I mean?"

Scholes Field is known now as the Municipal
Airport for some reason. It's not because any planes to speak of
ever land there. It was built to serve Fort Crockett, and I've
heard that the runways can handle a 747, but all they handle now is
the grass that grows up through the cracks. No major airline serves
Galveston.

"I'd guess it would be pretty deserted back
there in the small hours," I said.

"Yeah. Well, you'd be right. You can see the
lights of the cars on the Causeway across the bayou, but that's
about it."

Evelyn squeezed by my chair and wiped Dino's
face with a damp cloth. I hadn't even noticed that he'd been
sweating, but obviously the talking was an effort for him.

"I was told to come alone," he said. "But I
said I'd have to have a driver. I haven't driven for a long time.
They told me I could bring Evelyn."

"What about Ray?" I said.

"They told me to send Ray away, that there'd
be someone watching the house. So I did."

Evelyn finished with the cloth, squeezed
back by me, and left the room. I noticed that she wasn't smoking
now.

"She drove," Dino said. "We got back there,
in among some saw grass, and parked. A car came up behind us and
blinked its lights, which was the signal. I got out to give them
the money." He twisted a little on the bed. "That's when they
started shooting."

"They didn't even ask for the money?" It was
hard to believe.

"That's right. I don't know how many shots
there were. First one hit me in the arm." He raised the bandaged
arm slightly. "Next one got me here." He gestured to his shoulder.
"Or maybe not. There may have been one or two misses. One of 'em
hit the car, I know that. Whoever was shooting couldn't see too
good with just the headlights, maybe. Anyway, I managed to get the
suitcase up in front of my belly, which was a good thing, since the
next one went right into it. Knocked me flat."

"This sounds like one of those stories that
end with me asking 'How did you get away from there?' and you
saying 'I didn't.'"

He almost smiled. "I did, though. That
Evelyn. She must've been out of the car before I knew what was
going on. Dragged me back and shoved me in."

I looked at him, the former linebacker,
about two-twenty-five, and thought about Evelyn. This time, he did
smile.

"She's little, but she's stout. Got that car
moving, tore out of there ninety to nothing, bounced up on the
runway like she was at Daytona and laid rubber for a quarter of a
mile. We were back here before you could say 'Jack Robinson.' She
had the blood stopped with towels and the doctor called before I
could hardly give her his name. She's something else."

"So," I said. "What about Sharon?"

"That's the big one, all right. That's what
I want you to find out. Need any more money? I got a whole suitcase
full. 'Course some of it's got a bullet hole in the middle."

I thought about it. Earlier that night, or
the previous night to be exact, I'd been morally outraged and
considerably upset that Dino wanted me out of his way. Now that I
had the chance to get mixed up in things again, I wasn't sure I
wanted to. Things were getting too strange and dangerous. Getting
my knee clobbered was one thing. Getting shot was another.