Manhunt. Volume 9, Number 2, April 1961

She didn’t look at him as he sat down beside her. But she moved her legs to make room.

“What was that you said before?” asked Johnny.

“I ask, ‘What you lookin’ for, white man?’ ” Her voice lacked the boldness of before. Johnny wondered if she was bold only in the darkness. Her round face looked almost adolescent in contrast to the obvious maturity of her body.

“Do you have the time?” he asked.

“No, ’sieur.”

He glanced at his watch and subtracted a half hour from its reading. “Nine o’clock. What’s your name?”

“Millicent.”

“And you wonder what I look for?”

She laughed softly. “I gave you a joke. I know why a man walks at night.” She stood up and pulled at her dress. “Come away from the beach. My small sister pass this way soon.”

An hour later Johnny strode onto the launch and pounded on the locked door of the cabin. Albert’s voice came from within, high and frightened. “Who is it?”

“Johnny.”

The door opened a crack. “Man, I began to wonder—”

Johnny kicked the door. Albert sprawled backward onto a bench, his mouth gaping. Johnny slammed the door and locked it. He turned to Albert and said softly, “I wondered too, kid.”

Albert looked at the locked door, then stared at Johnny’s face. His eyes were bright, his lips loose and wet. “I wanted to help, Chief. I thought you’d have trouble, so I swam out and sneaked in the back way and waited upstairs in the hall. When they came up I couldn’t stop—”

Johnny stepped forward and smashed his fist into Albert’s jaw. The kid fell sideways and lay like a bag of laundry. Johnny jerked him to his feet and hit him again. The kid sprawled face down on the floor.

“I want the truth, kid.” Johnny’s throat hurt as he tried to keep from shouting. He rolled the kid over with his foot. “The truth, kid.”

Albert twisted his head and spat a mouthful of blood on the deck. “Cantino said... make sure the job was done. I figured... do it myself...”

“You did a lousy job, kid,” said Johnny. “A sloppy, lousy job. You left me cold without an alibi. You killed two people, so they’ll look twice as hard. And you left a souvenir behind.”

“The cutlass?” The kid sat up, supporting himself with his hands. “Nobody saw that, Quill. I stuck it in my pants leg when we went through customs.”

“You figure the guy from the Zinia wouldn’t report it missing? You think they wouldn’t remember that you were in both places?”

Albert’s eyes widened in terror. “Jesus, you gotta cover for me, chief. You know if they get me, they’ll get you—!”

Johnny slapped him. His rage had faded, but the kid was getting too loud. “They won’t trace the cutlass to you, kid. Get up and clean up. We’ve got to get out of here before somebody finds the bodies.”

The kid had just finished mopping the deck when three loud knocks sounded on the cabin door.

“Who is it?” asked Johnny.

The answer rolled into the tiny cabin. “Police.”

Johnny caught his breath and whispered to Albert. “Anybody see you swim to the hotel?”

The kid’s face was the color of an oyster. “I don’t think—”

“You sure as hell don’t. Go to the wheel and be ready to move out.”

The pounding at the door was repeated. Johnny said peevishly: “I’m getting my pants on. What’s the trouble?”

“There’s been a murder, sir. I have to ask some questions.”

Johnny swore to himself and jerked on his trousers. How had the bodies been found so soon?

He slid the steel file into his pocket as he walked to the door. The cop had sounded polite. A cop isn’t polite to someone he’s about to arrest for murder, Johnny thought — but you couldn’t trust a cop.

He opened the door. The corporal stood bareheaded, his jacket unbuttoned. He stepped inside with a faint, apologetic smile.

“Sorry to disturb you,” he said in precise, unaccented English. “Someone killed our hotelkeeper, Mr. McLenno, and his... ummm, maid of all work, a woman named Lena.”

“Good Lord!” Johnny hoped he sounded shocked.

The corporal lowered himself to the edge of the bench. “The cutlass is a frightfully vicious thing, isn’t it?”

“I imagine so. Was that the weapon?” This cop is sharp, thought Johnny. I must remember to know only what he tells me about the killing.

The corporal nodded. He unzipped a plastic case and drew out a pad and pencil. “May I see your passports, please?”

Johnny took the green folder from his suitcase and gave it to him.

“I’ll also need your boatman’s.”

Albert came forward with his passport, keeping the battered side of his face turned away. The corporal made notes in his pad as he thumbed through the folders. Johnny thought he looked more like an insurance man filling out a questionnaire than a cop.

“Mr. Quill,” said the corporal as he handed back the passports. “Have either you or your boatman been ashore this evening?”

Johnny’s nerves tightened. “Albert hasn’t. I went for a swim and walked on the beach.”

The corporal made a note and regarded his pad thoughtfully. “I suppose I should ask now if you saw any suspicious individuals, but I’ve learned that all we islanders look suspicious to a stranger.” he smiled. “May I ask what time you took your walk?”