stamps. Another thing. We spent a lot of time anchored out, as far from marinas and boat traffic and shore sounds as we could get. So she kept turning off the generator, the air-conditioning, even the little battery transistor radio. She made great things out of the leftovers from yesterday's leftovers. She's not stingy. If you asked for her last dime, she'd borrow two bits somewhere and give you thirty-five cents. But she has a Page 39
waste-not, want-not twitch. I kidded her about it. She didn't mind. But it didn't change a thing.
Holly Dressner told me Mary planned to leave her car at the Miami airport. Okay. Would Mary pay two and a half a day indefinitely? Ninety days is two hundred and twenty-five dollars. Not Mary. No matter how upset. She'd find out the rates and turn around, drive a few miles, make a deal with a gas station or parking lot, and take a cab back and catch her flight."
"If she had time."
"Unless she changed a lot, she'd get there two hours ahead when the ticket desk says one hour.
She'd have time."
"So we should go look for her car?"
"Holly should be able to tell me what to look for."
"Travis, I don't want to seem efficient, but why don't we phone Mary in Grenada? I would rather go below and drink one of your Tuborgs and listen to you fight with the island operators than drive to Miami."
I struck myself a heavy blow in the forehead with the heel of my hand, said a few one-, seven-and ten-syllable words, and we went below.
I started at eleven thirty, and by the time I got the desk at the Spice Island Inn, I was in a cold rage. It was a radio link, and nobody seemed to give a damn about completing it. I had mentally hung Alex Bell and Don Ameche in effigy several times.
At last I got the faint voice of a girl, saying, "Spice Island Inn. May I help you?" It was the singsong lilt of the West Indies, where the accented syllables seem to fall at random in strange places.
"Do you have a Mrs. Broll registered? A Mrs. Harry Broll?"
"Who? I am sorry. What last name, sir?"
"Broll. Bee-are-oh-el-el. Broll."
"Ah. Broll. There is no Mrs. Harry Broll."
"Was she there? Did she leave?"
"There is a Mrs. Mary Broll. She is here since many weeks."
"From Florida?"
"Yes. She is here from Florida."
"Can you put me through to her, please."
"I am sorry."
"Do you mean you can't?"
"There is the instruction, sir. Mrs. Broil does not take overseas calls. Not from anyone, sir."
"This is an emergency."
"I am sorry. I can write down for her your name and the number of your telephone. I cannot say if she returns the call. She does not wish to be disturbed by telephone calls from overseas. If you can give me your name?"
"Never mind. Thank you for your help."
"I am sorry." She said something else but it faded away into an odd, humming silence. There were loud clicks. Somebody else said, "Code eighteen, route through Barbados, over."
I said, "Hey! Somebody!"
The humming stopped and the line went dead as marble. I hung up. I stood up and stretched.
"Mrs. Mary Broll has been there for a long time, but she doesn't take overseas calls."
"In case one might be from Harry, I suppose."
"That takes care of it. Right, Meyer?"
"I suppose so."
"It was your idea. I phoned. She's there."
"I know. But ... "
"But?"
"The known facts now seem contradictory."
"Meyer, for God's sake!"
Page 40
"Now listen to me. She wants to hide from her husband and think things out. She does not want to take any overseas calls. What would it cost her to get the operator and the desk clerk to deny that she's even registered? Ten Biwi dollars each, ten U.S. dollars total? No more, certainly. If she was sure her husband couldn't trace her, then the only call she could get would be from her friend Holly Dressner, and she would want to take a call from her I'd think. If she set it up so that he can find out where she is, then the refusal to take calls would mean she wants him to fly down, and the bait would be the loan he needs."
"First
waste-not, want-not twitch. I kidded her about it. She didn't mind. But it didn't change a thing.
Holly Dressner told me Mary planned to leave her car at the Miami airport. Okay. Would Mary pay two and a half a day indefinitely? Ninety days is two hundred and twenty-five dollars. Not Mary. No matter how upset. She'd find out the rates and turn around, drive a few miles, make a deal with a gas station or parking lot, and take a cab back and catch her flight."
"If she had time."
"Unless she changed a lot, she'd get there two hours ahead when the ticket desk says one hour.
She'd have time."
"So we should go look for her car?"
"Holly should be able to tell me what to look for."
"Travis, I don't want to seem efficient, but why don't we phone Mary in Grenada? I would rather go below and drink one of your Tuborgs and listen to you fight with the island operators than drive to Miami."
I struck myself a heavy blow in the forehead with the heel of my hand, said a few one-, seven-and ten-syllable words, and we went below.
I started at eleven thirty, and by the time I got the desk at the Spice Island Inn, I was in a cold rage. It was a radio link, and nobody seemed to give a damn about completing it. I had mentally hung Alex Bell and Don Ameche in effigy several times.
At last I got the faint voice of a girl, saying, "Spice Island Inn. May I help you?" It was the singsong lilt of the West Indies, where the accented syllables seem to fall at random in strange places.
"Do you have a Mrs. Broll registered? A Mrs. Harry Broll?"
"Who? I am sorry. What last name, sir?"
"Broll. Bee-are-oh-el-el. Broll."
"Ah. Broll. There is no Mrs. Harry Broll."
"Was she there? Did she leave?"
"There is a Mrs. Mary Broll. She is here since many weeks."
"From Florida?"
"Yes. She is here from Florida."
"Can you put me through to her, please."
"I am sorry."
"Do you mean you can't?"
"There is the instruction, sir. Mrs. Broil does not take overseas calls. Not from anyone, sir."
"This is an emergency."
"I am sorry. I can write down for her your name and the number of your telephone. I cannot say if she returns the call. She does not wish to be disturbed by telephone calls from overseas. If you can give me your name?"
"Never mind. Thank you for your help."
"I am sorry." She said something else but it faded away into an odd, humming silence. There were loud clicks. Somebody else said, "Code eighteen, route through Barbados, over."
I said, "Hey! Somebody!"
The humming stopped and the line went dead as marble. I hung up. I stood up and stretched.
"Mrs. Mary Broll has been there for a long time, but she doesn't take overseas calls."
"In case one might be from Harry, I suppose."
"That takes care of it. Right, Meyer?"
"I suppose so."
"It was your idea. I phoned. She's there."
"I know. But ... "
"But?"
"The known facts now seem contradictory."
"Meyer, for God's sake!"
Page 40
"Now listen to me. She wants to hide from her husband and think things out. She does not want to take any overseas calls. What would it cost her to get the operator and the desk clerk to deny that she's even registered? Ten Biwi dollars each, ten U.S. dollars total? No more, certainly. If she was sure her husband couldn't trace her, then the only call she could get would be from her friend Holly Dressner, and she would want to take a call from her I'd think. If she set it up so that he can find out where she is, then the refusal to take calls would mean she wants him to fly down, and the bait would be the loan he needs."
"First
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