Inside lay two items which she removed one by one. First came a compact roll of American dollar bills. Dodie didn’t stop to count them but pushed them into her pocket. The second item was folded small, but when she opened it up it proved to be a flimsy airmail envelope, its pale blue surface blank. Inside lay two sheets of airmail paper written on both sides. She looked at the signature at the bottom, a bold and aggressive scrawl –
Oakes
. His cold dead finger seemed to touch her neck. Quickly she began to read.
Flynn, you are the only one I trust. You may hate me, I don’t know, you keep so much close to your chest, but you’ve always been straight with me.
Gold rots a man’s soul. Not the man who owns the gold but the souls of those who watch and drool and yearn for the gold clippings from his fucking toenails. Don’t ever get rich, Flynn. Everyone hates a rich man. Especially his sons. Many men have hated me and I have trampled on them, but I am putting these words down on paper so that you will know where to look. I can smell the danger coming closer, the way I could smell gold underwater.
Your mobster boss, Meyer Lansky, is prime suspect. He hates my guts. For all I know you will be the one carrying the gun when my time comes. Is that why you came here with Morrell? But I have a hunch that you would put a bullet in Lansky’s brain before mine. Correct me if I’m wrong, Flynn, but I’m good at hunches.
On this island I have two friends who would like to dance a fucking jig on my grave. One is Harold Christie. A great guy. Really, I mean it. A rich man, but one who is still hungry for more and more gold. His guts gnaw at him when he sees my ugly mug and thinks about how much more I have than he has. Now he wants to do things to this island that I am blocking. I will destroy him if I have to.
My second golfing friend who would crow on my grave – like the rooster he isn’t – is the Duke. Our sad little Governor. Don’t miss his slyness. His title means nothing. He has water in his weak veins instead of royal-blue blood. He would blow over in the wind if it weren’t for his wife. But he is hungry. For gold. For power. For love. Like a snake he slides unseen towards the nest. I have every goddammed thing he lacks and I will NOT let him destroy MY island. But he possesses powerful friends, so beware that man.
Don’t fail me, Flynn. Kill the man who murders me. Take what you can of mine and leave. But before you go, avenge me. Avenge me, Flynn. What a team we would have made.
Oakes.
‘You!’
The voice came from the other side of the door, the handle was rattling.
‘Out!’
Dodie was trying to imagine the emotions that drove Flynn to conceal this letter from prying eyes rather than destroy it. What does it do to you to have a man like Oakes say
What a team we would have made
? No wonder he kept it rather than burn it.
‘Lady!’ The handle rattled. ‘What you doin’?’
Dodie stepped away from the door and it swung open with a bang, rebounding off the wall. The landlord barged in, his eyes swivelling around the room, hunting for what mischief she had been up to. He was wearing loud checked trousers and a dusky orange shirt, his limbs as restless as a boxer in the ring.
‘What’s goin’ on here?’ he growled.
‘That’s what I want to know,’ she said, hissing it quietly in his face. ‘I want you to tell me how that wallet got into Mr Hudson’s mattress.’
‘That no-good Mr Hudson put it there hisself, lady.’
Dodie’s fingers slid to the tight roll of dollars in her pocket. ‘Whatever they’re paying you,’ she told him, ‘I’ll pay you more.’
The police questioned her. Of course they did, Ella was right about that. They hauled her into the police station and politely but firmly put her through her paces, but this time she was ready for them.
‘Where did Mr Hudson spend last night?’
‘With me.’
‘All night?’
‘Yes.’ She lowered her eyes in a good
Oakes
. His cold dead finger seemed to touch her neck. Quickly she began to read.
Flynn, you are the only one I trust. You may hate me, I don’t know, you keep so much close to your chest, but you’ve always been straight with me.
Gold rots a man’s soul. Not the man who owns the gold but the souls of those who watch and drool and yearn for the gold clippings from his fucking toenails. Don’t ever get rich, Flynn. Everyone hates a rich man. Especially his sons. Many men have hated me and I have trampled on them, but I am putting these words down on paper so that you will know where to look. I can smell the danger coming closer, the way I could smell gold underwater.
Your mobster boss, Meyer Lansky, is prime suspect. He hates my guts. For all I know you will be the one carrying the gun when my time comes. Is that why you came here with Morrell? But I have a hunch that you would put a bullet in Lansky’s brain before mine. Correct me if I’m wrong, Flynn, but I’m good at hunches.
On this island I have two friends who would like to dance a fucking jig on my grave. One is Harold Christie. A great guy. Really, I mean it. A rich man, but one who is still hungry for more and more gold. His guts gnaw at him when he sees my ugly mug and thinks about how much more I have than he has. Now he wants to do things to this island that I am blocking. I will destroy him if I have to.
My second golfing friend who would crow on my grave – like the rooster he isn’t – is the Duke. Our sad little Governor. Don’t miss his slyness. His title means nothing. He has water in his weak veins instead of royal-blue blood. He would blow over in the wind if it weren’t for his wife. But he is hungry. For gold. For power. For love. Like a snake he slides unseen towards the nest. I have every goddammed thing he lacks and I will NOT let him destroy MY island. But he possesses powerful friends, so beware that man.
Don’t fail me, Flynn. Kill the man who murders me. Take what you can of mine and leave. But before you go, avenge me. Avenge me, Flynn. What a team we would have made.
Oakes.
‘You!’
The voice came from the other side of the door, the handle was rattling.
‘Out!’
Dodie was trying to imagine the emotions that drove Flynn to conceal this letter from prying eyes rather than destroy it. What does it do to you to have a man like Oakes say
What a team we would have made
? No wonder he kept it rather than burn it.
‘Lady!’ The handle rattled. ‘What you doin’?’
Dodie stepped away from the door and it swung open with a bang, rebounding off the wall. The landlord barged in, his eyes swivelling around the room, hunting for what mischief she had been up to. He was wearing loud checked trousers and a dusky orange shirt, his limbs as restless as a boxer in the ring.
‘What’s goin’ on here?’ he growled.
‘That’s what I want to know,’ she said, hissing it quietly in his face. ‘I want you to tell me how that wallet got into Mr Hudson’s mattress.’
‘That no-good Mr Hudson put it there hisself, lady.’
Dodie’s fingers slid to the tight roll of dollars in her pocket. ‘Whatever they’re paying you,’ she told him, ‘I’ll pay you more.’
The police questioned her. Of course they did, Ella was right about that. They hauled her into the police station and politely but firmly put her through her paces, but this time she was ready for them.
‘Where did Mr Hudson spend last night?’
‘With me.’
‘All night?’
‘Yes.’ She lowered her eyes in a good
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