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the room.
The voice by the door said, "There's nobody on this "
I was going to have to get rid of that voice by the door to give all my
attention to the animal presence over beyond the couch. I wormed forward and
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saw all of him, Davis, soaked to the waist, revolver in the left hand, the
hand nearest me, the hand now sagging down to his side. I told the gun to go
where I pointed it, as it always had, forgetting the first one was double
action, missing the hand, putting the second one into the hand. He screamed
and pounced for the dropped weapon, trying to grab it up with the other hand,
and I hit that hand, and he went diving, tumbling out the doorway onto the
deck as I spun, hitched back, looked up, and waited for the round target of
the head to appear over the back of the couch. The three shots had been very
close together, a huge wham-bamming sound far different than the whippy lick
of the rifle, and leaving a sharp stink of propellant in the hot air.
The rifle cracked like a huge whip and laid its lash across the edge of my
thigh. I suddenly had the wit to flatten out again and look under the couch.
He wore white boat shoes. I had to turn the automatic onto its side to aim. I
couldn't point it naturally. I had to aim it. The shoes moved closer. I had to
aim again. The side of the shoe burst into wet red, and he made not a sound. I
took my chance on bounding up rather than trying for the other white shoe and
bringing him down. But as I swung the pistol, he fired without aiming, a snap
shot, doubtless hoping to hit me, but it worked like one of those impossible
trick shots out of a bad Western. It slammed the gun out of my hand and spun
it into the far corner, leaving my hand and arm numb to the elbow.
Sprenger worked the bolt quickly and aimed at the middle of my forehead and
then slowly lowered it.
"You're a damned idiot, McGee. And a damned nuisance."
"You haven't got a lot of options."
He tested the foot, taking a short step on it. He did not wince, limp, change
expression. But pain drained the blood out of his face and made his tan look
saffron. He had shed his sunglasses.
"Meaning I need you?" He waved me back and took another step and propped a hip
on the corner of the back of the couch.
"Is Meyer all right?"
It took several moments for the implications of my question, to get through to
him. "You are some kind of people, you two. He's a bright man. He knows a lot
about the tax future of municipals. We had a nice talk. I'm losing my touch. I
can't read people anymore. That damned McDermit woman is insane. Was insane.
Once she got leverage, it was like all she wanted was to get us both killed. I
read you wrong. I read Meyer wrong."
"Is he all right?"
"So far. He probably isn't comfortable, but he's all right. Thanks for letting
me know he's trading material."
"If you could get back there to the boat."
He looked at his bleeding foot. "Blow it off at the knee and I could get back
there." I believed him. He shook his big head. There was a glint of rue in the
little blueberry eyes. "I had nearly five hundred round ones stashed, in case
I ever had to run and had a chance to run. Postage stamps! Dear Jesus Lord!"
"A sterling investment, Mr. Fedderman says."
"What could I do? She would have screamed to the McDermit brothers I was
laying her."
"There wasn't any dear friend primed to make a report."
He thought that over. "I couldn't take a chance. You can see that. That woman
would rather lie than tell it straight." He leaned back and looked out the
doorway. He lifted the rifle slightly and said, "Something you should know. At
this range, anyplace I hit you "
"I'm dead from hydrostatic shock. It hits fluid, transmits the shock wave up
veins and arteries, and explodes the heart valves. You came close. You put a
skin burn on my thigh."
"You know a lot of things. Walk way around me slowly and take a look at Davis,
from the doorway."
I followed directions. Davis was out. He was on his face, legs spraddled, one
smashed hand under his belly, the other over his head. I could see little
arterial spurtings from the torn wrist, a small pulsing fountain that was as
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big around as a soda straw and jetted about three inches.
Blood ran into the scuppers and drained into the sea. His head was turned so I
could see his face. His closed lids looked blue. His moustache was glued to
white papery flesh. He had dwindled inside his clothes, but his big straw
planter hat was still firmly in place. The small jet dwindled quickly. Two
inches, one inch, nothing.
I turned around slowly and took a slow step back into the lounge. "He just
bled to death."
He looked puzzled. "I thought you hit him in the hand."
"Both hands. He couldn't stop the bleeding, using the one that wasn't so bad."
"You were trying to hit him in the hands?"
"Yes."
"You're good with that thing. But you are an idiot. If you're that good, you
could have popped up and hit me in the head and then him."
"Call it a natural revulsion, Frank."
"You've got first aid stuff aboard?"
"Always."
"You're going to get it and fix this foot."
"We're supposed to be in negotiation, aren't we?"
He looked at me and through me, at the narrow vista of his possibilities, his
meager chances. He said in a tired voice, "I build that municipal bond
business from almost nothing. It was supposed to be a front. But I like it.
I'm good at it. It's what I really want to do."
"Frank?"
"I know. I know."
"So the pattern was kill me and the woman and Davis and Meyer, burn this boat
with all four bodies aboard, after retrieving the rarities Mary Alice ran off
with, and go back and run a very good bluff and hope for the best, hope they
don't find out Mary Alice killed Jane Lawson, and then tie you to Mary Alice
in the Fedderman swindle. If you can get the goodies back, your best move
would be cancel out with Fedderman and retrieve that junk out of the box."
He frowned at me. "How would you know about burning? Just how in hell would
you know that?"
"You must have asked Meyer some questions about this houseboat that gave him
the idea you were trying to figure out if it would burn well and if it was in
a place where there was no chance of anybody putting the fire out."
He thought, nodded, and said, "Then he radioed you."
"So you're still on course, aren't you? Two down and two to go. Get me to fix
the foot. Get me to tell you where she hid the stuff. And you should probably
have me retrieve that body out there so it won't be floating around with holes
in it, making people ask questions. Then we go over and bring the rental
around, and you add two more bodies to the pyre and get out of here."
"You're very helpful. Why are you so helpful?"
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