Bahama Crisis. Desmond Bagley
There were more questions, the answers to most of which appeared to satisfy him, and presently Hepburn came back and Perigord picked up his cap and swagger stick. ‘That will be all for now, sir. There’ll be an enquiry; I’ll let you know where and when it will be held. May I offer my profound sorrow and my … condolences. I did like Mrs Mangan.’
‘Condolences!’ I said in a choked voice.
‘It has been two and a half days,’ said Perigord gravely.
I took a grip on myself. ‘Commissioner, what do you think happened?’
‘I doubt if we’ll ever know. Perhaps a gas leak in the bilges leading to an explosion – that’s rather common. Or the boat could have been run down by a supertanker.’
‘In daylight!’
‘We don’t know that it was daylight,’ he pointed out, and shrugged. ‘And those ships are so big they could run down a moderately small craft and no one would feel a thing. A ship carrying 300,000 tons of oil has a lot of momentum. We’ll do our best to find out what happened, but I offer no certainties.’ With that he and Hepburn left.
He had not been gone two minutes when Luke Bailey came in wearing a worried frown. ‘I’d like to tell you something.’ He jerked his head at the door. ‘That policeman …’
‘Who – Perigord?’
‘No, the other one – the Inspector. He’s on the Narcotics Squad. I thought you’d like to know.’
That evening I had to cope with the Pascoes who, oddly enough, were more philosophical about it than I was. I was in a cold, helpless, miserable rage; wanting to strike out at something but finding nothing to hit – no target. The Pascoes were more equable. Nearing the end of their own days I suppose that death was a not unexpected figure lurking over the horizon, something with which they had come to terms on a personal level. Besides, Mike was a doctor and death had been a factor in his professional life. They did their best to comfort me.
I had a long talk with Mike after Ellen had gone to bed. ‘I know how you feel,’ he said. ‘I lost a boy – killed in Vietnam. Did Julie ever tell you about that?’ I nodded. ‘It hit me hard. Allen was a good boy.’ He wagged his head sagely. ‘But it wears off, Tom; you can’t grieve for ever.’
‘I suppose so,’ I said moodily. Deep in my heart I knew he was wrong; I would grieve for Julie and Sue for the rest of my life.
‘What are you going to do now?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘For God’s sake, wake up! You can’t just let everything slide. You’re running a corporation and you have folk depending on you. You’re still a young man, too. How old? Forty what?’
‘Forty-two.’
‘You can get married again,’ he said.
‘Let’s not talk about that now,’ I said sharply. ‘Julie’s not been gone three days. And maybe …’
‘Maybe she’ll come back? Don’t set your heart on that, Tom, or you’ll drive yourself nuts.’ I said nothing to that and there was a long silence. After a while Mike stirred. ‘What are you going to do about Karen?’
‘I haven’t thought about it yet.’
‘Then you’d better put your mind to it. Debbie Cunningham’s a good girl from what I’ve seen of her, but she won’t be around for ever. You’ll have to make some arrangements. Bringing up a daughter aged nine and running a corporation could be a mite tough – tough on Karen, I mean.’
‘I’ll get a woman in to look after her, I suppose.’
‘Humph!’ Evidently he did not think much of that idea. I did not think much of it myself. He said, ‘Ellen and I have been talking. We’d like to take Karen until you’ve got things settled in your mind.’
‘That’s generous of you.’
‘No; just plain horse sense. Karen should be with her own kin.’ He smiled slowly. ‘But I thought I’d gotten past the age of child-raising.’
‘I agree,’ I said. ‘I had a call from my sister, Peggy, this morning. She wants to take Karen to Abaco, at least until I get settled and can make other arrangements. She has two kids of her own, and that might be better for Karen.’
Mike looked a shade relieved. ‘It would be better,’ he said positively. ‘Children brought up by old folk sometimes turn out funny. You’re starting to think, Tom.’
We talked about it some more and then I changed the subject. ‘There’s something I can’t understand. I don’t see why Perigord should be conducting this investigation personally. He’s a Deputy-Commissioner, the top cop on the island. I shouldn’t have thought this would warrant it.’
‘You’re running yourself down,’ said Mike. ‘You’re a prominent citizen on Grand Bahama. And you say he knew Julie?’
‘So he says. He says he met her at the school, at PTA meetings. I didn’t go to many of those.’
‘Maybe he feels he has a personal obligation.’
‘Perhaps. But then there’s Hepburn. Luke Bailey tells me Hepburn is a narcotics officer, and he did give Pete’s rooms a good shakedown. There’s something behind all this, Mike.’
‘Imagination!’ he scoffed. ‘Probably Hepburn was the only officer handy in the precinct house at the time.’ He got up and stretched. ‘I’m going to bed; I’m not as young as I was.’ He looked down at me. ‘Tom, I’ve been a doctor all my life until I retired three years ago. I’ve seen a lot of people die and a lot of grief in families. Tell me; have you shed one single tear since Julie went?’
‘No,’ I said flatly.
He walked to the corner cupboard, poured four fingers of brandy into a glass, and brought it back to me. ‘Drink that, relax, and let yourself go. There’s no fault in a man crying, and bottling it up can harm you.’ He turned and walked out of the room.
Mike was a kindly man and a good man. He had once said that being a doctor made a man a fair jackleg psychologist and he was right about this. I sat for a long time holding the glass and just looking into its brown depths. Then I swallowed the lot in two long gulps. The brandy burned going down and I gasped. Fifteen minutes later I was sprawled on the settee and crying my heart out. I cried myself to sleep and awoke in the early hours of the morning when I went to bed after turning out the lights.
It was acceptance that Julie and Sue were dead; and Pete and an unknown man. The acceptance brought a curious kind of peace; I still felt numbed in my mind, but I felt better and was a functioning man. Mike had known what he was doing.
Four days later I took Karen to Abaco, and Debbie came with us. It was then, in the presence of Peggy and Bob, that I told Karen that her mother and sister were dead and that she would be staying with her aunt and uncle for a while. She looked at me, wide-eyed, and said, ‘They won’t be coming home? Ever?’
‘I’m afraid not. You remember when Timmy died?’ Timmy was a pet kitten who had been run over by a car, and Karen nodded. ‘Well, it’s something like that.’
Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away. ‘Timmy didn’t come back,’ she agreed. ‘Does that mean I won’t see Mommy and Susie – not ever?’ Suddenly she bust loose. She burst into tears and tore herself away. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she cried, and began to wail, ‘I want my Mommy. I want my Mommy.’
Peggy caught her up in her arms and comforted her, then said over her shoulder to me, ‘I think a mild sedative and bed is the