Carver switched on the lamp by the bed, and Beth frowned and sat up. She leaned her back against the headboard and raised both hands to cover her eyes and face. The perfumed, perspiration scent of her body rose to him; he liked its familiarity, its intimacy, what it triggered in his memory.
He gently pulled her hands away from her face. The bruise beneath her eye was an ugly purple stain, but the cut on her forehead, though deep, was only about an inch long. It would leave a light scar.
“You need stitches,” he said.
“I don’t want them. If I mark up, I know a plastic surgeon who can fix it.” The wife of Roberto Gomez speaking; money could fix anything.
His gaze took in the rest of her that was visible above the wrinkled sheet. No apparent bruises or other injuries on her body.
“You hurt anyplace else?”
“Not so’s you’d notice.”
Her guarded independence, keeping him fenced out, was beginning to annoy him. “That mean no?”
“Means no, Fred.”
“What happened to you?” he asked.
“You barged your ass in here, woke me up, and turned on the light.”
“What about your face?”
She sighed and seemed to relax, maybe with the realization she wasn’t being entirely reasonable about his concern. Settling down in the bed with her head propped on her pillow, she patted the mattress beside her. Carver supported himself with the cane, leaned over, then lay down next to her on his back. He was on top of the sheet, her lower body was beneath it, but he could feel the radiating warmth of her hip and thigh. His sun.
“Late yesterday afternoon I happened to look over and saw smoke floating above the Rainer place,” she said. “I got the binoculars and went to the blind, thinking maybe the house was on fire. It wasn’t, though. The only fire was in a big stone barbecue pit. The Spanish guy, Hector, was standing in front of it with a long fork or something, every once in a while prodding or turning whatever was on the grill. Then Rainer waddled outside, along with a blond woman in a swimming suit and sandals.”
“Young, well-built woman? Attractive?”
“In an aerobics class kinda way.”
“His wife Lilly.”
“I figured. She and Rainer stood around talking to Hector, then after a while Hector took whatever he was cooking off the grill and put it on a big platter. Then they went into the house or around by the pool out of sight. After about an hour Hector came back into view carrying something in a bag and walked down to the dock. He took the bag onto the boat, then came back and burned some more meat on the barbecue pit. When that was done grilling, he put it in a big plastic container and carried it on board, too.”
A bird began a desperate, high-pitched chattering outside. It was joined by another, maybe its mate in a domestic tiff, then they were both silent. “So maybe they were laying in some food because the boat was due to put to sea last night,” Carver said.
“That’s what I figured. But it didn’t leave the dock. I stayed there till sunset, and I noticed exhaust fumes around the boat.”
“Generators running.”
“Uh-huh. Keeping air-conditioning and appliances and what have you going.”
“Keeping the barbecued meat refrigerated for a certain fat man.”
“Could be.”
The two feisty birds were at it again outside, starting to get on Carver’s nerves now. “Still doesn’t explain your face,” he said.
“Patience was never your long suit, Fred.” She pressed her thigh tighter against his. “After a little while I went back to the blind with the night glasses and took up the regular surveillance.”
“Wait a minute,” Carver said, being impatient again. “You never mentioned Davy. Was he around yesterday?”
“I didn’t see him and I wondered about that, with you in Miami. You know, after what happened last time.”
She didn’t have to remind Carver of last time.
“I didn’t notice him in Miami,” he said, “but it’s a lot larger than Fishback.”
“About midnight, though,” Beth went on, ignoring Carver’s sarcasm, “his black van drove up to the house and turned toward the garage. No lights coming from the area of the garage, and the van had its lights off. I almost didn’t see it even with the night glasses.”
“I don’t suppose you could tell if Davy was driving?”
“Nope. Damned thing mighta been driven by remote control, for all I know. Looks like some kinda cartoon vehicle anyway.”
“Not a funny cartoon, though.”
“Except maybe for the Davy part, which is his problem and doesn’t make him less dangerous.”
Carver knew he shouldn’t be surprised that she understood men like Davy. He nodded, but he doubted if she saw him. She was still staring at a point where the ceiling met the wall. He wondered if the Miss Behavin’ had been waiting for Davy’s arrival before embarking. “Those goddamn birds!” he said.
“They’re only being what they are,” Beth told him, and just then the birds ceased their nattering.
“So what happened after the van arrived?” Carter asked.
“Nothing,” Beth said. “Then about one in the morning something happened where I was. Some guy dressed in black and wearing a stocking over his head jumped outa the bushes at me.”
Carver propped himself up on one elbow and stared over at her. She still didn’t look in his direction.
“He had some kinda weighted leather sap,” she said, “and he took me by surprise, so when he swung at me the first time, I didn’t quite get outa the way and he barely caught me on the cheek. Then he shoved me up against a tree, grabbed me and tried to get me on the ground, took another poke at me, but this time with his fist. Wearing a ring, I guess.” The cut on her forehead.
“He say anything while this was going on?”
“No, only grunted like a hog each time he swung or expended effort on me.”
She was quiet for a while, her dark features fixed and impassive. Carver knew she was proficient in martial arts, but he wasn’t sure how good she was. He felt himself getting angry, mostly at Rainer and whomever he’d sent after Beth, but partly at himself for exposing her to being assaulted.
“Then what?” he asked.
“Then his ass was mine. The surprise wore off. He swung again and I chopped his arm. I’m pretty sure I busted his wrist. I can tell. I heard bone crack.”
“You’ve heard that before?”
“Yes.”
“The man who went at you, how was he built?”
“It was too dark and it all happened too fast to tell for sure. I remember the smooth material of his shirt, muscle underneath, and the feel of his stocking mask against the side of my neck when he tried wrestling me to the ground. It mighta been Davy. Coulda been Hector, for that matter. Not Rainer, though.”
“No, it wouldn’t have been Rainer. That’s the kinda work he hires done.”
Carver felt his rage spread hotly, almost as if he were being immersed in scalding water. Unbearable. He swiveled around on the bed, found his cane where it was lying on the floor, and stood up. The bedsprings squealed. The birds started in again outside, loud even over the hum of the air conditioner. What the hell kind of bird made a nerve-grating sound like that?
Beth still wasn’t looking at him. “Where you going, Fred? Out to shoot those birds?”
“No. To talk to Walter Rainer.”
“I was afraid of that. Is it a smart thing to do?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t know the answer. It didn’t matter anyway.
It was time to forge ahead without worrying about smart or dumb.