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“That’s all right,” Jean said. “We all love Antibes.”
“You’re a nice girl,” Thomas said to Jean. “Now, why don’t we all sit down and have our di
They could only do four knots on the one engine and Antibes harbor was silent and dark as they entered it. No horns greeted their arrival and no flowers were strewn in their wake.
IV
There was a small, insistent tapping sound in his dream and as he swam up from sleep Thomas thought, Pappy is at the door. He opened his eyes, saw that he was in his bunk with Kate sleeping beside him. He had rigged up another section to the lower bunk so that he and Kate could sleep comfortably together. The new section could be folded back during the day, to give them room to walk around the small cabin.
The tapping continued. “Who’s there?” he whispered. He didn’t want to wake Kate.
“It’s me,” came the answering whisper. “Pinky Kimball.”
“In a minute,” Thomas said. He didn’t turn on the light, but dressed in the dark. Kate slept deeply, worn out by the day’s activities.
Barefoot, in sweater and pants, Thomas cautiously opened the cabin door and went out into the gangway, where Pinky was waiting for him. There was a huge smell of drink coming from Pinky, but it was too dark in the gangway for Thomas to tell just how drunk he was. He led the way up to the pilot house, past the cabin where Dwyer and Wesley slept. He looked at his watch. Two-fifteen on the phosphorescent dial. Pinky stumbled a little going up the ladder. “What the hell is it, Pinky?” Thomas asked irritably.
“I just came from Ca
“So what? Do you always wake up people when you come from Ca
“You got to listen to me, mate,” Pinky said. “I saw your sister-in-law in Ca
“You’re drunk, Pinky,” Thomas said disgustedly. “Go to sleep.”
“In pink pants. Listen, why would I say a thing like that if I didn’t glom her? I saw her all day, didn’t I? I’m not that drunk. I can recognize a woman I see all day, can’t I? I was surprised and went up to her and I said I thought you were on the way to Portofino and she said I am not on my way to Portofino, we had an accident and we’re bloody well in Antibes harbor.”
“She didn’t say bloody well,” Thomas said, not wishing to believe that Jean was anyplace else but on the Clothilde, asleep.
“A turn of phrase,” Pinky said. “But I saw her.”
“Where in Ca
“In a strip-tease joint. La Porte Rose. It’s on the rue Bivouac Napoléon. At the bar with a big Yugoslav or something in a gabardine suit. I’ve seen him around. He’s a pimp. He’s done time.”
“Oh, Christ. Was she drunk?”
“Looping,” Pinky said. “I offered to take her back to Antibes with me but she said, This gentleman here will drive me home when we are ready.”
“Wait here,” Thomas said. He went down into the saloon and along the aft gangway, passing the cabins where Gretchen and Enid slept. There was no sound from either cabin. He opened the door to the master cabin in the stern. There was a light on in the gangway all night, in case Enid wanted to go to the bathroom. When Thomas opened the main cabin door, just enough to look in, he saw Rudolph sleeping in pajamas, in the big bed. Alone.
Thomas closed the door gently and went back up to Pinky. “You saw her,” he said.
“What’re you going to do?” Pinky asked.
“Go and get her,” Thomas said.
“Do you want me to come with you? It’s a rough crowd.”
Thomas shook his head. Pinky sober was no help. Drunk he’d be worthless. “Thanks. You go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” Pinky started to remonstrate, but Thomas said, “Go ahead, go ahead,” and pushed him gently toward the gangplank. He watched Pinky walk unsteadily along the quay, going in and out of shadow, toward where the Vega was berthed. He felt his pockets. He had some loose change in his wallet. Then he went down to his own cabin, stepping carefully past the cabin that Dwyer and Wesley shared. He woke up Kate with a slight tap on her shoulder.
“Keep it low,” he said. “I don’t want to wake up the whole ship.” Then he told her Pinky’s news. “I’ve got to go get her,” he said.
“Alone?”
“The fewer the better,” he said. “I’ll bring her back and put her in her husband’s bed and tomorrow he can say his wife has a headache and is staying in bed for a day or so and nobody’ll catch on to anything. I don’t want Wesley or Bu
“I’ll go with you,” Kate said. She started to get up. He pushed her down.
“I don’t want her to know that you’ve seen her drunk with a pimp either. We’ve got to live the rest of our lives as friends.”
“You’ll be careful, won’t you?”
“Of course, I’ll be careful,” he said. He kissed her. “Sleep well, darling.”
Any other woman would have made a fuss, he thought as he went up on deck. Not Kate. He put on the espadrilles he always left at the gangplank and went down to the quay. He was lucky. Just as he was going through the archway a taxi drove up and let off a couple in evening clothes. He got into the taxi and said, “La rue Bivouac Napoléon, Ca
She wasn’t at the bar when he went into La Porte Rose. And there was no Yugoslav in a gabardine suit, either. There were two or three men standing at the bar, watching the show, and a couple of hookers. There were some single men at tables and three men whose looks he didn’t like, sitting with one of the performers at a table near the entrance. Two elderly American couples sat at a table on the edge of the dance floor. An act was just begi
Thomas ordered a Scotch and soda. When the barman brought the drink and placed it in front of him, he said, in English, “I’m looking for an American lady who was in here awhile ago. Brown hair. Wearing pink pants. With a monsieur in a gabardine suit.”
“Have not zee no American lady,” the barman said.
Thomas put a hundred-franc note on the bar.
“Maybe I begin to remembair,” the barman said.
Thomas put down another hundred-franc note. The barman looked around him quickly. The two notes disappeared. He took up a glass and began to polish it assiduously. He spoke without looking at Thomas. With all the noise from the band there was no danger of his being overheard.
“Be’ind les toilettes,” the barman said, speaking rapidly, “is found un escalier, staircase, to ze cave. Ze plongeur, ze dishwasher, he sleep there after work. Per’aps you find what you look for in cave. The name of fellow is Danovic. Sal type. Be careful. He has friends.”
Thomas watched while the strip-teaser took off one stocking and waved it and began to work on the garter of the other stocking. Then, still seeming to be interested in the act, he strolled slowly toward the illuminated sign in the rear that said Toilettes, Telephone. Everybody in the room seemed to be watching the girl in the spotlight and he was fairly sure that no one noticed him as he went through the archway under the sign. He passed the stink of the toilets and saw the steps going to the cellar. He went down them quickly. There was a thin, veneered wooden door at the bottom of the steps, with patched strips showing in the dim light of the small bulb that lit the stairway. Over the noise of the band, he could hear a woman’s voice from behind the door, pleading hysterically, then being cut off, as though by a hand across the mouth. He tried the door, but it was locked. He backed off a little and lunged at the door. The rotten wood and the flimsy lock gave at the same time and he plunged through the doorway. Jean was there, struggling to sit up, on the dishwasher’s cot. Her hair was streaming wildly about her face and her sweater was half torn from one shoulder. The man in the gabardine suit, Danovic, was standing beside her, facing the door. In the light of the one bulb strung on a wire from the ceiling, Thomas could see stacks of empty wine bottles, a work bench, some carpentry tools spread about.