ooOoo

4

ooOoo

'Look, why don't you go back to the hotel? There's no point in both of us being here.'

'You said that half an hour ago and I'll say again what I said half an hour ago - and the half-hour before that and the one before that, actually: I am not leaving.'

Jack had been arrested as soon as he stepped off the boat. He had made no protest; I think that he had been too astounded. We had been permitted to go with him to police headquarters; although, I say permitted as though it had been a simple accedence - Captain Estevez had refused that request initially but John had prevailed. John, in turn, had then tried to get me to return to the hotel and wait for him. I, too, had prevailed.

We sat, side-by-side, on a pair of high-backed wooden chairs and John studied the posters and flyers that had been pinned with varying degrees of neatness to the message-board on the opposite wall. It was the second time in a month in which I had found myself in the environs of the official police department; there was a similar aroma inside the mock colonial fort as there was in the Homicide Bureau in Manhattan - I could only surmise that there must be something peculiar to the work of law enforcement that produces the smell.

The air, however, was warmer, heavier; no breath of freshness came through the barred windows. A desk fan did little more that ruffle the pages that lay on the counter of the placid desk sergeant; he had them held in place firmly with a highly polished pebble. It begged the irresistible image of him wading along the seashore during his hours off. My skin was still sticky from the sea-water and I could feel a bead of perspiration begin to roll down my back. I squirmed, shifting on my seat and the worn wood squeaked in protest.

'There's nothing you can do here.' It was a token statement only, a final salutary attempt; John said it with a tone of resignation. I looked at him.

'There is probably nothing that you can do and yet you're here. The least I can do is keep you company.'

His hand rested on mine for a moment, his fingers warm and solid.

In one of the offices a telephone had been ringing for well over a minute. It stopped, at last, and I wondered if it had been answered finally or if the caller had simply given up. A few minutes passed and then it started again. I hoped for the sake of the person on the other end that it was not an emergency.

I crossed one leg over the other and smoothed my skirt over my knees. The desk sergeant glanced across at us and nodded pleasantly; I smiled in response and he went back to the achingly slow process of typing something out using only two fingers.

The repetitious clack-clack of the typewriter, the fall of footsteps in far-off halls, the endless insistent screech of the telephone... I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep, quiet breath.

John had said very little since we had left the harbour. His jaw had tightened and stayed that way and there was a hardness behind his eyes that I had seen only once before, one night in a house in Harlem.

'Señor Sheridan?'

We both looked up. Captain Estevez had appeared, silently, looked down at us. John stood and I followed, my knees almost locking after having sat so still for so long.

'If you will come to my office I would appreciate a talk with you.'

'By all means.' John sounded almost pleasant - and that almost was like a red flag.

The captain took us down a series of corridors until we reached an office that was of a decent size and notable for its carefully arranged clutter.

'Please.' He gestured to the chairs facing the desk - heavy dark wood with a leather covering across the top that was coming away from the brass fixings on one corner.

We sat; the captain circled the desk, pausing to straighten the wood and brass plaque that bore his name: Captain Ramon Estevez. He was a tall man and slender, with that air of wiry energy about him. His fingers were long and rarely still, his face sallow, slim and fine-boned, his eyes a curious shade that shifted from grey to green to grey again. His black hair was smoothed back so closely against his skull that the effect was less like hair and more as though he had dipped his head into a vat of gloss paint - and then used some of the same to flourish a thin moustache along his upper lip.

'Señor. Señora.' He smiled. 'I understand that you are friends of Señor Maynard.'

'I am,' John said, 'my wife only met him last night.'

'I see.' The tips of his fingers tapped together. 'I should ask to see your papers...'

John pulled his ID card and licence out of his pocket and handed them across; I searched through my bag for my own card and gave it to the captain who accepted it graciously. He studied them, his elbows resting on the desk. His eyes flicked up to me and back down. 'Della Ramir. Your name is not Sheridan.'

'We were married three weeks ago,' I told him, 'there hasn't been time for me to get a new card.'

He inclined his head and I caught a flash of his teeth as his upper lip curled. 'My felicitations, señora. And where are you staying in Havana?'

'Hotel Nacional,' John said.

One eyebrow arched fractionally and his lips pushed together. 'Ah.'

'We arrived four days ago; we're booked in for two weeks in total and the front desk has charge of our passports.'

'You are very forthcoming.'

John drew his eyebrows together. 'Is there a reason why I shouldn't be? I don't have anything to hide.'

'Americans are not usually so helpful.'

John pronounced the next words carefully in Spanish; I understood it as: 'Not all Americans are the same.' He sat back and smiled, a little wryly. 'That's as good as it gets, I'm sorry. My Spanish is not as good as your English.'

There was a quirk at Estevez's lips. 'The effort is appreciated, señor.'

They weighed one another up behind façades of amiability. Captain Estevez moved a sheaf of papers to the centre of his desk, nudging them a few millimetres to his right before he was satisfied.

'I understand that you spent part of yesterday evening with Señor Maynard.'

'That's right. It was a place called Club Estrellita.'

'Yes. Yes, I know the place. They have a very good band.'

'Very good,' John agreed.

'Pretty girls.'

'I didn't notice.'

The captain's eyes flicked back to me with a gleam that looked like amusement; there was a faint tick in his jaw. 'That is understandable.'

'At the wedding ceremony Mr Sheridan was not only married to me, he was also struck blind,' I explained.

The gleam of amusement spread until Captain Estevez looked almost human. 'I believe that is known as marriage American style.' We both smiled. 'What time was this?' Amusement died quickly.

'I don't know the exact time' -John looked at me and I shrugged- 'but it was probably around eleven when we left the hotel... Maybe around eleven-thirty when we reached the club.'

'And when did you leave Club Estrellita?'

'Around one-thirty, maybe later; I can't be precise.'

Captain Estevez nodded. 'Was anyone else with your party?'

'No, it was just us.'

'And with Señor Maynard?'

John tilted his head. 'There were a couple of locals with him, I don't know who they were, they weren't introduced. Jack left them and came to our table.'

'Anyone else?'

'We didn't meet anyone while we were with him. Well - unless you count Señor Luis, the bird who runs the joint.'

'I am also acquainted with Señor Luis.' There was silence for a moment while the captain studied John's face and his fingers drummed against the desk-blotter. John sat very still, his head tilted back slightly, his eyes narrowed and fixed on Captain Estevez.

'Señora Sheridan.' He didn't quite look at me for a moment; I waited until his pale eyes moved to me.

'Yes?'

'Is there anything you would like to add to your husband's statement?'

'No, that was quite accurate. Although, I would say that if Jack Maynard murdered a man between the time we left him last night and the time we met him again this morning - and for him to have behaved as he did today - he must have remarkable nerves.'

The captain smiled again, indulgently. 'You would be surprised, señora.'

I returned the smile. 'You are quite correct, Captain - I would be very surprised.'

His head tilted back and he looked at me from eyes that appeared half-closed.

'Do you mind if I ask you a question?'

The captain transferred his attention back to John. 'Not at all.'

'Just what happened to this Alejandro Sandoval, and when?'

Captain Estevez pushed his lips together again and tapped his forefinger against his little stack of papers. 'The body was-' He straightened in his chair. 'I will arrange for one of my men to escort Señora Sheridan back to the hotel.'

'You need not bother, Captain, I'm quite all right where I am.'

He looked at me again and then glanced at John, waiting for the pronouncement - it was not forthcoming. He looked between us and his shoulders moved fractionally in a shrug. 'This morning at around nine o'clock one of the gardeners at Los Cipreses - that is the name of the Sandoval villa - found the body of his employer.'

'One of the gardeners... So, he was found in the grounds? Not in the house.'

'Sí, señor, the grounds.'

'Is that where he had been killed?'

'Most likely. The area around the body had been disturbed. He had been strangled. We estimate that it had occurred between two and four o'clock this morning.'

'Uh-huh. And what is it that makes you think Jack is responsible?'

The nimble hands with their long fingers spread regretfully. 'This, I cannot tell. What I have told you now is, uh ... goodwill? Yes, goodwill.'

John breathed heavily. 'Okay. What about bail?'

The captain shook his head. 'That is not possible tonight. Maynard must be seen by the magistrate and that will not happen until tomorrow. And as he is not Cuban there is further complication; we must deal with the American Embassy - and they are very slow. Much bureaucracy.' He smiled again, pleased with this joke.

John nodded. 'Would it be possible to see him? Just for a few minutes?'

He sat back in his chair and his head tilted. 'You are a private investigator.'

'Yes. I don't see what that has to do with it.'

'Do you not?' The forefinger started tapping again. 'You are an American detective, yes?'

'You've seen the licence.'

'You are not without money and where there is money there is power; and Señor Maynard is your friend. I do not wish for interference in this investigation.'

'I'm not looking to interfere,' John said. 'Like you say: Jack Maynard is my friend and if there's something I can do for him, I'd like to do it. I won't know until I ask him and I can't ask him if I don't see him. As for money and power... You're right, they do go together. They shouldn't, but that's how it works a lot of the time. And I guess that you think about as much of that as I do.'

Both the gleam of amusement and the tick reappeared. 'Very well. You may have ten minutes with Señor Maynard.'

Our papers were returned to us and Captain Estevez led us from his office and down another series of corridors lined with heavy wood doors. Outside of one, two young officers stood on guard, their spines snapping as their captain approached and they straightened, staring directly ahead. A few words were exchanged, one of them unlocked the door and Captain Estevez stood aside to allow us in. The door closed behind us, falling to with the hollow thud of a coffin lid.

The room was probably larger than it appeared: the corners were all in shadow, the only light came from a bare light-bulb suspended from the ceiling and a thin aperture set high in one wall was a parody of a window; it allowed just enough air in to make the atmosphere breathable. Jack sat at the table in the middle of the room, his forearms resting squarely on it and he stared ahead, apparently unseeing; his head turned fractionally towards us and when recognition came his face became very alive.

'John!' He tried to stand but could not - his ankles were chained to the chair.

John stood still, looking at him; his hands were loose at his sides. 'We only have ten minutes, so we'd better make this fast. Did you kill him?'

Jack blinked slowly. 'Are you really asking me that?'

'I like to think that I know the answer and I'd be willing to stake my life on it but I'd still like to hear you say it.'

A long breath was released. 'No, I didn't kill him. I didn't have any reason. Not for Rosa, not for anything. I told you - we had been friends. I still think- thought of him as a friend.'

John nodded. 'Okay.' He crossed the room, pulled out the chair opposite Jack and held it while I sat; he settled on the edge of the battered table. 'What happened last night?'

Jack's voice was hoarse; his eyes looked shadowed, more sunken than they had before. 'Rosa was only at the club about half an hour. She told me what had happened with her father, the argument they'd had. She wanted-' His mouth worked. 'She wanted to leave. Take the boat and blow; I said no. She calmed down after a while; I put her in a taxi-'

'You didn't take her home?'

He looked at me, a little sadly, and shook his head. 'I wanted to; Rosa said it was best if I didn't; if her father saw me...' He shook his head again. 'I went home. And this is the weird part: there was a message waiting for me from Alejandro; he wanted to see me.'

'He wanted to see you then?' John asked.

'Got it in one.'

'And?'

Jack ran a hand through his hair. 'I went. There's a sort of summerhouse or folly, whatever you want to call it, in the grounds of the estate; Alejandro said he'd wait for me there.'

'There's a main gate to this set-up?'

'Yeah.'

'And you just strolled in?'

'No. There's a side entrance, he said it would be unlocked: it was, I went in.'

'That must have been one hell of a message.'

They looked at one another across the table.

'I guess he must have really wanted to see me,' Jack said; his voice was calm and level and he didn't move his eyes from John's face. 'He called the place where I stay; my landlady takes down real good messages, as she's probably told Estevez and his crew.'

'Okay. Did you see Sandoval?'

Jack shook his head. 'He never showed. I hung around for a bit but I figured he must have got tired of waiting and gone back to the house, so I took a powder. I went home and I stayed there until I went down to the marina to get the boat ready. That's it. I've got nothing else, Johnny.'

'You told the police all that?'

'Of course I did!'

They looked at each other for a long time and after a few moments I had the impression of a conversation being conducted wholly without words; it was that sort of intensity that occurs when two people have become accustomed to trusting and understanding one another under desperate circumstances.

And all three of us understood that everything spoken so far would have been heard by Captain Estevez and his men.

When I glanced up at John again he seemed to nod, almost imperceptibly, and leaned back.

'Is there something we can do?' I asked. 'You must need a lawyer...'

Jack's smile was weary. 'That's real nice of you, Della; but things don't work quite the same down here as they do back home.'

'There must be something' -I was determined- 'the captain said that they need to speak with the American ambassador tomorrow-'

'Yeah they'll have a job. Tomorrow will be his day out on his yacht and then the rest of it will be at the Country Club' -his lip curled- 'making nice with all the diplomatic wives.' He looked at me guiltily. 'Sorry.'

'That's quite all right - it's at least one thing that's the same down here as back home.'

Jack had a nice smile: the sort that made his eyes twinkle and suggested all manner of innocent mischief. 'There is one thing you could do, if you really would...'

'Of course.'

'Will you go and see Rosa? Just- Just see how she's doing? She'll like you. And tell her I'm sorry.'

It was rather fine and terribly pathetic.

'If she'll see me, I will. Where is the house?'

'On Avenida Quinta out in Miramar.'

'All right. And you can do your apologising in person.'

He smiled at me and his eyes twinkled.

Behind us the lock grated as it was turned and the door swung open. 'Your time is up.'

The captain's dark hair gleamed under the glare from the light in the hallway.

'Hang in there, buddy.' John eased himself off the edge of the table and held the back of my chair; before I stood I leant across and grasped Jack's forearm. One corner of his mouth turned upwards.

We crossed back into the hallway and the door was closed again, the two guards resuming their positions one either side. God knows how they thought he'd get away or where he'd go if he did.

Captain Estevez drew his lips back into a smile and gestured with one hand - a sharp, stiff movement - back down the corridor. 'Please.'

We were walked all the way down to the main entrance and as we passed along the corridor that had been home while we had waited I noticed that the desk sergeant had finally finished typing his report and that the telephone had at long last been silenced. Even when we had passed through the portico that led back down to the street I had the sensation of the captain's pale eyes watching us - a strange, uncomfortable itch between my shoulder-blades. I was grateful for the clear air when we reached the outside again; John and I stood, not really looking at each other and neither of us speaking. The lines of his face were harsh and contained, his body so tense that one wrong word would have set off an explosion.

I put my hand in the crook of his arm; he glanced down at me and something passed across his face. We started walking.

'You didn't mention seeing that girl last night.'

'Neither did you.'

'The good captain was asking you, I was just an add-on. When did you know their names?'

'Whose?'

'The dead man and his daughter.' There was a pause. 'I take it that Jack talked to you about them.'

'Yes.'

'But you already knew who they were?'

'Yes.'

'You don't really want to know about things. Aren't I the fool.'

John stopped walking, so I had to stop with him; he faced me. 'Ruben told me.'

'How very considerate of Ruben.'

'Okay. I saw them while I was waiting for you; I asked Ruben if he knew them, he told me their names. That was it. It was none of my business; when I saw the girl with Jack it was still none of my business.'

'And now?'

He let out a breath. 'I don't know.'

We walked on.

The street opened out onto a large, pleasant square dominated by the cathedral. We walked around the square once and then I pulled a shawl out of my bag, put it around my shoulders and walked up the steps into the cathedral. John followed me in but stayed at the rear while I made my way to the font; we share many things but not the same faith. The air was the familiar, comforting mix of incense, flowers and wax. And it was far cooler in there than it was outside. Churches are always cooler.

It was a beautiful place, its walls pale, its arches perfectly carved. The lighting was dim, most of it turned down for the night and the red lamp at the altar shone bright and steady in the gloom. I stepped quietly, trying to dampen the ringing sound of my heels against the hard floor; the side chapel was empty save for one elderly lady swathed in great quantities of black Spanish lace. Her fingers moved incessantly over the rosary beads and her eyes were closed. I put a few coins into the box, lit the candles at the Virgin's feet and knelt. My prayers were short and I did not know whether they would do anyone any good except myself.

But when I rose I felt calmer.

I followed the same path back, peered into the shadows until I found John; he had moved from his position at the back of the church, skirting the pews and was studying the statues of various saints. He turned to me before I reached him, raised his eyebrows questioningly and I nodded. We both walked lightly, doing our best not to disturb the still air.

Outside of the cathedral, back in the plaza, the air was also still but heavy; high thin cloud stretched across the sky, keeping the heat in as effectively as a blanket. Pavement cafés still had their tables set out - music and laughter floated languidly across to us. John looked at his watch.

'We should get something to eat. Unless you'd sooner wait until we get back to the hotel.'

I felt a mess; but John looked restless and in need of the open air, not scented marble elegance.

'I don't think I'd make it back to the hotel without sustenance first,' I told him.

He smiled and took my hand.

ooOoo

The dinner we had would have been highly enjoyable had we both been in better frames of mind. Our table was intimate, our meal excellent and the musicians with their son repertoire were wonderful. We spoke very little throughout - not that the silence was strained or unfriendly; it simply was.

It was well after midnight by the time we returned to our suite at the hotel and I was relieved to finally wash the salt from my skin and hair. I looked in the mirror when I had finished with the hairdryer: the face looking back at me seemed grave, its eyes serious. For a visage that had been in the sun all day it looked positively wan. I pinched my cheeks, which helped a little.

John was in the sitting room, standing in the doorway that led onto the balcony; I crossed to him and took a moment to admire the view of silvered sea.

'It was such a beautiful day,' I said. 'It doesn't seem right that it should have ended the way it did.'

'No.'

He had showered earlier and his hair was still a little damp, strands falling across his forehead and curling slightly at the back of his neck above the collar of his fine white shirt. He glanced at me and then looked a little longer.

'Is that new?'

'I wore it the other night.'

'Did you?'

'I don't think I had it on long enough for you to notice.'

He smiled. 'That could be it.' His smile slipped away.

'You really do believe that Jack is innocent, don't you?'

'Of course. Why, don't you?'

I did not answer him immediately. 'I don't think that he would murder anyone; I don't even think that he would kill someone in the heat of the moment, not unless it was, oh, self-defence or something like that. I heard once that strangling is usually a very personal crime; it takes a lot of hatred.'

'Well, you can take it from me, he didn't do it.' His voice was taut. 'You said to Estevez you'd be surprised if Jack had killed a man last night.'

'I know; and I would be. But then I don't really know him.'

He sighed. 'I know. Dammit, this is a godawful mess. I'm sorry, I-'

'Oh, don't be. I'd say that's a fairly accurate assessment of the situation.'

John laughed slightly and some of the tension left his face. 'Do you want a drink?'

I nodded. 'I could take one.'

While John mixed drinks I curled myself into one of the armchairs; he handed me a glass and sat opposite me on a couch.

'You want to help him, don't you?'

John's eyes rested on me over the rim of his glass. 'The police will be investigating it. They won't want me getting in their way.'

'Yes, I'm sure that you're very interested in what the police want. John. It's obvious that Jack means a great deal to you.'

The corners of his mouth twitched. He sat leaning forward, his arms resting loosely on his thighs, his glass between both hands. 'I owe him.'

'Well, then. It's natural that you'd want to do something for him. Besides, it's what you do for a living.' I took some of my drink, the ice chiming against the side of my glass. 'Jack is the old friend who gave you Bastet, isn't he?'

The little black statuette of an Egyptian cat that had stood guard in John's apartment and was now resident in the study of our house.

He looked at me and his eyebrows went up. 'Yes. I- He- He gave it to me after Anna died. I think it was supposed to keep an eye on me. I... I didn't go to her funeral.' He rolled the glass between his hands; I nodded. 'I was stuck in the middle of a war zone- Even if I had been able to make it back I wouldn't have made it in time; I just...'

John sat back, put the glass on the table beside him. 'Jack's got this thing about Ancient Egypt; he picked that statue up in some bazaar in Giza or Cairo or somewhere. Everywhere we went, the cat went too. Every base, every barracks - it was the first thing he'd unpack and the last thing he'd put away. After I got the news Jack made me take compassionate leave - he dragged me off one weekend' -he glanced at me, wryly- 'I don't really remember much about that weekend. But at the end of it I'd wound up with the cat.'

'I'm glad - for the cat and Jack.'

'Me too.'

We looked at each other and I put my drink down; I kept my voice gentle. 'Anything else troubling you, my beamish boy?'

'Yeah - why are you all the way over there?'

John put his arm around me when I settled beside him on the couch; I turned my face up to his and he kissed me. 'Some honeymoon this is turning out to be; I'm sorry, sweetheart.'

'Do you hear me complaining?'

'No.' His chest vibrated gently under my ear from a soft breath of laughter. 'You're wonderful.'

'You're not entirely without merit yourself. Besides, this way I won't have to worry about your head imploding.'

'I- What?' He was incredulous.

'You just weren't cut out for sitting around on a beach doing nothing.'

Protest bubbled up. 'I- You-'

I laughed, straightened up and looked at him directly. 'John, you're a problem-solver. If you don't have a problem to solve, you'll look around until you find one and then solve that. It's part of who you are.'

His glare was both accusing and exasperated. 'You know, you haven't known me long enough to know me that well.'

'Oh? Haven't I? Don't you think we've known one another for a very long time?'

John's hands were on my waist. 'You can be a very difficult woman.'

'Darling, if I were not difficult you wouldn't be so interested.'

'That's what you think.'

'I know you too well - remember?'

I started to move away and he pulled me back, kissed me. I ran my finger along his cheek and then put my head on his shoulder. 'We'll have to arrange Jack's bail tomorrow.'

'Yes...' John went back to frowning. 'I'll go to the bank, see what I can sort out.'

'Can't you just write them a cheque? Or will they not accept them?'

There was silence, then: 'That's your money.'

For a moment I was not sure that I heard him correctly. 'Oh, for God's sake! We are not having this conversation again!'

'Della-'

I extricated myself, stood up and looked down at him. 'It's our money, John, ours. Yours and mine. Just like the house is ours and everything else that goes with it. If you can't see that- What if the positions were reversed? What then?'

'That's different-'

'Because I'm a woman?'

'Simmer down, I didn't say that.'

'You didn't have to.'

He tilted his head, his eyes crinkling and that familiar lazy smile started to appear. 'You look very lovely when you're angry.'

'Stop changing the subject.'

'Your cheeks flush, your eyes glitter-'

'John!'

He laughed and held up his hands. 'Okay, okay. You win, plaything. Tomorrow we will sort out the bail.'

'Thank-you. That's all I wanted.'

He sat forward and his hands went to my waist again; I was still standing but he pulled me closer.

'I can't do anything for Jack tonight, though. You know, I think maybe I should give Bastet back to him - I don't need her anymore.'

Hair fell across his forehead and I brushed it back. 'Giving up your lucky charm? What will you do?'

'Nah, I have a better one: I've still got the quarter you gave me.'

'What quarter?'

'Your retainer. Actually, half of that's Mike's - I guess I should buy him out of it.'

His face looked so open and his beautiful eyes so warm... It is scandalous what that man can do to me with just one look.

'Oh, John, I do love you.'

He pulled me down to him; and he may not have remembered what I was wearing, but he seemed to remember very well how to unfasten it.

TBC