After he had gone, I sat down and stared out of the window and watched the Conch fishermen preparing their boats for the night’s fishing. I thought about Miss Wonderly, and the more I nought about her, the worse I felt. I remembered the way she looked sitting on the raft at Dayden Beach. I remembered the way she looked lying in the sand when I was grilling the spareribs. It seemed a long time ago. Then I remembered Bat’s moronic face and Killeano saying, “Do you think you could handle her?” And Bat saying, “I guess I could sort of try.” I felt bad, all right.
The next three hours dragged away, and by the time it was dark I was lower than a snake’s belly.
Tim looked in about eight o’clock, gave me an evening paper. The Herrick killing was smeared over the front page. There was a picture of Miss Wonderly. She looked cute. They called her the Blonde Killer.
They had the confession in full, and I read it. It was cock-eyed enough to sound true. Miss Wonderly said she and I had returned to Palm Beach Hotel, and had had a lot of drinks. I was sore because Herrick wanted me to leave town. I said I’d show him he couldn’t talk that way to me, and Miss Wonderly admitted she goaded me to call him, thinking I was bluffing. I called Herrick and asked him over. He came. I was drunk by then. We were supposed to have quarrelled and Herrick got angry. We fought, and Miss Wonderly hit Herrick on the head with my gun. Herrick fell down and bust his head open on the fire curb. We passed out, and woke the next morning to find Herrick dead.
That was the story, and it was signed. The signature was shaky and indistinct. I felt like hell looking at it.
Tim came back after a while to say Davis was waiting for me at the end of the wharf. He had Mitchell with him.
I went down.
It was dark, and the stars reflected on the still water of the harbour. There was no one around. At the end of the wharf I found Davis with a big, beefy man who had copper written all over him.
“This is Mitchell,” Davis said.
I stepped up to the man, peered at him. I couldn’t see much of him in the dim light, but he didn’t look as if he would give me any trouble. He peered right back at me.