"Think he might have someone helping him? Someone who's hiding him here in Bermuda?"
"That's what we're working on at this point. His face is all over the newspapers, on TV. There's a hundred-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to his arrest. If he's still here, we'll shake him loose," Worley says. "We've questioned everyone he's known to have associated with, including his coworkers."
I tell Worley about the young man I'd seen on Frazer's boat, the one who followed Boggy and me in the blue Toyota.
"We talked to him," Worley says. "Nestor Ferreira. He came up clean."
Worley sees the look on my face.
"Yeah, as in Papi Ferreira," Worley says. "Nestor is Papi's grandson. Antoni Ferreira, Papi's only child, that was Nestor's dad."
I don't say anything.
Worley says, "You say it was Nestor Ferreira who was following you?"
"I think so. Sure looked like him."
Worley makes a note on a pad.
"We'll talk to him again. See what he has to say about that." Worley studies me. "By the way, that business you had with Papi Ferreira, you never told me what it was."
I look at Barbara.
I say, "Aunt Trula's party the other night-how did it turn out?"
Barbara looks at Worley, then back to me. She knows I'm dodging his question.
"Why, it turned out just fine, Zack, everything considered. I mean, I was a perfect mess, not knowing where you were. But the food, the music, the company-everything was splendid. And the palm trees looked magnificent. Everyone commented on them. It went on and on and on, with people standing up and offering toasts to Titi. And then when Sir Teddy showed up ..."
"Teddy made it to the party?"
"Why, yes," Barbara says. "He arrived there shortly before midnight."
She cuts her eyes at Worley.
Worley says, "The only reason he made it there was because I drove him there. Fiona McHugh called the moment she got ashore, told me what had happened. And I had Sir Teddy released then and there. He was insistent upon going to that party. So I drove him."
Worley looks at me.
He says, "It was a nice party, Chasteen. Avery nice party. I even drank some champagne. I never drink champagne." He stops. "What's your business with Ferreira, Chasteen?"
"It's got nothing to do with Frazer."
"You sure of that?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"This business, you done with it?"
"Almost," I say. "Still some loose ends to wrap up."
"You plan on wrapping them up pretty damn soon?"
I nod.
"I could use your help," I say.
"Oh, really? You want me to help you with some business, only you won't tell me what that business is? And it involves Papi Ferreira and we all know what business he is in."
"Yeah, that's pretty much it," I say.
"And I should do this, why?" says Worley.
"Because that's just the kind of guy you are. Helpful."
"Fuck you," says Worley. He looks at Barbara. "Excuse me."
She waves it off.
I say, "I need you to help me find someone."
"Who would that be?" says Worley.
"A guy named Brewster Trimmingham."
87.
By the next day, I'm able to maneuver to the bathroom all on my own. The day after that, I'm navigating the halls of King Edward Hospital, making a complete nuisance of myself. And the day after that, they set me free.
Back at Cutfoot Estate, Aunt Trula instructs her staff that my every wish is their command. After almost a week in the hospital, I'm fairly ravenous. Still, I try not to take advantage of Aunt Trula's hospitality. I limit myself to four meals a day. No cocktails until five.
People come to see me. And, considering the alternative, it's nice to be seen.
Fiona McHugh drops by on the morning she is to fly home to Australia. She has spent the previous few days being interviewed by Janeen Hill.
"She's going forward with the book?"
"So it appears," Fiona says. "Her agent is even more keen on it now than before. He says that with Michael Frazer still missing and an international search for him now under way, it gives the story legs."
"Legs, huh?"
"Janeen's words, not mine," says Fiona. "Where do you think Frazer is, Zack?"
I don't say anything. She looks at me, says: "Do you know something you aren't telling me?"
"Not yet," I say.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, if I find out something, then you will know it, too."
"Fair enough," she says.
She gives me a kiss and says good-bye.
Aunt Trula and Teddy Schwartz join me for lunch. I've asked the kitchen staff to re-create the Onion's version of fish stew. They manage to do it even better.
"I'm sorry about Miss Peg," I tell Teddy. "I know how much she meant to you."
"Hard means to a good end," he says. "I'm forever in your debt."
"Yeah, you are. Big time." I smile. "That's why I have a proposition for you."
"What's that?" asks Teddy.
I look at Aunt Trula.
"Would you mind?" I say.
She responds with more graciousness than I would have expected.
"No, not at all," she says, getting up from the table. "I'll leave you to your men's talk."
When she's gone, I lay out my proposition.
Teddy's eyes light up. He says, "I'd be delighted, consider it an honor."
"How long do you think it will take?"
"A month maybe, certainly no longer."
"Perfect," I say.
Inspector Worley shows up while I'm having a midafternoon snack: Fish-and-chips and a Heineken. I can't talk him into food, but he sits down to drink a beer with me.
"That fellow you were looking for ..."
"Brewster Trimmingham?"
"Yeah," Worley says. "He turned up."
I wait. Worley looks at his notepad.
"After leaving King Edward Hospital nine days ago, he took a cab to Bermuda International. He boarded U.S. Airways Flight eight thirteen for Washington, D.C., arriving at ten fifteen A.M. He then took Piedmont Airlines Flight ten twenty-four for Charlottesville, Virginia, arriving at ..."
"He went to see his wife."
"Whatever you say." Worley rips a sheet off the notepad, hands it to me. "That's the address and the phone number."
"Thanks," I say.
"You owe me."
I don't say anything.
Worley says, "Finally talked to Nestor Ferreira. Turns out he went down to Miami for a few days. Just got back."
"What did Nestor have to say?"
"He said you must have been mistaken. It wasn't him in that blue Toyota. Says he was out fishing with his uncle that day."
"Well, then, I must have been mistaken."
Worley looks at me. I look at him. He gets up.
"You heading home soon?" he asks.
"Day after tomorrow," I say.
"Plan on coming back?"
"I'd say there's a very high probability of that."
He sticks out a hand. I shake it.
"Give me some warning," he says.
88.
At fiveish, Barbara joins me on the terrace. I'm sipping a glass of Gosling's neat. She opens a bottled water.
"You've had a busy day," she says.