"I didn't know where he was. I thought I knew where his boat was. And I wasn't even sure of that. I know that Sam Ford knows his boats but I couldn't be entirely sure. I went down to theJumentos to make the identification."
"Instead of which you made a stinking mess," said Perigoid cut tingly
"Mr. Mangan, I told you that this is a professional matter and you were not to butt in. You are responsible for the death of a man; an innocent bystander whom you casually took along on a hunt for a murderer. Fred Bayliss was a married man with a wife and four children. What of them?"
I felt like hell.
"I'll look after the family," I muttered.
"Oh, you will? Big deal. You know what it's like to lose your family.
How do you suppose Mrs. Bayliss is feeling now? Do you think you can cure her grief with a few dollars? "
Perigord was a man who knew how to go for the jugular.
"Christ, what can I say beyond that I'm sorry?"
"Neither your sorrow or your money is of much help. And now I have an armed man loose in the Bahamas who knows he is being hunted, and it is my men who will have to do the hunting. How much sorrow will you feel if one of them is killed in the process?"
"Jesus, Perigord, enough is enough!"
He nodded.
"I think so, too. Go back to running your hotels, Mr. Mangan. Go back to making money but stay out of this business." He paused.
"I may want to question you and Sam Ford further I'll let you know. That's all."
I left Perigord's office feeling so low I could walk under a snake's belly wearing a top hat. He was a man who knew how to use words as weapons, and the hell of it was that I knew I had it coming. I had been irresponsible. When Sam had come with the news of Kayles's boat I should have taken him to Perigord immediately and let the police handle it.
My disposition did not improve when I returned to my office and telephoned home. Luke Bailey answered.
"Is Mrs. Mangan at home?"
"No, Mr. Mangan."
"Have you any idea where she is?"
"She left for Houston this morning."
"Thanks, Luke." I put down the telephone feeling more depressed than ever.
A few days later Perigord asked to see me and Sam Ford and we met him, not in his office, but in the Customs Department at the harbour.
He had had Kayles's sloop brought up from Duncan Town and, as I thought he might, he had enlisted the aid of Customs officers to give it a real going-over.
The boat had been taken out of the water and put into a warehouse where she looked enormous. It is surprising how much larger a sailing boat looks out of the water than in; one tends to forget that most of a boat is under water. The Customs officers had taken most of the gear out other and it was stacked on the floor of the warehouse and on tables in small heaps, each heap labelled as to where it was found. Again, it is surprising how much you can cram into a twenty seven footer.
Perigord took us into a small glassed-in office in a corner of the warehouse and put us through the hoops again, this time with a tape recorder on the desk. It was a gruelling interrogation and it hit Sam hard because he blamed himself for everything, knowing that if he had not left the knife on the chart table then Bayliss might still be alive.
It was a two-hour grilling, occasionally interrupted by a Customs officer who would come in to show Perigord something or other. At last he switched off the recorder and took us out into the warehouse where he had Sam show him the masthead fitting by which he was able to identify the boat, even with its name and colour changed.
I said, "Have you found anything useful?"
"Nothing of interest." There was that in Perigord's voice which told me that even if he had found something he was not going to inform me.
"Not the drugs?" I asked in surprise.
His interest sharpened.
"What drugs?"
"The stuff in the first-aid box."
He beckoned to a Customs man and the box was produced. It was empty.
The Customs man said, "We've laid out the contents over there." We walked over to the trestle table and I scanned through the articles.
The morphine syringes were there but there were no glass ampoules.
I described them, and said, "I thought ifKayles was a drug- runner he might be a user, too, and that this was his personal stock."
"Yes," said Perigord thoughtfully.
"If he was a user he would certainly take it along, no matter in how much of a hurry he was. It was a liquid, you say?"
"That's right; a faintly yellowish liquid." I described the ampoules and told of the home-made look they had.
The Customs officer picked up the reuseable hypodermic syringe.
"It's funny he didn't take this." He shook his head.
"A yellow liquid.
That's new to me. "
"They're always coming up with something new to blow their minds," said Perigord.
"So now we've got a hopped-up gunman. It gets worse, doesn't it, Mr. Mangan? Once his supplies run out he might start raiding pharmacies to resupply. Another headache."
"Have you any idea where he might be?" I asked.
