The Beach Girls by John D. MacDonald Read Free Book Online

a nurse, when I was a little kid. I remember one Christmas they gave me a toy nurse kit, stethoscope and all. But somehow I never even gave it a try. Now I’m Miss Christine Yale, Girl Friday of the Elihu Beach Chamber of Commerce.
    I was in the forward cabin of Rice’s
Ruthless
, sitting on the unused bunk looking at Leo Rice in the other bunk, propped up on a pair of pillows, a dark strong highball in his hand.
    “Feel better?” I asked.
    “Ask me when I’ve gotten this drink down. They introduced us but … I’m sorry … I don’t quite …”
    “Christy. Christy Yale.”
    His smile was slow and pleasant. “Christy Yale, Samaritan.”
    “It was a pretty stinky introduction to our little group, Leo.”
    “Who broke it up?”
    “They should have broken it up right away, but they had to wait until he kicked you, darn them.”
    “Oh, he only kicked me. I had the feeling he dropped a cruiser on me.”
    “Orbie and Lew broke it up. They took him ashore. By now they’ve had a chance to beat him half to death. I think they’ve been waiting for a good opening. He’s an impossible man.”
    “Improbable is a better word. I don’t remember ever running into that type before—at least so intimately.”
    “It seemed especially awful, Leo, because—because you’re just not the sort of man that happens to.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “You have a sort of manner of importance about you, no matter how you’re dressed. A sort of dignity. I don’t know how to say it. A gentleman, I guess.”
    “You make me sound like a horrible stuffed shirt.”
    “Oh, you’re not!”
    He chuckled and it made him grimace with pain. “How would you know whether I am or not, Christy?”
    “Am I blushing? Leo, who are you? What do you do?”
    “Well …”
    “Understand that questions are not good form around here. But I’m an incurable snoop.”
    “The answer is pretty ordinary, Christy. I’m a corporation executive from Syracuse, New York. I got very run down—for many reasons. So I took a six-month leave of absence.”
    “You didn’t look so run down when you arrived.”
    “I got into the car and drove. You should have seen me. Thirty pounds heavier. Flabby, jittery. I ended up in Jacksonville. I rented an isolated beach cottage and I bought a shovel.”
    “A shovel!”
    “To improve my health and character. Every day I shoveled beach sand from here to there, and the next day I would shovel it all back. More every day. Finally I found myself admiring myself in the mirror, flexing muscles and so on. So I sold the car and bought a boat. I wanted to be a valiant mariner. Calm in the eye of the tempest, steely hand at the helm.”
    I saw the obvious chance to trap him. “Why did you stop here, Leo?”
    “I had the vague idea of going down to the Keys, but I found that boats make me nervous. I keep worrying about going aground, and what the markers mean, and what to do about other water traffic, and what part of the boat is going to suddenly stop operating.”
    “So you stopped right here?”
    “To get my wind.”
    “I’m a horrible snoop, Leo. I told you that.”
    There was a sudden wariness about him. “Yes?”
    “You got here last Friday. There was a letter in the box in the office for you on Saturday. From Syracuse, from alaw firm I think. Addressed to you, care of Stebbins’ Marina, aboard the
Ruthless
. So you meant to come here.”
    “I laid out a route,” he said, too casually.
    “Don’t spoil it. I love intrigue,” I said.
    “And what would be my mysterious mission?” he asked lightly but guardedly.
    I put my chin on my fist and scowled at him. “I suppose Sid Stark would be the most logical. He’s in all sorts of tax trouble. Maybe you’re a sort of undercover agent, finding out how much he’s spending on all those parties.”
    “Hmmm. Any other ideas?”
    “Well, you could be working for the syndicate which has been trying to buy this place from Alice and turn it into an