The Last One Left by John D. MacDonald Read Free Book Online

an air search and can’t find a thing, not so far. Seven people aboard. The Kayd family and the hired captain and his wife and your sister Leila. I just guessed that was why you were in—a big hurry, Mr. Boylston.”
    He went directly to the offices of Boylston and Worth, Attorneys at Law. He hurried through the silence and emptiness of Sunday afternoon back to his large corner office, turned the Sunday setting of the thermostat down ten degrees, made certain his phone was on the night plug and alive, then looked up the number of the newspaper, asked if Tom Insley was there, got him on the line immediately.
    “Tom? Sam. I heard the three o’clock news on the car radio. Have you got anything new on the situation?”
    “Not a thing, Sam. Hell of a note. I know how upset you must be. But as long as I’ve got you on the line, do you want to make any kind of a statement?”
    “No harm in that, I guess. Let’s see now. Bixby Kayd’s cruiser, the Muñeca, is a custom-built boat, diesel powered, very solidly constructed, with all customary safety devices and navigation aids. I understand that the weather has been clear the past two days and the seas calm. I have every confidence that Bix would employ a captain over there who knows the waters and is totally qualified. I have two guesses. One is that they had some kind of electrical failure affecting the engines and have drifted out of the area now being searched. Or, they changed their announced destination, and Bix would have so indicated when he called the Nassau Marine Operator yesterday morning, but the electrical failure kept him from so doing, and again they would be outside the search area. I have—I have every confidence they’ll be spotted today, or no later than tomorrow, and we’ll have an explanation of what happened. Okay?”
    There was too long a delay, too much hesitation before Tom Insley answered. Sam Boylston felt a prickling sensation at the nape of his neck, that most basic and primitive warning.
    “What’s wrong?” he demanded.
    “I guess we have a more complete report than you heard on theradio news, Sam. Bix bought another boat in Florida, a little over twenty feet, and took it in tow. It would get into places too shallow for the Muñeca. Thing is, it was equipped with a transistorized ship-to-shore. Thirty watts. And a good sea boat, fast, lots of power, the same kind of hull they use in those Miami to Nassau races. Look, I don’t want to upset you any more than you are, but the Bahamas are full of pleasure boats in May. There’s no news of any contact by any of them with either of Bix’s boats. I can’t see a simultaneous electrical failure.”
    “Then you better say that I am optimistic about them being found.”
    “Are you?”
    “The reason has to be off the record, Tom.”
    “Too many things are, but go ahead.”
    “Bix Kayd never took a hundred percent pleasure trip in his life. I guess you know I did some law work for him. I resigned. We’re still reasonably friendly. There were too many surprises. You can’t do your best job for a client unless you know the whole picture, know everything he’s fiddling around with. Bix is a promoter. He likes to stay behind the scenes. He’s more secretive than he has to be because I guess he gets a boot out of it. Nobody but Bix and his personal tax accountants know the whole structure. The disappearance has the smell of one of his little games.”
    “How could it do him any good?”
    “Think it through, Tom. Some of the things he’s known to be behind could take quite a slide when the exchanges open tomorrow. Through a plausible dummy he could have set up to sell short, buy back at the bottom, and show up wearing a broad smile about Wednesday.”
    “Until the S.E.C. digs into it?”
    “The way he moves, he doesn’t leave many tracks. And there’squite a swarm of congressmen who keep coming back to his place for barbecue and bourbon.”
    “So you’ll just wait and see?”
    “A