Hit and Run

She went down in a graceful, perfect dive and hit the water with scarcely a splash and came up, shaking her hair out of her eyes. She turned on her back with her hair floating out around her and swam slowly towards the steps leading out of the bath.

'Well,' West said and drew in a slow breath.

He removed his hat, took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat band while he watched Lucille climb out of the bath, and then walk along the side of the bath, the water glistening on her brown skin, the white bikini plastered to her body like a second skin.

We stood there like stone men, watching her until she disappeared into one of the cabins.

Then West turned and looked at me. His small grey eyes were sleepy and his thin, hard mouth was curled into a small incredulous smile.

'That his daughter?'

'That is Mrs. Aitken.'

'Mrs. Aitken?'

'Yes.'

'You mean she's that old punk's wife?'

'She is Mrs. Aitken.'

He blew a long silent whistle.

'She doesn't look more than twenty.'

I was losing patience as well as getting jittery with these remarks.

'Well, that's scarcely my fault, is it?'

He stared at me, momentarily surprised, then he nodded. 'That's right, it's not your fault. Well, well, the guy certainly makes use of his money, doesn't he?'

Leaving me, he strolled over to the garage, swung up the tilt-up doors and went in to examine the cars.

I stood in the sun and waited.

Lucille came out of the cabin. She was now wearing a scarlet halter, white shorts and pair of sandals. She carried the two little pieces of wet rag that made up her bikini and she walked quickly around the bath towards me.

I realized the effect West would have on her unless I warned her before she ran into him, and I went towards her.

She looked up and saw me.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw West come out of the garage. I quickened my pace and reached her as West shut the garage doors.

'This man is a police officer,' I said, speaking fast. 'He's not looking for you. He's only checking the cars. There's nothing to worry about.'

Maybe I shouldn't have jumped it on her like this, but I hadn't much time. Anyway, she went as white as a fresh fall of snow, and for one awful moment I thought she was going to faint.

Her eyes grew large and dark and, under her heavy tan, the change of colour gave her an odd mottled look.

Then I heard the gentle slapping of West's feet as he came towards us. He didn't seem in a hurry, but he reached us quicker than I would have thought possible.

He came up beside me, his breath whistling down his thick nose, and I knew he was staring at Lucille, and when I turned, that was what he was doing.

She stared back at him like a rabbit staring at a snake.

My voice sounded husky as I said: 'This is Lieutenant West. Lieutenant, this is Mrs. Aitken.'

West said in his slow drawl, 'Good afternoon, madam. I've just been checking the cars, I expect you've read ...' but that was as far as he got.

Lucille turned abruptly and walked away. She didn't exactly run, but her slim brown legs took her over the ground at quite a pace.

West turned and watched her go. Neither of us said anything until she had run up the steps and out of sight.

'Sort of snooty, huh?' he said, cocking his head on one side. 'High-hat, would you say?'

'What's a police officer to her?' I said, trying to sound casual. 'After all she's a rich man's wife.'

'That's right.' He took off his hat and wiped the sweat band with his handkerchief. It seemed to be a habit of his. 'Now I wonder what was on her mind. Did you see how she changed colour?'

'Did she?'

I began to move towards the terrace, my heart bumping unevenly against my ribs.

West fell in step beside me.

'Yeah. She changed colour. Quite a doll. With a shape like that it seems a waste to have married an old guy like Aitken.'

'If it worries you all that much, why don't you take it up with him?' I said curtly.

West glanced at me and smiled a tired smile.

'I'm not all that in love with my job, but I don't aim to lose it. Would she have a lover, do you think?'

'Why not ask her, if it's any of your business?' I said, turning to glare at him.

He rubbed his big hand over his sweating face and sniffled a yawn.

'I'd like to, but I don't imagine she'd tell me. Does she ever use any of Aitken's cars?'

My heart skipped a beat.

'Did you find any of them damaged?'

'No. The chauffeur keeps them nice. He probably has to.'

'Then it's no business of yours if she uses them or not. But if it will set your mind at rest, she hasn't a driving permit so the answer is she doesn't use them.'

He squinted at me.

'Just because she hasn't a driving permit,' he said slowly, 'doesn't mean she doesn't take a car out sometimes. Some people take chances. How come she doesn't drive?'

I was suddenly scared I had said too much.

'Maybe you'd better ask her,' I said. 'What business is it of yours?'