Love for Sail

by Charles Dougherty

  She had noticed that the autopilot was holding Diamantista on a southwesterly course, and the wind had not shifted as she had originally assumed. It was clear to her that Connie had changed course during her last watch. Kirsten's mental picture of the East Coast wasn't all that clear, but she was guessing Connie was headed for somewhere in the Carolinas. More than the course change, the fact that Connie had done it on the sly disturbed Kirsten. It would have been natural for Connie to have mentioned the new course to her when they changed watch; that was the usual way of such things. Kirsten interpreted that as a confirmation of her earlier suspicion that she had lost Connie's trust; maybe what she was planning would put her back in Connie's good graces.

  When they had dealt with Jimmy, there would be no reason not to head back out to sea and resume their earlier course. Since Connie would either be responsible for his death or at least complicit in it, she would not want to make a landfall in the States, according to Kirsten's thinking. The water out here must be thousands of feet deep; with a little weight to help him sink, Jimmy would be fish food in no time. She smiled at the thought and blew him a kiss, checking her watch. It was almost time to raise the curtain on the final act of the Jimmy Dorlan show.

  ****

  Connie awakened with a start when she heard Kirsten screaming her name. "Connie! Connie, come quick! Hurry!" She shook her head and rubbed her eyes as she rolled out of bed. She could hear hurried footsteps on the deck above her stateroom as she staggered to the door, surprised by how erratic the boat's motion had become while she slept.

  "He's got a gun!" Kirsten screeched as Connie swung onto the companionway ladder and looked out into the cockpit. She saw Kirsten standing with her hands up, her back to the companionway. Jimmy was in a sitting position, a small pistol held loosely in one hand as he tore at the duct tape around his jaw with the other.

  Before he spotted Connie, she dropped off the ladder and opened the tool locker, grabbing her trusty adjustable wrench. In a crouch, she held onto the ladder and peered cautiously over the threshold of the companionway. Kirsten had backed away from Jimmy; she was standing on one of the cockpit seats. Jimmy was facing Kirsten, oblivious to Connie's presence.

  Connie leapt into the cockpit and was on top of Jimmy before he saw her coming. She dropped the wrench, grabbing the pistol in her left hand and his right wrist in her right hand. Before he could resist, she twisted the pistol out and away from the three of them, hearing the click as the hammer dropped and registering that it had misfired. She continued to twist the pistol as she held Jimmy's wrist; forcing his right hand back at an unnatural angle as his fingers gave way. He screamed in pain as she wrenched the pistol from his grasp, dislocating his index finger, which was caught in the trigger guard.

  She dropped the pistol behind her and took a half-step back. As she groped for the wrench with her right hand, she saw Kirsten step behind Jimmy. Her eyes still on Jimmy, Connie found the wrench, gripped it, and started to swing at his head. She checked her swing when Jimmy gasped in mid-scream and arched his back, groaning.

  Kirsten, a wild look in her eyes, heaved her body to the side, her hands still out of Connie's sight behind Jimmy's back. Kirsten rose to her knees, as Jimmy fell to the side, shuddering. Connie saw the razor sharp, eight-inch chef's knife from the galley gripped in both of Kirsten's blood-covered hands. Jimmy curled into a fetal position, moaning softly.

  Connie was nauseated when she saw the blood pouring from the wound where Kirsten had driven the knife in just above his kidney. She had torn the blade out to the side, and blood gushed from the long, deep gash.

  Kirsten dropped the knife and leaned over the lifeline, throwing up violently. Connie suppressed her nausea and gathered up the pistol and the knife, moving to where she could get a better look at Jimmy's wound. She saw that there was no hope of stopping the bleeding. Without an emergency room, he would be dead in minutes, no matter what she did.

  Although she knew it was pointless, her instincts drove her to grab one of the beach towels from the locker behind her. She dropped the knife and the pistol in the locker before she closed it. Folding the towel, she pressed it to the wound, attempting to control the bleeding. Jimmy stopped moaning as he slipped into shock, and soon she felt him go limp. Still holding the sodden towel in place with her left hand, she touched his throat with the index and middle fingers of her right hand. There was no pulse. She sat back, drained, and looked up to see Kirsten watching her.

  "He's dead?" Kirsten asked in a tentative tone of voice.

  Numb, Connie stared at her for a moment. "What?"

  "Is he dead?"

  Connie nodded. She went below and came back with a sheet, which she spread over the corpse. "Give me a hand, Kirsten. Let's move him to the side deck so that he won't be in the way."

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  An hour later, Kirsten and Connie were sitting in the cockpit. Connie had washed the area with liberal quantities of seawater and detergent, removing most of the blood from the unfinished teak decking. She thought that periodic rinses with salt water and exposure to the tropical sun would take care of the rest of the stains in a few weeks. Otherwise, she would have to sand the teak down.

  They had both showered, and if she ignored the sheet-draped form on the side deck, Connie thought things looked reasonably normal. Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy to rid her memory of what had happened. Kirsten, however, seemed untroubled.

  "Connie?"

  "Yes?"

  "I noticed that you changed course, before ... um ..."

  "Yes, I did."

  "Where are we headed?"

  "Beaufort."

  "Where's that?"

  "North Carolina. Probably make landfall not long after dark."

  "Why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why did you decide to go there?"

  "I wasn't about to keep him tied up on deck all the way to the islands, and I knew better than to trust him if we untied him."

  "Oh. Well, I guess that's not an issue now."

  "No, I suppose it isn't."

  "So we might as well resume our original course, huh?"

  "Kirsten?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Tell me what happened, okay?"

  Kirsten nodded, collecting her thoughts. "After you'd been below for a while, he wanted more water. He was kinda making this slurping sound, you know? I finally figured it out. I asked him if that was it, and he nodded, so I went below and filled that cup with the straw thing that we used before."

  "Uh-huh. Then what?"

  "When I came back up, he was sitting upright, pointing the gun at me. That's when I started screaming for you. You came up and …"

  "Kirsten, you killed him. I know you wanted him dead, and I think I understand why. Maybe you thought there was no other choice, given what was going on. I'm not making any judgment about that right now, but I want some straight answers, please."

  "I don't understand, Connie. What are you asking?"

  "Let's start with how his hands got free."

  Kirsten locked eyes with Connie, holding her gaze for a moment. "He must have broken those plastic thingies, I guess."

  "Those were twelve-inch cable ties; they'll hold hundreds of pounds. The Incredible Hulk couldn't break them, let alone a skinny jerk like Jimmy. They had to be cut."

  "Then I guess he cut them ..."

  "Bullshit! There was no way he could cut them. He was hog-tied, and there was nothing sharp he could have rubbed them against."

  Kirsten shook her head, her eyes tearing up. She sniffled. "You think I cut him loose? After what he did to me?" She sobbed. "You're not going to believe me no matter what I say, so just think what you want, I guess."

  Connie waited until the blubbering subsided. "The next thing is, where did he get that pistol?"

  "I forgot about it," Kirsten said, sniffling.

  "Forgot about it? I don't ..."

  "I mean I forgot he had it; he kept it taped to his leg, like, und
er his jeans. Maybe he could reach it and he used it to break the cable tie somehow."

  "Why would he carry an unloaded gun taped to his leg, Kirsten? That doesn't make sense."

  "No. No, it doesn't. But he's kinda crazy, like. Not all there, sometimes."

  "Uh-huh. One more question."

  "What's that?"

  "Why'd you have that butcher knife up in the cockpit?"

  Kirsten broke down sobbing again. "You think I killed him!"

  "That's not even in question. We both know you killed him."

  "Then what are you driving at, Connie? Why are you tormenting me like this?"

  "I think you set this up, Kirsten. I know you wanted him dead; now he's dead. You happy?"

  "No."

  "What do you want, Kirsten. What is it that you think we should do now?"

  "I just wanted us to be free of him."

  "Us?"

  "You. Me. We can sail to the islands now, just the two of us. I'll learn to cook; I know I'm not great at that. But I'm a good sailor. What do you say?"

  "I don't know; I ..."

  "Connie?"

  "What?"

  "I need to level with you, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "I'm in trouble."

  Connie waited, letting the silence drag on. Finally, she nodded.

  "I lied about taking time off from school. I got caught doing drugs and got kicked out. My father cut me off. Jimmy was good to me at first. He helped me when no one else would. Then he tried to blackmail me into working for a friend of his who's a pimp, but I convinced him we should head for the islands, both of us, and get a fresh start. He agreed, but then the other day, he told me he wanted to, like, set himself up as my pimp in St. Thomas and get some more girls. That's what we quarreled about when he beat me. I saw you and this charter thing as a way out of all that."

  Connie nodded, studying the abject girl, until Kirsten said, "Well?"

  "That's kind of a lot to take in," Connie said. "I need a little time alone to think it over. Why don't you go get some rest; I know you must be drained."

  Kirsten nodded, a hopeful look on her face as she got to her feet. "Thanks, Connie," she murmured, stepping toward the companionway.

  "Thanks for telling me," Connie said. "I know that can't have been easy for you. Get some sleep, and we'll talk again."

  ****

  The longer Connie considered Kirsten's story, the less sense the girl's explanation made. She had not denied that she set Jimmy up, but Connie wasn't sure of her motive. Kirsten's cold-bloodedness frightened Connie; she wasn't about to take off to the islands with the girl.

  When Connie was scrubbing the cockpit earlier, she had found the cable ties. They had been cut cleanly. After Kirsten left, Connie had retrieved the gun and discovered that it was not loaded. Except for those things, the girl might have argued that she killed him to save Connie, but it was obvious to Connie that Kirsten had set Jimmy free and put the gun in his hand. Kirsten's acts spoke of premeditation, and that made Connie nervous.

  Kirsten was probably high on something. Looking back over the last couple of days, Connie recalled that there were times when the girl seemed much more enthusiastic than others. She could well have a stash of cocaine aboard, given that Jimmy had marijuana.

  She had hidden the sat phone in one of the small lockers in the cockpit coaming the last time she'd used it. She took it out and turned it on, holding it down in her lap, out of sight if Kirsten decided to come back on deck. Using her thumbs, she keyed in a brief text message to Paul and sent it. A few minutes later, she felt the phone vibrate against her thigh. She looked at the screen and read Paul's response.

  ****

  Kirsten was in the head; she needed a little extra focus to work her way through this. She was going through the coke much more quickly than she had thought she would; she had worried earlier today that she might run out. Then she remembered the rest of the stash in Jimmy's duffle bag. She didn't have to worry about his finding out anymore. She relaxed and took a little extra to celebrate. As the rush faded, she thought about the situation with Connie.

  She was frustrated that Connie had seen through her plan. Although Connie professed not to judge her, she could tell that Connie was repulsed by her actions. She couldn't think of a way to persuade Connie to team up with her at the moment, but she couldn't let Connie take them back to the States. She could imagine that arriving with a dead body aboard would attract attention.

  Depending on how Connie decided to present her side of the story, Kirsten might escape prosecution, but the thought of the frenzy of activity alarmed her. She'd certainly end up in jail, even if just for a brief period, and that would mean no coke. Then there was the question of her family and whether they would help her or not. She'd be better off in the islands, surely, whether or not she was working with Connie.

  She needed to find the money; $250,000 would go a long way toward solving her problems. Maybe she'd make that buy and sell some of the dope after all. That was an option, especially if things didn't work out with Connie. But before that could happen, she needed Connie to take her to the islands. She briefly considered offering Connie some of the money, but then rejected that idea. She would need the money, and besides, Connie seemed to have plenty; this boat alone must have cost her more than $250,000.

  Anyway, Connie was playing Miss Righteous; she'd hardly accept what she'd probably see as a bribe. Kirsten remembered a remark Connie had made about having 'done things she wasn't proud of.' That might be a key to changing her mind; maybe she could play on Connie's sympathy.

  And then there was always the pistol. She had the bullets from both of the pistols, but she didn't know where her little one was. She'd lost track of it in the confusion. Connie probably had it. She had mentioned that it wasn't loaded, so she’d examined it after they killed Jimmy. Maybe she locked it in that drawer with Jimmy's. Kirsten decided to go have a look at that drawer under the chart table. However things worked out with Connie, a pistol was always a good thing to have if you were carrying cash and dealing drugs.

  She stepped in to the forward stateroom where her duffle bag was stored and unzipped it. Opening one of the side pouches, she took out a selection of hairpins and a nail file. She palmed her makeshift lock-picks and made her way back to the chart table.

  Checking to be sure she was out of Connie's line of sight, she slipped into the seat at the table and examined the drawer. The lock was just like the one on her dad's desk at home, which she learned to pick as a child. She stuck the tip of the nail file into the bottom part of the keyhole and twisted it slightly as she probed for the tumblers with one of the hairpins.

  In a moment, she was examining the contents of the drawer. She found both pistols, as well as the passports and the ship's papers. There was an iPhone, presumably Connie's, and an envelope with a few hundred dollars in it. She decided to leave everything but the guns, at least for now. She pondered the guns.

  If Connie went into the drawer for any reason, she was bound to notice that the guns were missing. That would end any chance of Kirsten gaining her trust. On the other hand, she wasn't doing very well at gaining Connie's trust anyway. She took both of the pistols and locked the drawer. There was no reason for Connie to open it, so she was probably safe enough from discovery.

  She went back to the forward cabin and loaded both guns, smiling again at the memory of how she had deceived Connie about her knowledge of guns. She slipped her little .25 caliber pistol into the pocket of the loose-fitting shorts she'd put on after showering to rinse off Jimmy's blood. She put Jimmy's .40 caliber in her duffle bag and returned the bag to the locker where it had been. She went back to the main cabin and stretched out on the settee, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  Less than an hour later, Connie was surprised when Kirsten stepped into the cockpit. She raised her eyebrows and said, "What's wrong? Too rough below to sleep?"

  "Guess I'm just t
oo wound up; I keep replaying everything, and I'm kind of on pins and needles until you make a decision."

  "What do you think I should do, Kirsten?" Connie asked, mindful of Paul's advice to humor the girl for the time being.

  "It's your decision, but I wish you'd resume our course for the islands."

  Connie nodded. "Okay, then. We might as well, I guess. You know how to jibe the boat?"

  "Sure. You want me to tend the mainsheet; haul it in while you steer to bring the stern through the wind, right?"

  "You got it. Ready?"

  Kirsten nodded, crouching at the mainsheet winch, both hands gripping the winch handle. She nodded at Connie.

  "Here goes," Connie said. She swung the helm and watched as Kirsten cranked madly on the sheet winch, at first meeting heavy resistance as she pulled the big sail against the force of the wind. She had almost brought the mainsail to the centerline when the boat rolled with a wave and the sail filled on the opposite tack with a loud crack, Connie fought the helm as the boat tried to round up and put her bow into the wind. Kirsten released the mainsheet, easing the sail out on the opposite side. The boat came up on a more even keel, and the pressure on the helm fell off as Diamantista settled on the new course, once again headed for that waypoint south of Bermuda.

  "Well done," Connie said, smiling. Nothing like actively sailing the boat to take your mind off your troubles, she thought, pleased with the way the boat had come through the maneuver. "Happier now?"

  "Yeah," Kirsten replied, "But ..."

  "But what?"

  "Couldn't we just roll him over the side? I mean, every time I look over there and see him ..."

  Connie's thoughts were racing; she'd anticipated this, but had hoped that the timing would preclude dealing with it just yet. "Um … this really isn't a good place. We're still on the continental shelf."