MacDonald, John D – Travis McGee 18 – The Green Ripper

At the bitter end of the day there was but one guest left aboard. I had heard about her but had never met her. She was the third or fourth wife of some old party from Long Island whose hundredand-twenty-foot ocean-going yacht was moored at one of the big berths, with a permanent crew of five. The Madrina, meaning “godmother,” a nice enough name for a ship. The Madrina had been at the marina for a month because her owner had a very bad stroke the day before they were to sail for Bermuda. I did not know who brought the wife aboard my vessel, or left her there with me. Smallish, dark-haired, and very nice to look upon, she was a creature of many subtle perfections. Named Anna. An accent I could not place. Some Portuguese, she said, and Chinese, and a lot of White Russian, born in Hong Kong, and with a degree in engineering from the University of Alabama.

Anna wore a woolly white jump suit with a turtleneck, a heavy-duty gold zipper all the way down the front of it, and some little marine flag signals embroidered over the pocket At five of midnight, after the others had left, there we were. She was curled into a corner of my yellow sofa, brandy glass in hand, looking over at me out of dark eyes under dark brows under the wing of smooth jet hair across her forehead. She stared with a total focus of her attention, watchful as a cat. The white outfit

The Green Ripper fitted so closely no one with figure flaws could have managed it. I couldn’t remember who had brought her into the group.

“We have very much the same kind of trouble, Travis,” she said.

“We do?”

“They told me the day before yesterday, at the hospital, that Harvey won’t live.”

‘Em sorry to hear it.”

“Just two short years. That’s all we had.”

“Yes. That’s too bad.”

“Any day now.”

‘Those things happen.”

“I need advice about the Madnna.”

‘~What kind of advice?”

‘@They told me you know all about boats.”

‘] don’t know anything about ships. Over a hundred feet is a ship, unless it is a submarine, and then it’s still a boat.”

“Advice about selling it. If I should sell it here or have them take it back home. I don’t trust Michael.”

“Who is Michael?”

YIe is the captain. Maybe if it is best to take it home to sell it, you could help me.”

“A boat is a hole in the water into which you throw money. A ship is a bigger hole into which you throw more money. If you don’t want it, move off it right now. Get rid of the crew and all perish ables, cancel the telephone hookup, and turn it over to one of the brokers. There are good ones here.”

“I really can’t do that until after all that will and executor thing is taken care of.”

“And he isn’t even dead yet.”

“The way you say that, you make me sound… terrible.”

‘Dot intended.”

“I didn’t think it would be unreasonable, Travis, to suggest that we might help each other. And comfort each other.” She added a slight arching of the back, for emphasis. A very subtle movement of her left hand indicated that I should come over and sit by her.

I stood up and said, “I’m dead, Anna. I’ll walk you back around to the Madnna.”

She tossed off the rest of the brandy, frowned, shrugged, and let me walk her home. She hung onto my forearm with both hands and contrived to bump a hip into me every now and again.

‘what if I want to fire Michael and he won’t let himself be fired by me?”

I was supposed to volunteer assistance. ‘Then you’ll have to let the executor ilre him, I guess.”

‘~e’s worked for Harvey for twenty-three years.”

We stopped at the gangplank. She said, “Would you like to come aboard and look around?”

‘Dot really.”

“You’re not very gracious, are you?”

“Not very.”

The Green Ripper

‘Novell… if you feel terribly lonely and want someone to talk to who… faces the same }rind of sorrow, I’ll be nearby. Okay?”

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