The Willies | Page 9

her saying it. She breast-stroked out into the water. The dolphin turned and circled around her. She dog-paddled, and stretched out a hand to run it down the creature's smooth, wet side. In response, it turned and bumped her with what she called a dolphin's "nose" -- actually the long, round, white underbite of its chin.
"Ooh!" she said, startled by the force of the poke.
The attendant stood up from his chair. Something wasn't right.
Connie swam alongside the dolphin and reached out to hold onto it. She squealed and laughed as they picked up speed. She raised an arm and waved to her husband. The dolphin wiggled loose, disappearing underwater. Connie searched the surface for any sign of it. Suddenly she lifted out of the water, hoisted on the dolphin's nose. She screeched as she vaulted through the air and splashed back into the water.
The attendant picked up the mobile phone next to him and dialled his boss' number.
The dolphin seemed to be laughing, a staccato ee-ee-ee sound as it swam close to Connie, letting her pet it. Then it gave her a peck on the cheek, as if it knew how cute that was. Connie wrapped her arms as far as she could around the dolphin to hug it. It swam with her holding on. It tipped underwater, then came right back up to the surface. Connie caught her breath and made excited sounds. The dolphin ee-ee-ee laughed. It dipped again, and again they both laughed when they came back up. Then it jumped high with her and took them both under.
And stayed under.
Connie's husband stood and used the camera's zoom lens to search for her.
He saw nothing but water.
The attendant talked anxiously into the phone in machine-gun Spanish, waving his free hand at the water.
After a few minutes, the dolphin broke the surface.
Alone.
It danced on its tail across the water. "Ee-ee-ee," it laughed at the men.
"Ee-ee-ee!"
~
"I'm sorry, I didn't know the panda would make such a mess," said the little man, "A dolphin, eh? Well, I'll make sure there's nothing left of it." He put the phone back into its cradle. Dressed as he always did at home, in nothing but threadbare briefs and an undershirt that stretched over his little round body, he moved through the cluttered apartment. Its one room was completely dark except for the slash of light that tore through the gap between his heavy curtains. From the bed on the other side of the room, he picked up a pair of trousers and put them on. He grabbed a shirt to wear from the nest of them on the floor.
He pulled a torn blue vinyl suitcase from his closet and emptied a laundry hamper into it. He'd clean the clothes when he got to the hotel in Central America.
He unlocked his gun cabinet, which stood against the wall like a shrine, and selected the best weapon for the job.
And last, but not least, he packed his lucky parka. He wouldn't wear it, but its lining would hide the weapon in his luggage. He considered that lucky.

Chapter 4
Hugh lifted the plug in the kitchen sink, letting the murky dishwater empty. He moved away slightly, distancing himself from the lewd noises the water made as it spun down the drain. He picked up the last glass from the dish rack and dried it with a dishtowel, then put it away in a cupboard.
Ted spooned all the leftover Chinese food into a plastic container and threw out the take-away boxes. Oswald usually cooked, but he'd been in no shape for it tonight. Ted and Hugh managed to get him calmed enough to go to bed only half an hour ago. It took something from one of Oswald's old prescriptions to finally put him down.
"Drinks," said Ted. Hugh took the word as an imperative, and followed him to the sitting room.
The bed and breakfast had been a hotel in a former life, a rather ill-reputed one in its latter days. Now, thanks to Ted's skills as a contractor and Oswald's aesthetic sense, it enjoyed another life, probably its fifth such reincarnation.
Hugh dropped himself familiarly onto an antique couch with shiny burgundy brocade and an ornate wooden backrest. Its fabric was the same as the dramatic floor-to-ceiling curtains, and contrasted with the throw-pillows around the room, the same material again in gold, with little tassels on the corners. Hugh couldn't put a finger on what he didn't like about this room and all the others in the building. They were self-consciously stuffed for effect, like a mix of a Ripley's Believe It Or Not! museum, the Vatican vaults, and a prom dress.
He played with a ceramic golden retriever, just one of the thousand knick-knacks that Oswald had positioned at exact angles around the room, gifts sent by former guests.