“Loretta. My mama work for the Vidrines. Up the road there.”
“Do they know where you are?”
“My mama do. Ain’t nobody else there.”
“You should go back home. There’s a storm coming.”
“Then I’ll go inside. What’s your name?”
“Smiley.”
“Hi, Smiley. Do you know somebody here?”
“I have a friend named Miss Emmeline.”
“Look, there’s a flying fish,” she said.
He watched it glide above the waves, its fins extended, its scaled body as sleek as a spear blade. It disappeared, then rose again, defying the laws of nature.
“How come it can fly?” the girl asked.
“It was probably born in a place full of sharks. The sharks were eating all the little fish. So a magic lady who lives under the sea gave them wings. From that day on, they sailed above the water and got away from sharks.”
“Where’s the magic lady?”
“She’s still down there, taking care of little fish that don’t have a mommy or a daddy.”
“I bet you made that up.”
“Not me.”
“You’re smiling.”
“You make me smile,” he said.
“What’s that can on the end of your gun?”
“It stops the sound so when I’m target shooting, I don’t scare people.”
“I got to go now. It was nice to meet you.”
“Good-bye, Loretta.”
She looked back. “Don’t get caught in the rain, no.”
He watched her walk away, then stepped carefully among the chunks of concrete and placed himself on an embankment by a cluster of banana stalks with a clear view of the camp.
Fifteen minutes passed. A line of black clouds veined with lightning had formed on the southern horizon. The chauffeur came out on the deck and propped his arms on the rail, his unbuttoned shirt swelling around him. Chester sighted and pulled the trigger.
The chauffeur seemed to stiffen as though someone had touched him unexpectedly between the shoulder blades. A red flower bloomed against his shirt. He turned in a circle, his fingers splayed across his breastbone, and walked with the concentration of a tightrope performer toward the sliding door.
Chester picked up the ejected shell and drove to the camp and knocked on the door. The carbine hung from his hand.
Emmeline pulled the door open. Her mouth was twitching, her fingers slick with blood that was as thick as paint. “What have you done?”
“Could I have a sandwich, please? I didn’t eat lunch. I need to pee-pee, too.”
He walked past her. She was speechless, her eyelids fluttering, as translucent as a moth’s wings.