Meanwhile, Elame was still being 'detained.' I went twice to bring her dope, but it was difficult to find transportation back. No
I developed a phobia about motorbikes. They terrified me, and it seemed that, as soon as a guy realized that I was afraid, he'd drive faster and more recklessly. Only males did this, so I felt safer with female drivers. Monica had a bike, but I didn't want to abuse our friendship by asking her to chauffeur me around. There was only one solution—I had to learn to drive one of the damn things myself.
I'd gone with Narayan once to the motorcycle rental place outside Denpasar.
A Chinese woman ran the profitable business, which also invested in scams, money lending, and other illicit activities. A huge. Oriental-looking man was her second in command. When I accompanied Monica to the Shop to pay her monthly fee, I told Huge Oriental I too wanted to ride.
'I teach you,' he assured me. 'You five near beach, good place to practice.'
The next day Huge Oriental turned up at Kaiya Waiya with a Yamaha, and I soon putt-putted on my own. A bike was less terrifying when I drove it myself. Slowly I crept along, very pleased with my valour, despite my senior-citizen speed.
Suddenly, the police turned their attention to me. They'd found out from the manager of our old bungalow lodge that I was the one who'd given Jimmy five thousand dollars before he'd left for Malaysia. The manager also told them the total amount I'd left in deposit with the lodge. The very large amount, all in cash.
Unlike my friends. I'd never been antipolice. I liked police officers. I found them reassuring to have around. I admired their work and had always been friendly with any I'd met. In the same way, I now became chummy with the inspector who came to see me. I invited him and his subordinates to make themselves comfortable by the pool.
This frazzled Monica, and she rushed away fast. As she exited, I asked her to send the waiter with drinks. The nice inspector was suitably pleased during the next hour of courtesy and propriety.
'You like Bali?' he asked me.
'Wonderful, wonderful.'
We got along so well that he never even inquired about the money I'd given Jimmy. Though I felt reasonably safe after he left, I buried my stash and extra passport in the bathroom garden.
'Good morning, sleepyhead,' said Monica one day, entering the bedroom from the Pool area. 'You made the paper.'
'You're kidding! Why? What does it say?'
'Patrick has it; he's outside. It's about Jimmy.'
'Oh, shit.'
Nude, I stepped out into the morning sun, where four people lay basking and another two swam. 'Patrick— you have the newspaper?'
Without opening his eyes he handled it to me and said, 'The headline's a dozy.'
AMERICAN TOURIST SOUGHT BY POLICE. A real the story of how the police had been searching for Jimmy, and how they’d discovered he was out of the country by a telegram he'd sent. The telegram came from Thailand and was addressed to—ME! There was my name, reproduced along with the whole contents of the telegram. He was fine, the newspaper informed me, and he wanted me to forward his belongings.
'I made the papers. I'm famous!' I exclaimed.
'Do you think it'll give you trouble with the inspector?' asked Monica.
'No. We're good buddies now. And as long as I keep my stuff buried in the garden, they can't reach me. Do you believe the police stole my mail? Isn't that against the law?'
That afternoon Elame was officially arrested. The next day Steve brought news 'The police released Jimmy's possessions and Patrick has the smack.'
'YOU’RE KIDDING! The can of smack? My smack? Patrick has it? Yahoo! How did he get it?'
'As soon as they, like, stopped guarding the room, he just went in and took it. Just in time too, because right after that the manager, like, packed Jimmy's things and locked them away.'
'That's so great! Yawee! A miracle!' I did a dance around the pool. 'Patrick is not comfortable holding it, though, so, like, you better pick it up as soon as you can. He told me to tell you.'
'I'll go first thing in the morning.'
My smack! My whole pound of Malaysian smack—I was going to get it back! Hallelujah!
The next morning I was still in bed when Monica came in from the terrace.
'Guess who's here and wants to see you?'
'Who?'
'Narayan. He says he has something for you. He's outside.'
'Hoo. I don't want to see him.' I had a snort, put a tape in the stereo I'd bought in Singapore, and climbed back in bed.
'Cleo, Narayan's waiting for you. He says it's important.'
'Tell him to come in.'
'No, he wants you to go out.'
'In a minute.' I closed my eyes and enjoyed the smack coursing through my bloodstream.
'Hoo, boy—Cleo, you better come out here,' said Monica a little while later in a strange tone.
'What does he want?'
'Narayan's gone, but he left something for you. I think you should see this.' I climbed off the bed and went through the flimsy drapes waving in the sea breeze. 'Look what that bastard did,' she said.
On the floor of the porch, standing by itself, was the powdered milk tin that had once contained the smack. Water now filled it, and a pink flower floated on top.
'Where's the smack?' I asked.
'He said it was evil, so he threw it in the ocean.'
'He dumped my smack in the ocean?'
Narayan threw my five thousand dollars worth of pure Malaysian heroin in the ocean?
NO!
Not my smack! And he left me the container filled with sea water and a flower!
I stormed back through the drapes.
'What should I do with this can?' shouted Monica after 'I don't give a shit about the can!' I flung myself on the bed and bunched the pillow into a ball. BEAST! How could he do that to me? I hated him. HATED HIM. I wanted to tear his skin off bit by bit. I wanted to gouge my fingers into his eyes. I wanted to bury him to his neck in sand and watch the sea come in. HATEHATEHATE!
Monica entered shaking her head and said, 'He has a lot of nerve.'
'I could kill him. Kill him!'
She went out the other way to the Pool. I lay smothering my pillow and fuming. How could he? After all the time we spent together. How could Narayan take something so important to me and threw it in the ocean? Oh, did I hate him. I wanted to see him chopped into little pieces. He couldn't do this to me and get away with it. No way. I would KILL him.
No, I would have someone else kill him. That's what I'd (For sure I could find someone to do it. If you paid enough money, you could get the natives to do anything. I had the money. Yes, that's what I'd do. I'd have him killed. I'd ask Huge Oriental. He was the closest thing to a gangster I'd seen on the island. He would find someone to kill Narayan for me. Oh, I couldn't wait to see Narayan's dead Body. I would celebrate his funeral for a week. He couldn't do something so mean to me without reprisal. No way. I'd show him.
That afternoon I headed for the motorbike shop to speak with Huge Oriental. I still burned with fury, but as I rode the always-deserted road, skirting the chickens who ran in front of my wheel, I rethought the plan. Was I being too drastic having Narayan killed? Did I really want him dead? Were money and lawlessness making me cold-hearted? Would this be bad for my karma?
Maybe death was too extreme. Maybe I should just have him beaten up. Yeah, good enough. I'd order his arms and legs to be broken. That would satisfy me.
As I drove in the shop, huge Oriental glanced up from the broken headlight in his hand. 'How is the driving?' he asked.
