He lit a match, tossed itin and watched the alcohol go Pouf! and fill the stove with a pale,blue-purple flame. He was glad he’d loaded the stove yesterday. He wouldn’twant to have to do it now… Was that just yesterday? It seemed like a week…

He closed the stove door,watched it for a moment until out of the corner of his eye he saw an enormoussuitcase that he had never seen before.

Where did that come from? he wondered.

It wasn’t his.

Lila must have brought itwith her.

He thought about it as hestruck another match at a gimballed brass kerosene lamp. He adjusted the wickuntil the flame seemed right. Then he turned off the overhead electric lightand sat down on the berth under the lamp, his back against a rolled sleepingbag.

As far as he could figurehe must have made some sort of deal with her to come on the boat or shewouldn’t have brought this suitcase.

Now the kerosene lightglowed over all the wood and bronze and brass and fabric shapes of the cabinand another invisible glow of warmth came from the black coal stove that nowmade cricking heating noises. Soon it would heat everything enough to make itall comfortable.

Except for that suitcase.What was coming back to mind wasn’t making him comfortable at all. Heremembered she’d dropped the suitcase on Rigel’s deck. Really hard. When theywalked across to come aboard he’d turned and told her to keep it quiet. Heremembered she shouted, Don’t you tell me to keep it quiet! in a voice youcould hear all over the harbor.

It was all coming back:going over to her boat, waiting for her to pack, listening to her talk aboutthat dirty double-crosser George and his whore, Debbie.

Oh-oh.