"Come on."
I got out and followed her in. We entered a small, simple living room, a kitchenette off its left end. She headed toward a closed door to the rear.
"There's whisky in the cabinet," she said, gesturing, "wine on the kitchen counter, beer and sodas in the refrigerator. Have yourself a drink if you want. I'm going to be back here awhile."
She opened the door. I saw that it was the bathroom. She went in and closed it. Moments later, I could hear water running.
I crossed the room and opened the cabinet. I was nervous. I wished I hadn't quit smoking. I closed the cabinet again. Hard liquor might slow me if trouble came. Besides, I'd rather sip. I went to the kitchen and located a beer. I paced with it for a time and finally settled onto the green sofa next to a casually draped serape. The water was still running.
I thought about what I was going to do. It began to rain lightly. I finished the beer and got another. I looked out of all the windows, even those in the bedroom in the rear to the left, but there was no one in sight. After a time, I wanted to use the bathroom, but she was still in there. I wondered what she was doing for so long.
When she finally came out, she wore a blue terrycloth robe that stopped at midcalf. Her hair was turbaned in a white towel. She still had on her dark glasses.
She turned on a radio in the kitchen, found music, came back with a glass of wine and seated herself on the sofa.
"All right," she said, "what do you want to do?"
"I'm leaving tonight," I said.
"When?"
"Twoish."
"How?"
"Fishing boat, heading south."
"You can stay here till then. I'll take you to the dock."
"It's not that simple," I said. "I have to get back to my motel."
"What's so important?"
"Some papers. In a big manila envelope. At the bottom of my suitcase."