Free Treaty Violation by Anthony C. Patton

the gesture and nudged Daisy. She lifted her champagne mechanically and puffed her cigarette; after a double take, she appraised his body.
    “An exciting game,” Nicholas said.
    “My sentiments exactly!” Willie said.
    Nicholas gestured to a distant table. “I prefer blackjack.”
    “A counter,” Willie said. “I always lose, which is why I enjoy the excitement of pure chance. Daisy, however,” he said and tapped her arm, “is a blackjack player.”
    “I love to count,” she said with a devilish grin and sipped her champagne.
    Nicholas nodded, deciphering the counting comment.
    “Don’t look so serious, you handsome young man,” she added and pinched his cheek.
    Nicholas extended his hand to Willie. “Nicholas Lowe.”
    “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Lowe. Willie Holland,” he said with a jovial handshake. “My wife, Daisy.”
    “My pleasure,” Nicholas said and kissed her hand, blinded by the three carat diamond. He concluded that Willie and Daisy resembled stand-ins for a Love Boat episode. “I’m a friend of Tyler.” Willie and Daisy looked as if he’d spoken Greek. “Perhaps we could go”—more cheers from the craps table—“somewhere more private.”
    Willie gestured to the exit and led the way. They strolled down the inside corridor to the outdoor swimming pool area. The tables under the thatched roof were mostly empty, but a few people drinking at the bar laughed and toasted merrily. Underwater lights illuminated the pool under the starlit sky, a beautiful contrast with the pink hotel. They walked across the concrete deck, still wet from the earlier storm, to a row of two-story cabanas.
    “Here we are,” Willie said and opened the door.
    Daisy sank her fingernails into Nicholas’ arm as she entered and sat in a chair near the window. Nicholas stood in the middle near the bed and watched Daisy’s reflection in the mirror as Willie set the keys on the dresser. She crossed her legs and fondled her breasts to enhance her exquisite cleavage.
    “Anyone care for a drink?” Willie asked as he opened the fridge. He poured a glass of champagne for Daisy and apologized for having drunk all the scotch before the casino excursion. Nicholas accepted a beer.
    Nicholas waited for Willie to sit in the chair next to Daisy. “We need to discuss the next deal. I’m here to help you with the arrangements you had with Tyler.”
    “I thought we’d made all the necessary arrangements,” Willie said. He looked at Daisy for concurrence.
    “Tyler seemed like a thorough man,” Daisy said. “Wasn’t he, Willie? A very thorough man.”
    Willie nodded, but he suddenly looked bushed.
    “The plan changed,” Nicholas said. Willie and Daisy had to know about Tyler’s death—the story was in the newspaper, and the last shipment hadn’t gone as planned—but he didn’t want to take anything for granted. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Daisy held Willie’s hand. “Tyler Broadman was murdered.”
    Daisy gasped and closed her eyes. “How tragic.”
    “Tragic,” Willie added.
    Nicholas cleared his throat. “The last shipment, the one that was supposed to have gone four days ago, was canceled,” he said, hoping to catch them off guard. No response.
    Daisy put a cigarette in her holder and smiled. Nicholas lit it and returned to his seat.
    “I arranged for another shipment in two days.”
    “Saturday, you say?” Willie asked and looked at Daisy.
    She nodded curtly, puffed her cigarette, and crossed her legs the other way. “I can’t wait to get out of this dreadful country.”
    “It’s not bad,” Willie said and looked at Nicholas with a shrug.
    “You love the horny women,” Daisy said and turned to Nicholas to whisper. “He drags one back here every night, you know.” She looked at Willie. “This godforsaken country is utterly hopeless without the Americans.”
    “You’re exaggerating,” Willie said as Daisy rolled her eyes and sipped her champagne. “This is a fun culture.