The Tailor's Razor

2. The Perfect Hit

The following Monday
Still on St. Thomas

Billy Hourman was so preoccupied with the conference that he didn't bother checking up on his daughter. The week's schedule would drag him from the house before Madison had risen and more often than not he was sitting in a dark lecture hall by the time she was out and about. A quick ride on her scooter brought her Downtown, a commute which inevitably led to a long ride on Taylor. La prolongé mort was hardly their only interest in one another: Madison had that traditionally Yankee gift for the gab, while Taylor was peacefully silent, so in the post-coital bliss of mid-afternoon belle would tell beau all about her family, the Mohawk River and Yale. Madison told Taylor, while tracing the tattoos on his chest, that she was one of the best freestylists America had to offer, winning them a couple of golds at the World Championships.

In truth Madison was a regular fish; while snorkelling something would catch her eye and she'd leave Taylor behind in a flurry of pounding legs. He knew the rhythm of the reef, though, and showed her how to cut apart urchins with a fat-nosed abalone knife. Served up on a bed of coral the pale flesh attracted a feeding frenzy. Up from the hidden grottoes and shadow-canopies of Secret Bay came a thousand little carnivores; a harlequin's mess of flashing rags.

Away from the butchery of the bay the pair got lost in the winding alleys that criss-crossed the hills of Charlotte Amalie till Taylor sniffed out a dealer. Swapping cabbage on the backseat of a bus for a different kind of green Taylor admitted that he felt a bit guilty buying weed on company money. The boss, generally cool on all days of the week, wouldn't be very sympathetic if she found out that instead of taking notes on the conference he was getting high with the keynote speaker's daughter, listening to Foo Fighters and Smokey Robinson in his hotel room. Before he'd met the beautiful young woman, however, he'd befriended a reporter from the Daily, a very dapper local whose leather loafers cost more than what Taylor earnt in a month. Even if, in truth, his monthly salary left a lot to be desired Taylor had to admit that Tomas was a conscientious professional. The local liked Taylor; he was an islander who enjoyed a larrikin and when he found out about Madison it just sweetened the whole package. Every afternoon he'd turn up on the beach after the lovers had finished snorkelling, buy a cocktail on Taylor's tab before handing over what notes he'd taken during the day's seminars. Madison adored him, believing he looked like some Caribbean pop-god on the eve of selling out to an American audience. Tomas was bemused at the image; he just saved his pennies and went to Banana Republic every couple of months.

Either way Tomas was an invaluable source of information on Billy Hourman; he came strolling down to the waterside one evening, as if he had all the time in the world, ordered a daiquiri before revealing that Madison's father was on his way home early. It wouldn't have been much of an issue on any other day but that evening he had promised the family he'd bring them some takeaway; something cheap, filthy and delicious. Madison drummed up the danger for maximum excitement and, jumping on her scooter, sped up the hill back home.

"You really like stirring people, don't you?" Taylor sighed.

Tomas shrugged, smiling at the bar-lady, another lovely local he was thinking of asking out to dinner, "Makes life more fun."

Madison burst through the door, breathless, to discover some seriously greasy pizza being shared amongst the family. Her heart fell; not that her father had any reason to know, but no civilised person should have pizza twice in the same week. Her own predilections were not so strict but she had discovered some deeply pseudo-spiritual beliefs of Taylor's in regards to pizza. He had all kinds of thoughts on the subject, perhaps most staunchly that pizza should only be consumed at the close of the week. The day being Thursday, Taylor had promised Madison a loosening of her chakras the following night through the divine gift of dough. She was intrigued but was forced to similarly sate her father's wish to provide for the family, eating the oily mess of mozzarella and pepperoni he had found by the harbour.