“But I took checks to the bank! I knew what we had and what we needed. I paid the bills. I made the deposits.”
“Let me ask it another way, Annie.”
“I’ve never let anybody else in my life call me Annie except you.”
“After he was killed, it was up to you to go through everything on the boat. You and the man from the bank. Tell me this. Did you come across anything-anything at all-which led you to believe that maybe there were some money matters you didn’t know about?”
“How did you know about that?”
“Know about what?”
“The Krugerrands. Those big gold coins from South Africa, guaranteed one ounce of pure gold in each one.”
“I didn’t know about them at all. I just had the idea that he was the kind of man who would have to keep secrets from everybody, even you.”
“There were ten of them. Worth, I don’t know, five or six hundred dollars each at that point. There was no clue as to when or where he got them, or at what price. They were way in the back of the hanging locker, in the pocket of one of his old tweed jackets that he never wore any more. When I lifted it out, it was so fantastically heavy. It made me so damn mad, him hiding something like that, like some sneaky little kid. But what has that got to do with anything, dear?”
“Where there were ten, there could have been twenty, or forty. The ten you found were worth from five to six thousand dollars. What if he took half of what he had stashed?”
“Could be. Yes. Yes, damn it! Damn him.”
“So I’ll go on from there, assuming he left half of them home and took half for the buy. And see what I can turn up. And I will look into the question of bikers, hard core.”
“How?”
“I have a contact who has good reason to trust me.”
“Who?”
“I am very glad you don’t mind my calling you Annie.”
“I see. Okay. When are you leaving, dearest?”
“Midmorning, I guess.”
She dipped a finger in her remaining half inch of Moselle and drew a slow circle on my chest. “Hmmm,” she said.
“Hmmm what?”
“I guess everybody has heard that ancient joke about how do porcupines make love.”
“Very very carefully,” I said.
She reached and set her empty glass aside. Her eyes danced. “So?”
I gathered her in. “Let me know if it gets to be not careful enough.”
Seven
VVHEN I arrived back in Lauderdale the next morning at eleven o’clock I turned the little. car in at the airport and taxied back to Bahia Mar. After I dumped the laundry in the hamper aboard the Flush, showered, and changed to a fresh white knit shirt and khaki slacks, I checked the houseboat over to see if the phone was dead, or the batteries, or the freezer. I was hungry, and I decided I’d go over to the Beef ‘n’ It for their big sirloin-decided to walk over, as the miles in the little car had made me feel cramped. I fixed a Boodles on ice in one of the heavier old-fashioned glasses and carried it up to the sun deck to stand and survey what I could see of the yacht-basin world.
I looked over toward the ships‘-supplies place and was surprised to see the familiar lines and colors of Aggie Sloane’s big Trumpy. I locked up and walked down there, glass in hand. There was a mild fresh breeze off the Atlantic that fluttered the canopy over the little topside area where Meyer and Aggie were hunched over a backgammon board. I hailed them, and Aggie invited me aboard. I went up and took a chair and said, “Go ahead. I don’t want to interrupt the game.”
She said, “It might just be over. Meyer, take a look at this.” She picked up the big doubling cube from her side of the board and plunked it down on his side. The number on top was 16.
Meyer studied the board for a long time. He wore a sour expression. He sighed. “Too slim,” he said. “No, thanks. Travis, if I take the double, she just might close her board on this roll.”
“Class tells,” said Aggie, marking the score pad.
“Aggie,” I said, “you look fantastic.”
In her husky baritone she said, “Just because I had a few more tucks taken in this sagging flesh? Just because I got back down to one thirty? Just because I do one solid hour of disco every morning, starko, behind locked doors? Just because my hair is longer, and this is the best tint I’ve had in years, and my new contacts are this nice lavender color, and I’m off the booze, and after three years of shame I’ve been able to get back to bikinis? Thank you, darling McGee. I think I do look rather fantastic, comparatively speaking. I went through all this hell as a special present for good old Meyer.”
“Good old Meyer appreciates it, dear lady,” he said. “It all fills me with awe. But I think you did it for the sake of your own morale.”
“Why is he so often right?” she asked me.
“Because he is Meyer. It’s a character flaw. What are you doing here anyway?”
She looked exasperated. “We are waiting for some kind of a turbo-seal whatsit that has to be flown down from Racine. It blew yesterday. Made a noise like a gigantic fart. My dear little captain will not proceed without it. Some sort of fetish, no doubt. It is going to shorten our little cruise, maybe down to no cruise at all. But what the hell. Lovely place here. Not a trace of mal de mer. Of course, it does work out a bit more pricey than a hotel suite. But the two dear little papers I added to the chain last year are churning out money you wouldn’t believe. It’s almost vulgar what you can make these days out of a monopoly morning paper in a city of forty thousand people, after you really get into automation and electronics and all.”
“Jay Gould would have loved her,” Meyer said.
“Too,” she said. “My taste would have run more to Diamond Jim Brady. Or John Ringling.”
“How did you make out?” Meyer asked me.
“The doctor arrived,” I said. “With new bride. Blond. With a fantastic pelvis.”
Meyer looked startled and then amused. “Not according to Anne’s plan at all. So you were the catcher in the awry.”
“Please!” Aggie said. “Not when I’m thinking of eating. I’ll go down and make sure they are fixing enough for three.”
“I can’t stay, Aggie. Really.”
“Nonsense, dear boy. I would really resent it if you left. Today we are eating Greek. With the feta cheese, the moussaka, the grape leaves, and all. And they always fix tons, so there’ll be enough for them too.”
She went off belowdecks. I said, “That has really turned into some kind of special lady.”
“Always was, had you but the eyes. How is Anne?”
“Recovering from the shock. She really runs one of the better places around. Anyway, I can give you a very quick rundown of the facts and hunches so far. Ellis was hurting badly, refused to admit it. The doctor tried to talk him into one of the hallucinogens to moderate pain. Good chance pain was getting worse. Ellis set up some kind of contact. They called back with a time and place for the meet. He went up there with a batch of Krugerrands to pay for his hash or fix or whatever. Traces found of a heavy motorcycle in the shrubbery. Possibility that the vendor, confronted with an elderly fellow, decided to keep the product and the money both. Or perhaps it was a scam from the beginning. Come to the place alone, Dads. Or no sale. Knowing there would be no sale anyway. Oh, one more thing, which may or may not fit: Josie’s boyfriend, since the separation, is one Peter Kesner, weird cinematic genius who made two motorcycle movies on small budgets and got a big reputation. I mention it only because motorcycles have started cropping up. I thought I might go see my friend Blaylock about people who peddle from their bikes. I mean, if it’s a common practice or what. I can see the advantages. Nares can stake out street corners, but they can’t stake out the countryside.”
“Why so far upstate?” Meyer asked.
“That’s a question for Blaylock. It might be a territorial thing.”