“You check at the terminal?”
“I did.”
“Was I telling the truth?”
“Maybe. I’m staying, anyway. Where’s the shower?”
“How come? I mean...”
“She’ll be back,” I said curtly. “Where’s the shower?”
“Around back. Just follow your nose.”
“Thanks,” I said. I walked out of the office and around back, following my nose. The shower was a simple wooden stall tacked to the rear wall of the office. Wooden plankings were set around the stall, and they also formed the bottom of it. I walked inside, closed the door, and looked for a latch on it. There was none. I pulled the door tight, but it didn’t fit the jamb well, and it hung open about two inches. I grunted and turned on my heel, looking around the stall. There was nothing in it but the showerhead and the pipes supplying the water. The rear wall of the stall was peppered with knotholes, and light glanced through several of them. I put my eye to one of them, and was surprised to see the interior of Hobbs’ office. Of course! The stall was tacked to that wall.
I wondered how many times that sonovabitch had peered through the knotholes when a woman was taking a shower. In the daytime, with no light on in the office, it would be difficult to tell that the viewing season was on. I also wondered if he’d been at his post when Anne had gone to the showers this morning. I sighed heavily. Wondering wasn’t going to help me find Anne. There was nothing in the stall to give me a clue, so I started walking out, and then remembered Hobbs could hear the water from his office. He’d know I hadn’t taken a shower, and I didn’t want him to know I suspected something unkosher.
I took off my robe, turned on the hot faucet and got a stream of luke warm water. I didn’t touch the cold faucet. I stayed under the shower for about three minutes. Then I turned it off, dried myself, got into the robe, and headed for my cabin.
I was rounding the corner of the office when I almost ran into the brunette who’d been in my bed, earlier. I started to sidestep her, and then I saw what she was wearing, and I grabbed her arm.
“Hey!” she complained. “What the hell...”
“Where’d you get that robe?” I asked.
“It’s mine,” she said.
“It’s not yours, honey. Where’d you get it?” The robe was a plain white one, with a fleur de lis design delicately printed on it in red. We’d bought the robe in Greenwich Village, and it had been hand printed at the shop. I knew damn well it was Anne’s.
The girl studied me for a moment, saying nothing.
“Where’d you get the robe?” I asked. “Let’s talk.”
“My time is money,” she said. “Talking or otherwise.”
“Come on up to my cabin,” I said.
She looked at me steadily for a few moments. “I’m busy right now,” she said.
“How much will it cost to unbusy you?”
“Five for my loss, and another five for my time. What we do with it is up to you.”
“Get rid of your playmate,” I said. “I’ll be in the cabin.”
“Give me five minutes,” she said. Then she smiled archly and stroked my cheek. She moved closer, thrusting her hips forward. “I’ll be right up, darling.”
I moved, away from her, and watched her turn back on the path and head for one of the darkened cabins. I was beginning to get some inkling of the kind of place good old Zachary Hobbs ran. Cabins for couples, no questions asked. Also, cabins for men, complete with hot and cold running blondes, brunettes, and red...
Redheads. I wondered if there were any redheads in his crew. Or was he trying to... No, he couldn’t be that stupid. I mean, even assuming the local police were in his pocket, he couldn’t hope to get away with abducting Anne for his own particular purposes. No, that was out. Still...
I mulled it over, walking to my cabin. I watched seven minutes march across the face of my wrist watch, and then the brunette came back. She opened the door, closed it quickly, and then opened the robe.
“Keep it on,” I said. “I’m paying for talk.”
“Let’s see the color,” she said.
I dipped into my wallet and came up with a sawbuck, handing it to her. She folded it, and then looked around for a place to put it. There were no pockets in the robe, and there were no pockets in what she had under the robe, because she didn’t have anything under that.
She held the folded bill in her closed fist. “All right,” she said. “Let’s talk.”
“Where’d you get the robe?”
“I told you. It’s mine.”
“Where’d you buy it?”
“Who remembers? In town.”
“It was bought in a joint called Andre’s in Greenwich Village. Look at the label. Where’d you get it?”
“Why? What’s so damn important about it?”
“I’m curious.”
“All right, it was given to me.”
“Who gave it to you?”
She hesitated.
“Come on, who gave it to you?”
“Zach,” she said quickly.
“How long have you been working in this floating bordello?” I asked.
“A while.” She paused and eyed me skeptically. “You a cop?”
“Do I look like a cop?”
“No. It don’t matter, anyway. Cops don’t bother us.”
“How come?”
“Ask Zach. I just work here.”
“Who told you to come down to my cabin this morning?”
“I already answered that one,” she said.
“Sure. Now give me the right answer.”
“Zach did. He said you were needing.” She slipped the robe off her shoulders and came closer to me, hugging it around her waist so that only the white mounds of her breasts were exposed. “Was he right?”
“I’m partial to redheads,” I said.
The girl shrugged. “We split it all anyway. You want a redhead?”
“Have you got one?”
“Sure. I’ll ask Zach to send her down.” She paused. “You’re making a mistake, though.”
“Am I?”
“She’s new, just came in yesterday. You’re making a mistake.”
“As the old maid said when she kissed the cow, ‘It’s all a matter of taste.’ ”
“All right,” the brunette said. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll talk to Zach.” She pulled the robe up over her shoulders, and then she left, wiggling her fanny so I’d know just how big a mistake I was making.
I waited for ten minutes, not sure of what I was going to do, but figuring there might be a connection between Zach’s redhead and Anne. When the knock sounded on the cabin door, I called, “Come in, it’s open.”
The door swung wide, and I was a little surprised because I was expecting a redhead. I was more surprised because the woman was blonde and she was wearing a black silk dress that was slit down the front almost to her navel. I remembered what the guy at the bus terminal had said. A blonde in a black dress.
“Come in,” I said.
She stepped into the cabin, spotted my cigarettes on the dresser, and walked to them quickly, using a loose-hipped gait. She shook a cigarette free from the pack, lighted it, and blew out a wreath of smoke. She hesitated a moment, and then said, “Marie told Zach you want a redhead.”
“That’s right,” I said. I didn’t tell her the redhead I wanted was Anne.
“Zach says he’s sorry, but we ain’t got any.”
I looked at her curiously. “The girl said...”
“Marie just works here. There ain’t no redheads.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“They call me Bunny,” she said.
I looked at her steadily, and she added, “Zach says I’m not for hire.”
“I didn’t ask,” I told her.
“Just in case you were going to.” She sucked in another cloud of smoke, and her breasts bunched against the wide split in the top of her dress. “Why don’t you go home to your wife, Mac?”