Jeff sighed softly, feeling a grudging admiration for the man's technique and the native shrewdness that had prompted him to be modest in his demands.
"Three hundred B's a week," he said.
Spencer eyed him aslant. "How the hell did you know?**
"Does it matter?"
"No"
"Three hundred B's for not writing anything/' Jeff said. "Ninety bucks a week."
"And I banked every dime of it,** Spencer said, "because I've got this thing figured. I draw a pretty fair salary from the Bulletin. They have to pay it with living expenses like they are. And this is not a bad place. The climate's wonder-
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ful—not most places wliere It's hotter'n hell and sticky too —but here. Sun shines most of the time, not much rain, and the altitude keeps it nice at night.
"So you work it out one of two ways/' he said. "A guy comes down here on a fat salary and he can figure on staying here or else he figures he'll only be here a few years and then go home. If he likes it and stays he can live it up —have a nice place, servants, join one of the clubs. Or he can live quietly and hang onto his dough and to hell with trying to keep up with the Joneses. He knows he's going to get out and that when he does he can take his dough back without the income-tax people grabbing half of it.
"That's me, brother/' He tapped his chest. "Income tax here is practically nothing. So I'm salting it away. When I step off the plane, in New York, or wherever, I'll have a nice stake and I won't have to worry about the tax people until I start drawing a salary again. Why else do you think I'd be living in a dump like this?" he demanded. ~I coidd do better, a lot better, but when I went back—and I will some day—where would I be?"
He finished his drink but held onto the glass. He slouched down another few inches and his head sagged. His lips moved silently and he eyed the tips of his shoes glumly.
"Now there'll be no more gravy," he said and grunted softly. "No more publicity/'
"You would have lost it anyway," Jeff reminded him.
"Hunh?"
"Grayson was paying off. He was going home/'
He waited, aware that Spencer was watching him again but because his head was still down his eyes were veiled,
"You knew Harry Baker and what he was doing/* he said. "I think you knew why he went to Barbados for Gray-son and I think you knew Grayson had raised the equiva-
lent of one hundred and twenty thousand in cash for the payoff so he could go home."
"How would I know that?" Spencer asked sullenly.
"Because I think Grayson told you so. He was Just the sort to rub it in when he could. He'd been trapped into paying out ninety bucks a week to you, and my guess is that when he knew he finally had you off his back, when he knew your little racket was about to collapse, he told you off. That sort o£ opportunity would give him a lot of pleasure and I doubt if he'd waste it"
When there was no reply, he said: "Furthermore I think you knew where the payoff was going to be. You were hanging around the Tucan that night—"
"Hanging, hell, 5 ' Spencer said with some spirit. "It was an assignment. You think I'd take a chance on that kind of caper? With that kind of dough? You're crazy/' he said. "I don't have that kind of nerve.*
"So what are you going to do?"
Spencer put his glass aside and pulled himself erect in the chair. He gave the question four seconds of thought and then he glanced up, cocking his head to one side, his failure-shadowed eyes serious.
*Tm going to keep snooping."
"Doesn't that take nerve?"
"Not the way I do it." He tipped one hand. *Tm not greedy. I'm not kidding myself that I can find that cash, but I can try. A guy never knows when he might get a break. If I've got an angle I might go to Diana Grayson. She might pay—say, ten per cent—to get her hands on it. Td settle for twelve G's and don't think I wouldn't. That way it would be a legitimate deal.*
"And what about Carl Webb?"
Spencer opened his mouth and shut it, his expression indicating that this was something he would rather not think about.
"If yon^did locate that money/' Jeff said, "and Webb heard you'd handed it over to Diana Grayson''-he paused to give the thought time to register, and decided to understate the situation-"! don't think he'd like it."
He stood up, his drink unfinished. He put on his jacket, not sure just what he had accomplished, but having a far better understanding of this man and the factors which influenced his thinking. Spencer did not bother to get up. His head had sagged again. It did not move as his eyes followed Jeff to the door, and they were brooding, reproachful eyes now, his look suggesting that it was Jeff who was responsible for his present unhappy state of mind.
Once again on the street and not knowing where he was, Jeff turned downhill because it was easier. He had to walk three blocks before he came to a main thoroughfare and located a taxi, and because he had learned the asking price was always high he tried a few words of his limited Spanish.
** jCudnto?"
"Cinco B's. Five B's," the driver added to indicate he recognized an American accent in spite of the suit.
"Es mucho"
The driver shrugged. "Cuatro? he said resignedly.
Jeff climbed in and brought out the piece of paper Julio Cordovez had given him. About to read off the address, he hesitated, prompted by some cautionary impulse that warned him again of the reputed long arm of SegurnaL Because he did not want to involve the little detective in the event the driver ever remembered this trip, he merely read the name of the street.
Five minutes later, when the driver made a turn and repeated the name, Jeff gestured for him to keep going. A block or so farther along he recognized Cordovez's apart-
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ment house, and he waited until they had gone another block before telling the driver to stop.
He tendered a silver five-bolivar piece and motioned the man to keep it. He waited until the cab started away before he started back downhill to the three-story building. The fact that the living-room light was on when he opened the apartment door did not concern him, because he expected to find Cordovez, and it was not until he stepped inside that he realized the comer chair was occupied by a woman.
She had sort of curled up there under a floor lamp, her legs tucked under her and her head back so the light fell on her face. She did not move in that first brief moment and Jeff stopped short, one hand still on the door as his glance focused. Only then was he sure that it was Karen Holmes who sat there watching him.
16
WHEN JEFF recovered from the first stunning impact of his surprise, he remembered that the door was still open and closed it behind him. He watched her support her weight on her elbows while she twisted her legs out from under her and got her feet on the floor. He saw her straighten her dress, and when she smiled excitement stirred in him and left his nerves atingle.
"Hello," she said. "I thought you'd never come." Unable yet to voice his surprise, he could feel the grin stretching his face as this feeling of pride and pleasure expanded within him. Forgotten was the incident in Mi-
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ami. For it seemed to him now that this was a girl he had known and liked for years. He did not yet understand how she had managed to get here; he only knew he was awfully glad to see her.
"For Pete's sake/' he said finally. "How did you-"
"Julio brought me."
"Julio?"
"He came to the hotel He said you wanted me to know where you were staying and I said I had to see you. I said there were some things I had to tell you. I bullied him/' she said.
Jeff chuckled as he visualized the scene. "You must have."
"He couldn't cope with it. He wasn't very happy after we got here—maybe he was afraid his wife might come-but I promised to be a good girl and sit here in the corner until you came back." She paused and the smile went away. "Did you find out anything?"