“Better wait until the joint shuts down,” Hardy said. “You two go ahead and find out where he sleeps. Wait for him there. I’ll stay here. Remember the gun.” As they began to move off, Hardy said, “There’s five grand he took from Sue Parnell. I want that too.”
It was a little after one o’clock when Henekey switched off the flashing neon sign. By then most of the cabins were in darkness. He locked up his office and stepped into the hot night air. Although he was pretty sure he had thrown a scare into Hardy, he was very cautious. He held the gun in his hand and he looked carefully over the moonlit space that separated him from his cabin. There were still a few people sitting on their porches, enjoying the moonlight, talking together and having the last cigarette before going to bed. Their presence gave Henekey confidence.
He walked slowly from his office pausing now and then to have a word with the people outside their cabins until he finally reached his own cabin. It was a hot night and Henekey’s mind was too active for immediate sleep. He sat down in the basket chair on the porch and lit a cigarette. This time tomorrow, he thought he would have ten thousand dollars: five he had stolen from Sue Parnell and five he would be getting from Hardy. With that kind of money, he would fly to New York and get lost. It was time he left Miami. He sat for some thirty minutes trying to make up his mind what he would do in New York. He had never been good at making plans. Maybe it would be better to wait until he got to New York, he thought. He looked at his watch. It was now twenty minutes to two. He stifled a yawn. The rest of the cabins were now in darkness. Time to turn in. By now Hardy would be back in Miami. Henekey decided he had nothing to worry about from Hardy. He would be smart enough to know when he was licked. He got to his feet, stretched, then opening his cabin door, he walked into the hot, stuffy darkness.
As he groped for the light switch, a hard, perfumed hand closed over his nose and mouth and what felt like the hoof of a horse slammed into his stomach.
Moe found the loose tile in the bathroom. He lifted it, put his hand into the cavity and drew out a sealed envelope. He groped again and came up with a thick bundle of dollar bills. He replaced the tile and returned to the sitting-room.
Jacko was slumped in a chair, mopping the sweat off his face. Henekey lay on the settee, moaning faintly from behind the gag that half suffocated him.
“Got it, honey?” Jacko asked.
Moe handed him the envelope and the money. The two glanced at Henekey and then at each other.
“Take it to Mr. Hardy. Find out if it’s what he wants,” Jacko said. He took a carton of chocolate from his pocket and fed a chocolate into his small, wet mouth.
Moe slid away into the darkness. Running lightly and swiftly, he reached Hardy who was waiting in the Cadillac.
“Good God!” Hardy snarled. “You’ve taken your time! It’s nearly four o’clock.”
Moe smiled his beautiful, evil smile.
“The creep was a little obstinate,” he said. “He really did resist. Is this what you want, Mr. Hardy?”
Hardy took the money and the envelope. He broke the seals and went quickly through the contents.
“Yeah...”
He got out of the car, took out his cigarette lighter and set fire to the papers. As he watched them burn, he asked, “What’s happened to Henekey?”
Moe showed his magnificent teeth in a flashing smile.
“Right now he seems pretty sick, Mr. Hardy. He seems awful unhappy. I’ll go back now and we’ll make him happy.”
Hardy felt a sudden tightening in his throat. He had never told those two to commit murder before. They were like trained animals. They would do just what he told them to do. He hesitated, then he reminded himself that he could never really be safe as long as Henekey was alive.
“What the hell are you hanging around me for like a grin sting ape?” he snarled. “Get back to Jacko.”
Moe executed a neat handspring, then darted away into the darkness.
Jacko was eating his sixth chocolate when Moe slipped into the cabin.
“It’s okay,” Moe said quickly. “Mr. Hardy has what he wants.”
Jacko wiped his sticky fingers on his handkerchief. Still munching, he levered himself out of his chair.
“We’ll put the creep out of his misery,” he said. “I want to go to bed.”
The two men, one vast and gross, the other perfumed and slim, walked over to where Henekey lay. Moe leaned over and patted his face.
“You’re a brave jerk, jerk,” he said. “So long and sweet repose.”
Henekey looked up at him indifferently. His body raved with pain. He was ready to die.
With a flourish, Moe picked up a cushion lying in one of the chairs and laid it across Henekey’s face, then he bowed to Jacko.
“You may be seated you great big, beautiful doll,” he said.
Jacko moved his enormous body to the settee and, after hitching up his trousers, he lowered his vast buttocks down on to the cushion.
Homer Hare was at his desk early the following morning. He put a call through to the Spanish Bay hotel and spoke to Trasse, the hotel detective.
“I want to talk to Mrs. Burnett in private,” Hare said, wheezing into the telephone mouthpiece. “I don’t imagine she would see me if I sent my card up. What do I do?”
“What’s the matter with the beach?” Trasse asked after a moment’s thought. “She’s on the beach every morning between ten and twelve. You get here around ten and I’ll point her out to you. What’s it all about?”
“I’ll be there ten minutes after ten,” Hare said and hung up.
He went over to the safe, opened it and took from it Chris Burnett’s jacket and cigarette lighter. He put the lighter in his pocket and laid the jacket on the desk. He rang for Lucille. She came in and looked inquiringly at him.
“Be a nice girl and make a parcel of this packet for me,” Hare said.
Lucille eyed the jacket and then looked again at her father.
“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” she asked. “I don’t like this a lot. From what I read in the papers, Travers is a tough cookie and he plays it rough.”
Hare beamed on her.
“Don’t worry your head about him,” he said. “I’ll talk to his daughter first. If anyone can persuade him to part with half a million, she can.”
Lucille shrugged uneasily.
“Well, all right, but don’t forget I warned you.” She picked up the jacket with a grimace and took it away.
Hare lit a cigar and lowered his bulk into the desk chair. He stared through the window, frowning. It was a risk, he thought, but to make a killing of half a million dollars was something he couldn’t resist. But he must be careful how he handled Mrs. Burnett. He had to be ready to bow out at the slightest sign of danger.
Ten minutes later, he clapped his yellow panama hat on his head, picked up the brown paper parcel Lucille had put on his desk and walked slowly and heavily to the elevator. Out on the street, he climbed into the office car and drove towards the Spanish Bay hotel.
He found Trasse, a thickset, florid faced ex-cop, waiting for him. The two men walked down the flower lined path that led to the private beach.
“If anyone finds out I fingered Mrs. Burnett for you,” Trasse growled, “I would lose my job. What’s the idea, anyway?”
“I want to talk to her,” Hare wheezed “Phew! I’m not as young as I used to be. Don’t walk so fast.”
“The trouble with you is you eat too much,” Trasse said, slowing his pace. “What do you want to talk to her about?”
“Private business, Henry. Nothing that would interest you.”
Trasse looked suspiciously at him, then paused as they came in sight of the beach and the sea. It was still early, and there were very few people lying about on the sand.