I'll Get You For This

  It was still hot, and mangroves burning in the still air smelt fine. She looked so nice standing in the moonlight I nearly said the hell with it. But I didn't.

  I cast off.

  "No sleeping-draught for me tomorrow night," I called, as the boat drifted out of the harbour.

  She waved, but she didn't say anything. I guess she was crying.

4

  Paradise Palms looked if anything nicer by night than by day. I could see the lighted dome of the Casino in the distance as I steered the boat towards the wharf. I wondered if there would be a reception committee with shot-guns waiting for me when I landed.

  It was just after ten thirty, and the wharf, as far as I could see from this distance, was deserted. I cut the engine, put the Thompson where I could get at it, and drifted in.

  When I was within twenty yards of the wharf, I saw a short fat figure rise up out of the shadows and walk to the edge of the wharf. I recognized Tim Duval.

  He caught the rope I threw to him and made fast.

  "Hello ," he said, grinning.

  I glanced up and down the wharf.

  "Hello," I said.

  "They came down here a couple of hours back, but I kept out of sight. The old woman told them I'd gone on a trip. That took care of the boat. They didn't find your heep, and they shoved off after nosing around. There were a lot of them."

  I nodded. "Thanks," I said.

  He hitched up his dirty grey flannels.

  "What now?" he said.

  "I've got a little business in town. How's the heat?"

  He whistled. "Fierce," he said, "but their description of you is punk. They're calling you handsome."

  I laughed. "Well, I'm going in."

  "I guess it takes a lot to stop a guy like you. Want me to come along?"

  "Why in hell do you want to mix yourself up in this?" I asked.

  "Damned if I know," he said, running thick fingers through bleached hair. "Maybe I don't like this town. Maybe I don't like Killeano. Maybe I'm nuts."

  "I'll go in alone ," I said.

  "Okay. Anything I can do?"

  "I want a car. Can you lend me one?"

"Sure. It looks a wreck, but it goes."

"Get it."

I smoked while I waited. I could hear the dance music from the distant Casino.

  Duval came back after a while, driving a grey Mercury convertible. It looked as if it had been kicked around plenty, but the engine sounded all right.

  I got in. "Want me to pay you now?" I asked.

  "I got the boat, your heep and a grand, haven't I?" he said. "What more do I want? Except maybe I'd like to horn in on this."

  I shook my head. "Not yet, anyway," I said.

  He shrugged. I could see he was disappointed.

  "Oh well," he said.

  I had an idea. "Know any newspaper men around town?"

  "Sure. There's Jed Davis of the Morning Star. He's often around. We go fishing together."

  "Get me some dirt on Killeano. Ask Davis. Dig deep. A guy like Killeano must have plenty of dirt in his life. I want all I can get."

  His face brightened. "I'll get it," he said.

  "And there's a cat-house somewhere on the waterfront, want to know who owns it. Speratza of the Casino has access to it. I'd like to tie him in closer than that if I can."

  "I know the joint," he said. "Okay, I'll get the stuff."

  I started the engine. Then I had another idea.

  "Gimme your telephone number," I said.

  He gave it to me.

  "I may run into trouble," I said, eyeing him. "I might not get back. If that happened, would

you do something for me?"

He got it all right.

"Sure, I'll look after her. Do you want to tell where she is?"

I had to trust someone. I thought I could trust him.

"Cudco Key," I said.

He nodded. "Yeah, that's a good place. Mac's there."

"I know, and he's a good guy."

"Hell! We're all good guys. I'll look after her,"

"I like that girl," I said slowly. "If anything should happen to her …" I gave him the cold eye.

He nodded. "I'll look after her," he said

I thanked him and drove away.

  Lancing Avenue was in the better-class district of Paradise Palms. It was a broad avenue lined by Royal Palms that were as straight-cut as a row of skittles.

  I found the chromium and black marble apartment block without difficulty. It had a halfcircular drive to the entrance and a lot of bright lights. It looked like a Christmas tree out of season.

  I drove the Mercury up the drive. A big, gaudy convertible threatened to squeeze me off the road as it passed, making a noise like snowflakes on a window. It stopped before the entrance and three dizzy-looking dames, all cigarettes, arched eyebrows and mink coatees got out and went in.

  The Mercury made me fell like a poor relation calling on his rich relatives.

  I parked behind the limousine and went in too.

  The lobby was no smaller than an ice-skating rink, but cosier. There was a reception desk, an enquiry desk, a flower-stall, a cigarette kiosk, and a hall porter's cubby hole. It was class; the

carpet tickled my ankles.

I looked around.