He stared wildly towards Moogie who was gasping for breath, and finally towards the creature who was still fumbling around the room. The carpet seemed to slide from beneath him and he slithered to the floor.
‘I’m sorry, David.’ Moogie was pale but still composed. ‘I got excited for a moment. The thought of that poor old man! Though I don’t think I killed him. It felt like an accident, but I wasn’t efficient, because we hadn’t finished questioning him.’
‘He couldn’t have spoken if he had wanted to,’ said Krystelle. ‘You had a hand either across his mouth or down his throat.’
‘I panicked,’ said Moogie. ‘And I’ve no experience.’
‘Sit down,’ said Grant. ‘Both of you. We’re in a mess. Don’t forget that I’ve resigned and got no official backing. So how do we explain the corpses?’ He glanced at his timepiece. ‘About five hours before the place starts getting busy and maids begin to clear up. Excuse me.’ He hung up the do not disturb sign outside the door. ‘Should give us a few more hours.’
The unconscious gunman was beginning to stir and the man who had been blinded seemed to have fainted. ‘Even prisoners are a problem.’
‘Keep that cool, man,’ said Krystelle. ‘These two mobsters shouldn’t be allowed to live. You’ve still got to learn that being a loner means living in a kinda lonely world where the unexpected can always happen, and usually does. These guys were prepared to knock us off purely in the way of business. Nothing personal. Just a job. And a cheque. With, maybe, a bonus for efficiency. Boys like these don’t carry secrets which matter, so there’s no point in wasting time on a question routine. Alvis gave us the address and confirmed one name, so why complicate life thinking about prisoners?’
‘What would Mr. Alvis have wanted?’ said Moogie.
Grant detested killing even when it was necessary. And although he had a reputation for total ruthlessness when it came to the crunch, it went against the grain to execute in cold blood.
The girls listened until Moogie could stand it no longer. ‘You are far too squeamish, David. Men like these don’t deserve to live. And if you put it to the vote that’s how I feel.’
‘Me too,’ said Krystelle. ‘And since we haven’t appointed office bearers or bossmen in this new business we can run our first show by majority opinion. Any complaints?’
‘None!’ Moogie broke the silence which followed. ‘But it had better be silent.’ She lifted a cushion, adjusted it over the face of the man Grant had knocked out, lit a cigarette and sat down.
Krystelle glanced at David, dropped a kiss against his lips and smiled. ‘Efficient. Eh? Now mine. Poor basket! Five minutes more and life will be two stiffs more simple.’
Grant was glad only that the men were unconscious. Two cigarettes later the girls stood up and inspected their victims. ‘More humane than they deserved,’ said Moogie. ‘If my house-boys were here one or two of these men would have been skinned alive and stewed for dog meat.’
‘And now, how about going?’ Krystelle had washed her hands and somehow refreshed herself. ‘Any ideas about the immediate future?’
Chapter Six – ‘Therapy is cold-blooded’
Grant shaved while the girls had a shower and Krystelle boiled water on a room fitment ‘Speedy’ type electric kettle. There was enough coffee left to make five large cups. Less than eight minutes since Alvis died but plans had already shaped.
‘First we put the old gentleman into bed and lay him out as though he was sleeping on his back when someone knifed him. Then we clean up the knife and put a mixture of prints from the gang on to blade as well as hilt, with a good set on top suggesting that the killer held the knife in his clenched fist and struck from above down.
‘While we are doing that, you, Moogie, clear up the room and be meticulous about blood-stains in the wrong places. Blood is too easily detected in a lab, so make a big thing out of it. Cold water. Soap. And hard work. We don’t want any stains in the sitting-room.’
He paused to sip some more coffee. ‘But we leave the hoods in the bedroom looking as if the gunmen turned on their leader after he had knifed Mr. Alvis. We’ll make it seem as if they had a fight which ended in them both being found dead.
‘The autopsy, of course, will prove they were suffocated, but it should be difficult to pin anything on us because we are going to stick around and behave strictly normal for a spell. In fact we’ll begin by ordering a double whisky for Mr. Alvis, and when it comes, Moogie, you take it and chat up the boy while Krystelle and I are heard to be laughing with Alvis in the bedroom. All clear?’
He paused again. ‘The whisky will be here in around twenty minutes, meaning that they have a time spot from which to think about calculating time of death based upon rigor mortis. Now rigor is delayed by heat, so we’ll switch the air-conditioning to “off” and turn it, in fact, to “heat”. Which is a reasonable enough mistake for a tired old gentleman to make who has just had a double whisky.
‘And the do not disturb sign will keep staff out till early afternoon or even later. By which time it should be difficult to estimate time interval since death and help to put us in the clear.’
Krystelle nodded approval. ‘And where dod we go?’
‘Back to the Inter-Continental. With Moogie. We’ll fix her rooms near our own, but she’ll pass the night with us, and I’ll use the sitting-room divan.’
‘We’ll look into the Safari at the Inter-Con before bedding down and you girls must get lushed up. I want you conspicuous, because people have got to remember. We can have a couple of hours between the floor and cabaret and behave as though we hadn’t a care in the world. Any questions?’
‘Clothes,’ said Moogie. ‘I’ve only got what I’m wearing, but they could pass for hot pants. And I carry a purple bra. Would that be immodest?’
‘And I’ve got a gold shortie nightie, dahlin.’ With that on top and a sash from somewhere you should look pretty good. I got some sashes in my case. Use the heliotrope lipstick and get into a pair of long pantie-hose to be on the safe side. Oh! An’ stick a flower over one ear.’
‘And you?’
‘Ah got two three saris, honey-doll. The green one is a sensation.’
Grant smiled inwardly as he heard Krystelle begin to slip into the sort of accent which showed that she had begun to relax. He knew that she detested killing as much as he did, but he also knew that when the chips were down she would stop at nothing. Moogie was the one who still kept him guessing. She smiled and she seemed to take in everything which had been said, yet her eyes were like flint and he wondered when, if ever, she would have a reaction.
‘This divan,’ said Krystelle abruptly. ‘I’m so damn tired I don’t fancy sharing the pad with anybody tonight. Not even you, man. So work it out how you like but the single’s for me.’
Moogie stared at her curiously. ‘You want me to sleep with David?’
‘Why not? Main thing is I wanna sleep. An’ you two toss about like a bum boat without stabilisers. So let’s get moving an’ quit making a big production outa li’l things.’ She nodded towards Alvis and took Grant by the hand. ‘C’m on, man. Work.’
It was only when they were together in the bedroom that she suddenly flung her arms around his neck and clutched him in a bear-hug. ‘David man. Don’t be difficult. Ah know yo’ love me. But that li’l gal is gonna break if she don’ get some kinda sensation. Man alive! She’s jus’ killed a guy. Let her get the reaction outa her system. For all our sakes, David man, make her feel wanted. Feel that you want her, even if you don’ ’xactly love her. We’re all loners now. In a lonely world with no one but ourselves! Cheeze, but it cain’t be funny for her, so what yo’ waitin’ for? You’re mah man, but this is an emergency, so ah’m lending you out to a friend.’
Grant looked her full in the eyes. ‘There’s something so cold-blooded about this it makes me squirm.’
Krystelle pouted her lips. ‘Therapy is cold-blooded, doctor. Or did nobody ever tell you?’
They retu
rned to the sitting-room and began to set the final stage. Both guns were cleaned and fixed for prints. One was smeared with blood from the mouth of the creature who had been smashed by Moogie, and left close to the bodies. But even Krystelle later admitted that she was uptight during every second that Moogie chattered with the youth who brought the whisky. She seemed to take minutes longer than was necessary and it was difficult to ad lib. a convincing conversation.
When everything was arranged they adjusted the air-conditioning and turned on to ‘heat’.
Minutes later they were back in the Inter-Continental.
Grant asked for mail without comment and booked Moogie in as his guest. Their suites were adjacent and the girls needed only half an hour to prepare for Bangkok’s most elegant night club.
Grant opted for silk with baby mohair slim-line black pants, a crimson cummerbund and velvet turquoise bow tie.
The Safari was half empty, but the cabaret was swinging and Grant saw that Moogie had begun to lose the hardness deep inside her eyes.
African décor with chic waitresses in smart safari rig satisfied even Krystelle, and she sighed with appreciation as Grant ordered a cold collation with fresh lime juice as a starter and Bernkasteler Doktor Auslese (estate bottled) to follow. The 1958 wine was her favourite Moselle and she knew that it wasn’t normally offered by the hotel. Once again she suspected that Grant had contrived a minor miracle and memory of the earlier hours began to fade. She had no regret for anything she had done, but she knew that Grant loathed executions. The Thai girl had them both guessing, but Krystelle had a fine instinct and was inclined to take her at her face value as a friend.
Grant asked her for the first dance after the cabaret and she sensed, when she touched him, that he, too, had begun to unwind. They danced a cha-cha-cha without speaking a word and then she watched while he lead Moogie into a tango. The girl moved with a natural rhythm which attracted attention and they were the most distinguished couple on the floor. The yellow shortie nightie looked like a Balmain creation and Grant, she noticed, took her through the maze of complexities which is the real Argentine tango without missing a step.
It was three o’clock when she decided to break the party up.
Breakfast was arranged for and she swallowed two sleeping pills on her way to the suite. A last extra-dry Martini kicked the carbrital into action and she was asleep before Grant had begun to think about stubbing his cigarette.
‘Bed, beautiful,’ he said briefly and opened the door of their sleeping room. It was his bet that no further contact would be made by the ‘other side’ for many hours, if not, indeed, several days, and he was relaxed for the first time since receiving his message from the captain before touch-down.
Moogie flopped into a chair and stared at him curiously. ‘You mean that I am really beautiful?’
‘Really. But really. Also inscrutable. Enigmatic. Mischievous on occasion. But always beautiful.’
He dropped his clothes and lifted a brocade dressing-gown.
‘Please no,’ said Moogie. ‘It is pleasant to look at you. And you are different from people like students. They make a big thing about the “permissive” or “progressive”. But really most of them are terribly square and very few men ever allow a girl to look at their body. I think men are shy.’
Grant couldn’t have avoided the question if he had tried. ‘Have you had many lovers?’
She smiled. ‘None. Seventeen men have used my body. But none were lovers. They just wanted a good lay. And fourteen were quite expert. But lovers need more than technical ability or the know-how to bring on an orgasm. Love is really a very tender thing. I think that one single touch from you could send me to Nirvanah.’
Grant knew that the wine had killed at least some of his inhibitions, but the girl’s directness was a novelty. ‘What do you like best?’
She lit a cigarette. ‘I should imagine that everything has a place, but I only have experience of very conventional men. The types who like the lights out.’ She slowly removed her nightie and bra. ‘I have a good figure. When I look at myself in a mirror wearing pants like these I sometimes think what a few men may have missed. But I am fastidious, and I like nice names for things. Most men call my breasts “tits” and think this is being very sexy.’ She stroked them affectionately and smiled. ‘What would you call them, David?’
Grant thought fast. Somehow he sensed that the question was important. ‘Frangi,’ he said at last, ‘and Pani. Because the two together are the only things I know so beautiful as that lovely flower.’
Her eyes lit up. ‘What a nice idea! Even if my body doesn’t have the wonderful scent of frangipani. But we’ll call it lover’s licence.’ She rolled down part of her long, tan-coloured panti-hose. ‘And my navel? “Belly button”, one American said, and that is a beastly name. Christen it for me, David.’
Grant lit one more Peter Stuyvesant. ‘Honey-dimple,’ he said as he closed the lighter. ‘Because it is the colour of honey and shaped like a dimple.’
‘You are doing very well,’ she smiled. ‘But look at this. You like?’ She had stepped out of her panties and he saw that she had shaved her pubis in the shape of a heart.
‘But it is late. Which is your side of the bed?’
‘So!’ Moogie had begun to twinkle, and her eyes were now dancing. ‘You are shy after all. But this is my first night with a lover. You must be patient.’ She squatted on the floor beside him and crunched a peanut. ‘I’m happy. The Erawan has become a bad dream.’ He suddenly felt the warmth of her cheeks against his thighs and her hair like silk against his skin. Her fingers were working magic with his body and he felt her giggle as she saw that he had begun to tauten with excitement. She looked up for a brief second. ‘You like me, David. I’m glad. And you are strong. So why are you shy?’ Her lips folded against him and she paused only when he lifted her on to the bed.
‘There is a thing,’ he said. ‘A duet. Beethoven had a fabulous fourth symphony, but the sixty-ninth movement of love may be almost as good. I’ll show you.’
Moogie’s voice became thick with passion. ‘I hoped you would. But for me it will be the first time.’
Grant heard the room tape switch to the New Seekers and Teach the World to Sing, while above the music was the drone of air-conditioning and a faint hum from the fridge. It was curious, he thought, how one could hardly ever find real silence. There was always something. His mind began to drift into a fantasy of colour and sheer sensation. An orchid was clutching his lips, its firm, flesh-like petals soft against his skin. He could see vast expanses of golden yellow sand and smell the fragrance of musk wafting over an empty desert. Butterflies were flitting against his limbs and a sheet of shimmering silk surrounding him like a dhoti. Deeply blue skies had become filled with clouds of darting purple lightning and swallowed up by a flaming sun which seemed to come nearer, and nearer, until it poised above his very head before exploding into myriad fragments of rainbow-like sparks. And in the same moment his world began to shake with the quivering power of an earthquake which was gathering its violence around a shuddering epicentre. And then there was a breeze which seemed to lift a curtain. The girl beside him wriggled up into his arms and he heard her deep sigh of satisfaction. ‘Don’t talk, David,’ she whispered. ‘I just want to remember.’
Time had become unimportant. It was enough that he could even feel the girl’s way-deep-down sense of release and know that at last she was happy. He guessed that she slept for around ten minutes, but when she looked up her eyes were dancing. ‘May I have some papaya?’
He watched as she cut some slices and munched them like a child. The juice was again dribbling over her body, but she only laughed. ‘People only use forks in public. So since we’re all going to work together in future we can be natural. No?’
‘Why not?’
‘And speaking of being natural, it was nice that you didn’t put the lights out.’
Grant tried to change the subject. ‘How long will the future be? One
day you’ll get married.’
She sponged the juice from her body, ran a comb through her hair and smiled. ‘It is possible. But not for many years.’
‘You don’t want a family?’
‘One day. After long time. And don’t worry. I started taking that nice pill when I heard you were coming.’ She stared at him curiously. ‘You’re blushing. But my father had told me to look out so I decided to be prepared. And anyhow, have you had many affairs?’
Grant fidgeted slightly. ‘Some. There was a Russian dancer called Maya and a girl in Lisbon who died.’
Moogie looked disappointed. ‘Not so many. Are you telling the truth?’
‘A very dangerous woman in South America,’ said Grant briefly, ‘and a mysterious creature in Nepal.’
Moogie was sitting with her knees below her chin and smiling expectantly. ‘What was she called?’
‘Harmony,’ said Grant at last. ‘Harmony Dove. A curious name. But I liked her and we worked together.’[5]
He laughed as she clapped her hands. ‘What a splendid name! Moogie is so corny. I wish my father had called Mama something glamorous like Harmony, or Indra Indira, or maybe even a simple name like Joy.’ She stubbed out her cigarette and her voice became very serious. ‘Make love to me, David. We are both very tired but afterwards we shall sleep. And we will dream about Joy.’ She looked incredibly young and somehow disarmed as she stood before him and slowly drew him towards the sheets.
Years later, it seemed, Grant quietly switched off the lights and relaxed. Tomorrow would be another day. His thoughts turned to a house in Istanbul and he fell asleep dreaming of bank notes falling upon him like rain from towering minarets which seemed to thrust into the very clouds. The notes were smothering him and he lifted an impatient hand to push them away from his face, but as he turned around something pricked his thigh and snapped him back to reality.
Paradise Spells Danger Page 10