A Million Tears (The Tears Series)

by Paul Henke

‘Leave him. If his friends want him they can come back. If they don’t we sure as hell don’t either.’

  The girl was where I had left her. I dragged my eyes away from her full breasts and tried to wipe away the thoughts I was having.

  ‘Where do you live?’ Jake asked kindly, taking her arm and leading her from the alley.

  She gestured to the way we had been going. We walked either side of her up the steep, cobbled alley.

  ‘We’ll see you home and leave you,’ I said. ‘Did you recognise any of the men who . . . em . . . did you recognise any of them?’

  The bottom of her dress had been torn almost to her waist and she held it together with one hand.

  ‘No . . . at least . . . I’m not sure.’ Her voice was naturally husky and not from fear, as I had first supposed. It sent tingles up my spine. ‘I see so many people in my work . . . men that is . . . that it’s difficult to be sure.’

  I thought – damnation, a whore. We had saved a whore from being raped? It was ludicrous. How many times had she been on her back making money? We’d killed a man because she would not give what she usually charged for. I was angry and we continued in silence. Abruptly she stopped.

  ‘I live here. I work in the Blue Pelican. If you call perhaps I can thank you over a drink or something.’ Her smile was dazzling. She had high cheek bones, wide brown eyes, a straight nose and though her lips were full they were more delicate than those usually found in Negroes. I was sure there was white blood in her somewhere, probably French or Spanish.

  Jake said good night but I turned away and went on up the alley, walking faster than I intended.

  ‘For God’s sake, slow down,’ he said after a few minutes. ‘We aren’t in that much of a hurry.’

  I grunted and slackened my pace.

  ‘A very nice girl,’ he ventured.

  ‘Yeah, great, a whore,’ I replied.

  Jake led me down a few steps and I had to duck through a low doorway. We entered a quiet room, with lanterns lit in small nooks casting a yellow light, there was no bar, but tables lined the walls with comfortable looking benches either side. The walls were festooned with old cutlasses and knives. I recognised a claymore and an old type epee, the sharp pointed duelling sword which had been a favourite with the nobility of years ago. The room was quiet and steeped in nostalgia of a bygone age.

  A black man materialised at my elbow and bowed. ‘Can I be of service to you, gentlemen?’ he asked in a deep voice with an English accent.

  ‘Yeah, we’d like to see the rum list and bring us a bottle of white wine while you’re at it,’ Jake ordered.

  The man nodded in acknowledgement and glided away. His black tail coat was stretched tight across his broad back and I had noticed the gleam of his starched shirt and the impeccable knot in his bow tie.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ I said in a hushed tone that seemed to be called for in the atmosphere and gentility of the place.

  ‘Oh, it’s real enough. Don’t be fooled by Casper, though. He isn’t as soft as his manner might imply, as many have found out to their cost in the past. Ahh, here’s the wine now. Thank you, Casper,’ Jake said with a grin.

  ‘My pleasure, Mr Kirkpatrick. Allow me to say that it’s nice to see you again. We had heard there had been a spot of bother with the Lucky Lady. We trust it is now sorted out satisfactorily.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Casper. This is Mr Griffiths, my friend and partner.’

  ‘Indeed we thought as much, sir,’ he inclined his head again, this time at me. ‘We have heard of your success with the law courts in New Orleans, without having to revert to the use of the court,’ he said with a straight face, while Jake burst out laughing. ‘It is indeed a pleasure to welcome you.’

  ‘Casper runs the best spy network in the Caribbean,’ said Jake. ‘In fact, David lad, you may as well know that this is where I get most of my business from. Casper makes all the arrangements.

  I was impressed. ‘Was that how the last job was arranged?’

  Jake nodded.

  ‘Kind of him,’ I said.

  Jake grinned. ‘Hardly that. We have to pay ten percent of the take.’

  ‘I guessed as much. And how much does the other party pay?’

  ‘Sharp, David, sharp. That’s what I like about you. They pay the same.’

  ‘Who owns this place?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ he surprised me. ‘And nobody I know has a clue. I’ll tell you one thing though. So far it’s always been a black man who has brought me any messages. So I’ve often wondered if it’s Casper himself who’s the brains and organiser behind it.’

  ‘A Negro?’ I asked astonished.

  Jake shrugged. ‘Why not? Drink up while I order a few glasses of rum from this list.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I know, but I can pretend to read the list and anyway, I know what I want.’

  I nodded, understanding his need to put on a show of being able to read. We tried five different rums, from a very rough to an oily smooth. The ones in between were shades of difference I couldn’t tell apart, though Jake said he could. I bet him a ten dollars he couldn’t. I lost.

  When we left Jake put a small bag next to the dirty glasses which contained Caper’s commission for the last job. From there we headed for the more boisterous dives near the water front. The thought of the girl from the Blue Pelican kept coming to mind and I was sorely tempted.

  Somewhere along the way we staggered into a low ceilinged, dimly lit, smoke filled inn and ordered large rums and lime juice. We sat at a corner table. The place was packed to the gunnels with men and dozens of women, all black, all whores. Two of the women who to my bleary eyes looked quite pretty, came and sat next to us. One of them had dark brown eyes, full lips and a deep cleavage. I could not ask for more. I had never thought of a black woman in a sexual way before and now I was curious. She had a musky scent I found arousing and the feel of her breast through her thin cotton dress against my arm made my imagination run riot.

  ‘You buy us a drink, yes?’ she whispered in my ear, her warm breath completing my arousal. I was uncomfortable and wriggled to ease the pressure of my trousers.

  She slid her hand along my thigh, ‘I take good care of him later, you see. And it only cost three dollars, all right mister?’

  I looked down at her heavy breasts, her dress as low as the top of her nipples, the start of a deep purple colour just noticeable. I wanted to get my hands on them. She leant forward and turned her back slightly to the room, took my hand and cupped it under her left breast as though weighing it.

  ‘You like? I can show you wonderful time with these.’ She let go of my hand but I kept it there, fascinated by the weight and firmness of her breast. Her hand gave me another squeeze and then she sat back, pushing my hand away. ‘If you want more you pay for it,’ she said abruptly. Then she picked up our bottle, poured more rum into my glass and took a mouthful on which I would have choked. She offered me the glass and licked her lips slowly and suggestively. ‘My name is Bonny.’

  When we staggered outside the air was fresh after the fog in the inn, but it was still hot and humid. I recalled reeling along with my arm around Bonny, my hand cupping her breast. Back on the boat I paid her three dollars and she told me I could use her anyway I wanted.

  I sat on the edge of my bunk and more roughly than I intended, pulled her dress off her shoulders. I got my mouth around a nipple, which was in proportion to her large breasts and I felt it rising hard in my mouth. I lay back on the bunk, the rum took hold on the last of my senses and I passed out.

  When I awoke or, rather, regained consciousness, I felt like death warmed up. My mouth and throat were dry and felt as if they were filled with cotton wool, my eyes ached, the cabin was spinning and I cursed Jake for leading me astray. Memory of the previous night forced its way into my brain and I wondered where the girl was. I lay back with a groan, trying to remember what had happened. I did not feel as though I had been through a night of gratifying sex. Quite t
he reverse in fact.

  I felt sick and fumbled my way to the upper deck. The blazing sun intensified my headache tenfold and I hung over the guard rail trying to vomit, to no avail. I got a bucket, filled it with sea water, sat next to the rail and forced myself to drink as quickly as I could. My stomach contracted in protest, I heaved and then puked until I thought my insides were coming out. I can’t say it left me in my prime or even a degree better. I made my way back down to my bunk and collapsed onto it with a groan of relief, happy not to have to hold my head up any longer.

  It was dark when Jake woke me. My head was throbbing but apart from that I felt reasonably normal. ‘What time is it?’ I asked.

  ‘Going on for midnight. Do you fancy a drink? A rum or something?’ I saw him grinning in the darkness.

  ‘Coffee will do fine, thanks. I think I’ll give up rum for good.’

  ‘Until the next time,’ he said knowingly. ‘Come on, let’s go and get something to eat. We’ll have coffee then. How did the night go?’

  ‘It didn’t. At least I don’t remember it going. I think I passed out,’ I admitted sheepishly.

  ‘What a waste. If I’d known that was going to happen I would have had her as well, especially as she was all paid for.’ Then he added as an after thought, ‘Nothing gone, is there?’

  ‘Gone? Why should there be?’ I asked dopily. But I knew the answer and so I checked under the mattress. I checked again and sank back with a groan.

  ‘All of it,’ I said.

  ‘Christ Almighty, all of it? How much was there?’

  ‘Seeing as you already gave me back our expenses and my share of the job, em, about eleven hundred.’

  ‘Jeesus. What a little bitch. We needed your share for the rum. Come on we’ll go and find her. Either she’s one hell of a stupid woman or else she’s got a lot of protection here.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘She took too much. If she had taken fifty, then we probably wouldn’t bother looking for her and that’s why their pimps tell them to keep the amounts small. They don’t want any trouble either. But with so much missing we have to find her. If she’s got any sense she’ll be half way across the island by now. On the other hand she just might have gone back to her protector, hoping for the best. Come on, let’s go.’

  Despondently I followed Jake onto the Quay. Each step fired my anger, which swamped my headache and by the time we got back to the bar where we had met her I was ready to kill.

  It was as packed as the night before and it took us about fifteen minutes to check all the corners and make sure neither girl was there.

  We went to a few more places asking the bartenders if they knew Bonny and Lulu. Some of them knew the girls but could not tell us where to find them. Then in the sixth or seventh place we had some luck.

  ‘Yeah, I know who you mean,’ said the bartender. ‘Their pimp is Cat Ball.’

  ‘Do you know where we can find him?’ asked Jake, slipping him a five dollar bill.

  He palmed it like a magician and said, ‘Sure, at the end of town. He’s got a big house there with nine or ten girls. It’s painted pink with a white roof.’ He suddenly leaned forward and dropped his voice. ‘He’s a mean son of a bitch, real mean. Got a couple of hands there to help protect the place and take care of any suckers who create too much fuss over the prices.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jake. ‘I know something about him.’

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ I said. ‘Come on, Jake.’

  ‘Hang on, David lad. Let’s go and get some coffee and something to eat first and maybe in a few hours we’ll go down there and see what we can find out.’

  ‘Why wait?’

  ‘Because we need to repair our wits, that’s why. And food and coffee is the only way. Believe me, I know what I’m doing.’

  I believed him and we went to find one of the lousiest steaks I could remember eating. It was nearly four in the morning when we finally returned to the Lucky Lady and then went on to Cat Ball’s house. Like most of the houses, it was next to the road. A balcony ran around the house at the second floor where most of the windows were open. The door looked stout, and from the sounds of laughter and screeching going on inside I guessed there was an orgy going on.

  ‘I’ve been trying to think what I’ve heard about Ball,’ said Jake. ‘He carries a knife between his shoulder blades and pretends to yawn and stretch when he goes for it. I’m sure I saw him kill a man with it a few years back. He’s got a hell of a reputation. He’s mostly white but part black and never goes into the sun so his skin doesn’t tan. Still want to go in?’

  ‘You’re damned right I do. If he so much as blinks I’ll blow him in two with this,’ I waved the shotgun. The sawn off barrel would cut down two men easily at four yards.

  ‘All right. We’ll go in over the balcony and look for his room. If he ain’t there we’ll wait for him to come up and take him nice and quiet. Then we’ll have a little talk with him.’

  43

  Jake cupped his hands, I stepped into them, straightened my leg and at the same time he lifted. I grabbed the top of the balcony and climbed over. I reached down; Jake jumped for my hands and within seconds he was alongside me, the noise minimal.

  I looked through one of the windows but could see nothing in the darkness. I climbed over the sill. From the smell of perfume and the clothes I found in the closet it belonged on one of the ladies of the house. The bed was huge, one of the biggest I had ever seen. The sheets were silk and I could feel the thickness of the carpet beneath my feet. Ball ran a rich place.

  I opened the door and looked out onto an internal balcony, six feet wide, which surrounded a large lounge. The room was crowded with men and women in various stages of undress.

  Opposite this room there were four doors and to the left, near the stairs, another three. There was only one door in the wall to the right. I crept out of the bedroom on all fours, keeping close to the wall. Jake followed, closing the door behind him. I opened the door in the right hand wall.

  We were in a lamp-lit room that ran the width of the house. The walls were hung with rich velvet curtains and the floor was covered with the deepest pile carpet I could imagine. The bed must have been eight feet wide and ten long.

  ‘God in heaven,’ was Jake’s response. ‘I think we’re in the wrong line of work.’

  ‘Watch the door while I search the room. If we find the money we can leave without Ball ever knowing we were here.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ Jake saluted sarcastically.

  I grinned. ‘Fair’s fair. You’re always captain. Now it’s my turn.’

  He grinned back and went over to the door. I started on the drawers and cupboards all of which were filled with the frilliest of shirts and the softest of linen; Cat Ball liked to do himself well. I did not, however, find a single dollar bill or piece of gold. Apart from a few pieces of jewellery there was nothing of value. In the back of one of the wardrobes I found a loose board and for a moment thought I had found where he kept his money. But there was nothing except leather clothing, some nasty looking whips and lengths of rope.

  When I showed it to Jake he shrugged disdainfully and said, ‘Bloody pervert.’

  I was standing in the middle of the room thinking where to look next when Jake suddenly left the door.

  ‘Somebody coming,’ he whispered.

  Quickly we crammed into the largest cupboard and closed the door just as somebody walked into the room. I knelt down and through a crack in the door saw two men enter. I realised the big fat man, dressed in bright red trousers and a black, frilly shirt, must be Cat Ball. The short, skinny man with him looked silly with nothing on except his shirt. They spent some time on their own until three girls, two black and one white, joined in the fun. One of the girls was Bonny. Loathe though I was to break up their party, I pushed open the door and stepped out. The room was so opulent and they were making so much noise they did not hear us until we stood on either side of the bed and Jake drew their attention by c
ocking his pistol. I aimed my scattergun in the general direction of the bed and they froze. Ball looked from one gun to the next, his calmness unnerving me a little. I was gratified to see the fear in Bonny’s rolling eyes.

  ‘I want my money, Ball,’ I said, lifting the gun to point at his head.

  ‘What money?’ he asked and at the sound of his voice they began to move.

  ‘Hold still, all of you,’ said Jake. ‘I like you the way you are.’

  They stopped wriggling. ‘What the hell goes on?’ asked Ball, showing indignant anger. ‘I suggest for your own good you get out of here and we’ll forget this little intrusion. One word from me and I can have a dozen men in here.’

  ‘That would be very, very stupid, because long before then you’d be very, very dead. Bonny, my dear,’ I looked down at her, ‘what did you do with the money you stole from under my bunk last night?’

  There was silence. ‘Crawl out from there slowly, honey,’ I said. ‘Jake is going to tie you up.’

  Using the rope from the wardrobe Jake quickly tied all three girls and left them lying on the floor. He then tied up the little man whose reaction to the events was startling. The man began to get excited again.

  That left Ball, unmoving, his shirt still on but with no pants.

  ‘You men are a bore. You don’t think you’re going to get away with this, do you?’ He yawned and stretched to prove his boredom but even as his hand was reaching behind his back I rammed the barrel of the shotgun as hard as I could into his stomach. There was an explosion of air from his lungs and he curled up, his face distorted with pain. He was in bad condition, like most fat men, and had difficulty breathing. I leant down, reached behind him and removed a small, two barrelled Derringer.

  When I showed it to Jake he shrugged. ‘Can’t be right all the time,’ he said.

  I looked at the others, their astonishment clear. The little man was wriggling and I thought he was in pain until I realised he was enjoying himself.

  Jake roughly spread-eagled Ball and tied his hands and feet to each corner of the bed, the knots digging into his flesh.