"That was swell," he said. Then to Chandler, "Boy! You certainly can pick them!"
Chandler laid down his knife and fork and grinned.
"She's something very special." He patted Lolita's hand. "That was terrific, baby . . . and I mean terrific."
"You men . . . if a woman can cook, you're just mush." Lolita got to her feet. "Sit still. I'll take care of the dishes," and rapidly clearing the table, she carried the dishes into the kitchen.
"This is about our one lucky break," Mish said, lighting a cigarette. He tossed the pack to Chandler. "I really thought she was going to walk out on us."
Chandler got to his feet and moved over to the open window. It was growing dark now. He could see the moon coming up behind the palm trees, making the sea glitter. He drew the curtains and turned on the light.
"I told you. She and I have an understanding."
"Do you think we are safe here," Jess?"
Chandler sat in an easy chair. He let smoke drift down his nostrils.
"Could be. I don't know. We should work out something, Mish. If the cops did come here, there's a good hide in the roof. If something started, we could leave Lolita to handle it and you and me get up in the roof."
"Think her nerve would hold?"
"Sure."
Mish got to his feet.
"I'm going to grab me some air."
"Watch it."
Mish grinned.
"Relax, Jess. I know what I'm doing."
When he had left the bungalow, Chandler walked into the kitchen where Lolita was finishing the washing up.
"Anything I can do?" he asked.
"It's done." She took off her apron and came over to him. She leaned hard against him as he put his arms around her. "Where's Mish?"
"He's taking the air." Chandler's hands slid down her back and cupped her buttocks. "Let's go to bed, baby." He pulled her close to him.
"I was only waiting for you to say that."
They kissed, then, his arm around her, he led her out of the kitchen, down the passage and into the main bedroom. As he was about to close the door, he heard Mish come in. Mish's movements were hurried. Chandler stiffened. He raised his hand to Lolita, and then stepped into the passage.
"There's a police car down the road," Mish said tensely. "They are checking all the bungalows. They'll be here in half an hour . . . automatic weapons."
Lolita came to the door, zipping up her dress.
"What is it?"
"The cops . . . they're checking the bungalows," Chandler said, trying to keep his voice steady.
Mish pointed to the trap door in the ceiling.
"We'll get up there."
"Put the radio on," Chandler said to Lolita. "When they come . . ."
She was surprisingly calm: a lot calmer than Mish and Chandler.
"I know. You don't have to tell me. I'll handle it, Jess. Just get up there and leave it to me."
"This could turn into a jam, baby," Chandler said. He had a sudden spasm of conscience. He had no right to ask her to do this for him. "Maybe you had better go. You still have time . . ."
"Get up there and be quiet. I'll handle it."
He pulled her against him.
"You won't regret this. When we do get out of this mess, you and I . . ."
She smiled up at him.
"I know, Jess."
Mish brought a step ladder from the kitchen. He opened the trap door and hauled himself into the hot space between the roof and the ceiling.
Chandler kissed Lolita, then he climbed up into the roof. Looking down at her, he said, "You are going to handle this beautifully, and I love you."
"I love you too," she said and carried the step ladder back into the kitchen.
Chandler let down the trap door, then he took his gun from his hip pocket and snicked back the safety catch.
"Remember, Jess," Mish said out of the darkness. "It's us or them. I'm not going back to jail."
It was after ten o'clock when Wand and Colon walked around the thick, high clump of tropical shrubs and palm trees and came suddenly on Maisky's bungalow.
Both men came to an abrupt standstill, their sweating hands gripping their automatic rifles, turning their knuckles white.
They stared at the isolated bungalow, seeing a light coming through the curtains of one of the windows.
"If they are anywhere," Colon said, "this could be it." '
Both men were now so jumpy after their four hours of continual checking that they both hesitated. Every door they had knocked on, they had expected to be received by a blast of gunfire. They were now in a demoralised state.
"Look, Mike," Wand said, "I've had enough of this. Let's get Gutsey to handle this one."
"Yeah."
They turned and moving around the palm trees out on to the beach, they signalled to O'Connor who was sitting in the police car, the glowing end of his cigarette showing through the windscreen.
They had to signal three times before O'Connor, cursing under his breath, started the car and drove up to them.
"What's the matter?" he demanded, glaring at them through the open window of the car.
"There's a lone bungalow just around the trees," Wand said. "We think you should handle it, Sarg."
"What the hell do you mean?" O'Connor exploded. "I'm covering you, ain't I? You go ahead. Hear me? That's an order."
"They could be there," Wand said. "You're coming with us, Sarg, or I will turn in a report to the Chief."
O'Connor glared at him. "About what?"
"That you sat in the car on your fat fanny and let us handle the search. And I'll do it, Gutsey, even if I get thrown off the force!"
"You call me that again and I'll knock your goddam teeth out!"
"Fine, Gutsey . . . try and do it," Wand said quickly.
O'Connor wiped the sweat off his face. He got out of the car. He was four inches taller than Wand and three times as heavy. He doubled his thick fingers into an enormous fist.
Collon said softly, "You hit him, Sarg, and I'll hit you."
O'Connor regarded Collon's big frame; he was built like a heavyweight champion, and he was young and very tough.
"You two are in real trouble," O'Connor snarled. "Okay, we'll go back to headquarters. I'm putting you both on a charge."
"Fine. The Chief will love it," Wand said. "We arrive at the one place these hoods could be hiding, and you chicken out and bring us back on a charge. Okay, Sarg, if that's the way you want it, let's go back to headquarters. I bet you'll kiss your pension goodbye."
O'Connor glared at him, hesitated, then cursed.
"You wait until I get you two back to headquarters."
"Do you check this bungalow or do we go back?" Wand asked.
Again O'Connor hesitated, but he knew he was trapped. Muttering under his breath, he began walking slowly across the sand until he came within sight of the isolated bungalow. He stopped abruptly. He now saw what these two jerks meant. This was just the place where the wanted men might be. He stared at the light coming through one of the curtained windows, and sweat ran down his fat face.
"You going ahead, Sarg?" Wand asked politely, "or are we staying here the rest of the night?"
O'Connor turned.
"You two guys go ahead. I'll cover you," he said.
"Not us, Sarg. You go ahead. We'll cover you," Wand said.
"Think they're in there?" O'Connor said, hesitating.
"You find out, Sarg."
Slowly, O'Connor began to walk forward. His fat legs were shaky. The other two followed him. He reached the wooden gate that guarded the short path to the bungalow. Here, he paused.
"I'll go around the back," Collon said and moved off into the darkness.
When he had gone, O'Connor said, "Look, Sam, I'm an old man. You go ahead. I swear I'll cover you."
"Not me, Sarg. I'm a young man. I've got a lot longer to live than you have. They could give you a medal."
Livid, O'Connor turned on him.
"List
en, you jerk, I'll make your life a misery! You're refusing to obey an order. You hear me! Go . . . knock on that door!"
"I'd rather lead a life of misery than have a dead one," Wand said. "You knock on the door. We've already knocked on a hundred doors. You try it for size, Sarg."
Then the door opened and a girl came out into the moonlight. The light from the hall lit up her silhouette. She was wearing a short, white dress, and the light showed her legs up to her crotch through the dress.
O'Connor drew in a long breath of relief. Scarcely believing his luck, he walked up the path as the girl came towards him.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked. "It's the police, isn't it?"
O'Connor reached her and stared down at her. Some bim! he thought. There I was, scared crap silly, and look what comes out of the goddam place!
Wand was close on his heels. The two policemen regarded the girl as she looked from one to the other.
"You live here?" O'Connor asked, pushing his peaked cap to the back of his head and wiping the sweat off his forehead with a grubby handkerchief.
"Of course." She gave him a dazzling smile.
"Been here long?"
"A couple of weeks . . . I rent the place. What is it, Sarg?"
"Aw, forget it," O'Connor said and grinned. "We're just checking. Didn't mean to scare you, Miss."
"Do you mind if we look inside?" Wand said quietly. He was staring at the girl, wondering where he had seen her before. He had seen her. He was sure of that, but where? "You are alone?"
"Yes, I'm alone," Lolita said. "Go ahead . . . take a look. What are you looking for?"
As Wand started forward, O'Connor grabbed his arm.
"Stop leaning your weight on everything," he growled. "We don't have to worry the little lady. Come on, we still have work to do."
Hearing voices, Collon came around from the back of the bungalow.
"Come on . . . come on . . ." O'Connor said impatiently. He was so relieved that he had escaped trouble, he couldn't get away fast enough. "Leave her be," and giving the girl a salute, he started off down the path.
Wand was still staring at Lolita. Then he suddenly remembered where he had seen her. She had been singing and playing a guitar in a restaurant near the harbour. His quick mind told him a girl like her couldn't afford to pay the rent of a bungalow in this district.
She was smiling at him.
"Do you want to come in?"
"Yeah . . . I'm coming in. You lead the way."
She turned and moved into the bungalow, swaying her hips. "Some chick," Collon said admiringly.
"Watch it," Wand said out of the corner of his mouth. "This could be it." He snapped off the safety catch of his rifle. Collon stared at him and seeing his white, set face, he felt a prickle of excitement run up his spine.
O'Connor had reached the gate. He turned and looked back up the path.
"Come on, you jerks!" he shouted. "What are you doing?"
Wand moved into the bungalow. Colon, aware now that Wand was more than suspicious, followed him closely, his thumb snapping back the safety catch on his rifle.
"Stay right here," Wand said softly, "and cover me. Watch it!"
He walked into the living-room. The first thing he noticed was an ashtray on the table loaded with cigarette butts: only a few of them had lipstick smears.
Lolita turned off the radio. She seemed completely at ease and her smile was inviting.
"Go ahead . . . look around. Can I get you boys a drink?"
"No thanks," Wand said. He moved past her into the kitchen. He saw three plates in the drying rack, three knives and forks lying on the draining board, and his skin prickled. He opened the refrigerator and looked at the vast stock of food. He knew then that somewhere in this bungalow were the wanted men. Walking as if on eggshells, his rifle pushed forward, his finger on the trigger, he opened the three doors, one after the other, that led into the bedrooms. In the main bedroom, hanging over the back of a chair, he saw a man's red and blue tie.
He came out into the passage, looked to right and left, then up at the trap door in the ceiling.
Lolita came to the sitting-room door.
"All right?" she asked. The strain was beginning to tell, but she still managed an inviting, convincing smile.
Wand moved forward, riding her back into the sitting-room.
"Okay, sister," he said, speaking low, "they're up in the loft, aren't they?"
Her eyes widened for a brief moment, then she forced a smile, but this time it was a lot less convincing.
"They? I don't understand. What do you mean?"
"I know you," Wand said. "You couldn't afford to live in this place. You better open up or you'll be in real trouble. They are up there, aren't they?"
Lolita's lips were now pale under her lipstick, but she didn't give up.
"They? I told you . . . I'm alone here. What is all this about?"
Wand walked to the door.
"Get Gutsey," he said to Colon.
Colon went to the front door and waved to O'Connor who was standing by the gate, waiting impatiently. Uneasily, the fat sergeant came up the path.
"What the hell is it now?"
"Take her," Wand said. "They're up in the loft."
O'Connor gaped at him, then he caught hold of Lolita's arm. He jerked her into the passage as Mish, listening to all this, gently raised the trap door, aimed his gun and squeezed the trigger.
The gun exploded with a bang that rattled the windows. A red stain appeared on O'Connor's tunic. He went down on his knees, like a stricken ox, his hands clasping his enormous belly.
Lolita screamed and threw herself back into the sitting-room as Colon, jerking up his rifle, ripped in shot after shot through the ceiling.
Mish, hit in the face and through the body, somehow lifted his gun and again squeezed the trigger. Shot through the shoulder, Collon dropped his rifle, falling face down on the floor. Mish tried to regain his balance, then toppled through the trap door, his dying fingers squeezing the trigger of his gun which exploded bullets through the narrow passage. He thudded down on Collon as Wand shot him again through the head.
Wand hurriedly backed into the sitting-room, crouching down on one knee. There were two more of them up there, he thought, not knowing that Jack Perry was already dead.
Carefully sighting his rifle at the already holed ceiling, he fired five quick shots into the ceiling.
"Okay, you two," he bawled. "Come on down with your hands in the air!"
Lolita, standing against the wall, looked wildly around the room. Her eyes alighted on a heavy glass ashtray. Without hesitating, she reached for it, took three silent steps up to Wand who was staring through the doorway at the open trap and crashed the ashtray down on his head.
He dropped the rifle, gave a groan and fell forward.
Her heart hammering, she jumped over his body and ran to the trap door.
"Jess! Quick! Come down!" she screamed. "We can get away! Come down quick!"
There was a pause, then a scuffling noise and Chandler appeared in the open trap. His face was white and his eyes half closed.
"Beat it, baby," he said hoarsely. "There's nothing more you can do for me now . . . and thanks for everything."
Blood ran out of his mouth and dripped on to the worn mat in the hall.
Lolita screamed.
"Jess!"
"Beat it," Chandler gasped, then his eyes rolled back and he sagged forward, his arms hanging close to her face.
She caught hold of his hand, then shuddered and released it. She ran into the bedroom, snatched up her suitcase, threw it on the bed and crammed her things into it. Tears ran down her face and every now and then she caught her breath in a rasping sob.
Carrying the suitcase, she went out into the hall, looked again at Chandler, then, jumping over O'Connor's great bulk, she ran out into the darkness of the garage. She threw her suitcase into the back of the Mini, got in and started the engine.
She drove fast to
wards the Miami highway.
Seven
FOR THE past three hours the Homicide Squad, under Hess, and the fingerprint experts, under Jeff White, had swarmed over Maisky's bungalow.
Chief of Police Terrell, back at headquarters, was waiting impatiently for their reports.
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