The Big Bite

by Gerry Travis

  “What do you know about Curtis?”

  “I just know that he wasn’t careful enough,” she said. “I guessed he was here for a purpose; they would guess, too.”

  Knox escorted her into the house, and left her just inside the door. He went over to where Nat stood alone.

  “Well,” she murmured, “have a good chat, darling?”

  “Go to hell. This is hotter than I thought.”

  “So I see,” she said. “Your lips are on fire.”

  Knox glared at her and wiped the lipstick from his face. He said, “Any luck?”

  “I danced with all the men but Tiber,” she said. “He’s gone on Meridee.”

  “Gomez?”

  “Oh yes, but carefully. His heart, you know.”

  “And Kurath?” Knox asked.

  “And Kurath,” she said. Her voice was tight, reminding him of Adele’s. “But he’s strange, Paul. He’s changed.”

  “How?”

  “He said to me, ‘Get out of here. You haven’t got a chance. This is too big for you.’ To me—Gerard Tinsley’s daughter, one of his own men said that, Paul.”

  “Which side is he on?”

  Nat drained her drink. “I don’t care. I don’t care if everyone is on the other side. I’m not going to walk off and leave all that nice gold—not for her.”

  Knox thought, When the chips are down, Nat will be moving against me, not with me. He looked about, saw Forrest watching him steadily, and knew that the time had almost come.

  He said to Nat, “Who left the room after Adele and I did?”

  “Almost everyone,” she said. “But they all came back quickly except Forrest. He was gone for some time, almost as long as you were. He said something about checking the petrol in the power plant.”

  So it was Forrest. Knox had suspected as much. Forrest was the smooth, tough kind the Curtain boys would use for a job like this. Forrest and maybe Kurath.

  Knox felt a little sick. Forrest had overheard him telling what he knew to Adele. So now Natasha’s side knew who he was and why he was here.

  CHAPTER XV

  Knox gave the appearance of having a good time, circulating about the room with a fresh drink always at hand.

  He had one piece of good fortune. Tiber had to leave the room and for the first time Meridee was left alone. Knox drained his glass and weaved over to replenish it. She looked up at him, a dazed, half-drunken look on her face. Her lipstick was smeared.

  “How’s it going?” His voice was low.

  “What a man,” she said. “That guy’s a keg, an empty keg.” She shrugged. “I’ve been pumped inside out. I think I’m okay.”

  Knox nodded. He said, “Something might break any minute.”

  For a brief instant the dazed look left her face, her eyes were sharp and clear. She said, “What do I do?”

  “If I give a signal—drop my glass, let’s say—attract attention to yourself.” It was the best he could think of.

  Filling his glass, Knox wandered off. He decided he was hungry. He announced the fact to the air, at the moment filled with waltz music, and, staggering slightly, maneuvered himself through the kitchen doorway. In that fashion, he made the second piece of good fortune himself.

  He found Manuelita up to her elbows in dishwater. She swiveled her head as he came in, glared and returned to her work. Knox said in rapid Spanish, “Where’s Chuco?”

  “In and out,” she answered. “When he is thirsty or hungry, he comes in. Then he goes out.” She was sulky. Probably because she had no time to go out with Chuco.

  Knox said, “Do not be so harsh with Chuco. I see him every day and he speaks of no other but his Manuelita.”

  She giggled, but she still wasn’t having any. “What of that rubia, that blonde he took to the bus? He was with her. With his own mouth, he told Forrest of his conquest.”

  “A kiss which she gave him in gratitude, nothing more. I swear nothing more. With my own eyes, I saw him return and wash his mouth with soap. This I swear.”

  Manuelita lifted her hands from the dishwater and flicked them aimlessly. “All men are great liars and defenders of one another.”

  “True,” Knox said, “but how charming their adversaries—the ladies.”

  “And what is it you want, señor?”

  She had had enough byplay. Knox said, “A favor of you, Manuelita. A favor that may save many lives.”

  She was of the age and temperament—he hoped—to be romantically inclined. Her eyes widened. They widened even more as he removed some peso notes from his pocket and let her see them. “For you if you will put out the lights.”

  “The lights, señor?”

  “Si, all the lights. There is a main switch, is there not? With fuses perhaps?”

  “Si, como noi”

  He extended the money. “Then when you hear the Scottish music—the bagpipes—run and pull the switch and take the fuses and throw them far. You know bagpipes?”

  “Si.” Her eyes were on the money.

  “And if all goes well, there will be more. Twice as much as this.”

  She did not take the money, although her head was bobbing up and down. Finally she said, “My hands, they are wet, señor.”

  Knox tucked the bills firmly down into her ample bosom, received a half-shy, half-pleased smile, and departed.

  He was lucky again. Tiber was back, but as bartender was occupied. Knox had a brief instant to say to Meridee, “If you have to attract attention, try one of your bagpipe records.”

  “All figured out,” she said with a quick nod.

  Knox wandered away. Gomez, apparently tired from dancing, was sipping a brandy in a chair on the veranda. Knox went toward him, humming softly.

  “A most beautiful place, is it not, señor?” Knox asked him suddenly.

  Gomez started slightly, but recovered himself at once. He turned with his eyes bright; there appeared little of the invalid about him. Gomez’ companion was moving in from the right, but Knox paid no attention.

  “Most beautiful,” he agreed. “Be seated, Señor Knox. I have wanted to speak with you for some time.” His English was still precise, without inflection, and certainly not slurred by brandy. “Tonio, bring a chair for Señor Knox.”

  The wispy companion brought a chair. Knox sat down, put his feet on the veranda railing and sighed. “You wanted to speak to me?”

  “Yes, I understand you are a detective.”

  “An insurance investigator.”

  “Ah, and you came seeking this Curtis?”

  “That is correct. I believe he disappeared the day before you arrived.”

  “Then you have made inquiries about me?”

  “I have inquired about everyone,”

  “And you found …”

  “That you are an important personage traveling incognito,” Knox answered. “You are here for your health. A heart condition, I believe.”

  “Do you believe, Mr. Knox?”

  Knox smiled. He said in a flat, sober voice, “Damn little, Señor Gomez, damn little.”

  “So I thought, señor. Shall we be frank with one another?”

  Knox suddenly discovered he had no choice in the matter. Tonio was standing behind them, between their two chairs. One hand was visible. The other had a knife in it and the knife was pressed lightly against Knox’s left ribs.

  “That is not necessary,” he said in Spanish. “I am here in your interest, señor.”

  “I have heard otherwise.” Gomez lit a fragrant cigar, not bothering to look at Knox while speaking to him. “I must ask you to explain yourself.”

  And make it good, Knox thought, or little Tonio will play rough. He said, “I am here as the man Forrest is here.”

  “Ah?”

  “Do you think, Señor Gomez,” Knox went on, “that we are foolish enough to leave about twenty millions in gold and trust those who know of it?”

  There was roughness in Gomez’ voice. “You impune me, señor.”

  “Not at all,�
� Knox said smoothly. “I speak of the woman and her man, that Tiber. Surely you know that we sent Forrest to watch them. Twenty times one million is enough to risk a great deal for.”

  “I did not know. I suspected as much.” By his tone, Knox knew that he was not only surprised, he was perturbed.

  “One cannot always trust underlings. There are the weaknesses of the flesh. The woman is very attractive, is she not?”

  “For her type.”

  “It is a type that Forrest admires a great deal,” Knox said smoothly. “There is always temptation where a woman is involved. How foolish all of us would feel should we discover that not only had our funds flown, but the watchdog of them and the watchdog of the watchdog as well.”

  “True.” Gomez was speaking quietly again. Suddenly his cigar bobbed. A noise came from his lips. His shoulders shook. He was laughing.

  “I find nothing humorous,” Knox said stiffly.

  “Ah, you party members. You are as humorless as your masters.”

  Knox could have kissed him. He felt the knife being withdrawn. He hoped he wasn’t showing the sweat that stood out on his forehead in cold, clammy beads. He said, “You know then that you are in good hands, señor.” He rose, obviously hurt at Gomez’ remark and yet, equally obviously, enough lower in the scale of the hierarchy that he dared not take umbrage. It was, he thought, one of his better performances.

  “One thing, Señor Knox. I am curious about the women who seem so drawn to you.”

  Knox permitted himself a fleeting smile. He said, “The one who calls herself Adele Fisher is a messenger of ours. It was she who sent the notice here that precipitated this party.”

  “A clever move,” Gomez conceded. He glanced into the room where a good deal of dancing and drinking still went on. “Let us hope they have enough sense to stop in time.”

  “That is one of my responsibilities,” Knox said. He waited, hoping.

  “Tomorrow night comes soon,” Gomez said. “You must stop them soon.”

  Knox felt elation spraying all over him. Tomorrow night. He said feelingly, “They will stop soon, señor. That I guarantee.”

  “You were telling me of the women,” Gomez reminded him. “Are the others also our—friends?”

  That would be carrying a good thing too far, Knox decided. He said, “Unfortunately, no. The one who calls herself Meridee Simpson is what she claims to be, a night-club dancer. She was here some few days ago, you may remember. But at that time she lacked funds. I understand she had a source in Mexico City. I believe her harmless.”

  “An interesting case of glandular development,” Gomez said. His eyes were sharp. “And the other?”

  “Madame LeGage?” Knox smiled frostily. “She, Señor Gomez, is the genuine Natalie Tinsley. Here, I discover, to follow in her father’s footsteps and take what she considers her share of the money.”

  He looked into Gomez’ eyes, bowed, and murmured, “A separate problem, you see. She and her henchmen may cause us trouble.”

  “Henchmen! And they are …?”

  “Of that I am not sure,” Knox said. “But I suspect the big man, Tiber, and I suspect the new one,. Kurath. Adios.” He walked away, leaving Gomez staring thoughtfully into the room.

  CHAPTER XVI

  Knowing that Gomez was watching him, Knox went to where Forrest stood beside the large console phonograph. The noise coming from it was loud and brassy but Forrest seemed unaware of any disturbance—he was watching Natasha dancing with surprising abandon with Kurath.

  Knox located the others quickly—Nat was back on the divan, sipping a drink; Tiber and Meridee were at their usual occupation, which was to gaze into each other’s eyes for a time, then lean together and kiss, then have a drink and begin the round again; Adele was drifting about aimlessly, glancing now and then toward the veranda, or—Knox thought—beyond it to the quiet of the garden.

  He said to Forrest, “What the hell was the idea of shooting at us the other night?”

  Forrest looked politely blank.

  Knox said, “Since when do you shoot our people on your own initiative? You were given no orders.”

  With a credible imitation of an American movie gangster, Forrest said, “Don’t hand me that. I know who you are and who Curtis was. I’m in charge here and I’ll damned well shoot at whom I like.”

  Knox was not surprised. “You might think you know who I am, friend, but when this is over, you’ll wish you hadn’t tried to think.”

  Forrest laughed at him. Knox went on, his low tone undercutting the volume of the phonograph, “It is as we suspected. You have acceded to a bourgeois lust for a woman and for profits. They were wise in sending us here.”

  So brief that it was almost missed, a flicker of expression touched Forrest’s arrogant features. Fear, Knox thought.

  Forrest said, “Who is ‘us?’ You and Curtis?”

  “No,” Knox said. “I was referring to Kurath.”

  Forrest threw back his head and laughed. “Kurath! Kurath is about as close to what you claim for him as your friend LeGage is to what you claim for her. Sorry, Knox, this is one you can’t talk yourself out of.”

  He smiled and lifted a half-filled glass from the phonograph top, reached out and touched Knox’s empty glass with it. “Let’s drink to the near future, shall we? It was all very well planned, and it worked out to perfection.”

  Knox saw the mockery in his eyes and knew that the boner he had made was irretrievable.

  Turning as if swinging away from Forrest in anger, he let his arm holding the glass come about quickly. The glass slipped and fell to the floor, shattering. For a moment Knox had the sickening feeling that the noise of the music was too much, that Meridee was so engrossed in Tiber she neither heard nor saw his signal. He walked away.

  Meridee leaned close to Tiber and said something. He shook his head. She pouted. Tiber kissed the pout and nodded. Meridee jumped to her feet, clapping her hands. In a slightly off-balance stagger, she made her way to a sideboard, took her package of records from it and went to the phonograph.

  Knox, trying to appear casual, changed his course and aimed for the kitchen. He reached the door just as Tiber weaved into the middle of the room and raised both hands after the manner of a master of ceremonies. Knox went into the kitchen.

  Manuelita was there, still alone. Knox found some more bills and thrust them at her. “As soon as you turn out the lights, go to the mainland. Or send Chuco. A message must be taken to Silac, the waiter at the Viewhouse.”

  “I know that one,” she said. “An Indio.”

  “Tell him,” Knox rushed on, “that we are taken. Say that to him and give him my name. There will be more money.”

  “Señor—”

  “It is a matter of life and death,” Knox said. Turning, he hurried back to the living room.

  The music had stilled. Forrest was by the phonograph but a pace away, leaving Meridee room to work there. Forrest was looking at Knox, a faint questioning on his face. Knox hoped that Manuelita would hurry and get out of that kitchen before Forrest caught on to Knox’s reasons for having gone there twice.

  Tiber was still in the center of the room and, with the stilling of the music, succeeded in gaining everyone’s attention. “Ladies an’ gen’men,” he said slurringly. “I have ‘nouncement to make. Miss Simpson will—perform!”

  Meridee said to Forrest, “When I signal, drop the needle, will you?” She walked quickly to the side wall where among the decorations was a pair of fine, basket-hiked Spanish rapiers. These she took down and carried to the center of the room.

  “One moment,” she said. “Costume.” With a slightly alcholic smile, she hurried into the kitchen. Knox saw Forrest take two steps in that direction and then hesitate, glancing at Tiber. The implication was plain: Tiber would assume Forrest was after Meridee; that would end Forrest’s usefulness for the evening.

  Meridee returned. Everyone was seated facing the center of the room. Even Gomez and Tonio had come in from the ver
anda. Adele settled herself beside Nat; Natasha and Kurath stood next to Tiber. All eyes were on the swords Meridee had crossed in the center of the floor.

  They shifted to Meridee as she came from the kitchen. She was, Knox had to admit, quite a sight. In place of her low-cut evening gown, she wore her own version of Scottish kilts. The costume consisted of a plaid blouse cut with surprising restraint, a kilt somewhat shorter than regulation and with the lace of black lingerie peeking from the bottom, and a pair of gilded high-heeled shoes.

  “Music!”

  Forrest shrugged and placed the needle on the record. The plaintive, keening wail of bagpipes broke into the expectant silence. Meridee began to dance, weaving a figure in and out of the swords, hands clasped on top of her head and then at her hips, dancing in those precarious heels as though they were flat ballet shoes.

  She was good, Knox thought. Drunk or not, she missed not a single beat, made no missteps. But he was admiring her with only half his mind. The other half was wondering if Manuelita had heard the music and, if so, had managed to work up enough nerve to try to earn her money.

  The music picked up in tempo, rose in volume. Knox glanced about. Everyone seemed frozen, staring at Meridee’s truly superb dancing. Everyone, Knox saw, but Forrest. He was slowly, unobtrusively working his way along the wall toward the kitchen door.

  Forrest disappeared into the kitchen. Knox stood and felt the sweat running from him.

  Tiber let out a yell that threatened to shake the walls. Knox took his eyes off the kitchen doorway. The reason for Tiber’s exuberance was clear. Meridee had begun to peel.

  Two quick tugs and the blouse fluttered away, leaving her with a filmy black brassiere to hide her full-blown figure. Knox saw that Nat was blushing furiously. Adele appeared a little startled but not in the least shocked. Gomez and Tonio both had their lips parted slightly as they followed Meridee’s whirling movements. Natasha had both hands clasped about Kurath’s arm, rocking back and forth to the tempo of the music. The man himself seemed simply bemused.

  The skirt whirled away, to land at the edge of the dance floor. Now there was nothing but the brassiere and matching panties—and the gilded high heels. The music on the record picked up again, the skirling coming faster than Knox believed possible. Meridee kept time, her arms making flicking motions.