Chapter One

FALL GUY

1

THEY had told me that Paradise Palms was a pretty nice spot, but when I saw it, I was knocked for a loop. It was so good I stopped the Buick to gape at it.

The town was built along the semi-circular bay with its miles of golden sand, palm trees and green ocean. The buildings were compact, red roofed with white walls. Tree-lined avenues led into the town from four directions. Flower-beds decorated the sidewalks. Every tropical flower, tree and plant grew in the streets, and the effect was like a dream in Technicolor. The colours hurt my eyes.

After I’d stared at the flowers, I concentrated on the women, driving in big luxury cars or walking along the sidewalks, or even riding bicycles. It was as good as an Earl Carrol show. There wasn’t a woman who hadn’t stripped down to the bare essentials. My eyes hadn’t overeaten themselves like this in years.

As a curtain-raiser for a vacation, it couldn’t have been better. And that’s what I was on: a vacation. Four months of working the gambling joints in New York had been a pretty hard grind. When I had acquired a roll of not less than twenty grand I had promised myself a real vacation with all the trimmings. By the time I’d saved fifteen, I nearly threw it up, but, somehow, I kept on, in spite of the bags under my eyes, a couple of bullet wounds and a flock of opposition. You don’t win twenty grand without making enemies. I made plenty. It got so bad that I was driving around in an armoured car, putting newspapers on the floor around my bed so no one could get at me without waking me, and toting a gun, even in my bath.

I got my roll and I got a reputation. They said I was the fastest gun-thrower in the country. Maybe I was, but I didn’t tell anyone that I practised two hours a day, wet or shine. I killed guys, but it wasn’t murder. Even the cops said so, and they should know. Every time I killed a guy I made sure he had the drop on me first, and I had witnesses to prove it. I’d worked it so I could pull a gun and shoot before the other guy could squeeze his trigger. That wanted a lot of doing; it meant hard work, but I stuck at it, and it paid dividends. I was never even arrested.

I had acquired my roll, bought the Buick, and here I was, ready for a vacation in Paradise Palms.

While I was gaping at the women, a traffic cop came over. He actually saluted me.

“You can’t park here, sir,” he said, resting his foot on my running board.

Imagine: a cop calling me “sir".

“I’ve just blown in,” I said, starting my engine. “It’s taken my breath away. Boy! This certainly looks good.”

The cop grinned. “It gets you, don’t it?” he said. “I gaped plenty when I first arrived.”

“It sure does,” I said. “Look at those dames. They make me feel I have X-ray eyes, and that’s something I’ve always wanted. I’m scared to look away in case I miss something.”

“You should see ’em on the beach,” the cop said wistfully. “They’re no more self-conscious than a tree.”

’That’s the way I like my women.”

“So do I,” the cop said, shaking his head, “but it doesn’t add up to anything here, except a strained eyesight’ and a stiff neck.”

“You mean they’re hard to make?”

He whistled. “Takes a piano mover to throw ’em over.”

“I’m good at moving pianos,” I said, and asked him where I could find Palm Beach Hotel.

“Some joint,” he said, sighing. “You’ll like it there; even the food’s good,” and he gave me directions.

I reached the hotel in two or three minutes, and the reception I got would have satisfied Rockefeller himself. A flock of bellhops grabbed my luggage, somebody drove the Buick to the hotel garage, and a couple of pixies, dolled up in blue and gold fancy dress, would have carried me up the steps if I’d let them, and if they’d had the strength.

The reception clerk did everything except go down on his hands and knees and knock his head on the floor.

“We’re delighted to have you here, Mr. Cain,” he said, handing me the register and a pen. “Your rooms are ready, and if you’re not satisfied with the view you have only to let me know.”

I wasn’t used to this line of treacle, but I made out that I was. I told him I was pretty fussy about views, and the one he’d arranged for me had better be good.

It was good. I had a private balcony, a sitting-room and a bedroom with a bathroom attached that only Cecil B. de Mille could have designed.

I went out on the balcony and looked across the beach, the palms and the ocean. It was terrific. To my left, I could look into some of the other rooms of the hotel. The first one I looked into was as good as a peep-show you sometimes find in a back street in New York; only it had more class. The dame was an eye-stopper. She was wearing a couple of dumb-bells in either hand. Maybe she called it exercising in the nude. I caught her eye. Before she ducked out of sight, her smile said: “We could have fun together, big boy.”

I told the reception clerk who’d come up with me that the view was swell.

When he had gone, I went back onto the balcony, hoping to see some more of the dumb-bells, but I’d seen all there was to see.

I hadn’t been out on the balcony more than three minutes before the telephone rang. I answered it, thinking maybe it was a wrong number.

“Mr. Cain?”

I said as far as I knew it was.

“Welcome to Paradise Palms,” went on the voice: a rich, fruity baritone with a dago accent. “This is Speratza talking. I manage the Casino Club. I hope you’ll come over. We’ve heard about you.”

“You have?” I said, pleased. “That’s swell. Sure, I’d like to come over. I’m on vacation, but I still gamble.”

“We have a line place here, Mr. Cain,” he said, goodwill oozing from every pore. “You’ll like it. How about tonight? Can you make it?”

“Sure. I’ll be over.”

“Ask for me: Don Speratza. I’ll see you’re fixed good. You got a girl?”

“Not right now, but there seem to be plenty kicking around.” “But not all of them are obliging, Mr. Cain,” he said, laughing. “I’ll fix you with one who knows her way around. We want you to have a good time while you’re with us. We don’t often have such a celebrity. You leave the girl to me. You won’t be disappointed.”

I said it was pretty nice of him and hung up.

About ten minutes later the telephone rang again. This time it was a bass voice that said it belonged to Ed. Killeano. I didn’t know any Ed. Killeano, but I said I was glad he had called.

“I heard you were in town, Cain,” the voice said. “I want you to know we’re glad to have you here. Anything I can do to make your stay a pleasant one be sure to let me know. The hotel will tell you where you can find me. Have a good time,” and before I could think of anything to say he rang off.

I was human enough to call the desk and ask who Ed. Killeano was. They told me in a hushed voice that he was the City Administrator. They made it sound like he was Joe Stalin.

I thanked them and went back to the balcony.

The sun shone on the golden beach, the ocean sparkled, and the palms nodded their heads in the lazy breeze. Paradise Palms still looked wonderful, but I was beginning to wonder if it was too good to be true.

I had a hunch that something was cooking.

2

I drove down Ocean Drive. The traffic was heavy, and I moved slowly, the damp, salt smell of the sea in my nose, the pounding of the surf in my ears.

It was the kind of night you read about in books. The stars looked like diamond dust on blue velvet.

Two blocks further up I came upon a lighted drive that led to a big building with one of those fancy fronts made of marble or glass or porcelain or something—a kind of powder blue with “Casino” in sizable letters on a ledge at the top of the first floor. The whole building was lit by indirect lighting, and the over-all effect was pretty nice.

The Negro doorman’s brass buttons gleamed in the light. He pulled open the door of the Buick, and another Negro stepped forward to drive the car to the garage.

I walked in under the blue canopy and found myself in a corridor fined on both sides with discreet private dining-rooms with numbers on the doors. At the other end of the corridor was an arch and beside it was the booth occupied by a blonde hat-check girl.

“Check, Mister?” she asked nasally.

I wolfed her over. She was wearing a tight little bodice in sky blue satin, open all the way down the front and laced together loosely by black silk cords. Apparently she had nothing on under the bodice. It was one of those outfits that keeps everyone warm except the wearer.

I gave her my hat and a friendly leer.

“That’s a nice view you have there,” I said courteously.

“The night some guy doesn’t make that crack I’ll drop down dead,” she returned, sighing. “It’s part of my job to have a nice view.”

I paused to light a cigarette. “A view to what?” I asked.

“No dice. That gag’s transparent with age.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I don’t often come to a joint like this. I’m a home lover, and one gets kind of old-fashioned in fife’s little backstreams.”

She looked me over and decided I was harmless. “That’s all right by me,” she said, smiling. “I like variety. The trouble here is that all men seem cast in the same mould.”

“But surely some are more mouldy than others?” I said.

She giggled. Three men came up to check their hats, so I drifted on through the arch into as sweet a night club layout as you would wish to see, done in pastel shades with indirect lighting and with a beautiful crescent-shaped bar on one side. It was a terrific room with a place for an orchestra and small dance floor made of some composition that looked like black glass. Out of the floor, out of blue and chromium boxes, grew banana trees with broad green leaves and clusters of green bananas. Vines clung to the trunks of the trees, bearing fragile blossoms; pink, orange, bronze and henna. Half the room had no roof and overhead were stars.

A fat bird came up to me and gave me the teeth, which was supposed to mean he was glad to see me. He wore patent-leather shoes, dark trousers, a Dubonnet-red cummerbund and a white drill coat tailored like a mess jacket.

“Give me Speratza,” I said.

He gave me the rest of the teeth, including a couple of gold inlays.

“I am the manager, please,” he said. “Is there something I can do?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Drum up Speratza. Tell him Chester Cain has blown in.”

If I’d said I was King George VIth I couldn’t have got a faster double-take.

“A thousand apologies for not recognizing you, Mr. Cain,” he said, bowing in half. “Senor Speratza will be enchanted. I will have him informed you have arrived.” He swung round and signalled frantically to a dressed-up dummy who was posed by the bar. The dummy shot away like he had a rocket in his pants. It was a pre-arranged, regal routine, and it impressed me as it was meant to impress me.

“Nice place you have here,” I said for something to say. I was only giving him half my attention. The other half was reeling under the impact of the women in the joint. They were something to see. Even a horse would look over his shoulder at them. A dark woman in a red dress drifted past as I was about to compliment him further. She stopped me in mid-stride. She had the most provocative walk I had ever seen. Her hips were sheathed in this red silk, pulled so taut that light rippled over the fabric as she moved. They flowed under the dress like heavy and seductive liquid, like molten metal.

“We hope you’ll like it here, Mr. Cain,” he was saying, as if he’d rushed around and built the place as soon as he’d heard I was coming. “May I introduce myself? Guillermo at your service. Would you care for a drink?”

I tore my eyes away from the woman’s hips and said I was glad to know him and a drink would be swell.

We went over to the bar and put our feet on the elegant brass rail. The bar was glistening and spotless but the barman hustled up and wiped it mechanically, his eyes on Guillermo.

’What’ll it be?” said Guillermo.

“A little bourbon, I guess,” I said.

The barman gave me three inches of the finest bourbon I’d ever encountered. I said as much.

At this moment a tall man with a terrific torso appeared at my side.

“Senor Speratza,” Guillermo said, and faded out of the picture.

I turned and looked the newcomer over. He had everything in the way of good looks a man could want. He was as big as a house, his eyes were black and the whites of them like porcelain. His hair was rather long and curled a little over his temples. His skin was cream-rose. He was really handsome in a Latin way.

“Mr. Cain?” he said, offering his hand.

“Sure,” I said, and shook hands.

He had a grip like a bear’s, but then so have I. We cracked each other’s bones and pretended we weren’t hurting each other.

He said how pleased he was to meet me, and how he hoped I’d enjoy my stay at Paradise Palms.

I admired his place and told him they had nothing like it in New York. That seemed to please him.

By that time I’d finished my bourbon, and he called the barman.

“Two,” he said. “Take a good look at Mr. Cain because I want you to remember him. Whatever he wants is on the house, including his whole party.”

The barman nodded and gave me a quick up-and-down, and I could tell there wasn’t a chance he would ever mistake me for anybody else.

“All right?” Speratza asked, beaming at me.

“Swell,” I said.

“I don’t know what your plans are, Mr. Cain,” he went on, after we had dipped into the bourbon, “but if you want a little relaxation and a mild gamble, you could do worse than spend

some of your time here.”

“That’s just what I do want,” I said. “I’m figuring on a quiet time, and a little company when I feel that way.” I fiddled with my glass and then went on, “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but frankly, I’m a little puzzled by all this attention.”

He laughed. “You’re modest, Mr. Cain,” he said, shrugging. “Why even in this little place, far from anywhere, we’ve heard of you. We’re glad to offer hospitality to such a successful gambler.”

“I appreciate it,” I said, and shot him a hard look. “But I’d like to get this on record for all that. I’m on vacation: that means I’m not working. I wouldn’t b e interested in any proposition from anyone. I don’t suggest that I am going to be propositioned, but this build-up is a little overwhelming. I don’t kid myself that I’m all that important. So pass the word around. I’m not in the market for anything except a vacation, and persuasion makes me mad. So if you still want to entertain me, go ahead, but it’s all right by me if you want to put up the shutters and send me home.”

He laughed silently and easily as if I’d cracked the funniest gag in the world.

“I assure you, Mr. Cain, you won’t be propositioned. This town is small but very rich. We’re hospitable people. We like distinguished visitors to have a good time. All we want is for you to relax and enjoy yourself.”

I thanked him and said I would.

But in spite of his smoothness and his easy laugh, I had a feeling that he was jeering at me.

3

After we had chit-chatted a while, and had worked through some more of the bourbon, Speratza said he guessed I was about set to enjoy myself, and how about a girl?

“Well, how about her?” I said.

“I’ve asked Miss Wonderly to look after you,” he told me, showing his big white teeth in a knowing smile. “I’ll have her come over. If she’s not quite your type, say so, and I’ll introduce you to some of the others. We have a lot of girls working for us, but Miss Wonderly rates high with us.”

I said I hoped Miss Wonderly would rate high with me.

“I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t,” he returned, and with another smile of goodwill, he set off across the restaurant.

I looked after him and wondered how much longer it would be before he or whoever it was behind this civic welcome would demand payment. I was as sure as I could be that someone was sweetening me for a shake-down of some description.

A tall, distinguished man with white hair and a dark strong face had been looking at me. He was standing alone at the far end of the bar. He looked like a judge or a doctor or a lawyer, and his tuxedo looked like it had been cut by an angel.

I saw him beckon to the barman and say something to him. The barman gave me a quick look, nodded and turned away The white-headed man came over to me.

“I understand you are Chester Cain,” he said curtly.

“Sure,” I said.

He didn’t seem friendly so I didn’t offer to shake hands.

“I’m John Herrick,” he said, looking straight at me. “You haven’t heard of me, but I have heard of you. Frankly, Mr. Cain, I’m sorry to see you here. I understand you are on vacation and I only hope it is true. If it is, then I hope you won’t stir up trouble here.”

I stared at him. “Thank God someone’s sorry I’ve arrived,” I said. “I was getting to think my welcome was genuine.”

“This town has enough trouble without importing wild gunmen,” Herrick returned quietly. “I suppose it would be too much to ask you to give us no cause to complain?”

“You’ve got me wrong,” I said, laughing at him. “I’m not so wild. And listen, so long as I’m left alone, I’m the nicest guy on earth. It’s only when people start crowding me that I get nervous, and when I’m nervous maybe I do get a little wild.”

He regarded me thoughtfully. “Forgive me for being so blunt, Mr. Cain. I am sure if you were left alone you would behave as well as anyone of us. But I think it might be as well if you changed your mind about staying in Paradise Palms. I have a feeling that someone will crowd

you before long.”

I looked down at the bourbon.

“I’ve got the same feeling,” I said, “but I’m sticking around for all that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Cain,” he said. “You may easily regret your decision.”

I felt Speratza at my elbow.

Herrick turned abruptly away and walked across the room and out into the lobby.

I looked at Speratza and he looked at me. There was just a flicker of doubt in his eyes that told me he was uneasy.

“That was not one of the Welcome Committee,” I said.

“You don’t have to worry about him,” Speratza said, flashing on his smile. It cost him something, but he did it. “He’s running for election next month.” He pulled a little face, and added, “On a Reform ticket.”

“Seems anxious to keep Paradise Palms a nice clean town,” I said dryly.

“All politicians have platforms,” Speratza said, shrugging. “No one takes him seriously. He won’t get in. Ed. Killeano is the people’s choice.”

“That’s nice for Ed. Killeano,” I said.

We looked at each other again, and then Speratza waved.

A girl came across the room towards us. She was wearing a bolero for a dinner jacket of blue crepe. Her skirt, split eight inches up the side, was of blue crepe, too, but her blouse was red. She was a blonde, and I bet every time she passed a graveyard the corpses sat up to whistle after her.

By the time I’d recovered my breath, she was standing at my side. Her perfume was Essence Imperiale Russe (the perfume that quickened the pulse of kings). I can’t begin to describe what it did to my pulse.

Speratza was looking at me anxiously.

“Miss Wonderly,” he said, and raised his eyebrows.

I looked at her and she smiled. She had small glistening teeth as white as orange pith.

“Suppose you let Miss Wonderly and me get acquainted?” I said, turning back to Speratza. “I think we’ll get along fine together.”

He looked so relieved that I laughed.

“That’s fine, Mr. Cain,” he said. “Maybe we’ll see you in a little while upstairs. We have four roulette tables or we could make up a game of poker for you.”

I shook my head.

“Something tells me I won’t be gambling tonight,” I said, and taking Miss Wonderly’s arm I walked with her over to the bar.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Speratza go off, and then I gave the whole of my attention to Miss Wonderly. I thought she was terrific. I liked the long wave of her hair, and her curves — particularly her curves. Her breasts were like Cuban pineapples.

“This calls for a drink,” I said, beckoning to the barman. “What part of Paradise did you escape from?”

“I didn’t escape,” she said, laughing, “I’m out on parole, but I thought it was just another job. I know different now.”

The barman looked at us.

“What’ll you have?”

“A green parrot,” she said. “It’s Toni’s special.”

“Okay,” I said to the barman. “Make it two.”

While the barman was fixing the drinks, I said, “So you don’t think it’s just another job?”

She shook her head. “I read character,” she said. “I’m going to have fun with you.”

I winked at her. “That’s only half of it. What shall we do? I mean, let’s map out a programme.”

“We’ll have a drink, then dinner, then dance, then we’ll go to the beach and swim Then we’ll have more drinks and then—”

“Then—what?”

She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Then we’ll see.”

“That sounds exciting.”

She pouted.

“Don’t you want to dance with me?”

“Sure,” I said.

I had a feeling I wasn’t going to move a piano tonight.

The barman put down two large glasses, three-quarters filled with green liquid. I made a move to reach for my roll, but he had already gone.

“I can’t get used to this on-the-house business,” I said, picking up the glass. “You will,” she said.

I took a long gulp at the drink, and hurriedly put the glass on the counter. I clutched at my throat, coughed and closed my eyes. The stuff seemed to explode in my stomach, but a moment later I felt like I was sitting on a cloud.

“Phew! That stuff kind of sneaks up on you,” I said, when I could speak.

’Tom’s very proud of it,” she said, sipping her drink. “It’s wonderful! I feel it going right down to my toes.”

By the time we’d finished the green parrots we were behaving like we’d known each other for years.

“Let’s eat,” she said, sliding off the stool, and taking my arm. “Guillermo has a special dinner for you.” She squeezed my arm and smiled up at me. Her eyes were frankly inviting.

Guillermo was there to see us into our seats. Above us were the stars. A warm breeze came in from the sea. The orchestra was playing a dreamy melody, and trumpets rolled muted notes like balls of quicksilver, round and smooth. The food was as incredibly good as the wine that went with it. We didn’t have to bother to say what we wanted. The food came, we ate and marvelled at it.

Then we danced. The floor was not overcrowded, and we swept around in wide circles. It was like dancing with Ginger Rogers.

I was thinking that this was the best evening I’d ever spent when I spotted a thick-set man in a green gaberdine suit who was standing near the band. He had a flat, evil-looking puss, and he was watching me with a vicious gleam in his eyes. When he caught my eye, he turned abruptly and ducked out of sight behind a curtained exit.

Miss Wonderly had seen him, too. I felt the muscles in her back stiffen, and she missed step so I nearly stubbed her toes.

She broke away from me.

“Let’s swim,” she said abruptly, and walked towards the lobby, keeping her face averted.

I caught a glimpse of her in a mirror.

She was pale.

4

I drove along the coast road to Dayden Beach, a lonely strip of sand and palms a few miles from the Casino.

Miss Wonderly sat by my side. She was humming a tune under her breath, and she seemed to have shaken off her depression.

We coasted along in the moonlight. It was hot, but the breeze from the ocean came in through the open windows of the Buick.

“We’re nearly there,” Miss Wonderly said. “Look, you can see it now.”

Ahead was a ring of palms close to the surf. There was no sign of life, and it looked good.

I drove the Buick off the road and down on to the sand until it turned too soft, then I stopped, and we got out.

In the far distance I could see the bright lights of Paradise Palms, and could hear the faint sound of music. The night was still, and sounds carried easily.

“Pretty nice,” I said. “What shall we do?”

Miss Wonderly had pulled up her skirt to her knees, and began to roll down her stockings. Her legs were slim and muscular.

“I’m going in,” she said.

I went around to the back of the car, unlocked the boot and took out a couple of towels and my trunks. It took me less than two minutes to shed my clothes. The warm breeze against my skin felt swell. I came around the Buick. Miss Wonderly was waiting for me. She was in her white brassiere and pants.

“That’s a hell of a swim suit.” I said.

She said I was right, and took them off.

I didn’t look at her.

We walked across the strip of sand, hand in hand. The sand was hot, and we sank in up to our ankles. I eyed her as we began to wade through the surf. A sculptor could have cast her in bronze for a perfect thirty-four, and he’d never have to do anything more about it. I was surprised I could take her so calmly.

We swam out to a moored raft. The sea was warm, and when she hoisted herself on to the raft, she looked like a sprite from the ocean bed.

I floated around the raft so I could study her in the moon-light. I’ve known plenty of women in my day, but she was a picture.

“Don’t,” she called; “you’re making me shy.”

I came up on to the raft and sat beside her.

“It’s all right,” I said.

She looked at me over her shoulder, then leaned against me. Her back was warm, but the tiny drops of water on her skin felt cold against me.

“Tell me the story of your life,” she said.

“It wouldn’t interest you.”

“Tell me.”

I grinned at her. “Nothing happened much until I went into the Army. I came back from France with a lot of sharp-shooting medals, a beautiful case of shell-shock and an itch to gamble. No one wanted me. I couldn’t get a job. One day I got into a poker game. I kept in that poker game for three weeks. We shaved, ate and drank at the table. I made five grand, and then someone got mad. I hit him with a bottle, and he pulled a gun on me. Guns don’t scare me. I was in the Ardennes push. Anything that a punk gambler starts after that is kid’s stuff. I took the gun away and beat the guy soft with it. We went on playing with him under the table. We used him as a rug.”

She crossed her arms over her breasts and kicked the water gently. “Tough guy,” she said.

“Uh huh,” I said. “I didn’t like that gun. It made me think. One of these days, I thought, some guy will pull a gun on me, and he’ll know how to use it. So I bought myself a gun. I wanted to be better at gun-play than anyone else. You see, after messing around in the Army you get a kind of pride in doing things better than the next guy. I stuck in a room in a tenth-rate hotel and practised pulling the gun from my belt and pulling the trigger. I did that six hours a day for a week. I guess I got smooth. I haven’t met a guy yet who can draw faster than I can. That week’s work saved my life five times.”

She shivered. “They said you were ruthless, but now I’ve seen you, I don’t believe it.”

“I’m not,” I said, and put my hand on her thigh. “I’ll tell you what happens. A punk comes along who thinks he’s a world beater. He thinks there’s no one as good as he is. Maybe he’s slaphappy or drunk or something. I don’t know. But whatever it is, he thinks he’s so good that he must prove it to everyone. No one cares whether he’s good or not, but the punk doesn’t understand that. So what does he do? He looks around for a guy with a reputation, and he calls on the guy and starts trouble. He reasons that when he’s licked this guy, he’ll stand ace-high. And he usually picks on me.” I swirled the water with my feet. “I take everything he gives me, because I know I can beat him any time I want, and I don’t care for killing guys. There’s no sense in it. So I sit there and let him rib me. Maybe I’m wrong, because it encourages him, and he goes for his gun. Then I have to kill him because I’ m fond of myself in my odd way, and I don’t want to die. Then people say I’m ruthless, but they’re wrong. I’ve been crowded, and I can’t help myself.”

She didn’t say anything.

“And it’s going to happen here,” I went on. “Some smart punk in this town thinks he’s good, and he’s arranged an elaborate set-up to show this town that he can pull a fast one on rne. He’s getting me into a position so he can crowd me. I don’t know who he is or when he’s going to start, but I know that’s what’s going to happen, and something tells me that you are in this too.” I smiled at her. “But whether you know what’s in the wind, or whether you’re just part of the extravagant trimmings, remains to be seen.”

She shook her head. “You’re crazy,” she said. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

“That still doesn’t tell me whether you’re for me or against me,” I said.

“I’m for you,” she said.

I put my arm around her and swung her legs across mine so she was sitting on my lap. She leaned against my chest, her hair, damp and perfumed, against my cheek.

“I knew it would be fun with you,” she said.

I took her chin between my ringer and thumb and raised her face. She closed her eyes. She looked white, like a beautiful porcelain mask in the moonlight. I looked down at her, then I kissed her. Her lips tasted salty. They were firm and cool and good. We stayed like that while the raft rode the ripples; and I didn’t care what was going to happen, even though I was sure that something was going to happen.

She pushed away from me suddenly, slid off my lap and stood up. I looked at her. Her beauty gave me a hell of a buzz. She dived in as I grabbed at her, and swam away from me. I sat there and waited. After a while, she turned and came back. I tilted the raft down into the water so she slid up it on her stomach. She lay close to me, her chin in her hands, flat, her ankles crossed. She had a beautiful little back.

“Now tell me the story of your life,” I said.

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“There must be. How long have you been here?”

“A year.”

“Before then?”

“New York.”

“A show girl.”

“Yes.”

“How did you meet Speratza?”

“I met him.”

“Do you like him?”

“He’s nothing to me.”

“You take care of his distinguished visitors?”

“That seems to be the idea.”

“Who else beside me have you taken care off?”

“No one.”

“So I’m Paradise Palms’ first distinguished visitor?”

“You must be.”

“Like the job?”

She rolled over on her back. “Yes,” she said, and looked at me.

I could see from the expression in her eyes that from now on I’d be wasting time by staying on the raft.

“Come on,” I said. “We’ll go.”

She was the first to hit the water.

5

“I want to show the young lady the view from my balcony,” I said to the night clerk, as he gave me my key. I expected him to remind me that this was a respectable hotel, or at least leer, but he didn’t.

He bowed. “I’m delighted you find the view worth showing to madam,” he said. “Is there anything I can send up for you, Mr. Cain?”

I made sure he wasn’t being sarcastic, but he seemed to be falling over himself to give me service.

“Some Scotch would be nice,” I said.

“There is a stock of liquor in one of the cupboards in your sitting-room, Mr. Cain,” he returned. “Mr. Killeano sent it over with his compliments not an hour ago.”

I nodded. “That was a nice thought,” I said. I didn’t show him that I was surprised.

I walked with Miss Wonderly across the deserted lobby to the elevators.

She looked at me, raising her eyebrows.

“He’s just crazy to give me a good time,” I said, shrugging.

“He’s ready to come up and tuck us in.”

She giggled.

The house dick passed us. I could tell he was the house dick by the size of his feet. He didn’t seem to see us.

The elevator attendant and the bell-hops looked through Miss Wonderly as if she was the invisible woman. All these lackeys certainly had a swell line in tact.

The clock over the reception desk showed two-twenty. I wasn’t even sleepy.

As we walked along the broad, thickly carpeted corridor to my room, I said, “Do you know this guy Killeano?”

“And I was hoping you were thinking only of me,” she said, reproachfully.

“I got a split mind,” I said. “I think of two things at once.”

I unlocked my door, and she followed me in. I never did get an answer to that question.

When I closed the door I found I didn’t have a split mind after all.

Miss Wonderly disengaged herself, but only after I got a buzzing in my ears.

“I came to look at the view—remember?” she said, but I could see by the rise and fall of her chest she wasn’t much colder than me.

“It’s a swell view,” I said, and we went across the room to look at it. As I passed a mirror I saw my mouth had a smear of lipstick on it. I even got a bang out of that.

We stood on the balcony. The moon was like a pumpkin. The traffic had gone to bed, and only a straggler or two roamed along the coast road.

I undid the buttons of her blouse. She’d taken off her bolero coat on her way up. She leaned against me and held my hands.

“I don’t want you to think I do this with everyone,” she said, in a small voice.

“All right,” I said. “This is the night reserved for you and me.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to think—”

“I don’t.”

She turned and slid her arms around my neck. We stood like that for a long time. It was pretty nice. Then I carried her into the bedroom and put her on the bed.

“Wait for me,” I said.

I undressed in the bathroom, put on a silk dressing-gown and went into the sitting-room. I nosed around in the various cupboards until I found Killeano’s gifts. He’d sent me four bottles of Scotch, a bottle of brandy, and Whiterock. I took the brandy and went into the bedroom.

She was in bed. Her hair had dried and it lay like spilt honey on the pillow. She looked up at me and smiled.

I poured two brandies. I gave her one, and sniffed at the other. It had a nice bouquet.

“You and me,” I said

“No, just to you,” she said.

“All right, and then to you.”

I drank.

She put her glass down on the bed-table without touching it. Her eyes were wide and dark.

I looked at her, feeling a chill run down my spine. The liquor grabbed at my stomach.

“I should have thought of that,” I said.

The room revolved slowly, then tilted.

“Killeano’s gift,” I heard myself mumbling. “But not for the bride.”

I was staring up at the ceiling. The lights were going out the way a movie-house dims its lights. I tried to move, but my muscles wouldn’t work. I felt rather than saw Miss Wonderly get out of bed. I wanted to tell her to be careful not to catch cold, but my tongue was like a strip of limp leather.

I heard voices—men’s voices. Shadows moved across the wall. Then I rode down a dark shute into darkness.

6

I began to crawl up the dark well towards the tiny pinpoint of light at the top. It looked a tough job, but I kept at it because somewhere close a woman was screaming.

Then quite suddenly I was at the top of the well, and sunlight blinded me. I heard myself groan, and as I tried to sit up, the top of my head seemed to fly off. I grabbed hold of it and rode

the pain, cursing. The woman kept on screaming. The sound chilled my blood.

I made the effort. The floor tilted under my feet as I stood up, but I crossed the room. I walked like I was breasting a hundred mile gale.

I reached the bedroom door, clung on to the doorpost and looked into the sitting-room.

Miss Wonderly was standing pressed against the opposite wall. Her arms were widespread, her hands flat on the egg-blue paint. She was as bare as the back of my hand, and her mouth hung open. As I looked at her, she screamed again.

My head felt as if it was stuffed full of cotton wool, but the scream wormed its way through and jarred all the nerves in my teeth.

I shitted my eyes from her to the floor. John Herrick lay on his back, his arms bent stiffly to the ceiling, his hands clenched. The front of his forehead was shoved in, and black blood stained his white hair and formed a gruesome halo around his head.

Heavy fists beat on the door. Someone shouted.

Miss Wonderly drew in a shuddering breath and screamed again.

I crossed the room and slapped her face. Her eyes rolled back until only the whites showed and she slid down the wall to the floor. She left two damp marks from her shoulders and hips on the egg-blue paint.

The door flew open and half the world burst in.

I faced them. They came so far and then stopped. They looked at me, they looked at Miss Wonderly and they looked at John Herrick. I looked at them.

There was the reception clerk, the house dick, a bell-hop, two ritzy-looking women, three men in white flannels and a fat man in a lounge suit. Right in front of them all was the evil-faced guy in the green gaberdine suit I’d noticed watching me at the Casino.

The two ritzy dames started screaming as soon as they saw Herrick. I didn’t blame them. I felt like screaming myself. But it made the man in the gaberdine suit mad.

“Get those bitches outa here!” he snarled. “Go on, get out, all of you.”

The reception clerk and the house dick stayed, but the rest of them were shoved out.

When the door closed, the man in the gaberdine suit turned to me.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, clenching his fists and shoving out his jaw.