Knock Knock Whos There Read online

  Toni didn’t say anything.

  “We got this tip,” Moro said. “We’ve got over a hundred tips but

  this one looks good. I’ve got all my men out checking other tips so

  suppose you go out to Little Creek and take a gander? It could be

  negative and I don’t want to pull my boys off the work they’re doing.

  You take a gander and if it’s straight up, call me and we’ll go out

  there and get him.”

  Toni felt a chill go up his spine.

  “Don’t you send anyone with me?”

  Moro stared at him.

  “I told you . . . the boys are busy.” He flicked ash into the big,

  silver ash-tray on his desk. “You’re Massino’s top gunman, aren’t

  you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Fine. You can handle this.” He pressed a button on his desk and

  a minute or so later the door opened and a young long-haired Italian

  came in. “Take this guy to Little Creek, Leo, wise him up. Introduce

  him to Salvadore. Tell the old buzzard my compliments.”

  The young man stared at Toni, then jerked his head to the door.

  Toni followed him out into the passage, hating him: a possible homo

  : very lean, white-faced, glittering eyes, could be on pot.

  In silence they walked out of the building by the back exit to a

  shabby Lincoln.

  Leo slid under the wheel and Toni got in the passenger’s seat.

  Leo turned and stared at Toni.

  “I heard about you . . . a trigger man.” He grinned, showing good

  white teeth. “Rather you than me.”

  “Get going,” Toni snarled. “Rest the lip.”

  “Tough too?” Leo laughed. “You watch the telly?”

  “Get moving!”

  Leo opened the glove compartment and dropped a pair of

  powerful field glasses in Toni’s lap.

  “They’re for you.”

  Thirty minutes later they pulled up outside Salvadore Bruno’s

  store.

  “This is where I kiss you off,” Leo said. “Have a ball. If it’s him, call

  us. Okay?”

  The time now was 11.45. There was some activity on the

  waterfront. As Toni got out of the car he was aware people were

  looking curiously at him. He slung the field glasses by their strap on

  his shoulder and walked into the store as Leo drove away.

  Salvadore was busy serving customers. When he saw Toni, he

  called and his fat wife appeared to take over.

  147

  Salvadore beckoned to Toni who followed him behind the curtain

  and into Salvadore’s living-room. “You from Luigi?”

  “Yeah.”

  Salvadore opened a drawer in the table and took out a large-

  scale map.

  “Here’s where we are: here’s where he is,” he said, pointing with

  a pencil. “You can take my boat or you can take my car and drive

  around the lake.”

  Toni blotted sweat off his face with his sleeve.

  “Maybe the boat is better.”

  He didn’t want to get too close to Johnny if this suspect was

  Johnny.

  “Yes. There are always fishermen on the lake.” Salvadore eyed

  the field glasses. “With those you can see without being seen. I’ll

  loan you a fishing rod. Just go out on the lake and act you’re fishing..

  okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  A pause, then Salvadore said, “If it’s him, I get the reward . . .

  yes?”

  “How the hell do I know?” Toni snarled. “Why the hell should I

  care anyway?”

  “That’s no way to talk to your betters,” Salvadore said. “I ask a

  polite question: I expect a polite answer.”

  “So get stuffed!” Toni snarled. “How’s about something to eat?”

  Salvadore moved forward. His hand caught Toni’s wrist in a grip

  of steel, his vast belly, rock hard, smashed into Toni’s side, driving

  the breath out of him. His arm was twisted and he found himself

  gasping and on his knees. He felt a hard, sweaty hand slap him

  heavily around his ears, then dazed, he groped for his gun as

  Salvadore released him.

  “Don’t do it!”

  The snap in Salvadore’s voice made him turn and look up. He

  found himself looking into the menacing barrel of a .45.

  “All right, my friend,” Salvadore said gently, “so now you’ll be

  polite. I may be fat and old, but I’ve eaten boys like you for breakfast.

  So now you ask politely for dinner.”

  Toni got unsteadily to his feet.

  Salvadore put his gun back into its holster, hidden under his thin

  coat.

  “Look,” he said and the gun appeared in his hand, then he

  chuckled. “I was Lucky’s best man. I’m still good. Okay, so I’m old, but

  I’ve never lost the sharpness,” and the gun disappeared. He patted

  Toni’s shoulder. “So you want something to eat, huh?”

  “Yes, please and thank you,” Toni said huskily. “I guess I could

  eat something.”

  Salvadore put his thick arm around Toni’s shoulders.

  “Come.” He led him into the kitchen. “Always in my home there

  is good food.”

  An hour later, Toni got into Salvadore’s small fishing boat,

  awkwardly carrying a fishing rod and the field glasses. Salvadore had

  fitted him out in a dark blue shirt, a pair of Levis and a bush hat. He

  showed him how to start the outboard engine.

  “Just put the rod in here,” he said pointing to a clip on the side of

  the boat. “Don’t get too close to the houseboat. If anyone comes up

  to you . . . there are many fishermen on the lake . . . tell them you are

  my friend. They won’t bother you.”

  Toni steered the boat out into the middle of the lake, then cut

  the engine. He could see, in the distance, the houseboat. He clipped

  the rod into position, then focused the glasses on the houseboat.

  He was startled at the power of the glasses.

  The houseboat seemed to spring forward at him as he peered

  through the eyepieces. He could see the sun burning his back and

  settled himself to flaked paint, the holes in the deck and the rust on

  the rails. There was no one to be seen. He sat there, feel-watch.

  149

  NINE

  The previous evening just before Scott had gone to bed, Johnny

  had asked permission to borrow the 12 bore shotgun.

  “Thought I might take a walk in the woods and bag something for

  supper.”

  “Sure,” Scott said. “A good idea. I never get time now for

  shooting. You could find coot or pigeon.”

  So the following morning after a swim, Johnny took the gun with

  a pocketful of 6 shot cartridges and told Freda he would be back for

  lunch.

  “Don’t get lost,” she warned him. “Keep to the path and don’t go

  far.”

  He spent the whole morning in the jungle and enjoyed himself.

  He bagged four pigeons and two wild duck, and he felt ten feet tall as

  he walked into the kitchen where Freda was cooking steaks.

  “Quite the man around the home,” she said as he showed her

  the birds. “Suppose, this afternoon, you go on making yourself

  useful? I’ve asked Ed to put up four shelves over there. If I’ve asked

  him once, I’ve asked him twenty times. The w
ood’s all cut. How

  about it?”

  “Sure,” Johnny said. “I’ll fix it.”

  They had lunch, then went to bed together and around 15.00

  Freda said she would go across to the village and collect the mail and

  the newspaper.

  “I’ll fix the shelves.”

  It was because he spent the next two hours in the kitchen that

  Toni, sweltering in the sun, didn’t catch a glimpse of him, but he did

  see Freda as she came on deck, got in the motorboat and headed

  towards him.

  Hastily, Toni hid the field glasses and lifted the rod from its clip.

  Freda’s boat passed him by a hundred feet and he was aware she

  looked at him. He kept his head lowered and flicked the rod with

  what he hoped was a professional movement.

  Some chick! he thought. Man! Could he use a piece of tail like

  her!

  If it were really Johnny holed up in the houseboat, Toni thought,

  he certainly had it good. But was it Johnny? He surveyed the

  houseboat once again with his glasses, but he saw no sign of life.

  Hell! He was getting roasted alive out in this goddamn sun and he

  was aware that there were no other fishermen on the lake. Maybe

  he had better go back. He could be attracting attention Thy sitting

  out in the boat like this. Again he searched the houseboat with his

  glasses, then still seeing nothing, he laid the rod down and decided

  to return. He would come out later when the sun was less fierce.

  Unused to the sun, he was now getting painfully sunburned. He

  moved over to the outboard engine, caught hold of the starting

  handle and yanked. There was a splutter and nothing else. Cursing,

  he yanked on the cord again. Again no results.

  He glared at the engine and cursed it. Four more times he

  yanked at the starting cord with sweat streaming off him, but the

  engine wouldn’t fire. He sat on the side of the boat, his shirt soaked

  with sweat.

  Salvadore had told him he would have no trouble with the

  engine. All he had to do was to pull the cord. Now the bastard

  wouldn’t start! He could get burned alive out here!

  He had been crazy to have used the boat! He knew nothing

  about boats, or outboard engines. He couldn’t even swim! He looked

  longingly at the cool water around him.

  His gun harness was chafing his skin. He was wearing it under his

  shirt. He reached inside the shirt, undid the harness and took it off,

  laying the gun by the fishing rod.

  What the hell was he to do?

  He went back to the engine and dragged at the cord. The engine

  spluttered and died.

  Then he heard the phut-phut of an approaching motorboat.

  Looking up, he saw Freda returning from Little Creek. He waved to

  her and she cut her engine and steering her boat, came drifting up to

  151

  him.

  “Are you in trouble?” she asked.

  Toni stared at her. His eyes took in the sweep of her breasts, the

  firm outline of her buttocks, her blonde hair and her brilliant blue

  eyes.

  “Yeah. She won’t start.”

  “It’s the heat. You’re oiled up. Take the plug out and clean it.

  You’ll start then.”

  Toni looked around.

  “I’ve got no tools.”

  “I’ll do it. You hold the boats together.”

  She opened a locker and took out a tool kit, then slid into his

  boat. As she got in, her foot caught in the harness of his gun and she

  stumbled, rocking the boats. He caught hold of her, steadying her

  and the feel of her arm in his hand sent a sexual jolt through him. He

  kicked the gun and the harness out of sight under one of the seats.

  She was kneeling, her back to him and she opened the tool kit.

  “You’re new around here, aren’t you?” she said as she got out a

  box spanner.

  “Yeah. I’m a friend of Bruno.” He eyed her back, feeling lust go

  through him.

  “I thought I hadn’t seen you before.” She got the plug out. “See?

  Oil.”

  She turned, holding the plug.

  “Never thought of it,” Toni said huskily. “I don’t know a thing

  about boats . . . just down here on vacation.”

  “Salvadore is a good friend of mine.” She took a rag from the tool

  kit and cleaned the plug. “It’s always nice to see a new face.”

  He eyed her wondering what she meant.

  “I guess.”

  “You won’t get any fish at this time,” she went on as she put the

  plug back and tightened it. “In another two hours, but it’s too hot

  now.”

  “You can say that again . . . I’m frying.”

  “Are you staying with Salvadore?”

  “That’s right.”

  She looked at him: her blue eyes inviting.

  “Maybe I’ll see something of you.”

  Was she giving him the ‘come on’? Toni wondered, and again lust

  stabbed him like a sword thrust.

  “Why not?” He peered at her. “Bruno tells me you have your

  half-brother staying with you.”

  “He left early this morning. He has business in Miami.” She

  smiled. “I miss his company. It’s lonely for me. My husband doesn’t

  get back until late.”

  “Yeah. I can imagine.”

  She got into her boat.

  “You try now. She’ll start.” She reached for the starter on her

  engine. “If you’ve got nothing to do why not drop by around half-

  past five?” Her blue eyes met his. “My husband doesn’t get back

  until seven.”

  Before he could reply, she started her engine, waved to him and

  sent the boat fast away from him.

  Toni stared after her, his heart thumping. If that wasn’t an

  invitation for a lay, what was? And what a lay! But wait, he told

  himself, suppose Johnny or whoever this punk was hadn’t gone?

  Suppose she was setting him up to walk into a trap? But why should

  she? He knew her type: a chick with hot pants. Maybe this guy hadn’t

  been her half-brother. Maybe he wasn’t Bianda. So he had gone and

  she had the itch again.

  He pulled the starter and the engine fired. With his mind

  seething with excitement, he headed back to Little Creek.

  Salvadore was on the quay and he helped Toni tie up the boat.

  “Did you see him?”

  153

  “No, but I saw her. The goddamn engine wouldn’t start. She fixed

  it. She says her half-brother left this morning for Miami. She wants

  me to go over there at half-past five.” Toni wiped his sweating face

  with the back of his hand. “What do you think?”

  Salvadore shook his head.

  “If he’s there you could walk into trouble.”

  “Yeah, but if he’s there why should she ask me over?” He leered.

  “It’s my bet whoever’ this punk is, he’s gone and she wants it. So

  okay, I go over there, take a look around, slip her what she wants,

  then tell the boss it wasn’t the guy and go back. That makes sense,

  doesn’t it?”

  Salvadore looked at him for a long moment.

  “It’s your funeral. You could be right. Anyway, why should I

  worry? You can take care of yourself. If you want to go, then go.�
��

  “Yeah. How’s about a long, cold beer? I’m boiled.”

  Johnny was just putting the last of the shelves in place when he

  heard the distant sound of Freda’s outboard motor. He tightened the

  final screw and then went to the kitchen window.

  He saw her boat coming fast and as he was about to step out on

  deck, he paused, seeing another boat far out on the lake. His instinct

  for danger stopped him in his tracks. He watched the other boat with

  a lone man in it, heading for Little Creek.

  Freda steered the boat under the kitchen window and called

  “Don’t come out!” The urgency in her voice told him there was

  trouble.

  He moved into the living-room and waited until she joined him.

  “What is it?”

  Quickly she told him of her encounter with Toni.

  “He has a gun and harness,” she concluded. “He says he’s

  Salvadore’s friend.”

  Johnny sat down. He had a feeling of being suffocated. The net

  was drawing in on him.

  “Tell me about him,” he said. “What’s he look like?”

  “Around thirty, thin, dark, good-looking. He had a tattoo on his

  right arm: a naked woman.”

  Johnny flinched.

  Toni Capello! The tattoo fixed it!

  Seeing his reaction, Freda said, “Is he one of them?”

  “Yes . . . he’s one of them. They’ve got close, baby.”

  They looked at each other and she came to him, kneeling by his

  side.

  “He asked about my half-brother. I said you had gone.”

  “I must go.”

  “No!” Her hand touched his face. “We can bluff him, Johnny. I

  told him to come and see me at five-thirty. I think he’ll come. You go

  out into the jungle and wait. I can convince him you’ve gone and

  then they’ll look elsewhere, but from now on you stay here and keep

  out of sight.”

  He stared at her.

  “You asked him to come here?”

  “Johnny! I love you! I want you to be safe! He’ll come. I’ll show

  him around, then I’ll get rid of him. Once he’s sure you’re not here,

  he’ll go away.”

  “You don’t know what you’re doing! This man’s dangerous! I

  know him! You can’t have him here alone!”

  “There’s no man born I can’t handle,” Freda said and smiled. “I

  know men. I can handle him. You go to the jungle and wait. I’ll get rid

  of him before Ed gets back.”

  Johnny stared at her. Then into his mind he remembered what

  Scott had said: Weswimraw.Youdon’thavetobotheraboutFreda.