I'll Get You for This Page 2

  “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.”