Part 18 (1/2)
”Another of Mary Alice McDermit's delicate aphorisms.”
”Afor what?”
”Hush.”
I tuned the channel another hair and got rid of some of the blur. We listened for the full fifteen minutes. There were calls for other boats and calls from other boats, but no traffic for us. She'd had a nap. She was getting hungry again. She was bored. She wanted a drink but didn't know what. There was a whiny sub-tone in her voice. I let her play with the radio, and she found some country music and turned it too high. It wasn't worth trying to get her to turn it down. She sat cross-legged on the floor, swaying back and forth, singing the lyrics she knew, scratching her bites.
He didn't phone on the second segment either. She was tired of the radio. She went in and changed her clothes and came back in a yellow terry thing like a body stocking that she said was too tight in the crotch. She kept tugging at it. It made her cross. She rummaged through the cabinet over the wall desk and found some cards. The only game we both knew was gin. She didn't give a d.a.m.n what I might be holding and paid no attention to what I picked, so she constantly discarded right into my hand, and she constantly lost. She turned the radio on again and played solitaire on the floor in front of it. I don't know what her rules were, but she went out every time.
On the third and final fifteen minutes of monitoring, the marine operator came up with a call for ”the motor yacht Busty Flush Busty Flush.” She had a short list, and I came in and identified and took the call. Meyer sounded as if he were calling from the bottom of a big laundry bag. As soon as he'd start to come in clear, they'd dump in more laundry. But I managed to extract from the blur that there had been a fellow looking for me. I felt my pulse give a hefty b.u.mp. I waited for the next part of our little code. Mary Alice stood at my elbow, listening to the insectile low fidelity of my tin speaker and, with her thumb, trying to relieve the undue stricture of the nether end of her yellow garment.
It was sick excitement to know that I had placed a bet on a three-legged horse and every other horse had fallen down on the clubhouse turn and my choice was lumping home at historic odds.
Yes, the fellow had a beard. ”His name is George Sharsh. He said you know him. Do you know him?”
”George who?” This was beyond the limit of our code, and I was puzzled.
”Sharsh. S as in sniper. T as in telescope. A as in arson. R as in rage. C as in careful. H as in hide. Sharsh.”
”Starch?”
”Right!”
”Sure, I know him.”
”He said he'd be back tomorrow in the late afternoon or early evening.”
”Tomorrow? Thursday?”
”Right. What will I tell him?”
”Stall him.” I hesitated. That was wrong. Meyer might think I wanted him to try to delay Sprenger. ”No. Just find out what he wants and see if you can take care of it.”
Out of the depths of the laundry he said goodbye. I hung the Bakelite mike back on the hook and flipped the set off.
”Who is this George Starch guy?” Mary Alice asked.
”Oh, he comes around with a problem now and then.”
”Like what?”
”Well... like a disposal problem.”
”I don't get it.”
She followed me back to the lounge. I had an urge to experiment. ”George is sort of an agent. Somebody might be holding stock certificates that don't belong to them. George finds a way to unload them.”
”He comes to you with stuff like that?”
”Once in a while.”
I stretched out on the yellow couch. She leaned on the back of it, standing behind it, looking down at me. ”I got this idea you were straight, sort of. What do you do, work both ends?”
”I do favors for friends.”
”But Meyer wouldn't get involved in anything like that.”
”Like what?”
”Fencing anything.”
”Last night before I came aboard, I saw Meyer. He had a suggestion about your car. By now some friends of ours are baking a different color onto it, and they'll put Alabama tags on it and sell it right in Miami. Alabama tags make it easy. There's no t.i.tle certificate. Meyer will probably clear three hundred.”
”He suggested it? I'll be d.a.m.ned! Gee, you never know, do you? Whyn't this George Starch move things through... you know, regular channels?” suggested it? I'll be d.a.m.ned! Gee, you never know, do you? Whyn't this George Starch move things through... you know, regular channels?”
”That's like selling to a supermarket, M.A. They're so big they beat the price way down. I'm a corner grocery store, and I can make better deals.”
”Unless they find out you're making better deals.”
”I'm not a total d.a.m.n fool, honey. If some hungry clown contacted me with a problem about a couple of barracks bags full of gra.s.s from Jamaica or Barbados, fresh off somebody's Piper Apache, I would route him to Frank.”
She swallowed and licked her mouth and started to speak and had to speak again, the first attempt was so ragged.
”Frank? Frank who?”
”Frank Sprenger. What Frank do you think?”
”How would I know what Frank? How would I know?”
I reached up and patted her hand. It felt damp and cold. ”Sorry. That's right. How would you know? He isn't in operations. He's just a guy who's acceptable to all parties at interest, and he works as a sort of traffic manager and resident auditor. I guess because you saw him all those times at the bank, I had the idea you would know what he did.”
”Investments,” she said in a small voice.
”All kinds, dear. All kinds. I never got to ask you this question. It's been in my mind. Frank is very very heavy with the ladies. You are far from being dog meat. I imagine he made his move. What happened?”
”He... isn't the sort of person who appeals to me.”
I laughed. She asked me what was so humorous. I said it was like a deer in deer season refusing to be shot by a hunter in the wrong shade of red hat.
”Okay, so maybe he doesn't like girls as big as me. Some men are really turned off by tall girls.”
”If everything else is in the right place, I think Frank might start to get turned off if a girl was fifteen feet tall and weighed four hundred lovely pounds.”
”Well... he never tried anything. I had no no idea you knew him at all. You never idea you knew him at all. You never said said anything about knowing him.” anything about knowing him.”
I stretched and yawned. ”It was sort of a confidential relations.h.i.+p. He gave me a little fee to sort of represent him in the Fedderman problem. I wouldn't have fooled with it otherwise.”
She gasped and stood erect. She ran around the end of the couch and came thumping down onto her knees on the floor beside me, sat back on her heels, and stared at me. ”He paid paid you!” you!”
”A token. Two round ones for expenses. What's the matter with you anyway?”