Big Kiss-Off Read online

  “Welcome, Cade,” he smiled. “I heard you came back last night on a new cruiser — that long. And I wanted to come down and tell you how happy I was to have you home but, unfortunately, I had to fly up to New Orleans on a little business.”

  Cade ignored the proffered hand. Kalavitch returned it to his side, unembarrassed, still smiling, at Mimi now. “And who is the charming young person? The new Mrs. Cain?”

  Cade shook his head. “No. This is Mrs. James Moran. She is attempting to locate her husband, Captain James Moran, and it seems he gave his address as Bay Parish, in care of you.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course,” Kalavitch nodded. “Jim Moran.” He continued to smile at Mimi, his soft brown eyes picking at the third button on her borrowed white shirt. “He worked for me, for some months.”

  Her voice small, Mimi asked, “He is here now?”

  Kalavitch shook his head. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know where Jim is. You see, after he got out of the Army he worked for me as my personal pilot.” Kalavitch laughed. “But I guess Bay Parish was too small and dull for him, so he moved on.” Kalavitch was concerned. “He didn’t give you his new address?”

  Mimi shook her head. “No.”

  Kalavitch tried to be helpful. “Maybe Miss Spence, our postmistress, can give it to you. My secretary has been turning all the letters that come for Moran over to Miss Spence.”

  Mimi smiled. “And the post office is where?”

  Cade wanted her out of the office before he had his talk with Tocko. “Back down the same street we walked up. In the middle of the block, between a poolroom and a hardware store. I’ll meet you over there.”

  “As you say,” Mimi smiled. She transferred her smile to the man behind the desk. “An’ thank you ver’ much, señor.”

  Kalavitch watched her out of the office “Nice.” He looked back at Cade. “And now she’s gone, what’s eating on you?” He looked at his hand. “Is my hand dirty or what?”

  Cade reached over the desk, caught Kalavitch by the coat lapels and smashed a hard right to the big man’s mouth. “That’s for last night. What’s the big idea of Joe Laval turning the Squid loose on me?”

  Kalavitch used his breast-pocket handkerchief to stopper the smear of blood trickling from one corner of his lip. “You’re crazy. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You didn’t send Laval and the Squid over to Sal’s to ask me to come and see you?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t have Laval warn me to be out of Bay Parish by noon or the Squid would really work me over?”

  Kalavitch refolded his handkerchief. “No.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Cade said. “Another thing, how come you’ve got a ‘for sale’ sign on my house?”

  “Your house?” Kalavitch smirked.

  “You heard what I said.”

  Kalavitch shook his head. “But it isn’t your house. It’s mine. I thought, naturally, she had written you.”

  “Who had written me what?”

  “Your wife, that is your ex-wife, the very blonde and very beautiful former Mrs. Cain.”

  Cade felt a hard lump form in the pit of his stomach. “Janice was here?”

  Kalavitch rested the tips of his manicured fingers on top of his desk. “But of course. How else could I have bought the property? I trust it was perfectly legal? She had your power of attorney and claimed that you had given her the house and the acreage on Barataria Bay in lieu of a cash settlement in your impending divorce.”

  “I was in a POW camp when she divorced me.”

  “But she did have your power of attorney?”

  “Yes. Yes, she did.”

  “Then it would seem that the sale was legal.”

  “You bought the acreage, too?”

  Kalavitch shrugged. “But of course. She insisted. Why would I want any acreage in a godforsaken place like Barataria Bay?” He returned his handkerchief to his pocket. “Now I think you’d better go. Because you have been through a lot, I will forgive you this one punch.” He came out from behind his desk and opened the office door. “But I wouldn’t try it again. Get out.”

  Cade hesitated, then turned and walked through the outer office to the street. Mimi was standing under the unpainted wooden marquee of the post office. Even at that distance, Cade could tell that she was crying.

  Cade had a feeling he, in turn, was being watched, and not by Tocko. The still heat was suddenly oppressive and somehow sinister. Cade wished he had asked Tocko if Janice was still on the river.

  Anyway she had been here and sold him out. Judy O’Grady had been a lady compared to the colonel’s wife. Tocko had an eye for beauty. It could be the old house hadn’t been all that Janice had sold. He didn’t like the way Tocko had said, “the very blonde and very beautiful former Mrs. Cain.”

  Cade realized he was breathing through his mouth to spare his swollen nose. The gun in his hip pocket rasped the flesh under it. So he’d seen Tocko. He didn’t know any more than he had when he’d come to on the levee, except that Janice had been in Bay Parish, perhaps was still on the river.

  Cade leaned a hand against the building to steady himself. He felt light-headed. He felt as he had while sitting on the sagging fence looking at the old house, baffled, frustrated, as if he were trying to climb an opaque glass wall — with God knew what on the far side.

  5 Pursuit of Evil

  The sidewalk began to fill with early morning shoppers. A basket on one arm, her ample bulk corseted and encased in black bombazine, Mamma Salvatore paused on her way to market. The men in Bay Parish minded their own business. It was a fetish with them. The women weren’t any different from women anywhere.

  Mamma’s big eyes studied Cade’s nose and injured eye. “That Joe Laval. For shame what he did to your face.” The fat woman was indignant. “In our place yet. He is no good, that Joe. You should take a gaff hook to him.”

  “I may do that,” Cade said.

  Mamma laid a plump hand on his arm. “For why they after you, Cade?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Mamma patted the arm on which her plump hand was resting. “Tonight you come back. Tonight I cook for you. And eef that son-of-a-beech of a Joe he tries for make any more trouble, eef Sal don’t throw heem out, I weel.”

  Cade lighted a cigarette. “He’s sheriff.”

  Mamma laughed into one of the flesh folds encircling her wrists like bracelets. “Ha.”

  Her dark eyes concerned, she started to say more, then changing her mind, repeated, “Tonight you come back,” and walked on.

  Cade watched her down the street. Mamma, too, wobbled, but her wobble was different from Mimi’s. It was more a side slip than a wobble. There was nothing exciting about Mamma’s walk, except, perhaps, to Sal. Mamma Salvatore was built square in the stern and low to the water line, like an ocean-going tug. Cade had no doubt she could throw Joe Laval out of Sal’s. If she wanted to exert herself, she could probably throw out the Squid, too. Nor was the law sacred to Mamma. There had been too many dark-of-the-moons in her life. She had helped Sal unload too many pirogues of rum and whiskey and tobacco that bore no excise stamps.

  He laughed, and turned back to his own problem.

  The cigarette smoke in his mouth tasted foul. His throat was constricted. So now he knew. He didn’t own the old house any more. No future generations of Cains would ever live in it. Janice had been in Bay Parish and cleaned him. The hell of it was her sale of the various properties was entirely legal. Janice had been his wife at the time. She’d had his power of attorney.

  The back of Cade’s ears felt hot, as he wondered what Tocko had gotten for lagniappe and knew, even as he wondered. Tocko was a good businessman. He drove hard bargains. To Janice her sex was a lever, a club, a ladder. If Tocko had wanted her for lagniappe — and Tocko wanted every pretty girl he met — more than money had passed between them. That would explain the Slavonian’s amused contempt and the concerned look in Mamma Salvatore’s eyes. It even e
xplained why Joe Laval had ordered him out of town by noon.

  Tocko knew he would find out and Tocko didn’t want any trouble with him.

  His feeling of bitter frustration continued as Cade walked down the street in the shade of the wooden marquees overhanging the walk. What of Mimi? She was still waiting patiently with the resigned and often deceptive placidity of many Latin-American women. The oyster-men, shrimpers and merchants calling for their mail all glanced at the girl admiringly as they entered the post office, then swiveled their heads on their necks and either gaped open-mouthed or sucked in their breath as their eyes patted her trim, white-duck-covered stern.

  Cade had to be honest. He was no longer suspicious of Mimi, not at all. Mimi was like that. He hoped she had locateci her husband. He didn’t want her aboard the Sea Bird any longer than was necessary. First there was the noon deadline. Then there was the girl herself. His own stored-up hunger was a gnawing fire and every movement the girl made added fresh fuel to the flame. He couldn’t blame the men of Bay Parish for looking at her. If only he’d married a girl like Mimi instead of one like Janice.

  He walked on to where Mimi was waiting. “You got Moran’s address?”

  Mimi nodded, bright-eyed. “He is living in a hotel in New Orleans.” She consulted a piece of paper in her hand. “The postmistress was so kind as to write down the address. Royal Crescent Hotel, on Royal Street.”

  Cade glanced at the piece of paper. He wasn’t familiar with the hotel but from the address on Royal, it was in the old French quarter, not far from the Court of the Two Sisters.

  Mimi parted her lips with the tip of a pink tongue. “How far ees New Orleans?”

  Cade thought he knew what was coming. “About one-hundred miles by water. A little more than sixty by air.”

  The tip of Mimi’s pink tongue continued to explore her lips. “Oh.”

  The gesture excited and irritated Cade. He said crossly, “Look. Get it out of your mind.”

  “Get what out?”

  “That I’m going to take you to New Orleans.”

  “Did I ask you?”

  “See, I can’t. I haven’t the gas, for one thing. For another, I doubt very much if your husband would appreciate your showing up with some other man, especially in that outfit.”

  Mimi’s eyes slitted. “He would be jealous?”

  “Yes.”

  “After he hasn’t even written for a year, hasn’t answered my letters?”

  “Then why are you so anxious to find him?”

  “He ees my husband.”

  Cade’s irritation increased. “I’m sorry, Mimi, but you’re going to have to get to New Orleans some other way.”

  To end the pointless conversation, he entered the post office to see if any mail had been forwarded from Corpus Christi. More men welcomed him home. Miss Spence peered out through her wicket, then opened the door that led into her living quarters just behind the post office. “Would you come back here a moment, Cade?” she asked. “I want to talk to you.”

  Cade thought he knew what Miss Spence wanted to tell him. To the ageless maiden lady there were no shades of gray. Men and women were good or they were bad. Miss Spence intended to tell him what everybody else in Bay Parish knew.

  The small living room, with its crossed Confederate battle flags on one wall, brought a nostalgic memory of childhood. The room smelled faintly of lavender. The old what-not, filled with the treasured accumulation of years, still stood in one corner.

  Miss Spence closed her wicket and joined him. “Hmm. You look a little different than you did last evening.”

  Cade grinned at her. “Just a minor difference of opinion.”

  “A quarrel? With whom?”

  “Joe Laval and the Squid.”

  Miss Spence sat on the black leather sofa and arranged her skirts so her ankles were modestly covered, “Over what?”

  “They didn’t bother to say.” Cade realized he was still carrying the cigarette he’d lighted and snuffed it guiltily between his fingers. Miss Spence didn’t approve of cigarette smoking. “But Joe did suggest that certain parties in Bay Parish would be pleased if I slipped my ropes and went back to where I came from.”

  “Meaning Tocko Kalavitch?”

  “I presume as much.”

  Miss Spence looked at him over her glasses. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t go. It’s time someone stood up to Tocko.” The aging postmistress leaned forward. “But that isn’t why I wanted to see you, Cade. I’m not worried about you. You can take care of yourself. I’m much more worried about the pretty little girl who spent last night on your boat.”

  Cade felt like a guilty school boy. “How did you — ?”

  Miss Spence said dryly, “You aren’t in Los Angeles or Tokyo or even Corpus, Cade. You’re back in Bay Parish.” She looked over her glasses again. “What do you know about her, Cade?”

  Cade evaded the question. “Not much.”

  “She came ashore illegally?”

  “What makes you ask that?”

  “I have eyes.”

  Cade looked at the floor and said nothing.

  Miss Spence continued, “Not that I’m interested in that angle. I’d much prefer not to know. But she looks like a sweet child to me, a good girl. And if you have any influence with her, I think you’d better advise her to go back to wherever she came from without looking up James Moran.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s no good.”

  “In what way?”

  “In any way. It’s common knowledge around town that Moran used his army training to fly aliens in for Tocko. At so much a head, of course. And despite the fact that the girl thinks she’s his wife, having some knowledge of the way Mr. Moran operated while he was here in Bay Parish, I would say the legality of their marriage is open to question.”

  “She says they were married in Caracas.”

  “Young women,” Miss Spence said, thin-lipped, “especially young women in love, have a tendency to believe what they want to believe. But I happen to know at least four Mrs. James Morans wrote him regularly, including the young lady from Caracas.”

  “Oh,” Cade said. There seemed to be nothing else to say.

  Miss Spence laid her hand on his knee. “I know you, Cade. Outside of normal wildness, you were a good boy. You’ve turned into a fine man. The bitterness and bloodshed and killing to which you’ve been subjected haven’t made you mean the way they have so many men. But if you’re falsely gallant enough to help that girl locate James Moran, you won’t be doing her any favor and it will only mean more heartache for you.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “You know your wife came to Bay Parish? That is, your former wife.”

  “Yes. I learned that this morning.”

  “And you know Tocko Kalavitch’s reputation with women?”

  “Yes.”

  Miss Spence was embarrassed. “Then I doubt if I need say more. Your former wife and Tocko were very close. In fact, she was his house guest for some weeks.”

  The air in the small room was suddenly hot and very humid. It was difficult for Cade to breathe.

  Miss Spence continued, primly. “Of course, I have no proof, but there was talk, a lot of talk. In this instance, I believe, with good foundation.” Miss Spence delicately refrained from befouling his name. “Because this young woman of whom we are speaking not only bestowed her favors on Tocko, she was, according to what the help tell me, equally generous with James Moran. Tocko and Moran quarreled over her publicly. She was the cause of the breach in their business relations. More, when Mr. Moran left Bay Parish, your former wife left with him and the only forwarding address I have for her is the same hotel in New Orleans at which Mr. Moran is now stopping.”

  Cade felt a hundred years old. It wasn’t either right or fair that one sex machine could do the things to a man that Janice had done to him. He got heavily to his feet. “Well, thanks. Thanks a lot.”

&nb
sp; The postmistress regarded him with troubled eyes as he opened the door. “I thought you ought to know. Now I’m not so certain I did right in telling you.”

  Cade repeated, “Thanks. Thanks a lot, Miss Spence.”

  Mimi was still waiting in front of the post office. Her lower Hp was thrust out in a pout. The cream-colored rounds of her breasts pushed the thin fabric of his shirt into visible peaks. Even looking at the girl excited him. He regretted he’d attempted to be a gentleman, regretted he hadn’t taken her the night before, by force, if necessary. For all her pretended modesty, Mimi had probably expected him to do just that. Women loved stinkers. Both fiction and life were filled with concrete examples. The bigger a louse a man was, the more most women liked him.

  Still, a man was what he was.

  Cade started to cross the walk and stopped as a hand touched his shoulder from behind. His muddled eyes hopeful, his thin voice filled with sensuous anticipation, his too small head bobbing like a nodding Buddha as he talked, the Squid was smiling down at him.

  “You ain’t gonna leave like Joe tol’ you, are you, Cade? You’re still gonna be on your boat by noon.” The Squid’s fingers caressed Cade’s shoulder. “Don’t go. Please don’t go.”

  Cade started as violently as if a snake had touched him. He shook off the Squid and, with skin goose-pimpled and flesh crawling, continued on his way.

  6 Death on the Deck

  The heat increased as the morning sun rose higher in the sky. Small isolated toadstools of steamy vapor hovered over the muddy pools that had formed in the low spots in the street during the night. As Cade reached the curb, Mimi laid her hand on his arm and stood looking up at him.

  “How you say dificil in English?” she asked.

  “You mean difficult?”

  “Sí.” Her big eyes searched his face. “It is difficil for me to beg, but — ”

  “But what?”

  Small fingers bit into Cade’s forearm. “If you would be so kind as to take me to New Orleans, I will be ver’ grateful. Besides, you will be well paid.”

  “By whom?” Cade asked, coldly.