tittering Black Widow bobbing along in our wake like a small pink dinghy. It was not 'til we reached the relative brightness of the street that I realized the rear hem of my dress had somehow got caught in the wicker of my shopping basket and I had mooned the room while beating a dignified retreat.
CHAPTER NINE: TWO PLUS TWO MAKES FIVE
We decanted ourselves from a taxi at the foot of the gangplank. The Immigration and Customs men were nowhere to be seen, which meant they would forego their 'exit tax' – a significant source of income for many Immigration departments, and sometimes for their governments as well.
Mrs. Neptune's modesty was by now covered in an attractive blue wrap, with palm trees and bubbling champagne glasses. I reflected that it was a good job the ripping took place before her interrogation about the Hope diamond. The red glow left by a thorough spanking might have been attributable to a spot of nude sunbathing, but questions would have been asked about a certain precise striping effect associated with more rigorous chastisement.
'Oops a daisy!'
Mrs. Goldfinkel, Gigi, the Black Widow, performed a feat I have seldom seen before by falling up the gangplank. She arrived on deck in a whirl of arms and legs and shopping. Captain Ahab prudently took a step back.
'I trust you enjoyed your run ashore. I see you did – even those of you confined to your cabins! Inspector Parrot was so much looking forward to making your acquaintance, Mrs. Neptune. Indeed, he still is. Step this way…'
'Parrot? I'm not going to take the third degree from a blasted bird!'
'He is a policeman, madam. Inspector Hercules Parrot. Now if you please…'
I picked my wife off her feet and carried her to the rail, where I quickly lashed her to a lifeboat davit with a dangling length of rope.
'You shall not have her! I shall protect her with her life!'
'Ooh, this is – hey, that's your life, dummy!'
'I know what I'm talking about. Shut up and look innocent.'
The Captain apparently lacked a sense of humor. He sighed, crooked a finger, and turned to a companionway.
Miss Lawrence was torn between the bondage and the imperious crooked finger. Finger won.
'Lemme go!' she wriggled.
It looked like the fuzz was going to get his way. I slipped the knots and gave my slightly slavering wife a shove in the right direction.
'Would you like a witness? Not that I'm impartial, but I can tell a lie under oath without batting an eyelid. Got an award out of a judge that way once, instead of six months.'
'No thanks. I'll tell you all about it later.'
Miss Lawrence disappeared after the Captain with a most attractive twitch of her bottom.
'Now then, Harrykins, what shall we do while poor Jaykins is on the rack?'
From the look in the Black Widow's eye she had a very good idea of what she wanted to do, and it didn't coincide with my idea of late afternoon fun. Not with her, at any rate.
'Detectiving, that's what we shall do, Mrs. Goldfinkel. Unearthing evidence to clear my beloved's name. I don't believe any detective named after a mythical strongman and a screeching tropical bird is going to come up with anything useful. Who shall we convict?'
Gigi giggled coyly.
'Won't you have to interrogate someone first? Will you be cruel and nasty? Will you make awful threats and look fearsome?'
'Bugger that for hard work. I take bribes. What's it worth to stay out of the clink?'
The Black Widow grabbed my hair in two pudgy talons and applied her lips to my ear. My eyes widened. Not even I had thought of that – not since Rio, anyway.
'Mrs. Goldfinkel! Not only is that immoral and illegal, I'd need at least two masseuses on call in case of accidents! Unhand me, woman.'
Mrs. Goldfinkel let go, but it was clear from the expression on her face that she hadn't given up.
I smoothed my hair and took a breath.
'Let's examine the scene of the crime. They're usually littered with clues.'
I marched off to the scene of last night's excitement, a twittering Mrs. Goldfinkel in tow. The room was gloomy and empty, the smell of stale tobacco and booze lingering. The tables and chairs were in the same positions as last night, bare white tablecloths ready for the next load of crockery, eating irons and food stains.
I surveyed the room with the air of a seasoned investigator. Without a deerstalker I was lost, so I winged it.
'Sit where you were last night, if you please, Mrs. Goldfinkel. Let us recreate the scene.'
'How will we do that on our own? There's one bit I can recreate…'
Mrs. Goldfinkel licked her lips and moved toward me.
'Your seat, madam! Sit-t-t-t-t!'
Gigi covered her mouth with her hands and scuttled to her chair of the night before. She sat primly with her hands folded in her lap, a slightly dopey expression on her face.
'I shall take the place of the deceased. Here, on the dance floor. Now, Mrs. Neptune was dancing with her back to the Captain's table so Raoul was facing it. The bullet entered his chest squarely from the front, which means it must have come from…'
With a dramatic gesture I flung my arm out.
'…the Captain's table! The table is quite alone, as befits Ahab's majesty. There was no one standing near or behind the table. There is no window or porthole near. Therefore – the foul murderer is one of us!'
I surprised even myself at that.
'Yes – it must be. Well, I never…'
'But it couldn't be,' squeaked Gigi, 'I mean – we were all having such a nice time – and we are not the kind of – it must have been someone else!'
'But who, Mrs. Bla… Mrs. Goldfinkel? There is no other candidate. Eliminate the impossible and whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.'
I raised an invisible meerschaum to my lips and took a drag of best Turkish.
Mrs. Goldfinkel sat still and, I thought, rather pale under her caked make-up.
'But that's silly. I mean why? The opportunity was there, granted. But who had the motive? Who had the means? Where is the weapon?'
I stared through the rich tobacco smoke. This didn't sound like the silly woman who couldn't keep a thought in her head, never mind her hands to herself.
'What motive could any of us possibly have to off a nobody Latino troubadour? I mean to say, who would bother? There really must be another explanation. A ricochet, perhaps.'
I expected fluttering and incoherent denials, not this cool analysis. There was more to Mrs. Goldfinkel than her trite exterior allowed.
'Let's examine the possible motives. There's greed, jealousy…'
'Harry! I'm free! It was a bum rap! I'm suing for wrongful wotsit! Celebrate with me!'
Miss Lawrence burst into the room and whipped off her wrap with a bullfighter's flourish.
'Toro! Toro! Have at it, Parrotface! I'll stick you full of bandilleros! Ole!'
An imaginary Toro charged and was whisked to one side with a cavalier flick of the cape. Quick as lightning Miss Lawrence sank her sword in his muscular neck.
I applauded politely.
'Ole! Both ears and the tail! His pistle to the stewpot!'
Miss Lawrence stalked imperiously round the ring, one arm raised high. She flung her arms about my neck
