“Dump your things and have a swim. We swim raw. You don’t have to bother about Freda. She’s seen more naked men than I’ve seen shrimps.”
Johnny looked around the tiny room. There was a bed, a closet, a night-table and a chair. The window looked onto the lake. It was all clean and he liked it.
“This is fine.”
“It’s okay.”
Scott left him.
Johnny looked out of the window. He would have liked to have swum, but not naked. He saw Scott come out on deck, naked and dive into the lake. He watched him swim to the blonde head, pause and after a minute or so, swim on. The blonde head headed towards the house boat.
Johnny stood by the window and watched. He kept out of sight, peering around the curtain as the woman swung herself on to the deck. She was tall, brown-bodied and naked. She had long legs, tight, firm breasts and as she turned and walked along the deck, Johnny watched her heavy buttocks roll. His eyes had been too busy looking at her body to see her face except to notice her wet, blonde hair reached to the middle of her shoulders.
Johnny wiped the sweat off his face. What had he walked into? he asked himself. This was all woman: the most sensual, sexual body he had seen.
He now felt in urgent need of cold water. Stripping off, keeping on his underpants, he stepped out onto the deck and dived into the lake.
The cool water gave him pleasure. He was a powerful swimmer and he swam for some two hundred yards in a racing stroke to release the stiffness and the lust the woman had raised in him, then he turned around and swam back, joining Scott as he was swinging himself up onto the deck.
“I’ll get you a towel,” Scott said and disappeared into the livingroom. He returned moments later, tossed Johnny a towel, then disappeared again.
Johnny mopped off, then went to his bedroom. He smelt onions frying and his mouth watered. He realized he hadn’t eaten since he had left the snake man’s cabin and suddenly he was starving.
Dressed, he left his room and went into the living-room. Scott was smoking and staring out of the window. He looked up as Johnny came in.
“Okay?”
“Fine.”
“We don’t drink here,” Scott said. “Can’t afford it. If you want a drink you can buy anything at the store. Take the motorboat over tomorrow.”
Johnny would have liked a whisky, but he sat down, shrugging.
“That smells good.”
“Yeah. Freda can cook.”
“You told her about me?”
“Oh, sure.” Scott leaned forward and turned to the T.V. set. “She’s in the kitchen.” He waved. “Go talk to her.”
Johnny hesitated, then getting to his feet, he pushed open a door at the far end of the living room and looked into the small kitchen with a butane gas cooker, a cupboard, a table, a refrigerator and Freda Scott.
She was stirring something in a pan and she looked up.
Johnny felt a little jolt. God! he thought, this woman’s beautiful!
And she was. Her face matched her body. She had to be a Swede with those bright china blue eyes, the blonde, silky hair, the high cheek bones, the straight, long nose.
While he stared at her, she gave him a brief, quick searching look, then scooping up raw, chopped-up fish, she dropped the pieces into the pan.
“Hungry?” She had a musical, soft voice which was like a sexual caress. “I guess you must be. Well, it won’t be long. Ed says you’re going to stay.”
“If it’s all right with you.”
She was wearing a pair of stretch pants and a man’s shirt, a faded blue. He eyed the curve of her buttocks, remembering the body, naked. His eyes shifted to her full breasts, straining against the shirt.
“We want the money,” she said. “Anyway, as Ed says, it’ll be company for me. Do you like curry?”
“I like anything.”
“Go watch T.V. It’ll be twenty minutes. I prefer to cook on my own.”
She glanced up and they looked at each other. The bright blue eyes ran over his short, heavily-built body, then to his face and their eyes locked.
“Call me Johnny,” Johnny said and his voice was a little husky.
“Freda.” She waved him away. “Keep Ed company… not that he likes company, but he might grow used to it.” Johnny caught a bitter note in her voice.
Leaving her, he returned to the living-room.
Andy Lucas came into Massino’s office, closed the door and looked from Massino to Tanza. The room was heavy with cigar smoke and there was a half- bottle of whisky, glasses and an ice bucket on the desk.
“Well?” Massino snarled.
“I’ve checked,” Andy said. “It’s taken time, but I’ve now talked with every driver who left the bus station between 2 a.m. and 5 a.m. on the night of the steal. None of them took those bags. If they take luggage, they have to issue a ticket… no luggage.”
“So that thins it down,” Tanza said. “He either had someone with him who took the money out or the money is still in town.”
Massino brooded about this.
“So suppose he was on his own. Suppose he dumped the money in one of those left-luggage lockers across the street, planning to come back for it? What do you think?”
Tanza shook his head.
“He’s no fool. He must know he couldn’t come back. It’s my bet he was working with someone who took the money out.”
Massino nodded.
“Looks like it, but just suppose he did dump the money in one of those lockers.” He looked at Andy. “Can we check?”
“There are over three hundred lockers,” Andy said. “Even the Commissioner couldn’t get into them all without a judge’s say-so. We could try, but do you want that, Mr. Joe?”
Massino thought about this, then shook his head.
“No. You’re right. We start a caper like that and the press will get on to it.” He thought some more. “But we can seal of those lockers. Get it organized, Andy. I want a twenty-four-hour watch kept. Have two men on four-hour shifts, day and night, watching those lockers. Give them a description of the bags. If anyone opens a locker and takes those bags, he’s to be nailed!”
Andy nodded and left the office.
“So what’s the organization doing?” Massino demanded.
“Take it easy, Joe. We’ll find him… may take a little time, but we’ll find him. The word’s gone out. By now, everyone connected with us knows we want him. Take a look at this.” He produced from his wallet a printer’s proof and laid it on the desk. “This will appear in all the Florida newspapers tomorrow morning.”
Massino leaned forward and read the proof.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?
$10,000 Reward
Below this headline was Johnny’s prison photograph. The letterpress went on:
Missing from home, believed suffering from loss of memory: Johnny Bianda. Heavily built, five foot nine inches, clean shaven, sallow complexion, grey-black hair, forty-two years of age. Known to favour a St. Christopher medal.
A reward of $10,000 will be paid to anyone giving information that will lead to this man being found. Contact:
Dyson & Dyson, Attorneys-at-Law,
1600 Crew Street.
