“I see that, too.”
“Good.”
“There is one thing nobody has said much about.” Harsh cleared his throat. “I take it this
“We will take care of that, Harsh. No need to worry.”
“I don’t know about that. It gives me the creeps, the way you people treat killing that guy like it was nothing. To say nothing of the way you casually mention a million bucks, just like it was an itch on the end of your nose or something.”
“Don’t bother yourself.” Mr. Hassam patted the air in front of him with both hands. “The way we will handle it, no one will ever know anyone was killed.”
“And I’ll tell you something else gives me the willies, Mr. Hassam. I think you’ve got people mixed up in this you can’t depend on in a squeeze. That Brother, that one is bugs. And Doc Englaster, going around with his nose in the air, I don’t think I would depend on him in a pinch either. You pile murder on that, and it gives me the plain goddamn creeps.”
Mr. Hassam leaned back and his face was wooden. “Cold feet, Harsh?”
“I’m just telling you.”
“Yes, I see.”
“And another goddamn thing is that fifty thousand dollars of mine, Mr. Hassam. I tell you flat, I don’t get that dough, there is going to be hell to pay.”
“You will get it.”
“I want it now.”
Mr. Hassam moved his hands wearily. “Impossible. No point in kidding around about that, Harsh, you get paid when you deliver.”
“In other words, you trust the hell out of me.”
“We trust you just as much as you trust us.”
“Yeah?”
“Isn’t that right?”
“I guess it is.”
The other three conspirators appeared for breakfast. Miss Muirz, Doctor Englaster, and Brother together. Doctor Englaster’s voice was shrill with excitement. “Did you hear the news on the radio, Achmed?” He had been drinking again. “I knew the bastard was on the gunboat. I knew it!”
The news broadcast on the radio had a strong effect on Harsh. It added another subject to the two about which he had been doing most of his thinking: the fifty thousand dollars and Miss Muirz. Now he was for the first time really convinced he was being groomed to be a double for a South American ex-president.
Harsh presumed there were similar news broadcasts of the event taking place throughout the country. On the Florida station, he thought, they had put it right after the weather, so that made it of prime prominence. It was an important piece of news. He was alarmed that it should be so prominent.
If it ever got out he was masquerading as that guy, Harsh thought, there would be a stink.
He tried to weigh some of the effects of such a thing by imagining he was taking the place of the President of the United States, but the idea was so preposterous he could not get any value out of the thought. But there would sure be a mess stirred up.
The thing he ought to do, Harsh decided, was haul ass out of here. It was getting about that time. Fifty thousand dollars or no fifty thousand dollars, he should get long gone from here.
It was a good sensible idea and he knew nothing would come of it because it was physically impossible for him to leave without that money. If he tried to make his legs take him away, he hoped his legs would have sense enough to drop off his body.
Walter Harsh was walking around the grounds trying to think of a way into the wall safe when he heard swishing and cracking and thudding sounds, then saw Miss Muirz. A day or two ago he had noticed there was a smooth panel insert in the wall on the north side of the grounds. The panel was several feet high and more than twenty feet wide, smooth and made of concrete. Miss Muirz had a long curved wicker basket strapped to one hand and was firing a ball at the wall and catching it on the rebound, using the basket. The ball traveled like a rifle bullet, and sounded like one whenever it hit the wall. It was almost too fast for the eye.
Miss Muirz was wearing tennis shoes, shorts, bra. She was trim and very athletic. She was about the best looking thing he had seen in a long time, Harsh thought. She stopped when she saw him.
“Say there, don’t stop on my account.”
“I was just getting a bit of exercise and letting off steam.”
“Don’t stop. I don’t know much about that game, but you must be pretty good. I enjoyed watching you.”
“I’m out of practice, I am afraid.”
“If that was being rusty, you must be something when you got the shine on.”
“Care to try it?” Miss Muirz tossed him a ball. He found it to be near the size of a baseball and hard as a rock. Miss Muirz stood beside him. “The glove on my
“Oh, no, thanks. Not me. You know a ball like this could kill a man if he got beaned with it, which would be just my luck.”
“Do not be chicken.”
“Is that what you call the thing, a
“Yes.”
“I bet it would be harder to learn to use than a snow-shoe.”
“You are chicken, aren’t you?”
“Nah. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He let her fasten the basket device on his right hand. She smelled faintly of perfume. His shoulder touched hers. She put the ball in the basket and he hauled off and let fly and missed the wall entirely. The ball disappeared. That ball went to hell and gone off into the mangroves, he thought, abashed. He indicated his left arm with a motion of his head. It still hung from its sling. “Bum arm overbalanced me, I guess.”
He watched her from the corner of his eye and saw she was not amused. She was not irritated either. She was just indifferent. He didn’t like that she was indifferent, he realized. He would like to do a little warming up there.
“You tried to overdo it, Mr. Harsh.”
“I guess. There’s more to this than a person would think, I can see that now. How did you get so good at it?”
“Once I was a professional.”
He looked at the ground, pretending his feelings were damaged. “Say, you set me up for a laugh, didn’t you?”
“I just thought you might like to try.”
“Yeah, I bet. You know how you made me feel? Like I had tried to show a fellow how to burn one across home plate, and the fellow turned out to be Dizzy Dean or somebody.”
She looked at him and he thought he detected a hint of something in her eyes, something that smacked of interest. Remember who you look like, he thought. She knows you’re not him, but that doesn’t mean she’s immune to whatever feelings the sight of him might stir up.
She spoke gently. “I am sorry to make you feel bad.”
“Oh, I’ll get over it. But seeing as how you made me feel about two inches tall, I think you ought to do something to raise me back to size. Something like riding into town with me and having dinner this evening.”
She shook her head quickly. “It is not wise for you to leave the estate.”
“Yeah, but you can’t leave me two inches high.”
She smiled. “No, I can hardly do that, can I?”
“We’re on, then?”
She shook her head again. “I don’t say I wouldn’t like it, Mr. Harsh. An evening away from here. From them. But no, we cannot leave the estate without a good reason.”
