Read Online Cinnamon Skin by John D. MacDonald - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John D. MacDonald
Ads: Link
Lawrences had been living aboard for almost two weeks. Time enough for him to poke around in Meyer's files and pick up enough information so he could make a convincing phone call about the Chilean connection."
"But what are you going to do?"
"Annie, I can dig into his life and find out if he was what I believed him to be. If so, he blew up too. If the back trail is rancid, he didn't die, and we have a new kind of ball game."
"In either case, you'll have to start in Houston, and you'll have to tell Meyer what you are thinking, won't you? So no need to worry. Tell him the whole thing."
"He's had so much-"
"Look. Trust him to be able to accept that immortal truth, dear, that life is unfair. And unpleasantly abrupt at times."
"It would be a lot easier to talk this all over if you had your head on my shoulder; and my left arm around you, and-"
"Hush. Please hush, McGee. I'd be of no use to you at all."
"Let me be the judge of that."
"No way."
"And so I am separated from my own true love by fifty-three proctologists?"
"That's one way to put it. Say hi to Meyer for me. Extend my love and affection and sympathy and so on. And phone me from Houston or wherever you may be-but not before Monday night next, which will be… the nineteenth. Look, if things turn ugly, don't take any dumb chances, okay?"
"No dumb chances."
"I had sort of an idea. There's a place on the waterway where they are condominiumizing boat slips: in other words, selling the slip itself with the dock, pilings, and overhead roof, like for forty or fifty thousand for a slip big enough for the Busted Flush. I haven't worked out the arithmetic yet, but I suspect that I could talk management into letting me invest in that as an adjunct facility to the Eden Beach. Then we could work out a lease arrangement, a sort of contract with you, to have a kind of permanent party-boat setup whereby the guests at the hotel here could sign up ahead and there could be sightseeing cruises, or cocktail cruises, or maybe even dinner cruises if we could work out the service details. What I mean to say, it could be a very nice little living for you, dear. It wouldn't be a killing but it would be steady, and you would practically be your own boss. And we would… see each other oftener."
"And I wouldn't be charging around taking dumb chances?"
"Something like that."
"On the dinner cruises, could I wear one of those great huge tall white chef's hats?"
"Don't be such a bastard, McGee."
"Look into your heart of hearts and see if you can really see me doing that."
"Hmm… Oh, shucks. No."
"Thanks anyway for the concern."
"You're welcome indeed. Good night, McGee. I love you."
Seven
ON THURSDAY morning as I was washing up after break-fast, Dave Jenkins came by to see me. Oldlooking for twenty-two. Burned to a brick bronze by the summer sun down in the Keys. Muscles rolling under the parched hair on his big arms. Sloping powerful shoulders, just as Hack had.
You have to wait the locals out. Nothing is done without a reason, and sooner or later they either get around to it or change their minds and leave. The quickest way to change their minds is to press them to find out what they want.
He looked around the lounge and said, "Changed it some."
"You haven't been aboard in a while."
"I guess I was about fourteen. You and Dad armrassled to a draw, maybe forty minutes, with the sweat popping out and one or the other of you groaning from time to time, your faces like beets. He was a little bit stronger, and you had a little bit better leverage, having a longer arm."
"I remember."
"Then it was Meyer stepped in and called it a draw, and you both fell off the chairs and lay on the floor there, panting like dogs in the summertime."
"I remember it well. Want a beer?"
"I won't ever forget it, not ever. I'd never seen anybody ever rassle my dad to a draw, arm-rassling or any other kind. Little early for me for a beer, I guess."
"Carta Blanca?"
"Well, not all that early."
He
"But what are you going to do?"
"Annie, I can dig into his life and find out if he was what I believed him to be. If so, he blew up too. If the back trail is rancid, he didn't die, and we have a new kind of ball game."
"In either case, you'll have to start in Houston, and you'll have to tell Meyer what you are thinking, won't you? So no need to worry. Tell him the whole thing."
"He's had so much-"
"Look. Trust him to be able to accept that immortal truth, dear, that life is unfair. And unpleasantly abrupt at times."
"It would be a lot easier to talk this all over if you had your head on my shoulder; and my left arm around you, and-"
"Hush. Please hush, McGee. I'd be of no use to you at all."
"Let me be the judge of that."
"No way."
"And so I am separated from my own true love by fifty-three proctologists?"
"That's one way to put it. Say hi to Meyer for me. Extend my love and affection and sympathy and so on. And phone me from Houston or wherever you may be-but not before Monday night next, which will be… the nineteenth. Look, if things turn ugly, don't take any dumb chances, okay?"
"No dumb chances."
"I had sort of an idea. There's a place on the waterway where they are condominiumizing boat slips: in other words, selling the slip itself with the dock, pilings, and overhead roof, like for forty or fifty thousand for a slip big enough for the Busted Flush. I haven't worked out the arithmetic yet, but I suspect that I could talk management into letting me invest in that as an adjunct facility to the Eden Beach. Then we could work out a lease arrangement, a sort of contract with you, to have a kind of permanent party-boat setup whereby the guests at the hotel here could sign up ahead and there could be sightseeing cruises, or cocktail cruises, or maybe even dinner cruises if we could work out the service details. What I mean to say, it could be a very nice little living for you, dear. It wouldn't be a killing but it would be steady, and you would practically be your own boss. And we would… see each other oftener."
"And I wouldn't be charging around taking dumb chances?"
"Something like that."
"On the dinner cruises, could I wear one of those great huge tall white chef's hats?"
"Don't be such a bastard, McGee."
"Look into your heart of hearts and see if you can really see me doing that."
"Hmm… Oh, shucks. No."
"Thanks anyway for the concern."
"You're welcome indeed. Good night, McGee. I love you."
Seven
ON THURSDAY morning as I was washing up after break-fast, Dave Jenkins came by to see me. Oldlooking for twenty-two. Burned to a brick bronze by the summer sun down in the Keys. Muscles rolling under the parched hair on his big arms. Sloping powerful shoulders, just as Hack had.
You have to wait the locals out. Nothing is done without a reason, and sooner or later they either get around to it or change their minds and leave. The quickest way to change their minds is to press them to find out what they want.
He looked around the lounge and said, "Changed it some."
"You haven't been aboard in a while."
"I guess I was about fourteen. You and Dad armrassled to a draw, maybe forty minutes, with the sweat popping out and one or the other of you groaning from time to time, your faces like beets. He was a little bit stronger, and you had a little bit better leverage, having a longer arm."
"I remember."
"Then it was Meyer stepped in and called it a draw, and you both fell off the chairs and lay on the floor there, panting like dogs in the summertime."
"I remember it well. Want a beer?"
"I won't ever forget it, not ever. I'd never seen anybody ever rassle my dad to a draw, arm-rassling or any other kind. Little early for me for a beer, I guess."
"Carta Blanca?"
"Well, not all that early."
He
Similar Books
