A Touch of Danger

by James Jones

  “Well, Mr. Davies,” he said with his brutal smile, and half closed Turkish eyes. “So soon? Have you solved our murder for us already?”

  I grinned, then moved my head at the other man.

  “Him?” Pekouris said. “He doesn’t count.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  He said something in Greek and the man went out. “He doesn’t speak English, anyway.” He pushed back his chair.

  “Sit down, Mr. Davies. Here you see my tiny, unelegant, unexpensive little domain. It is not as nice as Mr. Kronitis’s place, is it?”

  So he already knew I’d been there. Well, the Rolls was easy to spot in Glauros. I said, “I hear you spend most of your time away from it.”

  “It is true I am in Athens a lot. On business. But I will not be now, for a while, I think, huh?”

  “I just stopped by for a minute. Kronitis has hired me to investigate the murder. Wants me to find the killer. I told him I would have to tell you. I’m telling you.”

  Pekouris’s power-sniffing eyebrows quivered. He just nodded. It was almost as if he had known it all beforehand.

  “Well, we are glad to have you working with us. I’m sure it will all be amicable.” He gave me a big phony smile. “However, murders are police cases, Mr. Davies. We do not enjoy to have private detectives from America coming in and messing things up, and then stealing all the publicity and glory for solving a murder.”

  That was more like what I expected to hear. I had begun to wonder if he was ever going to say it. I had my answer already prepared.

  “I can understand that. That’s why I’m here to see you. I’m not after any glory. And anything I find out will be put at your disposal at once. I’ll only be assisting.”

  “I suppose I could not stop you nosing around anyway. Even if you were not hired. You are like the old hunting dog. So go ahead.”

  He was being so amiable it was almost suspicious.

  “But I want to caution you. Do not talk about the case. Play it down, as you would say. Away down. That is of major importance to us right now.”

  “Do you think I would go around talking about it?”

  “No. Not deliberately. But your investigations may call attention to it. I don’t want that now. I have been on the telephone with Athens, and I have a clear directive from them: Solve it, but solve it fast. Whatever I do, hush it up. We have our main tourist season coming up right away now.”

  “I’ll be careful,” I said.

  “It is much more than to just be careful. It is a policy.” He waved his hand. “As far as I am concerned, it is already almost what you Americans call a case of the open-and-shut, anyhow.” He pushed around among the papers on his desk. “This young American hippie who runs the Cloud 79 club, and his crazy friend, are the guilty party. All that remains is to find the proof.”

  “Well,” I said slowly. “That’s certainly a possibility. But I wouldn’t call it a certainty yet.”

  “Well, it is,” Pekouris said firmly. “For me.” He found the paper he was looking for. “Did you know that this boy Chuck, the one with the thick glasses, was wanted in Mexico, not too long ago, for chopping some poor Mexican up and nearly killing him with a machete?”

  I pretended to do a slow take. It wasn’t all pretense. “No, I didn’t. How did you find that out?”

  “Oh, I have my ways, Mr. Davies. I have my ways of finding out all sorts of things.” The superior, dictatorial smile. “It is true.” He handed me the paper in his hand. It was a cablegram from the Interpol people. I saw the word MEXICO. I read the text. It said pretty much what he had told me. I noted it was dated six weeks before the date of the murder.

  “Well, that puts a different weight in the scales, doesn’t it?” I said, handing it back.

  “We always have our passport check, you know, Mr. Davies,” Pekouris said. “Upon entry. We can keep pretty close tabs on things.” Pekouris sighed elaborately. “Yes, it does put a lot of weight on the scale, as you say. It was you who suggested we look for why cut off the head at all. What better why than a man who has a machete and is used to using it. Of course, we still must find the proofs.”

  “Yes,” I said. “That’s important, too.”

  “Do you know anything about those two?” Pekouris said suddenly. “Have you ever talked to them?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ve talked to them. At Georgina Taylor’s. A couple of times on the town terrace.”

  Pekouris nodded. We both knew he knew the answer to his question before he asked it.

  “Did they say anything interesting?”

  “They sure did,” I said. “They threatened him. Not in any specific way. I mean, no threat of killing. But they threatened him.”

  “As if maybe they did not like the way he ran his hashish business, and were perhaps thinking of taking it over and running it better?” Pekouris said.

  “That was it.”

  “There, you see? We have our motive.”

  “Yes,” I said. “We sure do. But, as you said, it isn’t proved yet.”

  Pekouris shrugged.

  “Have you picked them up?”

  “I’m not ready for that yet.” He smiled that scary smile, “They won’t go away.”

  From the door I said, “Inspector, I’m not telling anybody else that I’m working for anyone.”

  He looked up at me, then nodded his understanding.

  “I suggest you don’t, Davies.”

  I didn’t like that so much. That wasn’t exactly the way I had meant it. What was he telling me? Take my money and shut up and don’t make waves? Be glad I had Mr. K.’s dough and keep out of the way? It sounded like it. But if I ever suggested to him that that was what he meant, he would be perfectly within his rights to deny it. And he would believe himself implicitly, when he did.

  Those kids had about as much chance going up against Pekouris as I had getting in the same ring with a cobra. Against him and me, they were like three-year-old babies swimming in the same tank with two old ocean-going white sharks. If they were guilty God or somebody had better help them.

  I was inclined to go along with his theory, at least for now. But it was going to take a lot more proof. It was going to take a lot more proof than we had so far, just to convince me.

  I walked out of the dim, dusty-smelling, dirty-floored town hall into the Greek sun.

  Chapter 26

  I HAD PLENTY TO PUT ME into a think-fog on the way back.

  But I didn’t feel much different. I had a fatter wallet, was all. I was still the same guy.

  Sonny was over his sulks, and left me alone. The boat ride was as delicious as ever. The weather was still that magnificent weather, the scenery the same beautiful scenery. The sparkling sea, the bright baking sun, the fresh sea breeze cutting the heat, the green island in front of us and the dun coast behind, the bright dots of chapels on the hills, the scrubbed clean white of the town: the cerulean mask arching over it all an enormous sky, so remote and so tranquil and not caring a damn. Down below all us little worms scrabbling and scrawling away. Sometimes you felt we didn’t any of us deserve it all.

  At Dmitri’s dock Kirk and Jane Duval had not come back yet and the tiny motorcycle was not there. Sweet Marie had not shown up either.

  “Well, I’ll leave the Daisy Mae with you here,” Sonny said. “I’ll wait on Jane.”

  “Where’s the baby?” I said.

  “We left her up at the Construction, with one of Jane’s friends. We’re to pick her up this afternoon.”

  The place was beginning to fill up out by the water with people for pre-luncheon drinks. Every time a new motorbike or cycle came up Sonny looked hopefully down the seawall road.

  “Come on, Sonny. I’ll buy you a drink,” I said, feeling sorry for him. “But only if you promise not to talk any of your damned hippie philosophy to me.”

  When we had ordered, Sonny said, “What were you doing over there this morning? Whose limousine was that?”

  “I’m sure any one of fi
fty people on this rock will be more than glad to tell you whose limousine it was,” I said. “So I won’t spoil your fun in finding out, by telling you now all at once.”

  Before it could get any further, somebody called to me from the roofed-over patio room that was a part of the building. It was the bearded Pete Gruner, the cop, or ex-cop, or non-cop, in a brocaded embroidered Turkoman jacket that must have cost $500. “Hey, Lobo! Hey, Davies! You think you got a little time to talk, now?”

  I started to refuse. Then I reminded myself I was working now. No source could afford to be neglected. “Excuse me,” I said to Sonny. “I’ll be right back.” I went over and between the pillars and into the open room to his table. Except for us the room was empty.

  “I’m particular about who calls me by my first name. If you want to talk to me, I could use a drink,” I said.

  He ordered drinks for both of us. Then he started right in on me.

  “What’s on your mind, Gruner?” I said.

  “Nothing much. But I’m wondering what’s on yours?”

  I felt blunt. “About what?” I said rudely.

  “Well, just for example, this killing. I’d like very much to know what you think about it. And I’d like to know how it affects the thinking of whoever sent you down here, to do whatever it was they sent you down here to do.”

  I took what I pretended was a deep angry breath, then pretended I was letting it out slowly to keep my temper. “Look, Gruner. I’m down here on vacation. I already told you that. I don’t really give a damn about this killing.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said mockingly.

  “That’s the fact. I did a little investigations job for a Paris client of mine, in Athens. He liked what I did so much, he offered me a month’s paid vacation down here. Otherwise I couldn’t even afford it. Now, go and put that in your report.”

  “What report?”

  “Whatever report it is you’re writing for whatever Department it is you work for.”

  “Oh. You’re still pretending you think I’m a cop.”

  “You stink cop a mile away. I’d bet my bottom dollar on it. I don’t know how you ever managed to fool these people. What did you pay for that jacket you’re wearing? It must have cost $500.”

  “$350,” he grinned. “In Athens.”

  “In Athens. If they had them in Athens. It would be $500 anyplace else.”

  “I’d seriously like to know what you think about this killing,” he said. “What do you make of it? Or will you let yourself have an opinion?”

  “It’s most likely some jealous Greek husband,” I said, “from what I know about Girgis. If you want my strictly amateur’s opinion, it’s an Athens gang killing—probably from off the island—to see what petty local Athens crook is going to handle the local hashish trade. That’s all it is.”

  “You think off the island?”

  “I don’t see any likely suspects around here, do you?”

  “I could see a lot of them. Listen, there’s a lot,” Pete said darkly, and looked around, “a lot going on around here that your simple-minded theory don’t exactly explain.”

  “You said that before. Like what?”

  He would only make an irritated, dark gesture. “See, I think Girgis didn’t work alone. Okay, what about this funny little guy, that was Girgis’s assistant on the boat?”

  “What about him? I never even noticed him.”

  “Well, notice him. What’s he going to do now? Is he going to run the Polaris? The Polaris is owned by some rich guy, named Kroanis, or Kronitis. Does he know what racket Girgis was working? Was Girgis working it on his own? Will this rich guy de-commission the boat now? Or will he let that ugly little mate of Girgis’s go on running it?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” I said.

  “This guy Kirk, on this yacht Agoraphobe, owned by this same Kroanis, has been Girgis’s supplier for the hashish. Does Kroanis know about that? But Kirk can’t leave the Agoraphobe to take over Girgis’s retail trade. He’s not here enough.”

  “You don’t really know his name is Kronitis?” I said.

  “Sure, I know.” He looked at me.

  “So?” I said.

  “See, I think I could get that job of Girgis’s,” Gruner said. “Why not? That little assistant clearly can’t handle it. He’s obviously too dumb.”

  I thought about that. “Are you sure you want to do that?” I said.

  We were talking now as if he were a cop. We were talking like two cops together. He had never admitted it, but we were tacitly, without acknowledging it, talking as if he had.

  “Why not?” Pete grinned. “There’s a lot of dough to be made, there. And a lot to be learned.”

  “That might be one way to explain an awful lot of things.” Sure.

  “And you could suddenly find yourself with no head, like Girgis.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m warned already, by him.”

  I thought it was time to stop it. “Ahh, you government people are always looking for some cops-and-robbers game to play,” I said.

  He looked at me. “Damn it, don’t say that. I’m a damned dropout, that’s what I am. Who has to make his own damned decent—or indecent—living. And I could use some of that money.”

  “Do you people get to keep all the illicit loot you pick up on the way, or do you have to turn it in?” I said. “I’ve always wondered about that.”

  “Lay off of me, Davies. I told you I’m not a cop.”

  “Whatever you say, Gruner, whatever you say,” I said. “Well, don’t count on me for anything. One way or the other,” I added. “I’m not playing.”

  Pete stared at me and grinned slowly. “I wish I could be sure of that,” he said, obscurely. “There’s some big stuff mucking around, around here. It would be a shame if we were bucking heads on it.” He got up suddenly, and threw money on the table. “See you around.” He turned and walked off out into the sun and away. I sat looking after him. I hadn’t learned very much. What was all this Big Stuff he was talking about. He had to be a nark. And if he was a nark he had to be after heroin. It didn’t fit in with anything I knew. I got up and went back to Sonny.

  Sonny was still sitting and nursing his drink. I sat down. All the ice in mine had melted in the hot sun. I drank it anyway.

  Before I could get the glass away from my mouth, I heard a motorcycle coming and sensed Sonny in front of me jumping up. I put my glass down slowly and slowly swung around in my tin chair. It was them, all right.

  I didn’t get up. Jane hopped off and Kirk parked the tiny cycle in its place against the taverna wall. When Jane turned around, I saw that she had grass stems on the back of her brocaded Mother Hubbard and in the back of her long hippie girl hair.

  She wasn’t covered with them, but it was enough to be noticeable. She hadn’t even bothered to brush herself off. Kirk probably hadn’t even noticed. If he had, he wouldn’t have cared.

  She probably hadn’t bothered to wash herself, either. I supposed she didn’t bother to wear panties. Well, what did I care. I had always liked girls who didn’t wear panties. I still didn’t get up.

  “Well, Sonny,” Kirk rumbled in a magnanimous tone. “You’re back. And here’s your lady, back all safe and sound.”

  He made a sweeping gesture of passing her over, then walked over to me. “Well, it’s old Lobo Davies. Have a good boat trip, Lobo?”

  “Tolerable,” I said. I still didn’t get up.

  “By God, you’re as country as me. When you want to be,” Kirk grinned. “And I am pretty damn country.” He stretched and yawned, flexing his big arms. “God I’m sleepy. Think I’ll go on board and take a little nap.” He gave me a merry wink with that eyelid like a slab of red beef.

  “Come on, Jane,” Sonny said from behind me. “We’ll take the bikes up to the Construction.”

  I watched the two of them trundle their bikes out away from the taverna wall. They were parked there near Kirk’s tiny cycle. Sonny, with all his money, apparently had
never invested in a motorcycle himself. Probably one of his phony-liberal theories about living only off of what he made. I already knew that he didn’t even do that.

  The two of them went riding off up the seawall road. Kirk went down and got in his skiff to row out.

  I moved over into the shade and ordered a fresh drink.

  I knew one thing. I was glad I was a private eye and not a hippie. But I was probably old-fashioned.

  I drank my drink and waited for Marie.

  Chapter 27

  SHE ARRIVED WALKING, wearing her skintight blue jeans and the bra-less cotton shirt, and lugging her faded duffel bag of diving gear.

  I sent her on board to stow her gear, and went in to Dmitrios to see about our picnic lunch.

  When I carried the sacks on board, she had changed to a bikini and was sitting on the coach-roof in the sun. She was burned a deep bronze and there wasn’t an excess ounce of fat on her anywhere. It gave her one of those lean, wide-open navels you sometimes see on young girls. You could see right to the bottom of it.

  She knew a place up the mainland coast she wanted to try. She had swum there as a guest on boats, but had never spear-fished it. Without a boat, she had no way of getting there on her own.

  I headed us up that way. There was a shallow reef three hundred yards offshore, she told me as I worked us out through the web of lines and boats and passed the little lighthouse. The shore had a long, white sand beach, totally deserted, in a long shallow cove between two low rocky points. It was completely inaccessible except by sea. The nearest road was three miles inland, and the nearest farm was a mile away. There would not be a soul there unless another boat was there.

  “It’s about twelve or thirteen miles,” she said suddenly after we had run a while in silence, and squirmed around so that she could sit up clasping her knees facing me. The tiny bikini pants hid just about nothing.

  I just nodded.

  “You know what I like about you?” Marie smiled. “It’s that I don’t feel I have to talk when I’m with you. Most people, you have to talk every minute. With you it doesn’t matter, you can sit forever and it’s okay.”