Brett Halliday - Mike Shayne's Torrid Twelve

“What do you mean, China?”

“I don’t know exactly. But you’re playing. What are you after?”

“Nothing but some more beer, baby.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of rushing Tabby.”

“That could be.”

“What for?”

“’Cause she ain’t the worse to be around.”

“Then why you hanging around me?”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“You figuring on playing both of us?”

“Naw, I only danced with you to make her jealous. I’m for Tabby, and that’s the way it is.”

“Yeah. I wonder.”

“You wonder what?”

“It ain’t like you to fall deep unless you changed your stripes.”

“Maybe I changed then, China. That could be.”

She laughs and lifts her can of beer. Maybe she’s believing me, maybe she ain’t, but who cares?

I leave her and go back to my seat. There’s another record playing, and Stovepipe and Tabby are dancing it out. That’s two in a row for Stovepipe. I look around and see Fandango. That cat’s fit to be boiled.

Seems like the time is ripe, so I move over to him, ask him what’s wrong.

“Nothing, Johnny.”

“Don’t give me that stuff. You’re ready to blow your stack. But I know what’s eating your heart.”

Fandango gives me this stupid look like nobody’s supposed to know nothing.

“Yeah, your friend, Stovepipe is hogging all the dances. What’s wrong that you don’t cut in on him?”

“You don’t mind if I do?”

“Why should I? It’s up to Tabby. You want to know something? She favors you over him. She’s kind of soft on you.”

This time he gives me a real stupid look, like he can’t believe his hearing. “Yeah? You’re jiving me.”

“The hell I am. That’s the truth, ’cause Tabby told me it herself. She don’t like Stovepipe’s guts. So, like I say, you ought to cut in and do her a favor.”

He laps that up like milk, lifts his shoulders and looks across the room at Stovepipe. Next second, he’s marching at him. Soon as he reaches Stovepipe, he taps him on the shoulder.

That’s the fuse going. First, I can’t hear what’s being said, but I don’t have to. I know. He’s trying to cut in, and Stovepipe don’t go for that. He’s still holding Tabby. That don’t last. He’s got to let her go. A lot of loud talk busts out. Everybody listens in.

Talk turns to action. Fandango is the maddest and hits out first. Both of them start punching but they’re kind of wild. Not much damage is done, ’cause Elmo and some others jump in and bust it up.

Elmo gives them hell for fighting in the clubhouse and boots both their cans. “You want to fight so bad, turn it on outside, not in here.”

Most everybody’s for that, including Stovepipe and Fandango. So they go out to the street. The rest of us follow. It’s a good fight, real wild. Yeah, they beat on each other till they can’t raise their arms no more.

A crowd of big people come around. This fat lady starts hollering fit to kill, so Elmo steps in again and stops the fight.

Stovepipe and Fandango is both busted up. They ain’t in no mood for partying now, so they take off.

The rest of us go back inside. Tabby comes to me and asks me what they was fighting about.

“You don’t know?” I say.

“No, Johnny.”

“’Cause of you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You mishandled things, let one dance more than the other.”

“I didn’t mean for them to fight.”

“What you meant and what happened is two different items, girl. You ought to know better.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny.”

“It’s too late for that, baby. They’re my friends and you made them clash, so that’s it.”

“That’s what?”

“The finish. That means you and me go our separate ways like before.”

Tabby looks at me stupid, like she don’t dig. I got no time to explain further, so I turn away. There’s a good record on. China is across the room. I walk over, grab her and start dancing…

A week later, things bust out between Stovepipe and Fandango again. That’s to be expected. Them two got to come to a decision, one way or another.

Nothing happens. They beat on each other and fight to a draw. It’s the same reason, too. They’re both after Tabby. Both want to own her.

By this time, Elmo’s kind of tired of all this crap. First thing he does is call a meeting and bring us all together.

We go to the clubhouse, and when everybody’s there, he calls for quiet and lays down the law, does it cool. “You all know why this meeting is called?” he says. Everybody knows but Stovepipe and Fandango. They’re too stupid, so Elmo tells them, “You two ought to know best of all. Seeing as you don’t, I’m here to tell you this. I don’t like fighting among ourselves. That ain’t no good for the club. But fights got to be — if they settle things. You two ain’t settled nothing, far as I can see. You been beating on each other for some no-decision stuff. Is that true, or ain’t it?”

Stovepipe and Fandango nod.

“Okay, since you two ain’t settled your differences, how about making it a showdown?”

“Whatever you suggest,” Stovepipe says.

“How about you, Fandango? You want to settle for good?”

“I don’t see why not, Elmo.”

“Okay, then you both willing?”

“Yeah, what’s the plan?”

“A fight to the finish.”

“I’m for that, Elmo.”

“How about you, Fandango. You in favor?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, this is it. Come on.”

We move out of the clubhouse and walk to the river. It’s five blocks over. Nobody’s talking.

Elmo looks around. “Okay, there’s nobody to interfere. Now’s your last chance to pull out.”

“Pull out of what?” Stovepipe says. “What are we supposed to do?”

“You going to have it out in the water. The loser don’t come back.”

“Hey, that’s kind of crazy.”

“It ain’t so crazy. This way, nobody gets blamed. It’ll look like an accident. Now, who’s chickening out, and who’s staying with it?”

Stovepipe is scared now. So is Fandango. They look at each other and look at us. We’re all around, waiting.

“Hey, both is chicken,” I say. “Look at them. They getting green.”

The others start jiving them, too. Yeah, they sick and scared to death, ready to pull out, but it’s too late.

“Ready?” Elmo says.

Stovepipe and Fandango look at him and nod.

“Okay, strip to your drawers and pop in that water. You swim out ten strokes and face each other. That’s the only rules. After that, it’s no holds barred.”

Elmo looks around again. There’s nothing to interfere. Stovepipe and Fandango stare at each other. They don’t look sore now. They’re just scared as hell.

Stovepipe makes the first move, starts unbuttoning. Fandango follows. They strip down, walk to the bulkhead and get set to dive.

“Okay, ready?” Elmo says. They nod, that’s all. “Ready. Jump!”

There’s a double splash, and all of us turn away. Nobody’s supposed to witness what happens, so we move off fast and hurry back to the clubhouse.

It’s kind of hot, so we send out for drinks. When they come, nobody’s in the mood for the stuff but me.

Everybody’s waiting, not talking. A half hour goes by, and the door busts open.

In walks Fandango. That’s a surprise to me. I figured Stovepipe to take him, but it didn’t happen that way. Yeah, that’s a blip, ’cause I bet a dollar on Stovepipe. That means I’m out a buck.

Johnny Liddell pushed open the frosted glass door that bore the gilded legend Seaway Indemnity Company and walked without haste into the lushly carpeted anteroom. A blonde in a tight-fitting green sweater sat tapping away at the keys of a typewriter, taking excessive care not to fracture the polish on her nails. She looked up as Liddell walked in.