Микки Спиллейн - Together We Kill

You get old but never bold. It just didn’t sound like Tuck.

Only the local paper played up the incident big. Tucker Stacy was a prominent character in Celada, a war hero who turned an old Air Force auxiliary field into the Capital K and promoted a couple of electronics plants to locate in the area. That, with a booming resort section, put Celada on the map and Tucker Stacy in the city council.

Old Tuck, how he had changed. He sure used to be the wild-assed one, ready to charge into anything. Nine confirmed kills on Me-109s. Tuck? Hey, remember that leave in London? That pair of Scot lassies! Crazy, man. What did they teach them on that farm? Remember? Remember, hell. When you’re dead you don’t remember anything.

I propped the scuffed jump boots on the end of the couch and looked at the ceiling. Across the room, the TV was giving the weather reports for tomorrow. Hot. Clear. Probably local thundershowers in the afternoon.

When the knock came I said, “Come on in,” and didn’t take my eyes off the ceiling. The door snicked shut. “I’ve been waiting for you,” I said.

Lois Hays tilted her head and smiled. “Sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Why not?”

She was prettier face to face than reflected in a plate glass window. Even though the suit was cut in an almost military fashion, she couldn’t hide the full thrust of her breasts or the rich sweep of her hips and thighs.

“You got pretty legs,” I said. “Pneumatic. Soft, cushiony.”

“I don’t know if I should thank you or not.”

“Never mind that. Just make the pitch.”

“What?”

“Honey,” I said, “you made the point clear in the lounge. I dug the bit with the legs and all. I appreciate the generosity. Now let’s hear the offer.”

For a moment she poised there, motionless, then her face flushed and the anger tightened her mouth. But only for a second. The pink left her cheeks and she laughed deep in her throat. “I think you’ve known too many hotel rooms and too many...”

“Whores?” I added for her.

She didn’t get mad. “Like you say, why not?”

I turned my head and grinned. I couldn’t have made a pretty sight. I still hadn’t shaved and the scar on my face always showed worse then. “Wrong, baby. I’m a funny sort of guy. I never buy it. It gets given to me or I take it.”

“Should I be frightened?” She laughed again and sat down.

“Not tonight, kid. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” I closed my eyes and settled back. “What do you want?”

“A story.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I could feel her smiling. “My name is Karen Morgan. I’m with Barrett Syndicated Features and I’d like to get some background on Tucker Stacy, and, of course, you and your plans. You may not know it, but Mr. Stacy’s activities were of great interest statewide.”

“Honey,” I said, “cut the crap.”

I opened my eyes and she was watching me, the softness gone from her face. She was steady, studying me, waiting. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“Tuck’s death is only a local matter,” I said.

Her tongue touched her lips. “All right, I’ll come clean,” she said. “There’s been speculation.”

“How about that.”

“Aren’t you interested?”

“Kid, Tuck and I faced death plenty of times. You’re bound to gel it someday anyway. I’ve had a plane torn apart under me in a storm.”

“Have you checked the weather for the day he died? Several planes flew through that line squall without any difficulty.”

“Sugar, inside a thunderhead...”

“There weren’t any severe ones. I have verified pilot reports to that effect. So does Miami. The squall line was light. A Cessna 90 and two Tripacers passed through it.”

“So?”

“So there’s been some speculation...”

I twisted on the couch and propped my head in my hand. “What about?”

Her smile was almost disarming. “Were you ever a policeman?”

“No, but I’ve operated in their area of work.”

“Very well. Mr. Stacy, it was rumored, was not above turning a dishonest dollar.”

“With all his loot and his investment here it doesn’t sound reasonable, honey. As an airport, the Capital K is a going concern. Try again.”

She stood up quickly, frowning in concentration, and walked toward me. There was a “woman-with-a-mission” look spread right across her face. “A few years ago he had nothing except a few surplus airplanes. Somehow he managed all this. It came suddenly and expanded fast. The big question is why.”

“He was lucky, baby.”

“All right. Then the big question is how. ”

I shrugged. Tuck’s business was no affair of mine. “Where do I come in?”

She found my eyes with hers. “Supposing he did have an illegal operation going somewhere, then the possibility of his having been killed would be increased, correct?”

I nodded noncommittally.

“And there’s a possibility that he would have left some record of a sort.”

I nodded again.

“If I could see his papers... or whatever effects he left... I might be able to come up with a story.” She paused and gave an impatient toss of her head. Hair swirled across her shoulders like a golden wave. “You inherit his property. You could let me do this. Will you?”

“Maybe,” I said. “What’ll you give me?”

Her eyebrows raised. “What... do you want?”

“Try me and see.”

For three full seconds she stood there, a curious smile toying with the edges of her mouth. Then her hands went to the buttons of her jacket and flipped them open. She dropped it to the floor, then did the same thing to her blouse. There was another minute pause before her fingers went to the hooks of the brassiere at her back. With a motion of her shoulders, she let it slip down her arms, dangled it a moment in her fingers, then dropped that, too.

The smile was gone now. In its place there was an intense, sultry look she couldn’t conceal. Her breasts were magnificently full, seeming to pulsate with pressure that wanted to burst through the taut red nipples. Her breath was jerky and a shudder went through her shoulders to twist down into the supple, trim waist that flowed into her skirt.

I hadn’t moved. I just watched her. It was something she had never done before and showed it, and the doing had turned her into a person she had tried hard to conceal. She swayed toward me and in another moment would have taken the step that would put her inside my reach. Already I could see her hand groping, feeling for the zipper at her side.

I got up quickly, walked to the door and turned around. “Nice act, Lois, but you’ll never make the big time.”

It was as if I had belted her. The longing disappeared and for a moment there was a hint of fear, then something else.

“Lois?” she said.

“We’ve met before, baby. You didn’t get what you came after then, either.”

From the air the runway system of Tuck’s airport was shaped like a capital K, and that’s how it got its name. It was built during the war as an auxiliary to nearby Martin AAFB, but not enough B-24s or 17s put down there to cave in the runways so it was in top shape. Tuck had erected a fine operations building, attached a lounge and restaurant, added a motel unit and a group of specialty shops built around a generous swimming pool. There was a golf course bordering the south edge of the field, several tennis courts, an adjacent highway and, at the far end of the field, away from the social center, the hangar area. Not a very military setup, but a profitable deal in these days of fly-in vacations. At night, each burning light read like a dollar sign. The motel units were filled, maintenance and repair was going on around the clock in the hangars, and overhead was the sporadic drone of light planes coming into the pattern.