WATCH THE POLARIS, he’d said. As far as I knew, the Polaris hadn’t stirred from its dock space since Girgis was killed.
Also, I was sure Marie wouldn’t have lied to me about Girgis’s refusing to touch heroin.
But if Watch the Polaris was what he’d said, then Watch the Polaris was what I’d do. I’d do anything, at this stage.
I suddenly had my old mad on at cops again. They were all so damned superior. The only thing they really had going for them, besides the badge and the pension, was their great ability for blindly taking orders. I had failed every obedience test they’d given me since I was a kid.
The idea about the jockstrap was a good one, though. I had to admit it. It irked me that I hadn’t thought of it myself. There was a little Greek notions store not too far beyond the taverna, and I walked down there to buy one. It would save me having to walk, or take Sonny’s boat, into the Port.
When I passed the taverna, Gruner had left. Jim Kirk had ridden up, with Jane Duval on behind, a while before. I assumed Gruner had talked to him and gone. To pack his bag, and catch his plane.
The jockstrap helped a lot, right away, when I got it home and put it on. I was feeling pretty damn good with a drink in my hand when the phone rang. I should have known better.
It was Kronitis.
I had to go through the whole rigmarole. The suspicious male secretary, the old man himself, his arsenal of formal salutations.
“I’m calling to see if you have, uh, made any progress. On our case,” he said at last.
“I’m making some progress,” I said. “I’ve found out that one suspect isn’t the murderer.”
There was a pause. “But you haven’t found out who is the, uh, murderer?” he asked.
“No, sir, I haven’t. But I’ve been doing an awful lot of work. And I’ve been spending a good deal of physical effort and energy.” I thought that was fair to say. “I’ve got a lot more work scheduled to do in the next couple of days.”
His voice got more steely. “I see.”
“You may not know it, Mr. Kronitis,” I said, “but there’s been another murder over here.”
He sounded shocked. “Another one?”
“Yes, sir. That young American girl, the skindiver. She—”
“Oh, I know all about that. The girl who was hit by a boat. The police have declared her death accidental.”
“Well, I think it was murder,” I said. “And I think the same person who killed Girgis killed the girl.”
“Well, I’m sorry about all that,” Kronitis said. “Naturally, I’m sorry the girl was killed. But I’m not interested in the death of this girl. I’m only interested in the killing of Girgis Stourkos. And I’m afraid I’m going to have to terminate our little affair.”
It was my turn to pause. “Has Pekouris been talking to you?” I said sharply.
“Pekouris? The Inspector? No. No, I haven’t spoken to him since the last time I telephoned you, Mr. Davies. No, that’s not what the problem is. The problem is the, uh, tourist season.”
“Well, that’s the ax Pekouris is grinding,” I said.
“The tourist season is of interest to other people. Much bigger than Pekouris.”
That gave me the right to another pause. “I see,” I said finally; I couldn’t think of anything else. What I was wondering was whether I could trust Kronitis or not. I was remembering Gruner’s sharp look when I’d mentioned him.
“So I’m afraid I’m going to have to un-hire you, Mr. Davies. I’m sorry about that. But I’m un-hiring you as of right now. As of this phone call. It’ll do no good to discuss it more.”
“All right, sir,” I said. “If that’s the way you feel. I’ll have my check for your retainer in the mail to you tomorrow. I’ll include a bill for what my services are. You can mail me a check here.”
“No, no,” he said. “No, no. I don’t want the retainer.”
“You’ll be getting it anyway,” I said.
“No, no. That was a calculated risk I took with you, Mr. Davies. We took a gamble together. It didn’t work out. Fine. I lost it fairly and squarely. You are to keep it.”
“I’m sending it back anyway,” I said shortly.
“I insist that you keep it.”
I didn’t answer him.
“Are you planning on leaving the island right away?”
I thought that was a funny question, coming from him. “No. I’m not,” I said. “I thought I’d stick around a while. At least until my vacation is over.”
There was a pause. “All right. I hope we’ll have an opportunity to see each other.” He started in on his interminable signing-off routine. I cut him off.
“Goodbye, Mr. Kronitis. I’m busy as hell,” I said, and hung up.
Screw him. The hell with him. I didn’t want a client who was always trying to back out. Especially when I wasn’t any longer sure I could trust him.
I decided Pete Gruner had told me quite a few things. After all.
So there I was. I looked at the phone. I didn’t give a damn about his money—I stopped myself. That was a lie. I did care about his money. I cared about it a lot. I needed that money, bad. But the worst thing was that now, without him as a client, I didn’t have an official status with the police at all. And he must know that. If that was what Pekouris was working for, he had achieved it. I didn’t believe Kronitis. I thought Pekouris had talked to him a second time.
I went over and sat down to think it over. My side felt hot, and my crotch ached. And now I was out of a job. As soon as I had myself arranged so that I could rest comfortably, the damned phone rang again. This time it was Chantal.
She didn’t waste any time honey-talking me.
“I want to see you. I have to talk to you.” She was using her cold, professional-Countess voice.
“Okay,” I said. “Don’t bite yourself. I’ll be up there later tonight. You’ve got a dinner party somewhere, haven’t you? Is it anything that can’t wait till tonight?”
“Yes. It is. I mean, it can’t wait. I want to see you, and I want to see you right now,” she said.
“Listen. Just cool it. What’s so awful?”
“I don’t want to talk about it over the telephone. And it’s personal.”
I thought it over. I didn’t feel much like going out anywhere. I hadn’t even wanted to go up there later on tonight.
“Okay, I’ll come right up. About half an hour.”
She hung up without saying goodbye. I wondered what that was all about. It couldn’t be because she was complaining about last night. But it had to be more bad news of some kind.
I went over to the lockup closet and unlocked it and got out my locked briefcase, where I kept my New York check book. My secreted evidence, the machete, was still there, leaning against the shelves.
But as I started to write Kronitis his check, it occurred to me there might not be enough money in the New York account to cover it.
I still had his four thousand in cash locked in the briefcase. I hadn’t gotten around to putting it in the bank here.
I put the check book back in the briefcase with the cash and locked it and locked the briefcase away with the machete again. I’d have to find some way of getting his own cash back to him.
I put the key in my pocket and got ready to leave and went outside and waved to a horsecab by the taverna. I didn’t feel up to hiking up the hill to Chantal’s on foot.