Vince Salermo was a small, compact man, not more than five foot four. He was deeply tanned, nearly bald and in his early fifties. His double-breasted suit was a midnight black. Salermo’s office aboard the Encantada was large and without a desk.
The gambler, smiling, sat in a leather armchair at the left of the room. A lean blond man, considerably younger than Salermo, leaned against the wall near a porthole. A third man, large and wide, stood just to the rear of the leather chair with both hands in his trouser pockets.
Groucho, in his shirt sleeves, was sitting in a folding metal chair facing Salermo. When I was shoved into the office, he stood up and scrutinized me. “Are you that strange green shade because you’re seasick?” he asked me.
“I think it’s mostly from being bopped on the head with a blackjack.”
Turning toward the gangster, Groucho said, “I’ve been behaving in my usual amiable fashion thus far, Salermo. And you’ve been telling me this is just supposed to be a friendly get-together.”
“It is, Groucho. Relax.” He spread his small hands wide, smiling more broadly.
“It’s bad enough you kidnapped me,” continued Groucho, angry. “But you also kidnap my friend and associate here—and then rough him up.”
“Please, Groucho,” said Salermo. “I’ve been trying to explain that you and Denby weren’t supposed to be harmed. I told my people simply to invite you over for a friendly chat.”
Ignoring him, Groucho came over to where I was standing. “Are you okay?”
“More or less,” I answered, feeling gingerly at the bump on my head. “Two of them were waiting for me when I got home from Bel Air. When I refused to go anyplace with them, the larger one bopped me with—”
“You came near to busting Eddie’s nose when you swung on him,” Salermo said, still smiling, though not as broadly. “I’m not saying, Groucho, that Eddie didn’t exceed his authority in the matter. But surely you can see how he got temporarily angry and lost control of—”
“What I see is that you fellows could end up in Alcatraz for kidnapping.”
Salermo glanced over at the younger man. “Did you hear that, Bud?” They both laughed. “You’ll never prove anything like that,” he said. “Not in California.”
“They all think Mr. Salermo is a saint hereabouts,” Bud added.
Groucho gave an annoyed sigh and nodded at the chair. “Sit down, Frank.”
“Thanks.” It was the only chair in the room besides Salermo’s, so I dropped into it.
Groucho turned to the gangster. “Okay, this wasn’t a kidnapping, you didn’t slug my friend,” he began. “Suppose you tell us now why the hell we’re here.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do, Groucho,” Salermo said. “It recently came to my attention that you were interested in the same unfortunate young lady that we are.”
“Peg McMorrow,” I said quietly.
Groucho took a step in the gangster’s direction. “What did you have to do with her death, Salermo?”
Salermo held up his left hand and made a stop-right-there gesture. “Hey, you’re missing the point,” he said. “From what I’ve been hearing, Groucho, you don’t believe the girl committed suicide.”
“I don’t, no.”
“We don’t think so either,” continued the gambler. “Who do you think killed Peggy and passed it off as a suicide?”
“We haven’t gotten that far yet,” Groucho answered. “But you’re supposed to have a fairly cordial relationship with the law. They know a hell of a lot more about Peg McMorrow’s death than we do at the moment, Salermo. Why not ask them to show you what—”
“I’m working on that angle, too,” said Salermo. “Trouble is, Groucho, the cops in Bayside aren’t as cordially disposed toward me as the cops in some of the other towns around here. In fact, a few bastards on the Bayside force hate my guts.”
“Sergeant Branner,” Bud muttered, making a spitting noise.
I rubbed at the back of my head again and asked Salermo, “Why are you interested in Peg McMorrow at all?”
“I liked the kid, in a purely avuncular way,” he replied. “She came out here to the boat a few times with Shel Leverson, a business associate of mine.”
“She was going with him,” said Groucho.
“Not recently. They broke up a while back, but naturally Shel’s concerned about what’s happened.”
“Why isn’t he at our little powwow?”
“He wanted to be, Groucho, but he had to go down to Mexico yesterday on important business. Naturally I’ll tell him whatever I find out.”
“She was out here on the Encantada just a few nights ago,” said Groucho.
Salermo shook his head. “No, that’s not true, Groucho. Is it, Bud?”
“No, Peggy hasn’t been around here for a hell of a long while.”
Groucho’s eyebrows rose and fell. “All right, Salermo, she wasn’t here,” he said. “Suppose you tell me your theories about what happened?”
“To put your mind at ease,” he said, smiling, “I didn’t invite you guys out here to sell you a line of crap, Groucho. What I mean is, we didn’t kill her, nobody associated with me killed her. I really am interested in the truth here—I want to know who killed the kid.”
“Rivals of yours maybe?”
“Possibly, but I doubt it.”
“Who then?”
“We don’t know yet,” admitted Salermo. “Maybe some of her movie friends, maybe some bastard she gave the cold shoulder to. I want you to tell me what you’ve dug up so far.”
Groucho moved nearer my chair and rested his right hand on the back of it. “We haven’t come up with much of anything yet,” he told the gangster. “And, I must tell you, Salermo, that being kidnapped by goons and taken on long ocean trips is simply going to interfere with any sort of investigating we are doing.”
“It won’t happen again.” He stopped smiling, studying Groucho’s face. “You really haven’t found out much?”
“Little of value,” Groucho said. He let go of the chair, took a few sliding steps to the right. “I hope you won’t think me unreasonably curious, but have you had us followed in recent days?”
Salermo said, “I instructed a few of my associates to keep an eye on you.”
“Did one of them telephone me,” I asked, “and suggest I get out of town?”
The gambler shook his head. “Nobody was told to threaten either one of you,” he assured us.
“And you didn’t send a lad with a forty-five to take a few shots at us this afternoon?”
“You have my word.”
“Then did the chap you had watching us happen to pot him?”
Salermo coughed into his fist. “You fellows are looking tired, Groucho,” he said, nodding toward Bud. “See that they get run back to shore and taken home. And no rough stuff, understand?”
“Absolutely not,” Bud said.
Salermo remained in his chair as Groucho helped me up. “We’ll keep in touch, Groucho,” he said, smiling. “And I hope there are no hard feelings. After all, we’re on the same side in this.”
“Why should we have hard feelings about being kidnapped and beaten?” asked Groucho, smiling a smile that was a parody of Salermo’s.
Bud crossed over to open the door of the cabin. “C’mon,” he said to us.
Salermo called, “By the way, what’s the title of your next movie, Groucho?”
“20,000 Years in Sing Sing,” answered Groucho and stepped out onto the deck.