Soma Blues (17 page)

“Do I have the pleasure of meeting Señor Arranque?” Hob asked.

“That’s right. Finally come around, have you?” Arranque said. “Well, come on out and meet the boys.”

Hob advanced cautiously through the door into a sort of rustic living room. It was quite large. There was furniture scattered here and there. Tattered overstuffed couches that looked as if they had been retired from some tarted-up second-rate hotel in the Hebrides kept company with a couple of wingback chairs that had done their best flying some years ago.

The “boys” that Arranque had referred to were sitting on the far side of the room in straight-backed wooden chairs on either side of a card table. They seemed to be playing a double solitaire. One of them looked up briefly and waved a negligent finger. The other continued to study his cards.

It took Hob a moment to place them. Then he had it. These were the two ersatz Special Branch guys he’d found in Lorne’s apartment, who’d evidently coshed him and brought him here—wherever here was.

“Come on in and take a seat,” Arranque said. His voice, while not effusive, was not unfriendly. “What about a nice cup of tea? And a nice aspirin? You’ll feel good as new.”

Hob tottered into the room. There was an upholstered chair conveniently close to the storeroom door. He dropped into it. The springs were not the best, but he was grateful to be able to assume the reclinlinear position.

“You look awful,” Arranque said. His voice might have been mildly concerned. He turned to the boys. They weren’t wearing their raincoats now.

“Hey, what did you do to this guy? Drop a sack of bricks on him?”

Light raincoat said, in an aggrieved tone, “I just coshed him once on the back of the head.”

“Damn it, I told you not to get rough with him.”

“Well, I had to stop him, didn’t I? What would you have said if I’d just let him continue his mad bolt to freedom? Eh?”

“All right,” Arranque said. Turning to Hob he said, “Sorry about that. There wasn’t supposed to be any rough stuff. If you’d just followed the boys like a normal person, there’d have been no trouble.”

Light raincoat said to Hob, “I really hated to do it, guv. I’m no thug. But the way you were going, I had to stop you fast or never see you again. And Joe wouldn’t have liked that.”

Hob said, “What did you do to Lorne?”

“The jig? Nothing. He’s probably still playing his saxophone and shaking in his Clark’s desert boots. We’re not murderers.”

Dark raincoat lifted his head from the cards and gave light raincoat a quizzical look. Light raincoat shrugged and said, “Well, not usually. At least we’re not
casual
murderers.”

Arranque said, “Okay, boys, thanks a lot. Wait in the anteroom, will you?”

They both stood up, giving Arranque looks. Arranque said, “Don’t worry about
him.
He’s not going to give me any trouble. Are you, sweetheart?” .

Hob, sitting back in the padded chair with the bad springs, had to agree, though he didn’t say anything. The bogus Special Branch men left, putting on their light and dark raincoats before they went out. Through the opened front door Hob could see that there
was
a bit of a drizzle.

“Sorry for the trouble,” Arranque said, “but it was important that I see you right away.”

“You could have called and made an appointment,” Hob said. “For that matter, how did you know where to find me?”

“It’s my business to know things like that,” Arranque said. “You’ve become a problem to me, Mr. Draconian. Did you know that?”

“I had no idea,” Hob said.

“Luckily, there’s something I can do about it. But that’s later. Right now, there’s someone to see you.”

Arranque opened the door and said, “Come on in, sweetheart.” And in walked Annabelle.

8

She had on a new outfit, a jumpsuit in a color between orange and red and a bright-colored belt to emphasize her small waist. A black-and-white checked silk scarf was thrown across her shoulder.

“Oh, Hob,” she said, in a voice that seemed to imply it was Hob’s fault that he was here. Then she turned to Arranque, who was standing in the doorway behind her. “You haven’t hurt him, have you?”

“He’s fine,” Arranque said. “Bright and bushy-tailed as the North Americans say.”

“Let me speak to him alone,” Annabelle said.

She stepped into the room. Arranque left, closing the door behind him.

Annabelle looked around. “Why, this place is filthy!” She dusted off one of the chairs with a tiny perfumed hanky and sat down gingerly. “I don’t want to get runs in my stockings. Oh, Hob, why did you follow me to London?”

Hob was already seated. He said, “It’s what you wanted me to do, isn’t it?”

“Of course I did. But I was hoping in my heart of hearts you’d see through my plan and stay as far away from here as possible. Oh, Hob, you’re so clever. I’ve always admired your intelligence, did you know that? Why couldn’t you see that Arranque was certain to have a hold on me, since he hadn’t killed me after he killed Stanley? Why couldn’t you see that?”

It was not the first time Hob had tried to find a way to deal with a woman’s misplaced self-righteousness. Kate had had that quality, too. She had left Hob and blamed him for it. And now Annabelle was blaming Hob for walking into the trap she had set.

“If I had it all to do over again,” Hob said, “I would have seen a lot of other things, and acted quite differently. I’d have seen through you at once, for one thing.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d do in the first place,” Annabelle said. “I feel bad about this, but it’s really not my fault. Hob, I refuse to feel guilty.”

“Over what?”

“This situation you’ve set up by following me to London. It’s not my fault if you’re going to get killed. You’re a big boy. You’re supposed to be able to look after yourself.”

Hob decided to make believe he hadn’t heard what she’d said. Maybe she was just being dramatic.

He said soothingly, “No sense guilt-tripping yourself for luring me to this place.”

She took it the wrong way. “Damn you, you’re being clever now, aren’t you? But you’re wrong. You can’t blame me for this situation! I had to do it!”

“Why?” Hob asked.

“For one thing, my own life was in danger. But another and more important reason is that I have responsibilities! I’m not like you. You can just run around and please yourself. But I have a child in school in Switzerland. A minor child not yet fifteen years old! And no husband! There’s no one to take care of her except me. I have to keep myself alive for her.”

“I suppose,” Hob said, “where a child’s welfare is at stake, anything is justified.”

“You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you? Oh, you’re such a male chauvinist pig,” Annabelle said.

Hob didn’t see how that followed, but he didn’t respond.

“A real mother would do anything for her kid,” Annabelle said.

“That’s very moving, Annabelle,” Hob said. “Your passion for your child does you great credit. You’re a mother and that of course excuses everything. Now, if you’re finished scolding me, would you mind telling me what in hell is going on?”

Instead she looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh, Hob. You were warned off this thing. Why didn’t you give it up?”

Hob said, “I’m a private detective. I was hired to find Stanley’s murderer.”

“Everybody knows your private detecting is a joke. Why did you push it so far?”

“A joke? What do you mean, a joke?”

“It’s something you do to keep up your self-respect. Like half the people on Ibiza say they paint or write or compose. But they’re not serious. It’s just something to talk about at parties. I thought it was that way with you, too. I had no idea you’d go on trying to find out who killed Stanley.”

“He was your friend,” Hob pointed out. “I’d think you’d be interested.”

She shook her head impatiently. “I know who killed him. And why.”

“Would you mind telling me?”

“Stanley was trying to sell the soma I gave him. This was before I knew how stupid a move I’d made. Before I even knew about Arranque and the others. All I knew was Etienne had scored, and he wasn’t sharing it with me.”

“So the soma came from Etienne?”

“Of course. I thought you knew that.”

“I guess I could have figured it out if I’d put my mind to it. And where did Etienne get it?”

“He got it at the meeting in Havana. It was his allotment.”

“What meeting in Havana? What allotment?”

She tried to make herself comfortable on the sagging chair. Her skirt was riding up over her beautiful knees. She tugged it down but it rode up again. She forgot about it.

“This was a couple of months ago. Etienne and I were an item for a while, you know. He’s a beautiful guy, and really classy. And it seemed like he had all the money in the world. I thought he was rich. He acted like he was rich. I didn’t know then that he was on an allowance from his father. It wasn’t much. But it came with an airline pass good for going anywhere in the world. He could take me or anyone else he pleased on that pass. And he knew people all over the world. We could stay with his rich friends in all sorts of places, get by without money at all. That’s how we got to Havana. Etienne had heard something was going on there. He wanted to check it out.”

Annabelle opened her bag and searched until she found a crushed and almost empty pack of cigarettes. She extracted a bent one, straightened it out, and lit it with what looked to Hob like a solid gold Dunhill lighter.

“Well, it turned out this meeting in Havana was a sort of underworld get-together for the purpose of giving out territories.”

“Territories?” Hob said.

“In a new dope trade. This soma. It’s the latest thing, you know. Etienne had heard about the meeting from some of the men who work for his father. That’s Silverio Vargas. He’s got a fabulous finca on the island, and he’s very rich. But he keeps Etienne on a tight leash. So Etienne decided to go into business for himself.”

She paused and inhaled dramatically. “I wasn’t paying much attention to all this. Havana was just another resort to me. I spent most of my time on Veradero Beach. Etienne got his consignment or whatever you want to call it, and we went back to Ibiza.”

“And back in Ibiza you took his dope?” Hob asked.

“Well, I needed money. Badly. I told you, I’ve got a kid in a private school in Switzerland. Whatever else I do, I keep the school bills paid so she can stay there. She’s going to have a better life than her mom ever had, I can tell you that. And Etienne had understood this from the beginning. He knew that I didn’t come free. I couldn’t afford that, not with a kid in private school. He understood I had to have money. Not a lot of money, but enough money to pay my bills and take care of my kid. And he said, don’t worry, no sweat, I’ll get it for you. Only he didn’t. And we came back from Havana and all that talk and he had the stuff, the soma, with him, but he didn’t have a damned cent in cash money. And my bills were overdue. So finally I had to act. Etienne took his Montessa and went across the island for somebody’s birthday. He was gone for two days. While he was away, I took his stash and made a deal with Stanley.”

“Why Stanley?” Hob asked.

“I don’t know if you ever really knew Stanley. He was good people. He was trustworthy. He said he knew plenty of people in Paris who were interested in a new turn-on. He’d sell the stuff and we’d split what he got fifty-fifty. This wasn’t the first deal we’d done. I knew I could trust Stanley.

“Well, Etienne came back, and he was furious when he found his dope missing. I thought I could just wait till he got over it—this wasn’t the first time I’d snitched somebody’s stash; they always come around after a while. But this time it wasn’t that simple. There was all this stuff about soma being a new drug, and people being assigned exclusive territories, and everybody under a vow not to sell any until it was time for everyone to start selling.”

“When was the selling supposed to start?” Hob asked.

“After the hotel opening,” Annabelle said. “Well, he was mad as hell, Etienne, and he was scared, too, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Stanley was in Paris, and I didn’t even have a telephone number for him. Etienne said we were finished, and he moved out of my place. And he told what happened to Arranque. He had to, I guess. And Arranque came to see me.”

“When was this?” Hob asked.

“Just three days after we got back from Havana. It wasn’t a very nice meeting. I thought at first I could bluff Arranque, but he beat me up. He was careful not to mark up my face, though. He had a thing for me as soon as he saw me, but he had to do what he had to do. He hurt me, Hob, and I told him everything I knew about Stanley and who he knew in Paris. And the funny thing was, I didn’t resent what he did, even though it hurt like hell. I knew he was right, by his standards. He was in charge of all the soma arrangements, and here I was screwing up his deal. He was accountable to people, and I was accountable to him. It’s funny how a thing like that can get you close to a person. After he beat me, he was crying—actually crying, Hob—and it came out that he thought I was so beautiful that it broke his heart having to beat me. And he took such great care not to mark me where it’d show. And one thing led to another, and we made love after that, and it was beautiful. And then he told me to keep my mouth shut until he came back, and he left, and the next thing I heard was that he and Etienne had gone to Paris to get hold of Stanley and get the dope back. And then I heard Stanley was dead, so I guess he’d sold the stuff already, and Arranque was doing the best he could to plug the leak.”