Free Free Fall in Crimson by John D. MacDonald Page A

hundred dollars each at that point.
    There was no clue as to when or where he got them, or at what price. They were way in the back of the hanging locker, in the pocket of one of his old tweed jackets that he never wore any more.
    When I lifted it out, it was so fantastically heavy. It made me so damn mad, him hiding something like that, like some sneaky little kid. But what has that got to do with anything, dear?"
    "Where there were ten, there could have been twenty, or forty. The ten you found were worth from five to six thousand dollars. What if he took half of what he had stashed?"
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    "Could be. Yes. Yes, damn it! Damn him."
    "So I'll go on from there, assuming he left half of them home and took half for the buy. And see what I can turn up. And I will look into the question of bikers, hard core."
    "How?"
    "I have a contact who has good reason to trust me."
    "Who?"
    "I am very glad you don't mind my calling you Annie."
    "I see. Okay. When are you leaving, dearest?"
    "Midmorning, I guess."
    She dipped a finger in her remaining half inch of Moselle and drew a slow circle on my chest.
    "Hmmm," she said.
    "Hmmm what?"
    "I guess everybody has heard that ancient joke about how do porcupines make love."
    "Very very carefully," I said.
    She reached and set her empty glass aside. Her eyes danced. "So?"
    I gathered her in. "Let me know if it gets to be not careful enough."
    Seven
    VVHEN I arrived back in Lauderdale the next morning at eleven o'clock I turned the little. car in at the airport and taxied back to Bahia Mar. After I dumped the laundry in the hamper aboard the Flush, showered, and changed to a fresh white knit shirt and khaki slacks, I checked the houseboat over to see if the phone was dead, or the batteries, or the freezer. I was hungry, and I decided I'd go over to the Beef 'n' It for their big sirloin-decided to walk over, as the miles in the little car had made me feel cramped. I fixed a Boodles on ice in one of the heavier old-fashioned glasses and carried it up to the sun deck to stand and survey what I could see of the yacht-basin world.
    I looked over toward the ships'-supplies place and was surprised to see the familiar lines and colors of Aggie Sloane's big Trumpy. I locked up and walked down there, glass in hand. There was a mild fresh breeze off the Atlantic that fluttered the canopy over the little topside area where Meyer and Aggie were hunched over a backgammon board. I hailed them, and Aggie invited me aboard. I went up and took a chair and said, "Go ahead. I don't want to interrupt the game."
    She said, "It might just be over. Meyer, take a look at this." She picked up the big doubling cube from her side of the board and plunked it down on his side. The number on top was 16.
    Meyer studied the board for a long time. He wore a sour expression. He sighed. "Too slim," he said. "No, thanks. Travis, if I take the double, she just might close her board on this roll."
    "Class tells," said Aggie, marking the score pad.
    "Aggie," I said, "you look fantastic."
    In her husky baritone she said, "Just because I had a few more tucks taken in this sagging flesh?
    Just because I got back down to one thirty? Just because I do one solid hour of disco every morning, starko, behind locked doors? Just because my hair is longer, and this is the best tint I've had in years, and my new contacts are this nice lavender color, and I'm off the booze, and after three years of shame I've been able to get back to bikinis? Thank you, darling McGee. I think I do look rather fantastic, comparatively speaking. I went through all this hell as a special present for good old Meyer."
    "Good old Meyer appreciates it, dear lady," he said. "It all fills me with awe. But I think you did it for the sake of your own morale."
    "Why is he so often right?" she asked me.
    "Because he is Meyer. It's a character flaw. What are you doing here anyway?"
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    She looked exasperated. "We are waiting for some kind of a turbo-seal whatsit that has