Free 1979 - A Can of Worms by James Hadley Chase Page A

shock of thick black hair, dressed in dirty white drill, slid around me, and into the lobby.
    I closed the door and motioned him into the living room. He stared around. His breathing came in quick gasps, and there was sweat on his face.
    “What’s your name, son?” I asked, and walked over to a chair and sat down.
    Still staring around, he began to chew his lower lip, then his black eyes shifted to me.
    “Joey. I work for Pete.”
    “You heard what happened to Pete?”
    He nodded, gulped, and his dirty hands turned into fists.
    “That was tough,” I said. “Sit down.”
    He hesitated, then sat on the edge of a chair, facing mine.
    “Why are you here Joey?”
    “Tom and me are brothers.”
    “Was Tom the one. . . .?”
    He gulped again, then nodded.
    “Joey, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
    His face tightened, and his eyes narrowed.
    “That doesn’t help,” he said, his voice husky. “Being sorry.”
    “I guess not. Why have you come here, Joey?”
    He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue.
    “You paid Pete twenty bucks to have Josh Jones watched, didn’t you?”
    I began to feel uneasy.
    “So?”
    “Pete told Tom and me to watch Jones. Pete said you would pay more when we had some info. Pete was square. He said we’d split the twenty three ways.”
    “Do you know who did the shooting?”
    “One of the three. I don’t know which one.”
    “What do you know?”
    He leaned forward, his black eyes glittering.
    “I know where those two are right now. Tom went to tell Pete. That’s when he got killed.”
    I began to sweat.
    “Have you told the cops, Joey?”
    “After what they did to my dad, I don’t talk to cops.”
    His black eyes turned vicious.
    “What happened to your dad, Joey?”
    “They put him away for ten years. He has another five years to go.”
    I began to relax.
    “So? Where are those two right now, Joey?”
    He studied me for a long moment, then he said, “What’s it worth to you, Mr. Anderson?”
    I took out my limp wallet and checked its contents without letting Joey see. I thumbed out a $10 bill and held it up.
    He shook his head.
    “I could get killed like Tom.”
    “Not if you are careful, Joey.”
    “I could get killed,” he said quietly.
    Reluctantly, I added another $10 bill.
    “That’s it, Joey. I’m short.”
    He hesitated, then reaching forward, took the two bills.
    “They are at the Alameda bar.”
    I gaped at him.
    “That I don’t believe.”
    “This morning at five o’clock, Jones and the other two left Jones’ place and went to the Alameda bar,” Joey said.
    “They went in by the back way, and then Jones returned to his place. My brother, Jimbo, is there now, watching.”
    “You have another brother, Joey?”
    “Yes. He worked for Pete too.”
    “Keep watching. I’ll pay you more later. I want to know if they move, and be careful.”
    He got to his feet, tucked the two bills into his hip pocket, nodded and made for the door.
    “Hold it, Joey. Where can I find you?”
    “Lobster Court. It’s right by Crab Court. No 2. Top floor. My brothers and I have a room.”
    “How about your mother?”
    “She killed herself when they took dad,” Joey said, his face wooden. “There’s only Jimbo and me now.”
    “Watch out, Joey,” I said.
    I saw him to the front door, then walked back to the lounging chair and sat down.
    I did some thinking. Pofferi and his wife had been hiding on the pirates’ island. Nancy had visited them and had taken them ort the yacht back to the harbour. Josh Jones then had taken them to his room, and later to the Alameda bar. Why had he taken them there? It seemed to me that Jones, through Gloria Cort, had done a deal with Diaz to hide these two: a much safer hiding place than keeping them in his (Jones’) room. He had gone to Gloria because, as Hamel’s ex-wife, she knew him, crewman of the yacht. So far, this made sense, but what didn’t make sense was why a nice girl like Nancy should be helping a couple of