Free The Big Bite by Gerry Travis Page B

than I, surely.”
    “I suppose so.” The more he thought of this, the stranger it became. It just didn’t ring right, beginning with her stepping on her own glasses. “I’ll do what I can, but you must realize that Curtis takes priority.”
    “I accept those terms.” She rose. “First, let’s make it look as though none of this happened.”
    Together they straightened everything. He went toward the kitchen for a drink of water and she called, “There’s a bottle of Irish in the cupboard. Will you mix us a drink? I want to change.”
    He mixed two, drank one himself, and mixed another. Taking the drinks, he returned to the living room and sat on the divan, staring broodingly at the repaired tape recorder.
    She came out of the bedroom freshly showered and wearing an evening gown of jade green, cut very low in the back and not much higher in front. She had done things to her hair and put on make-up. Knox rose and held out her drink to her. She reached for it slowly, as though without her glasses she was definitely unsure of herself.
    She sat beside him. Knox drank and looked and found it good. The leathery Doctor Fisher was no more. In her place, he saw a tall woman, a bit too slender, perhaps, but with a full sufficiency of figure to fill out the evening gown. Having no glasses to cover them, her eyes revealed a good deal, but none of it appeared to be academic.
    “Very nice.” He drank half his drink. “Very nice, indeed.”
    “I thought we might go to the casino later,” she murmured.
    Knox went to the kitchen and brought back the bottle of Irish and a pitcher of ice. She looked approvingly as he set them down within easy reach. He said, “First, let’s talk about what happened here.”
    “This wasn’t the first thing that’s happened since I came,” she said. She let Knox replenish her drink.
    “This has happened before?”
    “Not the same thing. It was the night after Mr. Curtis disappeared. There were just three of us here at the time—Senor Gomez, his shadow, and myself.” She took a deep swallow from her glass.
    “I was coming from dinner,” she said. “It was dark. There was a piece of moon but not enough to be of help. As I stepped to my door, one of the shadows moved.” Her eyes widened with the memory and she shuddered delicately. “It was quite frightening.”
    “I can imagine.” Knox still wasn’t sure what was coming.
    She had the rest of her drink and stared into the bottom of the glass as if to find inspiration there. “Frightening,” she repeated. “Especially when the shadow put its arms around me and a hand over my mouth. And, at the same time, kicked my door with its foot.”
    “You say ‘it.’ Do you mean ‘he’?”
    “Up to that moment,” she said with scientific precision, “I had no way of knowing what sex I was dealing with. But when I’m frightened, I panic. I’m quite strong for a woman. I kicked down with these spike heels and bit the hand over my mouth. I don’t think I did much harm, but my assailant made noises of pain and took away the hand.”
    “Then?” Despite himself, Knox found he was growing interested. She held out her glass. He refilled it. She drank.
    “Thank you. Then, just as I was gathering myself together to scream, I was kissed. And I knew the shadow was a man.”
    “Mmm.”
    “Mmm, indeed. Don’t you think I’ve been kissed, Mr. Knox?”
    It was not a question Knox had considered up to now. He surveyed her gravely, and nodded. “More than once,” he said.
    “And then some,” she said cryptically. “I felt his chin against mine. It had been shaved recently but hastily. I felt a few whiskers. And I smelled, but strongly, the same odor I had smelled on his hand. Now I was able to identify it.”
    “Odor?” Had she brought in the subject of odor before? He reached for the bottle. It was strong Irish.
    “Masculine odor—after-shave lotion. A very nice odor. Do you use after-shave lotion, Mr. Knox?”
    “No.”
    Leaning