Free Crime of Their Life by Frank Kane Page A

is, if you’d like to?”
    “Best offer I’ve had today. But that Piccadilly Bar is jammed. You can cut the smoke with a knife. How about having a drink of some of my private stock? I picked it up in Barbados.”
    The redhead frowned slightly. “In your cabin?” She considered for a moment, shook her head. “You have no idea how these stewards gossip. I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to be seen going into your cabin.” She hesitated for a moment, turned the full power of the slanted eyes on him. “I don’t think there’d be quite as much talk if you were seen going into mine, though. Especially at this hour. And we did some shopping in Barbados, too.”
    “You talked me into it.” He dropped his butt over the railing, let the redhead lead him toward the forward companionway.
    The Keens had a cabin de luxe on the lower promenade deck. The redhead opened the door, led the way in. The sitting room was comfortably furnished with a sofa, a couple of small tables and some upholstered chairs. The entrance to the bedroom beyond was curtained.
    Maurie Handel sat in one of the chairs, facing the door. He held a .45 in his hand that was aimed at a spot a few inches above Liddell’s belt buckle. Wordlessly, he waved Johnny in with the muzzle of the gun.
    The redhead waited until Liddell was in the room, closed and bolted the door after him. She walked over to a table against the wall that held some liquor, made herself a drink, turned, leaned her hips against the edge of the table.
    “Do you always greet your wife’s guests with a .45?” Liddell asked amiably. “I was invited in for a shot. I didn’t know it was going to be a shot in the head.”
    “Very funny,” Handel conceded. “So the boys found out I was on this boat and they flew you down to look me over, to make sure it was the right guy, huh? But you got to report back to them before they’ll know whether or not it pays them to meet the boat. And maybe you won’t be in any condition to report.”
    “You’re scaring me to death, Maurie,” Liddell said. “You know I never bird dogged a pigeon for a hit in my life. And I’m not going to start dirtying my hands with something like you.” He ignored the gun in the man’s hand, walked over to the table with the liquor. “How about that drink you promised me, doll?”
    The redhead chewed at her lower lip, looked nervously from Liddell to her husband and back. “Is he right? Is that why you’re on board? To set him up for the organization?”
    Liddell reached out, caught the scotch bottle by the neck, spilled some into a glass. He dropped some ice into it, swirled the liquor over the ice. “What do you think?” Handel was on his feet, the cords in his neck showing. “Turn around, Liddell. Unless you want to get it in the back.” There was a shrill note of desperation in the disbarred lawyer’s voice. “I didn’t get you in here so you could get cozy with my wife. I brought you here because if it’s either you or me, I intend to walk away from it.”
    Liddell turned, studied the man’s face. There was a faint twitch under his left eye, a thin film of perspiration glistened on his upper lip. “You always do, don’t you, counselor?” He took a long swallow from the glass. “That why you’re so scared?”
    “They’re not scaring me.” He hit his chest with the side of his hand. “They’re not scaring me even a little bit. So they sent you to make sure they got the right guy. So what? There are still four stops on this cruise and they can’t cover them all.”
    Liddell finished the drink, set his glass down on the table. “You’re not scared? Then how come you’re shaking yourself apart?” He dropped his eye to the whitened knuckle on the trigger. “That why you killed Harry Landers? Because you found out he was a private eye and you figured he was sent to finger you?”
    Maurie Handel’s jaw went slack, he stared at Liddell. “The guy who went over the side? That was an