Free Hard Case Crime: Honey in His Mouth by Lester Dent Page A

with words. It was his air.
    “Buy you a drink, Doctor?” They had long ago decided there was a chance Doctor Englaster’s office was bugged, and this was to let him know the news was private and dangerous.
    They went to a bar named Las Violetas which had once been third-rate but which had done well on nothing more than the strength of the fact that, in the days when he was only an army man, El Presidente had often stopped there. That was before El Presidente had a half dozen palaces, twenty sports cars, and a seraglio of teenage girls.
    Doctor Englaster ordered vermouth for them both without consulting his companion. Mr. Hassam detested vermouth straight, although he did not mind it in a Manhattan. The way Doctor Englaster ordered vermouth was a small sample of his little arrogant mannerisms.
    “Well, Mr. Hassam?”
    “What do you think of this thing he is going to pull off today, Doc? Offering to resign?”
    Doctor Englaster was not as surprised at the news as Mr. Hassam had been. Mr. Hassam abruptly realized, rather sheepishly, that the speech must have been made, and the resignation threat was old news. Doctor Englaster shrugged. “Well, it will work, of course. The cheers were terrific. The descamisada have turned against the church officials.”
    “Temporarily, don’t you mean?”
    “Oh, yes, that is how it will work.”
    “How temporarily?”
    “Not for long. He can never take God’s place with them. He may think he can. He may be that colossal a fool. But he will not do it.”
    Mr. Hassam decided not to touch his vermouth. “Here is what I really wanted to talk to you about...Brother says he has found exactly the man he has been seeking for these five years.”
    Doctor Englaster looked about nervously, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “The hell you say! Is that right? I mean, where did you see Brother? The fool, is he here, with times as they are?”
    “Oh, no. He is in a province called Missouri, in the U.S.A. I talked to him by telephone.” Mr. Hassam outlined what Brother had told him concerning Harsh.
    Doctor Englaster recovered his composure and again assumed his superior air. “I believe we all should have a look at this fellow Brother has found.”
    “I think so, too.” Mr. Hassam pushed the glass of vermouth aside. “Do you have a good excuse for taking a quick trip to Miami?”
    Doctor Englaster shrugged. “I had announced a planned vacation in Panama. I can easily disappear on a jungle hunting trip from there for a few days.”
    “How about Miss Muirz?”
    “She comes and goes at will, doesn’t she?” Doctor Englaster looked at Mr. Hassam meaningfully and rubbed a thumb and forefinger together as if counting money. “How much are you taking out to add to Our Lady of Hope Memorial Fund this time?”
    “In United States money, one million three hundred and ninety-four thousand dollars.”
    Doctor Englaster’s eyes glistened. “The take is dropping off.”
    “Yes.” Mr. Hassam shrugged. “Hardly worth getting hung for.”
    “That is not a very good joke.” Doctor Englaster spoke soberly. “We must be careful. Brother is periodically a paranoiac, not a dependable sort. But he is no idiot. He may indeed have found a double for El Presidente. Shall we drink to the possibility?”
    Mr. Hassam ignored the vermouth and picked up his glass of water for the toast.

EIGHT
    Instead of airliner-style seats, the plane boasted four private staterooms and a lounge furnished with deep chairs, a cocktail bar, and an office equipped with desk and dictating machines and chairs for conferences in midair. The pilot and co-pilot/steward wore puce-colored twill uniforms with every crease an edge and every button fastened, each cap peak set at an acute angle. The two crewmen looked efficient and close-mouthed. The color motif inside the airplane was all in tans and puce. There was a strip of the brown along the outside of the airplane and the interior upholstery was out of the same pot, custom