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

body was set before the entrance to the companion way.
    I was careful to give him only a glance, then walked on.
    It looked as if he were mounting guard which pointed to my hippy being below. I was pretty sure there would be no action until after midnight when the quay would thin out, so slightly increasing my stride, I headed for the Alameda bar at the far end of the quay.
    This was Wednesday night, and most of the bars were slack. They came alive at the weekends when the fishermen and the dock workers had money to burn.
    As I continued on my way, I saw a news-stall that sold paperbacks and newspapers. I jostled through the crowd.
    There were several of Russ Hamel’s books on display: all of them with sexy, lurid jackets. I bought one: Love is a Lonely Thing. The girl on the jacket looked pensive. She had traffic-stopping breasts.
    I continued on until I reached the Alameda bar. The entrance was guarded by an anti-fly curtain. Pushing this aside, I walked into a big room with a horse-shoe shaped bar to my left, a dais on which a negro pianist played soft, mournful jazz, and a number of tables scattered around, laid for eating.
    There were more than a dozen men up at the bar. Three Mexican waiters, in black, wearing long white aprons, stood around, trying to look busy. The barkeep was a big, fat Mexican who regarded me with an oily smile. He was bald, greasy, and sported a long, drooping moustache.
    The men at the bar were tough looking fishermen. None of them bothered to look my way. I went over to one of the distant tables and sat down, placing Hamel’s book on the table.
    One of the waiters, young, dark, came over, and lifted his eyebrows.
    “What have you got?” I asked.
    “Our special, Signor. Arroz con pollo. Very good.”
    “What’s that mean?”
    “Young chicken, rice, red peppers, asparagus tips. Very special.”
    “Okay, and Scotch on the rocks.”
    I saw him looking at the girl on the paperback.
    “Some chick, huh?” I said.
    He gave me a long stare, then walked away. Settling myself on the chair, I lit a cigarette and picked up the book. I learned from the blurb on the back cover that: this explosive novel, written by the sensational master of American fiction, soon to be a motion picture, has already sold over 5,000,000 copies.
    The fat barkeep came over and put a Scotch on the rocks on the table. He showed me yellow teeth in a friendly smile, then returned to the bar.
    After a ten minute wait, I got served. I was hungry, and the chicken looked good. The waiter put the dish before me, nodded and joined the other waiters.
    While I was helping myself, three tourists came in: two elderly women and a youth festooned with cameras. They sat down away from me.
    I ate. The chicken was tough, and the peppers hot, but I had eaten worse. It was while I was dissecting the drumstick, a woman came from behind a curtain at the far end of the room, paused to look around, then came over to my table.
    She had thick hair, dyed the colour of mashed carrots.
    She had good features, a lush body, showed to advantage by white, skin tight trousers, and a green halter that just kept her breasts under control, but only just. She paused at my table and smiled. Her white teeth were too regular to be her own.
    “Enjoying it?” she asked.
    I guessed she was Gloria Cort.
    I gave her my sexy smile.
    “A lot better now you have arrived.”
    She laughed.
    “Lonely?”
    I noticed the three tourists were staring with disapproval. I half got up and eased out of the chair.
    “Have a drink with me.”
    She signalled and the waiter came across like a grey-hound out of the trap.
    “Scotch,” she said, and sat down. “You’re a stranger here,” she went on. “I’m good at remembering faces.”
    I stared hard at her breasts.
    “I would remember if I had seen you before.”
    Again she laughed.
    “I see you’re reading one of my ex’s books.”
    I put on a surprised expression.
    “Come again. Did you say your husband’s