The Thousand Faces of Night - Jack Higgins [18]
Marlowe mounted the stairs and opened the door of the office. There were two other men present besides Kennedy. The one who sat behind the desk was young and dark haired with sharp, crafty eyes. The other reclined in an old easy chair, the springs of which sagged dangerously. He was the fattest man Marlowe had ever seen, with a great, fleshy face that carried an expression of perpetual good humour and candid blue eyes that sparkled merrily.
Kennedy turned quickly, an expression of alarm on his face and Marlowe smiled contemptuously. 'For Christ's sake, Kennedy, try not to look as though you're going to wet yourself each time you see me.'
An expression of rage appeared on Kennedy's face and he pushed past Marlowe, jerked open the door and disappeared down the stairs. The fat man chuckled explosively, his great frame shaking with mirth. 'Poor Kennedy,' he said in a peculiarly light voice. 'He can't take a joke. Never could.'
Marlowe ignored him and spoke to the man behind the desk. 'Where can I find Sam Granby?'
The young man sat back, a wary expression in his eyes. 'Across the square at the undertaker's,' he said. 'He died last night.' He showed his teeth in a mirthless grin. 'I'm his nephew - Tom Granby. I'm the owner now.'
Marlowe nodded slowly. So much for Maria Magellan's hopes. 'I've got a load of stuff outside,' he said. 'Are you interested?'
Granby picked up a pencil and examined it thoughtfully. 'That depends. Who are you from?'
Marlowe tried to control his rising anger. 'You know damned well who I'm from, sonny,' he said. 'Let's stop fooling around.'
The fat man exploded into laughter again. 'That's good,' he wheezed. 'That's really very funny.'
Marlowe said coldly over his shoulder, 'Who asked you to stick your nose in?'
The face still smiled but there was a different expression in the eyes. Another chuckle shook the huge frame. 'That's even funnier. You'd better tell him, Tom.'
Granby cleared his throat and said, with obvious pleasure, 'This is my new partner - Mr O'Connor.'
Marlowe turned towards the fat man and looked him over contemptuously. 'So you're the great O'Connor?' he said at last.
O'Connor wiped his eyes with a large white handkerchief. 'And you're the bloke that knocked hell out of Kennedy yesterday.' His eyes flicked over Marlowe's massive frame and he nodded. 'I'd like to have seen that. You're a big man, son. A very big man.'
'But not so big that he can't be cut down to size,' Granby said viciously.
Marlowe turned, his left hand darting out. He grabbed Tom Granby by the shirt front and half dragged him across the desk. For a moment he looked coldly into the frightened eyes. 'The next time you cross me I'll stamp you into the ground, you worm,' he said. He released his grip and Granby fell back into his chair.
O'Connor shook his head and clicked his tongue. 'Very silly, Tom. You really asked for that.' He switched his glance back to Marlowe. 'Old man Magellan's washed up. A week from now he won't be able to pay your wages.'
Marlowe didn't even bother to reply. He turned and walked towards the door. O'Connor moved surprisingly fast for a man of his bulk. He caught him by the arm and said, 'Let's be reasonable, son. I can always use a good man.'
Marlowe looked down at the podgy hand on his sleeve and said coldly, 'Take your paw off me.' O'Connor's hand dropped as if it had been stung and Marlowe looked straight into his face. 'I wouldn't cut you down if you were hanging, you fat pig.'
The tiny blue eyes filled with malevolence. For a moment they looked steadily at each other and then O'Connor smiled. 'All right, son,' he said. 'Have it your own way.'
As Marlowe opened the door he half turned. 'One more thing, O'Connor. Try to crowd me and you'll curse the day you were born. I promise you.' He closed the door quietly and descended the stairs.
Once outside he stood on the ramp for a moment, lighting a cigarette, and considered the problem. Obviously he would have to do the round of the retail shops that Bill Johnson had done the previous day. Somehow