The Night People by Edward D. Hoch Page B

rear of the shop.
    “Wait a minute!”
    “We’re closing. Go away.”
    Kane felt the frustration well within him, but he knew there was nothing to be gained by staying just then. Outside, he jotted down the address of the bookstore. Perhaps he would want to speak with Harry Green again.
    Doris was resting on the bed when he returned to the room. She propped herself up on one elbow and asked, “Well, did you see your cemetery?”
    “No.” He sat down opposite the bed and lit his first cigarette of the day.
    “Isn’t that what we came here for?”
    “Mandown is buried in an unmarked grave. His body is hidden for some reason, and I think it’s because he was murdered.”
    “Oh, Kane!”
    “Really. And perhaps his wife was murdered too, because she knew about it.”
    “But how could such a thing be kept quiet for nearly two years?”
    “That’s what I don’t know. How, and why.”
    “Well, I guess we shouldn’t have come here after all. Your trip was all for nothing.”
    “You call this nothing? I may be on the verge of the most important literary discovery of the decade.”
    Doris got up and began to apply her lipstick before the room’s only mirror. “Will it wait until after dinner?”
    “Of course, dear. You must be hungry.”
    He watched her adjust the shantung skirt over smoothly curved hips, wondering still at the good fortune that had given her to him.
    They dined at a side-street restaurant that paradoxically featured French cooking, and when they emerged the sky was darkening with the coming of night. “What’s there to do in this town now?” she asked.
    “We could walk for a while down by the harbor.”
    “That sounds exciting. I’ve had better times back in …”
    She stopped suddenly as two men emerged from the shadows. They wore tropic suits and matching white hats, and the one in front had a hand in his pocket.
    “Kane Wingate?” he asked in a tone that was not altogether pleasant.
    “Yes. What do you want?”
    “Come with us.”
    His hand reached out for Kane’s arm, and Kane pulled away with a sudden reflex. “Like hell I will!” He gave the man a shove and backed quickly away.
    The second man blinked his eyes and drew a gun. It was a little snub-nosed automatic that looked almost like a toy. “We are police,” he said. “I will shoot.”
    Behind him, Kane heard Doris gasp in fright. “All right, let’s not get excited.” He took Doris by the arm and walked between the men to a waiting car. The one he had shoved said something unpleasant under his breath.
    Ten minutes later they were seated on uncomfortable wooden benches in a bare, harshly lighted room at the local police headquarters. They were kept waiting about ten minutes before a man in the uniform of a police chief came to them with an aide. “Mr. Wingate,” he said in English, “forgive me for the difficulties. My man should not have drawn his weapon.”
    “Would you mind explaining what you want with us? We’re American citizens.”
    The police chief smiled without showing his teeth. “I hope that is not meant as a threat. Let me introduce myself—Captain Pallato of Puerto Vale’s security force. I want only a few moments of your time.”
    “About what?”
    “You visited a man named Harry Green this afternoon; a fellow American, I believe.”
    Kane felt an immediate sense of relief. “I didn’t buy any of his books or pictures.”
    Captain Pallato sat down behind his desk. “The dirty books are just a front. Harry Green is a dangerous revolutionary.”
    “That’s a switch,” Kane said, feeling the new chill begin to form around his spine.
    “What did you go there for?”
    “Information about books, strange as it might seem. The place is a bookstore, you know.”
    The man’s eyes were hard. “Exactly what information?”
    “I’m writing an article about Ramon Mandown. I wanted to see his grave.”
    “He is not buried at Harry Green’s shop.”
    Kane sighed and reached for a cigarette. The