Honey West: This Girl for Hire: Penguin by Fickling G. G

Author:Fickling, G. G. [Fickling, G. G.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: FIC000000, FIC022000, FIC022040
ISBN: 9781468304213
Publisher: The Overlook Press
Published: 2005-10-24T16:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

CARRUTHERS SHOVED THE KNIFE TOWARD ME. “FOUND it down on B Deck near one of the lifeboats,” he said. “Looks like a trick gadget of some kind.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Here, I’ll show you, ma’am.” He took the butcher knife in his right hand, swung it back and rammed it squarely in his chest.

He should have been ready for a pine box or leaking so much plasma the blood bank could have closed down for a week. But he wasn’t even scratched.

The old man smiled. “Amazing, ain’t it?”

“Let me see that again.” I examined the knife. It was apparently spring-loaded, allowing the blade to collapse on contact into a narrow slit in the handle.

Carruthers chuckled, remarked about weird inventions and vanished into the night. A short time later Rod ap peared, breathless and wet from the rain.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “There was somebody out there, but he vanished before I could catch up with him.”

I showed Rod the trick knife and gave Carruthers’ account of the discovery on B Deck. “What do you make of the gadget?” I asked.

“It’s what they call a breakaway. Must be a Swanson TV prop.” Rod examined the instrument. “Wonder how it got down there. I understood from Lud Norman that all props are kept on main deck in back of the swimming pool.”

“Looks exactly like the one we found in Meeler,” I said.

“Yeah, but that was no breakaway.”

I pointed to the handle. “Did you notice this brown stain?”

“Makeup,” Rod nodded. “TV people just don’t know when to stop with the stuff. Ann Claypool’s one of the worst. She spreads it on every part of her that shows.”

“Speaking of Ann Claypool, what gives between you two?”

“What do you mean?” Rod demanded. “I—I’m an old friend. Vince Claypool and I went to college together.”

“Vince was her husband?”

“Yeah. A nice guy. We opened up a sporting-goods shop together after graduation. That’s when Vince met Ann. I never liked her—must have told him a thousand times she was no good. But he married her anyway.”

“Was Ann really crazy about him?”

“Are you kidding? She’s crazy about only two things—Ann Claypool and sex. She’s one of those physical com binations that spells dynamite. Little woman, big bust. She’s always out to prove something. Little people usually are. I imagine you can guess what she’s trying to prove.”

“You don’t think she was sorry to see her husband die?”

“Hell, no! Vince had a ten-thousand dollar G.I. term policy. She’s been having a ball on that poor bastard. If he only knew.”

“But Ann gave me the impression she hated Aces’ guts for sending Vince Claypool out on that underwater assignment.”

“Sounds like Ann all right. Always with the sad story when she’s in the chips and living high. The time to be careful of Annie is when she acts deliriously, sexapat ingly happy like she did last night.”

“Do you think she and Swanson could be in this together?”

“Who knows?” Rod shrugged his shoulders. “What would Ann get out of it?”

“The female lead in the Swanson show.

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