Norbert Devis - Black Mask (Vol. 20, No. 8 — October 1937)

The Parson cracks his Luger at double-crossers.

The Montecita club on upper Leeward Road is the one spot in Cariba where you can find half the male population on any given night. Its horseshoe cabaret floor is always crowded, always noisy with conversation in three or four tongues, alive with the clinking of bottles and glasses and the scraping of chairs and feet; the blurred rhythms and dark, primitive gourd rattlings of the cubaola orchestra. It is a place meant for pleasure.

Once each week a ringside table was occupied by the beefy British resident-General and his stringy, horse-toothed British wife. Caste lines are lax in Cariba, the little Paris of the Caribbean, and Lee Fong, the plump smiling Chinese proprietor of the Montecita, stood at the glass curtain which is the street entrance and warmly shook the hand of each patron black, yellow, white and the in-between color variants.

A warm landward breeze was setting the glass curtain into gentle motion that night in May when it was thrust aside and the Parson entered, dainty as a doll in his suit of midnight black.

Lee Fong was not the person to lose his composure but his smile was merely mechanical and polite when he said in his high-pitched, cackling voice, Much welcome, my goo fliend.

The Parson gave a harsh, dry laugh. Hi yuh, Confusius.

He stood running his somber-lidded eyes the length and breadth of the circular room. He first saw Soo Gee, Fongs bodyguard. Soo Gee was looking upstairs. Lee Fong ran gambling rooms upstairs above the cabaret. The Parson had played once or twice. An adept at games of chance, he had caught Lees croupier switching dice. The Chinaman had smilingly fired the croupier but glinting shafts of malignity shone in his eyes whenever he beheld the Parson. Lee Fong had never forgiven.

A man half rose from a booth far in the rear and beckoned. The Parson strolled toward him with that light, sidling gait of his. When he reached the booth, he said, Lo, Jake, in an off-hand deep voice and hung his hat on a hook.

Jake Mund was nervous and inwardly excited. He lighted a cigarette, holding the match with trembling fingers. He was a compact, lithe, handsome man with crisp blond hair. His thin, well formed wrists slapped leanly against his starched white cuffs; his strong fingers, ivoried by nicotine, were eloquent in motion.

The Parson had known him back in New York when Mund had driven an armor-plated, bullet-proof-glass Rolls for Carl Dorn. It was a hard mob that Dorn ran but somehow they couldnt knock the innate honesty and decency out of young Jake Mund. He merely drove the car and the dirt around him did not even touch his trouser cuffs.

The Parson, in those days, had been running the gaming tables for the Vince Guard-Poggi syndicate. The Parsons nickname had come with him from New York. He had acquired it by his precise and almost gentle manner. It had nothing to do with the incredible speed of his draw.

There had always been something about Mund that had attracted the Parson. Once Mund had tried to break out of the rackets and the Parson had half-heartedly tried to help him with a stake but Carl Dorn had cracked down and forced Mund back into line. That was the last the Parson had seen of him in many years until he had turned up in Cariba with a wife. The Parson was in Cariba because he had crossed his gang and both they and the police were interested in him.

Mund sat across from the Parson, his lips moving without opening, the corners twitching. Presently he said, Youll have to lend me ten grand. Ive got to get out of town with Nina in a hurry. Dorns gang have found me here and theyve put the finger on me.

Hm, said the Parson. Tell me about it. Does Nina know?

There was a bottle of brandy on the table and two glasses. The Parson poured drinks. He downed his but Mund merely toyed with his glass, turning it round and round.

Youre the only person in this town I can turn to, he said. I aint scared for myself its Nina. She knows nothing yet. His voice hardened. Lee Fongs on to something. Hes had us shadowed for a week.

The Parson was surprised. Whats Fong got to do with it?

Hell, how should I know? They shouldnt have a connection with him but somehow they have. The whole things driving me nuts. How about it? Can you let me have the money?

The doughs O.K., the Parson said crisply. But why so much?

I got to get far so no one will ever find us again. Thats why! I havent a cent to my name! His fists clenched. Me, Im a sweet man. I live off what Nina makes singing here. Isnt that funny? Me, livin off a girl!

Nina dont mind, the Parson interrupted. Forget it. Who of Dorns crowd traced you?

Jake Munds voice cracked with bitterness. Dorn himself and Alex Morton and a wren named Eva. Shes plain poison.

Dont know her. Mortons name is familiar, though.

Hes Carls pulse man. Eva is Carls woman.

Oh. Well, look, liquors no good in a glass.

Mund laughed. I aint scared, see, just rattled. Liquor wont help; I tried it. It just feels hot and hard inside. Gosh, its ten oclock. I come here every night and wait for ten oclock.

Why?

To throw curses at myself. Ysee, Nina goes on in five minutes. Thats when I begin cursing. God, Im a heel! Making her sing in a cabaret owned by a Chink, exposing her to danger. You dont know the kind of girl Nina is. Shes different, see? She aint used to a life in a cabaret. Why, she used to have twenty servants waiting hand and foot...

Button your fool mouth!

There was such savagery in the Parsons voice that Mund subsided, limp against the back of the bench He rubbed a hand over his forehead, smiled weakly. For about a second I thought I was going to blow my top.

Ill help all I can, the Parson said.

But inwardly he was revolving the whole thing in his head. A boy and girl get into trouble and there he is ready to step in and play godfather. And a lot of guys thought he was tough! He had thought so himself. His shoulder twitched with irritability.

Then another thought crowded out the first. Carl Dorn was no kill-crazy mobster but a business man. He wouldnt be down in Cariba merely for his health. Something mere was involved, something big. What? The Parson mulled over possibilities. Well, anyway it would be something involving a lot of money; that was a safe bet. A lot of money...

The Parsons eyes narrowed speculatively; he fingered a cigarette. A lot of money... Why not cut in? Jake Mund, wittingly or unwittingly, was offering him the chance. His eyes glittered and a mocking half-smile touched his lips: perhaps hed jockey himself into a position where hed be able to outsmart Carl Dorn. The idea appealed to him, a crook outmaneuvering a crook. Yeah, he told himself, why not help Jake Mund, especially when he could help himself at the same time!

Parson, said Jake, cutting in on his thoughts, youre swell!

Huh? I can get along without the soft soap. He leaned forward. Listen, once. I aint got the dough on me but I can get it, say midnight.

Jake nodded eagerly. Then bring it to the cottage.

What about your getaway?

Thats all arranged.

How?

A motor launch will be waiting at the fruit pier. The guy who owns it said wed make Port of Spain by morning. From there we get a liner.

The Parson sat silent a moment. Then he said, Look, when you broke from Carl Dorn, you broke clean, didnt you?

Yeah. Yeah, sure I did. But Jakes voice lacked conviction.