Cargo for the Styx by Louis Trimble

“Tell me about Vann.”
    He said, “Vann’s a gambler. He runs a string of small operations in the L.A. harbor area.”
    “And Otho?”
    “He bounces for Vann.”
    I said, “You didn’t come down here to push Vann around. You haven’t got the guts for that.” I looked down at the knife in my hand. I dropped it to the floor.
    I said, “But Vann might like to know you’re here. He might want to know why. He might even get the idea you’re trying to pluck him.”
    My knife had frightened Clarence. Threatening him with Vann terrified him. “We’ll make a deal,” he screamed at me. “I’ll tell you what I know. You let me go. A deal, Zane.”
    I said, “If I like what I hear, a deal.”
    He swallowed. He said, “It’s the dame, Irma Wilson.”
    I said, “Tell me about Irma.”
    He said, “Vann uses people like her. Respectable people with a job to protect or a family that doesn’t know they’re horsing around, gambling. He lets some of them get into him for a big I.O.U., for more than they can pay. Then he lets them buy themselves off the hook by shilling for him.”
    I said, “I’ve seen that kind of operation. Just tell me about Irma.”
    “He got her on the hook,” Clarence said. “To get herself off, she had to work on Clift. You know how Clift started living it up when his old man died. He lived up two boats’ worth and then wanted to quit. Vann thought he had a good thing, so he put Irma Wilson to work on Clift. She did too good a job. Before Vann knew it, Clift was into him for eighty grand.”
    I said, “He could have borrowed that much on the
Temoc
and paid off.”
    “He did borrow, and he blew that. Vann rigged him.”
    I said, “I’m beginning to smell it. Clift is into Vann. He has no assets, no way of getting quick money. So Vann sets up some kind of deal to collect insurance on the
Temoc
. Clift comes down here. Vann follows to protect his investment.”
    “That’s how I see it,” Clarence said. “And everything was going fine until last night. Then you start getting nosy.”
    I said, “What kind of a deal has Vann got cooking?”
    “I’d like to know,” Clarence said seriously. “I hear there’s a lot of dough riding on that boat.”
    “Enough,” I said. “What’s with you and Irma Wilson?”
    He said, “If that company she works for knew she had played Vann’s tables, she wouldn’t last five seconds. And she’s moving up in the business. She’s got a reputation to protect.”
    “So you thought you’d put the bite on her? For how much?”
    Clarence said, “Not for dough. For information. If I can get enough on Vann, then I can handle him. But I got to have enough to make him pay big. Then I’ll blow the country.”
    I said, “How far did you get?”
    Clarence said, “Not far enough. You horned in.”
    “What were you doing at Blimey’s? What’s he got to do with it?”
    He said, “I was tagging Vann. I saw them run that big blond out. I figured I’d get that Blimey to tell me what was going on. I didn’t get a chance. I had him about half softened up and you blow in.”
    “Tough,” I said. “All right, where is Irma? Did Vann take her?”
    “Take her? Why in hell should he?” Clarence demanded. “She’s working for him.”
    Working for him, I thought. That’s why she came to see me, to find out for Vann what I knew and what information I’d passed on. And here I was sweating about her.
    I said, “Go get yourself a beer and then get the hell out of here. And out of town.”
    Clarence got up. He made it to the refrigerator. “Here?”
    “In the back. Behind the milk.”
    Clarence gave the handle of the refrigerator a yank. He never did get his beer. The noise of the refrigerator door blasting out filled the boat. The sound of it hitting Clarence drowned out everything but his brief scream.
    The scream stopped. There was no Clarence left to make a noise.

CHAPTER XIV
    I WAS ON MY FACE . I rolled onto my back and stared stupidly toward the