“I wouldn’t.”
“You see,” she went on slowly, “Sebastian needs me; he can’t face problems alone.”
Nacio grinned. “For the problems Sebastian faces, he needs me a lot more.”
She shook her head slowly. “No. I knew you couldn’t understand. And there’s more. Sebastian took me from the rooms back of the Maloca de Tijuca over two years ago. He’s been good to me. I’ve been happy with him—”
“The Maloca!” The grin that had crossed the sallow face widened, tinged with evil, and also tinged a bit with anger. “And you sleep in that outfit, and alone?”
Iracema straightened up abruptly, her face hardening. It was evident she was sorry she had ever engaged in the conversation. “That’s right. And that’s the way it will always be.” She disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door firmly behind her.
Nacio stared at the closed panel; the sound of a shower being turned on came to him. A girl from the Maloca de Tijuca and he had slept alone for the past week! The sound of the shower increased; in his mind’s eye he could see her stepping out of her clothing, reaching up to push the shower curtain back, and then standing under the streaming water. It was the same picture that had formed in his mind for the past six nights, and it had been bad enough before he had known of her past. Now it was worse.
The sound of the shower stopped. Now she would be stepping out of the tub, her trim body glistening with tiny droplets of water, her hands stretching for a towel to stroke those lush curves, to rub here, to pat there... And then she would take a powder puff... There was a low growl in his throat at the thought. So great was his concentration on the vision in his mind that the sharp rap on the outer door of the room completely escaped his attention.
The knock on the door was repeated; louder and more insistent this time. He came out of his salacious dream, shaking his head vaguely to clear it, staring at the panel. Someone at the door? But who? He frowned; it was probably only the bellboy, inventing some idiotic excuse to see the lady of the room again. But still... He walked over and placed his head next to the panel.
“Who’s there?”
“Open up!”
No bellboy ever spoke in those tones, not to guests! His eyes narrowed instantly, swinging about the room as if seeking some means of escape; his hand reached automatically to the spot beneath his belt where a revolver would have been under standard conditions. The rap was repeated impatiently. He willed himself to calmness, thinking furiously.
“One moment...”
The steel-rimmed glasses were snatched from the dresser top and thrust into place; there was no time for the cheek-pads, which were swept into his pocket. He reached for the door and then realized he still had his gloves on. With a muttered curse he dragged them off and jammed them into his pocket on top of the cheek-pads. He’d have to worry about fingerprints some other time. He took a deep breath and opened the door.
Two men stood in the opening confronting him, both bulky and with the unmistakable appearance of plain-clothes police. Nacio had seen them often enough in the past to recognize the type instantly. For an instant panic almost gripped him, but then he realized that had he been recognized they would not be standing there; they would be grappling with him. The thought eased his tension a bit, but he remained wary with the experience of years. The eyes of the larger of the two men studied him almost curiously, and then dropped to refer to a sheet of paper in his hand. He looked up again.
“Dr. Carabello?”
“Yes?” He tried to make his voice normal, noncommittal, but despite himself it came out harsh, suspicious. “What is it?”
The man in front shouldered his way into the room. He held out a billfold opened to display an identification card, and then flipped it shut before Nacio could even study it, and thrust it into a hip pocket. “Sergeant Ramos. Police. Do you mind if we look around?”
Nacio’s jaw tightened. “Look around? For what?”
The detective stared at him with suddenly narrowing eyes; the reaction of this particular hotel guest was certainly different from the others he had checked that evening. He motioned abruptly to his partner, who came farther into the room, taking up a position that effectively blocked the doorway. Nacio realized his previous tone had been a mistake; he changed it, attempting to merely sound aggrieved. “What’s this all about?”
“It started out as just routine.” The black expressionless eyes were studying him evenly, but the hunched shoulders and the readiness of the large hands indicated suspicion. “I don’t know where it will end.” Ramos turned away, moving over to stand beside the bed, staring down at the packages there. “We’ll want to see what’s in those, and check out the rest of your things as well.”
Nacio’s body tensed. Damn that idiot Sebastian and his refusal to allow him a revolver! And damn his own stupidity in wasting time talking to the girl when he should have been assembling the rifle! At least with a weapon there might have been a chance to shoot his way to safety, instead of being trapped! Sergeant Ramos continued to contemplate the sallow face before him with hard suspicion.
“And, of course, we’ll want to see your carteira de identidade.”
There was the loud rasp of a bolt being slid back, and the bathroom door opened. All three men swung around at the sound. In the opening Iracema stood, her eyes squeezed shut, her fingers rubbing them. “Darling, I’ve gotten some soap in my eyes. Could you—?”
The light behind her outlined her lush figure through the sheer nightgown; the deep slash at the neckline made no attempt to contain her full breasts. Nacio’s eyes widened.
“Darling—?” Iracema opened one eye to squint at him and then for the first time seemed to notice the two strangers in the room. With a feminine squeal she attempted to cover her charms as best she could, and then retreated in confusion, closing the bathroom door sharply behind her. Nacio turned, dazed, to find the two men grinning at him in a knowing manner. The larger of the two backed to the doorway, drawing his partner with him.
“I’m very sorry, Doutor. I hope you’ll forgive us. I don’t believe it will be necessary to take up any more of your time. Or that of your — ah — your senhora.” The other winked at him almost envyingly, and pulled the door closed behind them. Nacio dropped on the bed closest to him and rubbed his hand almost wearily over his face.
This time when the bathroom door opened, Iracema appeared in her usual nightgarb, covered as usual by the long robe. She walked to her bed and turned down the thin top cover, lay down, and drew it to her chin. When she spoke one might have thought there had been no incident with two detectives a few moments before. Her tone also closed the door on any further personal confidences.
“You can turn off the main light; the lamp is sufficient for the television. And keep the volume down. I’m tired and I want to get some sleep.” She looked up at him a moment calculatingly. “And you’d better get some sleep, too. We both have a busy day tomorrow, and it has to go right.” She rolled over and closed her eyes.
Nacio stared down at her. Sleep! After the narrow escape they had just had, not to mention the memory of that lovely vision standing in the bathroom doorway, made even more enticing for not having been completely nude? Sleep! The woman wasn’t human! His jaw tightened. Well, he was! He reached out, twitching the thin cover from the girl, reaching for the neck of the blouse beneath the robe. Iracema rolled over instantly, facing him; her eyes were icy. In her hand was a long needle that had been concealed at her side.