The Big Enchilada

like it, and I could be in an even worse position than I already am.”
    “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me, as they say.” And I meant it—if it was possible. I’d sacrifice Sweet if necessary, but I’d try to avoid it. He seemed okay, but, fuck it, I didn’t owe him anything—only a shitty lunch.
    I grinned at him in what was supposed to be a reassuring way. He didn’t look reassured. I’d have to work on that.
    I told Sweet I’d be in touch and got up.
    On the way out I saw that André was holding a gin bottle, deep in discussion with the bartender. They both looked daggers at me as I passed. I smiled.
    The car jockey didn’t look happy to see me coming.
    “I know which one is yours,” he said, trying to make it an insult.
    I heard the engine roar, and I saw my car race through the lines of parked cars like a pinball off a bumper. He pulled up with a squeal of the brakes.
    The jockey looked real pleased with himself as he got out and held out a hand for a tip. I put a puzzled expression on my face and kind of leaned around to look behind him.
    “It looks like you got something on the seat of your pants after all. A big grease stain or something.”
    “Oh, no,” he said, and got to looking real worried. He twisted around trying to see what was on his fat butt. Of course there was nothing there, but he kept twisting even harder until he was slowly turning around, like he was trying to corkscrew himself up his ass.
    I got in my car and started moving slowly forward. The jockey was so intent on his problem that he didn’t notice he was right in front of the car. I gave a short, loud blast on the horn. He gave a surprised yelp and leaped out of the way, landing in a small mud puddle and soiling his fancy gold trousers. He looked disbelievingly down at his pant legs and then stared after me with his mouth hanging open. Meatball!

FOURTEEN

    I made fairly good time back to my office. For a change there wasn’t anyone passed out in the doorway. There was just an old pair of broken-down shoes. That was odd. It was usually the other way around—bodies without shoes. I didn’t bother to figure out if there was any symbolic significance to the change.
    Maria was happy to see me. In spite of the heat and the stuffiness, she looked as cool as ever. Charlie Watkins had called again, but there were no other messages. The insurance salesman had stopped by. Maria said he had chatted her up and tried to get a date.
    “Did you accept?”
    She wrinkled her nose. “He was a turkey. And besides, I said we were going to Mexico.” She tossed her shiny black hair in a haughty gesture. “... I was thinking, Sam. I know this small village near San Bias. It’s got the best beaches and the best fishing in all of Mexico, and no turistas ever go there. We can rent a house right on the beach. Would you like that?”
    “Sounds great.” Perfect, in fact.
    “Look. I got this dress yesterday, especially for the trip. Do you like it?”
    She stood up. She was wearing a yellow cotton sundress that beautifully set off her smooth olive skin. The top of the dress was cut in such a deep vee that it was hardly more than a pair of straps that only partially covered her large breasts. She bent forward slightly to make sure I appreciated the design of the dress... and the design of the wearer. I did. She did a quick pirouette, causing the skirt to flare up. It was extremely short and didn’t have far to go. I was treated to a shot of transparent lemon-yellow panties that made my throat go dry. The temptation was vefy strong to say fuck it and
    leave that minute for Mexico. As things turned out, it would have been better for a number of people if I had, but I don’t operate that way. I patted Maria’s plump bottom, then dragged myself away and went through to my office.
    I poured out a glass of gin and drank it down in an effort to wipe out the taste of the swill I had been served at the restaurant.
    I sat down at my desk and was just about to call Stubby at the pool hall when the phone rang. I identified myself.
    “There’s something on page seventeen of the afternoon paper that might interest you. If you are wise, you will follow the advice that is obvious, even if it is not stated.”
    Before I could say anything the line disconnected. I didn’t recognize the voice, but it somehow sounded familiar. Not from recently, but from a long time back. It’s no good struggling with these things, so I let it drop, and sent