The Big Enchilada

yet seen—and they must be big. Stubby said he was onto something big. And Stubby was killed. And Stubby was looking into Acker. Acker. Acker and the Black Knight. Acker and Domingo. Acker. Acker? I had a couple of answers, but I had more questions. Well, I’d soon see.
    I pulled into a no-parking zone opposite the four-story building that housed the offices and production facilities of Medco Pharmaceutical Supplies.
    As soon as I was inside the building I saw what Stubby had meant. The place felt funny. There was none of the activity and energy that is associated with a successful concern. I knew Medco was not a big company, but Acker seemed to be making a bundle out of it. However, there was no feeling of movement, only treading water. It was dull and lethargic, and the heat wave was not the explanation because the temperature was comfortably cool in the building.
    I rode up to the top floor, where the executive offices were located, and found that Acker occupied one corner. His secretary was staring out the window when I came in. She looked bored and welcomed the opportunity to do something, if only to send my name in. The reply was prompt and I went through the connecting door.
    Acker stood up as I entered. Of course I had seen him before, but never this close, and I was struck by the cool hardness of the man. He was about five-ten or -eleven and slim, but his taut muscular development was evident under his well-cut fitted shirt. His skin was lightly bronzed and contrasted with his pale blond hair, which was short and cut close to his head. His eyes were a washed-out milky blue—the eyes of a Siamese cat—and it looked as though they would never give away secrets or betray emotions. He reminded me of pictures I’d seen of the Aryan robots of the SS. Stubby was right about Acker being a tough customer, and I began to get an idea about what the excitable personality of his wife found so hard to take.
    “Won’t you sit down, Mr.—uh—Hunter, isn’t it?”
    I sat and stared hard at him. “There’s no point in pretending you don’t know who I am.” He raised his blond eyebrows in a question. Very cool. “I’m the one you hired Stubby Argyll to investigate.”
    “Stubby Argyll? Is that a person?” He was very good. “That was a person. He’s dead.”
    Acker blinked. That was the only reaction he had, and I couldn’t tell if he already knew or if the news came as a surprise to him.
    “I should say ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ but, since I don’t know the man, there seems to be no point to it.”
    “No, you shouldn’t be sorry,” I said. “Stubby was killed because he found out something about you—something big. I came here to tell you that I’m going to find out the same thing.... And I won’t be nearly so easy to deal with.”
    An unpleasant smile played around the corners of Acker’s mouth. Damn. He seemed to be enjoying this.
    “I’m sorry, Mr.—uh—Hunter, I do not quite understand why you should be interested in me.”
    “No? Okay. At first I was only interested because your wife hired me to be interested. She doesn’t much like you, Mr. Acker.”
    At the mention of his wife his icy composure broke for the first time. His jaws clenched together and his lips grew thin and bloodless. His hands gripped the edge of his desk with enough force to make his arms tremble.
    “That stupid, whoring bitch,” he hissed through tight lips, not really talking to me, just talking. “She thinks she hates me. She doesn’t know what hate is. She thinks she’s being clever. She’s in for a big surprise. She’ll get nothing. Nothing. Tell her she’s liable to end up peddling her ass for cigarettes if she doesn’t smarten up.”
    Anger flared inside me. I felt like leaping over his desk and throwing him out the window. Or slapping his face and telling him, “Pistols at dawn.” I couldn’t believe it. One tumble on a fur rug, and I was ready to defend her honor or something. Shit! I didn’t need this. I’d kept myself clean and clear and empty for a long time, and now that woman had me acting like some moon-mad, infatuated adolescent, and I didn’t much like the feeling. Mexico was what I needed. A couple of weeks on the beach with Maria would clear away all that stuff.
    At least I wasn’t so far gone that I let my anger show, and, as quickly as he lost it, Acker also regained his coolness. “You said ‘at first.’ There is now a difference?”
    “Yep. When I started to smell