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  On the stage, Xavier Cugat was finishing a medley with the “Cuban Mambo” as Siebert leaned in and whispered to Stella, cautioning her not to turn around. During the afternoon, Pedro had kept a close watch on the Wattles and had reported back to Siebert that they had been poolside with a silver-haired gentleman. He had gotten near enough to eavesdrop on a conversation about German “bear bonds” and how they might sell them. With a few pesos in the right hands, Pedro had learned that the older gentleman was one Stewart Traber who had made it known to anyone who would listen, including a number of poolside ladies, that he was a former governor. Pedro had also learned that the trio had made reservations that night in the restaurant.

  It had come to Siebert in a flash when Pedro had related the conversation he had eavesdropped on between the Wattles and Traber that these German bearer bonds just might be his greatest opportunity to date, paling by far the grift he had pulled off at the Parlor City Institute. How ironic, he thought, that his next big scheme might draw him back to a sleepy little town that he had, in a way, already fleeced. Siebert was surprised to find himself getting excited about a scam that was so far only an idea.

  When Cugat and his band took their break, Stella got up and walked back toward the Wattle’s table and stopped suddenly, as if in distress, before blurting out “My heavens, please excuse me but aren’t you Gov. Traber? If not, you could be his identical twin brother, I declare. Oh, I will be so embarrassed if I am mistaken. Please excuse me for intruding on your party.” Stella appeared to be flushed and excited as she put her hands in front of her mouth in mock shame.

  Traber rose and instinctively released the charming smile that had worked its magic on so many women over the years. In a smooth, modulating tone that was almost unctuous, he said “I am indeed Gov. Traber, my dear. How is it that you recognized me?” He saw a conquest made to order and was prepared to work his charms on this seemingly vulnerable young lady.

  Stella introduced herself as Lily Sanswhite from a small town downstate from Parlor City, explaining that she had frequently seen his distinguished image in the local paper when growing up and remembered it well, never imagining that she would see the Governor in the flesh. A snarl curled Mildred Wattle’s upper lip as she observed Stella more closely.

  When Traber suggested that she join them for dinner, the Wattles cringed, remembering the many times in the past that the Governor had been in seductive mode, oblivious to the other people in his party. Stella pointed demurely to her table where Siebert was sitting. Traber immediately walked over to introduce himself. Soon, they were all seated together, sipping champagne and getting chummy. Stella was seated next to Traber and chuckled to herself when she felt his hand on her knee. She didn’t protest and Traber, biding his time, was careful to advance no further. If only the Governor knew that Stella was amused because sitting cozily next to Traber brought back memories of Boston when the seduction of Frederick Hawkins had commenced in exactly the same way.

  When Stella decided to announce to the table that Devereux was her fiancé’, Traber gradually slid his hand from Stella’s knee and started surveying the room for a new conquest. He was certainly attracted to Stella but was a man who had learned long ago when to cut his losses and redirect his efforts. Had he known Stella before she was shorn of her gorgeous, long blonde tresses, he might not have conceded defeat so quickly.

  At some point, Wattle asked Siebert about his line of work. Siebert had waited patiently for this question and deftly put in the hook. He explained, matter of factly, that he was an international financier, trading stocks and bonds from various countries for a select coterie of clients. He had met Stella at a charity event in Boston a few years earlier and it had blossomed into a loving relationship. They were planning to marry shortly, he added, beaming at Stella as she returned his loving gaze.

  Wattle and Traber leaned in eagerly as Siebert described his conservative trading philosophy but then Stella interrupted to say that her fiancé’ was much too modest, had in fact been wildly successful. Further, this vacation in Havana was sort of an advanced wedding gift from a client in London who was particularly pleased by the portfolio Devereux had put together that had produced spectacular returns. Siebert smiled modestly, basking in the glow of Stella’s accolades. It was a beautiful performance cut short by the return to the stage of Cugat and his band.

  As the party left the table hours later, Wattle pulled Siebert aside and whispered, “Would you be available for a poolside lunch tomorrow, Mr. Devereux? We may have reason to explore a lucrative financial deal.” Siebert nodded yes as Traber stood grinning behind Wattle, craning his neck to get attention.

  ***

  When they returned to their room, Siebert and Stella were half in the bag but highly excited, not just by the alcohol but also by the fortuitous events that were unfolding. As they recalled the evening, they fell back on the bed together and laughed at their good fortune.

  “I looked for any clue that we were recognized but detected nothing. And you?” asked Siebert, sitting up in bed with his arms crossed behind him, leaning against the headboard. “Except for the scowl on the old hag’s face, no. But that was probably directed at me for being the hussy that I am, traveling with a man who is not my husband,” Stella said with a mischievous grin. “But you must have garnered a little respect when you announced that I am your finance’, right?” he said, before rolling over on top of her.

  Before drifting off to sleep, Stella softly murmured “I love you”. Siebert was still awake but said nothing and Stella knew not to expect a response. When he thought of Stella, it came into Siebert’s head that he had invested a great deal in this relationship, more than he intended, and it worried him that she might become indispensable. Was there actually some love involved here or just convenience and pure carnal desire? He felt comfortable with her, that wasn’t in doubt. Well, he would have to sort things out at some point. Now was not the time.

  ***

  Siebert and Stella were dressed casually, sitting under an umbrella when Traber and the Wattles strolled into the pool area the next day. In a few minutes, they were all sipping daiquiris, smiling benevolently at each other and waiting for the silence to be broken.

  “Let me get right to the point, Mr. Devereux” Wattle began earnestly. “My partner and I have a large quantity of German bearer bonds that need to be redeemed fairly soon. Let’s say that they came into our possession under unusual but very legitimate circumstances. Nevertheless, as you know, the bearer of the bonds can redeem them with no questions asked. Now, Gov. Traber and I are quite well known in and around Parlor City. And, needless to add, we don’t have financial acumen. For us to undertake such large transactions through a local financial institution could result in, let us posit, unwelcomed public attention. For a handsome retainer, would you be willing to handle these transactions for us?”

  Traber, not willing to let Wattle dominate the conversation and seldom one to miss an opportunity to be tedious and pontifical, wheedled his way in and added “The bonds are worth $1,000,000, Mr. Devereux, and are in a safety deposit box under my unilateral control.” Siebert glanced back and forth at Traber and Wattle with a puzzled look on his face and asked, “Just to be clear, you are partners in this deal, correct?” Traber could feel everyone staring at him until he finally stammered “yes.” No one thought to mention the role of Ludwig Von Braun, thousands of miles away in Stuttgart, Germany.

  Siebert seized the moment and smiled, patting the table with both hands and breaking the tension. He stroked his neck and looked skyward, causing the Wattles and Traber to follow suit. Then, he put a thumb up to his lips and furrowed his brow. Wattle and Traber looked on with anticipation, assuming that the financier was thinking deep thoughts. But Siebert was play-acting and his performance might have made an experienced thespian jealous.

  After a few minutes, not wishing to push his contemplative act too far, Siebert’s face brightened and he said energetically, “Of course, I would need to exa
mine the bonds to verify their authenticity and confirm redemption terms. Please don’t take offense but one cannot be too careful. A few years ago, I was involved in a situation where the bonds in question turned out to be forgeries. Masterfully done, mind you, but forgeries nonetheless. As a result, my client suffered a substantial loss. Well, let’s not dwell on that unlikely event. Yes, I would very much like to handle this assignment. My standard fee is 20%, which also covers any expenses I might incur during the engagement.”

  Siebert knew the vital importance of stopping when additional chatter was not only non-productive but often fatal to a deal. So, he sat silently with hands folded and eyebrows slightly arched in anticipation of a response. Wattle and Traber were both so susceptible and needy that Siebert thought it was almost too easy to reel them in.

  Wattle and Traber exchanged glances and then nodded in unison. To demonstrate his astuteness, Traber noted that they would, of course, require a few references before proceeding. Siebert nodded yes and then Traber suggested that they all toast their new relationship with the popular Cuban mojito cocktail before ordering lunch, feeling that he had certainly demonstrated his ability to take charge of a situation. The new partners were all in a festive mood.

  ***

  After Siebert and Stella left, the Wattles and Traber stayed on at their pool-side table. “Are we sure that this Devereux can be trusted?” said Mildred Wattle, looking first at her husband and then at Traber. “After all, we are putting our faith in a man we just met by happenstance in a foreign country. It makes me a bit cautious.” Traber bristled but said nothing, wondering why the shrew would be questioning their good fortune. “Listen dear, we will have references soon and, remember, we agreed that he will be paying us our portion of the proceeds with a cashier’s check. If we start to feel suspicious or uncomfortable, we will just back out and look elsewhere” said Wattle. His wife nodded grimly and a relieved Traber smiled painfully.

  “Well, I have some lingering concerns about Braun, Wattle” said Traber, eager to change the subject and not willing to dwell any longer on any complications in a deal that appeared to have been settled earlier at lunch. “What if someone starts to take his babbling seriously or he suddenly snaps out of his psychotic state and gets discharged from the Institute?”

  “Listen, Governor, we have been keeping an eye on Braun for other reasons but these bonds certainly change everything. There is too much at stake. Frankly, we have been thinking it over the last few days and couldn’t agree with you more. He’s simply too great a risk. So, since you have brought me in as an equal partner, let me just say bluntly that we will take care of this problem immediately upon our return to Parlor City. Does that put your mind at rest?” As Wattle said “we”, he glanced over at his wife and that simple gesture reminded Traber that when conversing with the Mayor he was also engaging his spouse. Traber let out a sigh and then nodded his head in acquiescence.

  What Wattle didn’t say was that it was his wife who had already pointed out that morning than Braun could cause trouble and must be dealt with immediately. “I will contact Bobby Mildrake as soon as we get home, Adelbert. Let me handle this matter my way”, she had said darkly, before looking at Traber and adding, “and lets not play any more games, Stewart. As Adelbert just pointed out, we are equal partners now and you best start talking that way in our dealing with Mr. Devereux.” Stewart Traber grimaced and swallowed hard but said nothing.

  People had always and would probably continue to underestimate Mildred Wattle. She was indispensable to the Mayor and he never forgot it. She had been anxious to get home since Tampa and now she had a reason to push for an immediate departure from Havana and all of its seductions. Nobody was keener on revenge, or had a better memory for past offenses inflicted, than Mildred Wattle. She knew for a fact that Braun had referred to her more than once as a “sweaty beast” and when he had called her a “prized bovine”, she had to go to the dictionary to confirm what she was sure was another insult. Well, he had had his vicious fun but now was her opportunity to inflict the ultimate retribution. Stewart Traber would get the same treatment if he ever crossed her.

  ***

  Siebert told his new clients that he had some prior obligations to wrap up but that he could be in Parlor City within two weeks. He would send Wattle a telegram in the next week with the exact date of his arrival.

  In the interim, Siebert and Stella would return to Miami to meet with Moe “The Nose” Bargani. When they had last been together, Bargani had introduced Siebert to Clarence “Pinky” Benjamin. Pinky was a refined, middle-aged gentleman who looked like a pious church elder contemplating the sinners around him. What mattered most, though, was the undisputable fact that Pinky had some unique skills that Siebert now saw the need to employ. But first, he wanted to clear his plan with “The Nose” and garner his support. And, of course, some tribute would have to be paid.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Nose

  As much as he could respect any other man, Siebert felt a certain degree of reverence for Moe “The Nose” Bargani almost from the moment he had been introduced to him weeks earlier during his initial visit to Miami. He was a dapper man, always impeccably dressed in an expensive silk suit and colorful bow tie. His thinning black hair was slicked straight back in the style that Siebert preferred himself when he wasn’t in disguise. Bargani could affect a courtly, benign manner which some people misinterpreted as it hid the ruthless, coarse mobster that lurked inside.

  Bargani owned a small club on the outskirts of Miami with a back room where he entertained associates and tended to business. He controlled the numbers and jukebox rackets in Miami and had pieces of action elsewhere, including Havana.

  On the walls of his office hung portraits of famous noses. It was a veritable art gallery. One could see, of course, Cyrano De Bergerac but there was also long-nosed Rudolf I, a German king from the 13th century and one Tycho Brahe, a Danish astronomer who had lost the end of his nose in a sword fight and replaced it with a gold dome-like tip. On another wall hung a portrait of Cleopatra whose larger than life nose supposedly beguiled both Julius Caesar and Marc Antony, thereby changing the course of history. A photograph of Napoleon in a gilded frame was hung in tribute not because of anything exceptional about his nose but because, when picking generals for key battles, he equated big noses with big brains. Bargani, an acolyte of the pseudoscience of physiognomy, couldn’t agree more.

  And then there was the mounted sculpture, in the prized position on the wall behind Bargani’s desk. Most visitors believed that it bore a striking resemblance to the nose of the club’s owner. It protruded out like the mounted head of a buck that one might find adorning the wall at a hunting lodge.

  Beyond his sartorial splendor and unusual artistic indulgence, Bargani was not a flashy mobster and, in fact, lived in a modest home with a doting wife and three “junior button noses”, as he often referred to his children. As they grew, he was singularly attentive to their budding sniffers. Where other fathers would be tracking the heights of their cherubs with pencil markings on the wall, he was intently watching their little honkers take shape, keenly observant of even the subtlest changes.

  Of Bargani’s nose, one might say that it was indeed a glorious one, virtually a nose for all seasons because of its unicorn-like rarity. It was not overly fleshy or bulbous, the nostrils flared but not too much, it had a slight downward slope but was not hawk-like. In short, it defied classification and, in that sense alone, it was a most commendable nose.

  Bargani, in his own imagination, had a proboscis that rivaled that of the popular comedian Jimmy “Schnozzola” Durante. He even liked to brag, claiming with considerable justification, that he was a scholar of noses, an historian of snouts whereas Durante, and he would say it with all due respect, merely used his nose as a prop in his comedy shtick. While he revered the protuberance of Cyrano de Bergerac and was amused by the woody beak of Pinocchio, Durante was his immediate obsession. He even had a note delivered
to the comedian, then headlining at the Copacabana in Miami Beach, asking for a meeting to compare their prized appendages. In short, he honored all worthy monuments to “nosedom”, a word he proudly coined. He never doubted, despite Durante’s snub, that he possessed the more prestigious facial hump of the two and, further, was convinced that the comedian feared a side by side comparison.

  Bargani was no clown, despite what some might consider his fatuous diversion into the history of noses. When a snub-nosed thug had the temerity to refer to Bargani’s prized protuberance as “fat and ugly”, that gentleman was found a few days later laying bloody and unconscious in an alley not far from Bargani’s club. Using a switchblade, someone had deftly performed an upward, surgical slice, forever re-shaping his nose as a warning to others. Later on, Bargani explained coolly that “we just re-arranged his nasal septum, that’s all.”

  ***

  When they met the first time and he was eager to establish his bona fides, Siebert had uncharacteristically boasted to Bargani about some of his exploits, including his con at the Parlor City Institute. Siebert’s eyes narrowed and he looked eerily serene when describing the suffocation of his helpless victim.

  Bargani listened intently and appeared to be impressed but told a confidante later on that he did not like a braggart who exhibited such a penchant for merciless cruelty. Despite these reservations, business considerations prevailed and they soon became partners in the gambling operation that Siebert set up at the Riviera Hotel in Havana.

  ***

  As soon as he arrived back in Miami with Stella, Siebert contacted Bargani to set up a meeting. After dutifully surveying The Nose’s gallery and offering his compliments, Siebert paid Bargani his portion of the Havana gambling profits. No one had ever successfully skimmed on “The Nose”. Siebert had left a lieutenant in charge at the Riviera that both men trusted and he also had Pedro watching closely from the shadows for any sign of subterfuge or self-dealing.