My Laugh Comes Last

Chapter Two

‘That’s it,’ Glenda said, ‘and thank you. I hope I haven’t taken up too much of your time.’

She had arrived at my office at 18.00 and it was now 19.35. She had taken shots of our showroom, our small factory, with close-ups of our four engineers who smirked happily while they worked at their benches. She had taken some twenty shots of me at my desk. She had been efficient and impersonal, but now, as she put her Nikon into her camera bag, she relaxed and gave me that friendly, dazzling smile.

‘No problem,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘I had cleared my desk before you came. I hope you have what you want.’

‘Not quite: I would like some personal information about you, but perhaps you would like to set up another date. I understand Farrell Brannigan gave you your start. I would like to hear about that. It would make a great story.’

‘Suppose we go into that over dinner?’ I said. There was something about her that hooked me. I wanted to keep her with me as long as I could. ‘There’s a place down the street that serves a decent meal.’

She nodded.

‘Let’s do that.’

After our game of golf, and after she had driven away, I had had her on my mind. Usually, I had a snack at the clubhouse and mixed with the other members, but this time, I wasn’t in the mood, and had driven down to the beach, had a swim, then lay alone in the sun and had thought about her.

There is some mysterious chemistry that no one has yet explained that takes place when a certain man and a certain woman meet. Some call it love at first sight. Whatever it is, it is a sudden fusion, and being an electronics man, I saw it as getting the right electrical connection and turning on a switch.

This had now happened to me. Glenda Marsh, at first sight, had become the woman I really wanted. Fate, destiny, call it what you like, had brought us together, and the switch, for me, had been turned on.

But had the turned-on switch done anything for her? Maybe her chemistry hadn’t responded as mine had. This was something I had to find out.

I had walked with her to the Mirabeau restaurant where I often dined. She was one of those rare women who didn’t dither when studying a menu. She took one brief glance, then said she would like the clam chowder. It was a good choice. I went along with it.

‘Now tell me about yourself,’ she said, resting her elbows on the table and regarding me with those big green eyes.

So I told her about my father, my golf, B. E. & C. and Brannigan. We had nearly finished the meal by the time I had finished my life story.

‘Are you married, Mr. Lucas?’

‘No.’ I smiled at her. ‘But as soon as the pressure is off, I want to get married.’

‘Any particular girl?’

‘There is a vague chance I have found one, but I’m not sure yet.’

She regarded me, then looked away. Her lips curled into a little smile. I had the idea she got the message.

While I was ordering coffee she lit a cigarette, and when the waiter had gone, she said, ‘A real success story, Mr. Lucas. Congratulations.’

‘It happens. I had the knowledge, but then I had luck.’

‘But you had to have the knowledge. Tell me... is it a fact that the Sharnville bank is the safest bank in the world or is that just a publicity stunt?’

‘It is the safest bank in the world. I should know: I installed all the security equipment... it is no publicity stunt.’

She looked impressed.

‘It would make a great news story. Tell me about it.’

‘Sorry, that’s not for me to talk about. Before I got the job, I had to sign a paper not to talk. If you want the story, talk to Alec Manson who runs the bank, but I don’t think he will tell you much. The bank’s security is top secret.’

‘Well, I can try.’ She smiled her dazzling smile. ‘Would you give me an introduction to Mr. Manson?’

‘No problem. Now, tell me something about yourself. Where are you staying in Sharnville, and how long will you be here?’

‘At the Excelsior, and I’ll be here at least a month.’

‘Do you like the Excelsior?’

She grimaced.

‘Does anyone like staying in a hotel?’

‘Would a two-room furnished apartment with a kitchen interest you?’

Her green eyes sparkled.

‘Would it not! That would be marvellous!’

‘Then I can fix it for you. There’s an empty apartment in my complex. I can fix it for you to have for a month.’ I signalled for the cheque. ‘Like to see it?’

‘Why, thank you, Mr. Lucas.’

I looked directly into the big green eyes.

‘Make it Larry, Glenda,’ I said. ‘We are going to be neighbours. My apartment is across the corridor.’

The following morning, she had moved into the apartment. I called Alec Manson and told him about her, explaining she was doing a reportage on Sharnville for The Investor, and she would like to talk to him.

In his dry, clipped voice, he said she could come any time, so I called Glenda and told her to go ahead, and if she had nothing better to do, why not let us have dinner together this evening?

This time I took her to a seafood restaurant. While driving her along the coast road, I asked how she had made out with Manson.

She raised her slim hands and let them drop, in her lap.

‘Like interviewing an oyster. He allowed me to shoot the outside of the bank and the lobby. When I asked him about the security, he stayed dumb. I have no story, Larry.’

‘I warned you. After all, Glenda, if he let you into the secrets of the bank security, it would no longer be the safest bank in the world, would it?’

She laughed.

‘You have a point, but what a story!’ She looked at me. ‘But you can tell me.’

‘I could, but I won’t. Brannigan has plans to open four more banks along the coast, and I get the security job. I want that contract. Brannigan is a very smart cookie. He would know at once I had been talking. Sorry, Glenda.’

‘Oh, well!’ She shrugged.

We arrived at the restaurant and settled at our table. After consulting the menu, we both settled for lobsters.

While waiting, she asked. ‘What is crime like in Sharnville?’

‘That’s something I know nothing about. You talk to Sheriff Joe Thomson. He’ll be glad to give you a rundown. I play golf with him from time to time. He’s a smart cookie.’

While we were eating, I thought it time to get to know something about her personal life.

‘You’ve quizzed me, Glenda. It’s my turn. Are you married?’ I asked this question with trepidation.

‘Yes... it didn’t work out.’ She pulled a little face. ‘I’m a working woman. He was an auto salesman. He just sat around and did nothing. I made a mistake.’

‘We all make them.’

‘I guess.’ She looked at me and smiled. ‘But I’ll confess, I get tired sometimes of this job: it’s all race and chase: living in hotels, motels. It pays off, but...’ She shrugged.

‘Ever thought of trying marriage again?’ I asked, looking directly at her.

She stiffened, and those green eyes lost their sparkle.

‘There is nothing to stop anyone thinking, is there?’ She pushed her plate aside. ‘That was good.’

‘Coffee?’

She nodded.

There was a long pause as we both regarded the ocean, shimmering in the moonlight. I longed to rush it, but knew it would be a mistake. I wanted to tell her I loved her. I wanted to tell her I had lots of money, could give her a home and wanted her to be with me for the rest of my life, but I told myself I had to wait to get some sign from her. I had to be patient. I had a month.

Back at my complex, we rode up in the elevator to the tenth floor, and we paused outside her door.

‘Thank you, Larry. It has been a lovely evening.’

‘Let’s do it again tomorrow night.’

She regarded me thoughtfully, then shook her head.

‘No. Come and have dinner with me. I’ll cook for you.’

Then she smiled. ‘It’s odd how people meet.’ She put her hand on my aim. ‘Tomorrow at eight,’ and leaning forward, she brushed my cheek with her lips, smiled and disappeared into her apartment, gently shutting the door.

I stood for a long moment, staring at the door, knowing now our chemistry had fused, and scarcely believing it.

We sat side by side on the settee. The single lamp cast shadows. We had eaten the best meal I had ever had: crab soup, and the breasts of duck in rice with soya sauce. We had had three large gin martinis each, and had shared a bottle of Beaujolais. I had never felt more relaxed nor more contented.

Very softly, Bing Crosby sang The Blue of the Night from a cassette she had put on.

Having her by my side, the atmosphere, that golden voice singing, the food and drink was my moment of truth. I felt I couldn’t ever be so happy, so relaxed. This was a memory to hold on to and to remember.

I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want her to talk. I just wanted to sit there, slightly drunk, listening to that voice, looking at her as she lay back, her eyes closed, the shadows from die lamp, making her face even more beautiful than it was.

The song came to an end, and there was a sudden emptiness in this rather shabby, but comfortable room.

She opened her eyes and smiled at me.

‘Everything finally comes to an end.’ She reached out and switched off the recorder.

‘That was marvellous,’ I said. The meal was marvellous.’ I looked at her. ‘You are marvellous.’

She reached for a cigarette, lit it, then lay back, but away from me.

‘Last night, you asked me if I ever thought of trying marriage again. I want you to know about Alex, my husband.’

My mind came to attention.

‘Your ex-husband?’

‘I’m still married to him.’

My feeling of utter relaxation left me. I sat up and stared at her.

‘You are still married to him? I thought you were divorced.’

‘I wish I was.’ She stared at the burning ember of her cigarette. ‘God! How I wish I was!’

‘But why not?’ I was now leaning forward, my hands into fists. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘You don’t know Alex. With him, there is always a problem. He won’t give me a divorce.’

‘I don’t understand, Glenda. Did he leave you or did you leave him?’

‘I left him. I couldn’t stand him any longer. He’s not interested in women. He isn’t interested in anything except money and himself.’

‘When did you leave him?’

‘About six months ago.’

‘There must be some way you can get rid of him.’

She shrugged.

‘I can buy him off. For twenty thousand dollars, he will give me a divorce. It is as shabby and as sordid as that.’

‘You mean for twenty thousand dollars you can be free of him?’

‘Why talk about it?’ She moved impatiently and flicked ash into the ashtray. ‘I wanted you to know Larry, because I am falling in love with you.’ She put her hand on mine. ‘I thought I could go through life alone, but now I have met you, my ideas have changed. It’s odd, rather frightening, how a woman meets a man, then something happens. This must be our last meeting, Larry, and I mean that. I know you have money, and I know you love me, but I will not be bought!’ She looked directly at me. ‘You are not to say you will give Alex the money to free me. That would be un-acceptable to me! I am working and saving. In another two years, I hope to pay him off, but I won’t have you waiting all that time.’

‘I’ll lend you the money, Glenda! I won’t give it to you, I’ll lend it, and when you can, you can pay me back.’

‘No!’ She stood up. ‘It is getting late.’

I got to my feet and put my arms around her and pulled her against me.

‘Yes,’ she said, her face against mine. ‘Just this once, Larry. I long for you.’ Her body pressed against mine.

Then the front door bell rang.

The sound of the bell was like an electric shock. We jerked apart and both looked towards the front door which opened directly into the living-room.

‘Don’t answer it,’ I whispered.

‘I have to.’ She gestured towards the uncurtained window. ‘Whoever this is knows I’m here.’

‘I’ll get out of sight.’ I was in a panic, and this needs explaining. I was now regarded in Sharnville as one of their leading citizens. I was on equal terms with all the big shots at the Country club. To be caught in the apartment of a married woman photographer would cause a buzz of gossip that would tarnish my present image.

‘No!’ she said curtly.

Stiff with apprehension, my heart thumping, I watched her cross to open the front door.

The last man I wanted to see stood in the doorway: Sheriff Joe Thomson.

As I had told Glenda, I had often played golf with Thomson. We got along well enough together, but talking to him as we walked the fairways, I came to realize this man was a dedicated cop. He was around forty-five years of age; tall, lean, tough, and had been in police business for some twenty years. He had the face of a hungry eagle: small cop eyes, a hooked nose and paper-thin lips. When playing golf, he seemed relaxed, but there was no humour in him. He took golf seriously, and I had the impression he could be utterly ruthless when the chips were down.

He looked into the dimly lit room. His small eyes rested on me, and his eyebrows shot up. Then he looked at the dining table with the unmistakable evidence that Glenda and I had been eating together.

He took off his Stetson hat.

‘I apologize, Mrs. Marsh, for this late call. Seeing your light on, I thought I’d drop in and give you the data of our crime record as you wanted it so urgently.’ Then raising his hand, he saluted me. ‘Hi, citizen.’

‘Hello there, Joe,’ I said, my voice husky.

‘How kind of you, sheriff,’ Glenda said, completely at ease. ‘Do come in. Mr. Lucas is just leaving. He has been telling me interesting stories about Sharnville.’

‘Is that right?’ The cop eyes went to me, then back to her, ‘Larry certainly knows this town. You could call him a founding member. I won’t come in. My lady has dinner waiting for me.’ He offered an envelope. ‘You’ll find all the dope here, Mrs. Marsh. If you want any further information, you know where to find me.’ He waved to me. ‘See you, citizen,’ then putting on his Stetson, he walked away to the elevator.

Facing each other, we stood motionless until we heard the elevator door shut, then we looked at each other.

The spell had been broken.

Not three minutes ago, I had been aching to make love to her, and she had been aching for me, but not now.

‘I must go,’ I said, my voice unsteady. ‘He keeps a finger on the pulse of this town. We’ll have to be much more careful from now on, Glenda.’

She lifted her hands in a gesture of despair and let them drop.

‘For a moment I thought...’ She turned away. ‘Nothing ever works out for me... nothing!’

‘If Brannigan or Manson or the Mayor thought I was fooling around with a married woman, Glenda, I would be in trouble, and so would my business. I have a partner to consider. I just must be careful!’

She gave a little shiver, then turning, she looked at me.

‘Fooling around? Is that what you call it?’

‘Glenda! Of course I don’t! But they would think so.’

She forced a smile.

‘Don’t look so worried. I told you this is the last time. I promise you I won’t spoil your success story.’ The bitterness in her voice was like the flick of a whip, but I had to go. I was sure Thomson would sit in his car to make certain I did leave.

‘I’ll contact you, Glenda. We just have to be more careful.’ I moved towards her, but she stepped back, shaking her head. ‘Glenda! We must work this out! I love you, but you must understand I just can’t take chances.’

‘I do understand.’ Again the forced smile. ‘Goodbye, Larry,’ and leaving me, she went into her bedroom and shut the door.

At this moment, all I could think of was Thomson, sitting in his car, waiting to see if the light in my apartment went up. I hurried across the corridor, unlocked my front door and entered. Without turning on the lights, I went to the window and looked cautiously down on to the street. His car was still there, I turned on the lights, then taking my time, so he could see me, I slowly drew the curtains.

He started his car and drove away.

Two days later, while I was coping with the morning’s mail, Bill Dixon breezed into my office. I hadn’t seen him for the past week. He had been working on a building project some fifty miles outside Sharnville.

‘Hi, Bill,’ I said, ‘When did you blow in?’

‘Last night.’ He dumped his heavy brief-case on the floor and sat down, facing me. ‘I called you, but you were out.’

I had been down to the beach, alone, trying to figure out what to do about Glenda. I knew I was in a tricky situation. After pacing the floor of my living-room on the night we had parted and hearing her voice, saying I long for you, going over and over in my mind, I had thrown caution aside, and had crossed the corridor and rung her bell. The time then had been 01.30. She didn’t open the door. I rang again, then I heard the elevator coming up, and scared, I retreated to my apartment The following morning before leaving for the office, I again rang her bell, and again she didn’t answer. In the office, as soon as I had got rid of the mail, I telephoned her. There was no answer. By lunchtime, after trying to get her again, I was fit to be tied. I had to talk to her! But we had to talk where no prying eyes could see us. If she had been divorced, there would have been no problem, but I kept thinking that maybe her husband was having her watched, and if he cited me as the other man, this would badly dent my image in Sharnville and the business Bill and I had built up would take a financial knock. This sounds crazy in these modern days, but I knew Sharnville: leading citizens were expected to behave themselves and I was now a leading citizen.

I tried to contact her in the evening, and again the next day, without success. I went down to the garage and found her car gone. I wondered, with a sick, sinking feeling, she had left Sharnville, and I would never see her again.

That evening, I went down to the beach and considered what I should do. She was the one woman for me. I now, knew that. I was even prepared to wait two years if I had to, to marry her, but not if I could find some much quicker solution. After thinking, I decided I would have to find out more about her husband. It seemed to me that if I could meet and talk to him, offer him money, without Glenda knowing, he would be willing to free her. To me, she was worth far more than money. Although the bulk of my money was tied up in the business, I knew it would be no problem to get twenty thousand dollars from Manson on loan.

Finally, I decided I had to talk to her, and somehow, get her husband’s address from her. But where was she? Where had she gone?

On this morning, as I parked my car outside the office block, I saw Sheriff Thomson striding along the sidewalk.

He paused and nodded to me.

‘Hi, citizen.’ This was his usual greeting to all his friends.

‘Hello there.’

‘That’s a smart young woman you sent to me... Mrs. Marsh.’ He regarded me with his cop eyes. ‘I reckon the articles she’s going to write won’t do Sharnville any harm.’

I forced a grin.

‘That’s why I suggested she should talk to you.’

‘Yeah.’

There was a pause, then I said casually, ‘She’s doing a reportage on my business, Joe. This is important to me. I’ve got some more information for her, but I can’t contact her.’

He pushed his Stetson hat to the back of his head.

‘She’s out of town right now, but she’ll be back. She told me she’s doing a piece on Grimmon’s store, and she’s got herself invited to old man Grimmon’s place in L.A.’ He stared thoughtfully at me. ‘She’ll be back. She wants to get photos of the jail.’ He scowled at a motorist who was about to double park. Seeing him, the motorist drove on. ‘How about a game of golf next Sunday?’

‘I’d like to, Joe, but this Sunday I’m playing with Mr. Brannigan.’

He nodded.

‘Mr. Brannigan, huh? I heard you play golf with him. You sure move in the top circles.’

I tried to laugh that off.

‘Strictly between you and me, Joe, he plays with me because I coach him. I’ve got his handicap down from eighteen to twelve.’

He straightened his hat, wiped the end of his nose with the back of his hand, then nodded.

‘You’ve got business. I’ve got business. See you,’ and he walked on.

So Glenda was in Los Angeles. She hadn’t run away from Sharnville! I would have a chance of talking to her on her return!

‘We’ve won the contract, Larry,’ Bill said, beaming. ‘It’s a beaut! I reckon it will be worth at least a hundred thousand to us!’

For the next two hours we went over the contract to build a factory to produce furniture elements. Bill had the heaviest work of designing the factory and building it. My share of the project was to provide typewriters, calculators and photocopy machines and get them installed.

When we were through, Bill sat back and regarded me.

‘Pretty good, huh? We’re growing fast, but we need more capital. We’ll have to carry this firm for six months before we get their money. Right now, they are asking for credit, but they are sound.’

‘I’m playing golf with F.B. Sunday. I’ll talk to him. He’ll give us credit.’

Then out of the blue, he asked quietly, ‘Who is Glenda Marsh?’

If he had reached across the desk and poked me in the jaw, I couldn’t have been more shaken. I gaped at him.

‘Glenda Marsh,’ he repeated, his voice now sharp.

I got hold of myself.

‘Yes... Glenda Marsh. She arrived here this week. She is doing a reportage on Sharnville for The Investor. She’s already covered our setup.’ I realized I was talking too fast, and I made the effort and slowed down. ‘She wants your side of the story, and to take photographs. She’s already talked to Manson and Thomson and she’s interviewing Grimmon right now. She’s doing this reportage in depth. It’ll do us a lot of good.’

‘That’s fine.’ He hesitated, then went on, ‘Look, Larry, we are partners. We have now got off the pad. We are in big business. Sharnville is rather special. Although it is growing fast, it is still small minded.’

I felt a chill run up my back.

‘I’m not with you, Bill.’

‘Let me spell it out. After trying to contact you last night I went to the Excelsior bar for a snack and a drink. The bar was buzzing about you and this Marsh woman. Fred Maclain was full of booze. As deputy sheriff, he has his ear to the ground. He was saying you had taken this woman out to dinner twice, and Sheriff Thomson had found you in her apartment late at night. Maclain says she is married and is trying to get a divorce. She volunteered this information to Thomson. Certain citizens here are now thinking there is something going on between this woman and you. In a couple of days, the whole town will be buzzing.’

This was the time to have told him I was in love with Glenda, but, stupidly, I didn’t.

‘For God’s sake!’ I said. ‘I did take her out twice to dinner because I wanted her to get the complete picture of what you and I have done. There was more talk to be done, and she suggested we talked in her apartment and she would give me dinner. In this small-minded town, now you tell me, that was a mistake, but we talked business all the time.’

He relaxed and grinned at me.

‘That’s good news, Larry. Hearing all the talk, I began to wonder if you had hot pants for this woman. As a favour, and as your partner, in the future, will you be more careful?’

‘There’s no favour about this, Bill! Okay, I admit I didn’t think, but it never crossed my mind that these people could start gossiping. Mrs. Marsh is doing us a favour, getting us into The Investor. What’s wrong in taking her out to dinner?’

‘Nothing. The slip-up, Larry, was having dinner in her apartment.’

‘Yes... that was stupid of me, but I didn’t think.’ I forced a grin. ‘It won’t happen again.’

He studied his fingernails for a long moment, then looked directly at me.

‘When I need a woman, I have someone in ’Frisco. I’ve made sure there is no blowback. Sharnville is different. You and I are under a spotlight. For God’s sake, be careful!’

‘There’s nothing to be careful about!’ I said angrily. ‘This is just malicious gossip.’

‘Yeah, but gossip could give us lots of trouble.’ He ran his fingers through his short hair. ‘I don’t have to remind you we rely on Brannigan. We are expanding fast, and he is backing us. Because of his say-so, we have this big loan. Without it, Larry, expanding as we are doing, we could go bust. Now here’s something you might not know. Brannigan is a Quaker. I told you when we first met, he was great, but take a wrong step, and you would be out. Some years ago, he had a secretary who really slaved for him. He thought she was the tops. Then she got snarled up with a married man, gossip started, and Brannigan threw her out. It didn’t matter to him that she had been the best secretary he ever had. The fact she committed adultery made her a leper to him. He seems to have this thing: men or women fooling around with married women or men are strictly out. So for both our sakes, Larry, keep away from Glenda Marsh. If Brannigan gets a whiff of this, he would call our loan, and we would be sunk.’

‘There’s nothing going on, Bill,’ I lied. ‘Okay, I made a mistake. Relax...it won’t happen again.’

He grinned.

‘Fine. Now I want you on the site tomorrow. These people are staying in ’Frisco, and it would be a smart idea for both of us to stay in their hotel and finalize the deal. How about it?’

I hesitated. I would have liked to be here when Glenda returned. Then seeing Bill’s inquiring stare, I nodded.

‘Okay, Bill. I’ll get my desk cleared. Tomorrow then...’

When he had gone to his office, I sat staring out of the window. The writing was on the wall, but I wanted Glenda. I wanted her as I had never wanted any other woman. I had to talk to her! I had to convince her that I loved her, and she meant everything to me. I was sure I could persuade her to let me buy her husband off. Once this was done, and she got her divorce, there would be no problem, and I was sure Brannigan, once he knew I was marrying her, would raise no objections.

But how to contact her? I now had to spend a couple of days in ’Frisco. She would be returning to Sharnville, probably tomorrow. I didn’t want her to think I had gone away to avoid her.

For some time, I wrestled with this problem, then I did the stupidest thing I have ever done. I reached for a sheet of notepaper and wrote to her.

I put this letter in an envelope, and when I returned to my apartment that evening, I pushed the envelope under her door.

Ferris Point is a tiny bay, hedged in by sand shrubs with sand dunes, and offers perfect swimming. I often went there when I wanted to be alone. Sharnville as yet hadn’t discovered it.

I drove down the sandy, uneven road to the bay, and leaving my car under the shade of a tree, I made my way through the sand shrubs and on to the stretch of golden sand.

Would she come?

I had had two hectic, but profitable days in ’Frisco. The deal had gone through, but we would need yet another loan from the bank. I was confident we would get it, and I told Bill I would talk to Brannigan this day while we played golf.

But first Glenda.

Then I saw her.

She was sitting on the sand, wearing an emerald-green bikini, her knees up to her chin, her hands gripping her ankles, the sun reflecting on her red hair.

I stopped and looked at her, and at this moment I thought she was the most desirable, wonderful woman on earth.

She looked towards me and smiled.

As I joined her, she said quietly, ‘So you see, Larry, the temptation was too great. All my good intentions of not seeing you again...’ She grimaced. ‘I have had you on my mind, night and day.’ She released her ankles and dropped back, stretching out. ‘Don’t let’s talk, darling... let’s make love.’

I threw off my shirt and slacks as she got rid of her bikini. I knelt over her, loving the sight of her body, wanting to kiss every inch of her.

‘No... quickly, Larry. Come into me.’

There was an urgency in her voice that set me on fire. As I covered her and she guided me into her, she gave a soft cry. Her legs wrapped around me. Her fingers dug into my flesh.

The sun, the sound of the sea and the rustle of leaves made a perfect background as, feverishly, we reached the climax. Her fingers moved down my back, holding me in her.

‘Again,’ she gasped. ‘Please... again!’

Then a voice from nowhere said, ‘Break it up, you sonofabitch,’ and a shoe thudded into my ribs. The kick was so violent, it threw me off her. Rolling on my back, I stared up.

A short, squat man was standing over me. I saw him as a nightmare, sharply in focus: bearded, suntanned, eyes like currants stuck in honey bread. A panama hat was pulled down, shading his bushy eyebrows. He wore a crumpled, dirty white suit.

As Glenda struggled to her feet, he hit her with the back of his hand, a vicious blow that sent her sprawling.

A murderous rage swept through me. I launched myself at him, my hands groping for his throat. We smashed down on the sand, and for a long moment, we fought like animals. His strength, was horrifying. Although I had a grip on his throat, he broke my hold. His fist smashed into my face, his knee came up into my groin. The hot sun suddenly turned dim as if there was a sudden eclipse. I clung on to his coat, and again his fist smashed into my face. Still this murderous rage gave me strength to throw him off. As he fell on his back, I heaved myself up and using both fists, I clubbed down on his face. My body was screaming with pain, but I didn’t care. All I wanted now was to kill him. As I raised my fists to club him again, a light exploded inside my head, and the sun snapped off like a fused light.

I swam out of unconsciousness, feeling the grit of sand on my skin. I moved, and a blinding flash of pain shot through my head. I heard myself groan. I lay still. My groin ached. My ribs ached. My face ached.

The sun burned down on me. I could hear the gentle lap of the sea on the beach, and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Very slowly, I gathered myself together. Very slowly, my hands holding my head, I sat up. I rode the pain, hammering inside my skull, forced open my eyes and stared around the deserted beach.

No Glenda. No squat man. I had Ferris Point to myself.

I waited, my hands still holding my head, then I became aware that my hands were sticky, and with a shudder, I took them from my head and looked at them. They were red with drying blood.

Because every movement I made sent pangs of pain through me, I remained staring down at my bloodstained hands, motionless.

Maybe twenty minutes crawled by before my brain became activated.

Where was Glenda? What had happened?

I looked at my watch. The time now was 08.45. I had been unconscious for some thirty minutes. Making an effort, I struggled to my feet, t h e sea and die beach swirled around me, and I had to sit down again. I waited. Then I again made the effort, and this time, swaying like a drunk, I managed to stay upright.

The pain in my head raged. I set off slowly: each step as if I were wearing diver’s boots, until I reached the sea. Kneeling, I washed the blood off my hands and scooped salt water against my aching face. The salt stung, but the sting brought me alive. I got to my feet and looked up and down the empty beach, then plodded back to my clothes.

It took me some time to dress. Twice, I had to sit down and rest, but finally I got dressed, and by now I felt more or less alive.

What had happened? Where was Glenda? Where was the squat man in the crumpled white suit?

As if in a nightmare, I trudged across the hot sand to where I had left my car. I opened the car door and sank thankfully into the driving seat. I tilted the driving mirror and stared at myself. My right eye was puffy and black. The right side of my face was swollen, green and red, where the j squat man had hit me.

Then in spite of my raging headache, my brain became more active. In two hours’ time, I was due to play golf with Brannigan, and while we played, I had to ask him to extend our credit. That was out. I had to telephone him and cancel our game. That was the first thing I must do. Then Glenda... but Brannigan first.

I drove away from Ferris Point. There was a café-bar at the top of the sand road and I slowed, then again looking at myself in the driving mirror, I realized I would cause a sensation if I went in there to use their telephone, so I drove on.

I was lucky with the traffic which was light at this time. My head screamed at me, my face continued to swell. If a traffic cop had spotted me during the four miles back to my apartment, he would have stopped me, but no traffic cop appeared.

I scarcely knew what I was doing by the time I drove into the underground garage. I staggered out of my car, and looked at the bay where Glenda kept her car. It was empty.

Five minutes later, I was somehow talking to Brannigan. I caught him as he was leaving for Sharnville. I told him I had had a car accident and would he excuse me?

‘Are you hurt, son?’ he asked, concern in his voice.

‘My face and my windshield had an argument. I’m all right. I just have to nurse my bruises.’

‘What happened?’

‘Some lunatic. I took evasive action and banged my face.’

‘That’s too bad. Anything I can do?’

‘Thanks, no. I’ll be all right. Sorry about die game.’

‘We’ll set up another date. Take it easy, son,’ and he hung up.

My head still raging, I crossed the corridor and rang Glenda’s bell.

‘She’s gone, Mr. Lucas.’

I turned slowly. The old black cleaning woman was at the end of the corridor with her mop and her bucket.

‘Gone?’

‘Sure, Mr. Lucas. She left around seven this morning. She seemed in an awful hurry, carrying her bags. I offered to help her, but she walked through me as if I wasn’t there.’ She gaped at me. ‘Your poor face, Mr. Lucas!’

‘I had a car accident,’ I said and returned to my apartment.

I dropped on my bed and held my aching head in my hands. What was happening? What the hell was happening?

Forcing myself upright, I went into the kitchen and got ice from the refrigerator. I wrapped ice cubes in a towel and held the towel to the back of my head. Moving slowly, I returned to the living-room, holding the ice bag against my head. It helped a lot. Then after some minutes, I transferred the ice bag to my swollen face. That also helped. The raging pain began to diminish.

Then die telephone bell rang.

Glenda?

I snatched up the receiver.

‘Mr. Lucas?’ A brisk male voice.

‘Who is this?’ I managed to mumble, shifting the ice bag to the back of my head.

‘The name is Edwin Klaus.’ He spelt out. ‘K-l-a-u-s.’ A pause, then he went on, ‘We have business together. I’ll be with you in ten minutes, Mr. Lucas, but first do me a favour. Take a look in your car trunk. I am sure you have a headache, but make the effort. Take a look,’ and he hung up.

A hoax call? A nut?

I sat still. No, not a hoax call. A cold chill swept over me. I dragged myself upright and walked slowly to the elevator. I rode down to the garage. I reached my car and unlocked the trunk. I swung up the lid.

Curled up, like an obscene foetus, blood on his crumpled white suit, his beard matted with blood, was the squat man.

His blank eyes gazed up at me as only dead eyes can gaze,