The Case of the Turning Tide

Chapter 4

Ted Shale’s suitcase yielded a pair of slacks and a sport shirt. He donned these. The coat of his single-breasted business suit had not been in the water, and he put it on.

His wet trousers, shirt, tie, and underwear he immersed in a bathtub filled with lukewarm water, manipulating the garments until the salty water had been rinsed from them. Then he drained the bathtub and hung the garments out to dry above the tub. The monotonous drip-drip-drip which fell on the porcelain furnished a mournful cadence which kept pace with his thoughts. The sales manager of the Freelander Pasteboard Products Company would hardly approve of having his salesman marooned in a Santa Delbarra hotel.

The telephone rang.

Ted picked up the receiver. A feminine voice said, “Mr. Shale?”

“Yes.”

“Dressed to receive visitors?”

“Who is this?”

“Miss Moline.”

“How about you?”

“Thanks to borrowed plumage, I’m all fixed up. As it happens, Miss Harpler and I seem to have identical measurements.”

“Where are you?”

“At the yacht club. I presume your hotel would object to feminine callers in your room, but I know a nice cocktail lounge. You looked awfully cold when I last saw you. I’d like to get something that would counteract the effects of that chill. After all, you know, you saved my life and...”

“Yes, yes, go on,” Ted interrupted, laughing.

“Suppose I drive by in about ten minutes?”

“I’ll be waiting at the curb,” Ted promised.

“Be seeing you,” she said and hung up.

Ted slipped on his coat once more, adjusted the collar of his sport shirt, gave himself a somewhat dubious glance in the mirror, combed back his hair, and went down to the lobby.

Ted had made no explanations when he had entered the hotel in his wet clothes, and the clerk looked at him curiously. “Everything all right, Mr. Shale?”

“Quite.”

“I thought perhaps you had... that is...”

“No, I hadn’t.” Ted smiled and walked on past the clerk to loiter around the entrance of the hotel, watching the cars that purred past. At that, he nearly missed her. He had hardly been prepared for the cream-colored sport coupe which slid out of the traffic lane and paused for a moment, its motor whispering a song of controlled power — a whisper which could quite evidently become a deep-throated roar of speed.

She was in slacks, a silk sport blouse and a chic red jacket with wide lapels. She had combed her wet hair back from her forehead, and tied it with a ribbon in the back. The effect was to make her look younger, less sophisticated.

She saw him, waved, then leaned across the front seat to open the wide door as Ted jumped to the running board and stepped in. As he swung the door shut, he had the satisfaction of noticing the curious hotel clerk staring with surprised incredulity. One would hardly expect salesmen who came in soaking wet to be picked up by attractive young women driving five-thousand-dollar automobiles.

“Did you get chilled?” she asked.

“No. The only mortality seems to have been suffered by my wardrobe. How about you?”

“I’m fine. Joan Harpler furnished a drink. It tasted so good I thought something should be done about you — and I wanted to talk with you.”

“Talk ahead.”

“Well, really I meant I wanted to be talked to. I’m jittery. That hit me a terrific wallop. You see, I knew both of those men. Don’t let me get talking about that — please don’t. And if I start crying, slap me. Will you promise?”

He shook his head.

She frowned. “I hope I haven’t made a mistake in you. When I was screaming, you told me to shut up. I didn’t do it because I just couldn’t. Well, you slapped me, and it did me a lot of good. It’s the first time...”

“Let’s not talk about it. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry! That’s why I came to you, because of that slap. Will you hit me again if I start crying?”

“No.”

She frowned across at him.

“I’m sorry, but it takes a major emergency to give me the necessary incentive.”

“Oh, well, perhaps you’re just being polite. After all, my jaw’s still sore where you hit me. And please let’s have no misunderstanding, Mr. Shale. The check is on me.”

“Oh, but...”

“But me no buts,” she interrupted. “And in case your masculine vanity makes you feel it’s undignified to have women paying the check, I’m entrusting you with this.”

She passed her hand over to Ted’s. A warm, folded bit of paper was left in his hand as her fingers were withdrawn.

“Now, wait a minute,” Ted protested. “After all, I’m not...”

She interrupted, “It’s plain business. I need an escort, and you need a drink.”

“I’m not a professional escort.”

“Get your hair down, Rover,” she said. “Don’t start fighting.”

Ted said, “I’m not fighting, just trying to keep a little self-respect. I could use a drink, but I’m not keen on going places with a million dollars’ worth of class in tow, and not being able to pay the freight.”

“Now listen, I’m in a spot... Someone, I think it’s the Chinese, claim that if one person interferes to save the life of another, he’s obligated thereafter to the one whose life he saved, on the theory that if he had let Fate takes its course, it would have all been over. Well, I’m calling on you to fulfill your obligation. I’m in a mess. And I’m pretty much broken up. Now then, will you, or won’t you?”

“Okay, I will,” Ted surrendered. “But my clothes...”

“Oh, forget that. We’ll go to a really swank place. The more freakish you look there, the better service they give you. They’ll think you must be a Hollywood director. What have you been doing, and how come you’re representing this pasteboard company?”

“I’m selling paper cups because I thought I saw a chance to go in business for myself. I hocked everything I had to make a go of it.”

“And?” she asked.

“And with keen business sagacity, an acumen which is doubtless destined some day to make me a millionaire, the business I selected to go into was — guess?”

“What?”

“Aluminum kitchenware.”

“Oh-oh!”

“And so,” Ted went on, “after I’d finally built up a good will that was a real asset, what with the factory notifying me that no more supplies would be available, and even refusing to fill some of the orders on which I’d already counted the commission, I found myself ‘temporarily embarrassed.’ ”

“And then?”

“I got a job with the Freelander Pasteboard Products Company... Say, why am I wallowing in all these details, anyway? Ordinarily, I never bare my soul to a girl until after the second drink.”

“Under those circumstances,” she announced, swinging her car up a graveled driveway, “let’s not waste any time with the preliminaries incident to the first.”

She surrendered the car to a young man in livery who spoke to her, Ted thought, as though he knew her. She took Ted’s arm and said, “You’ll find this place rather nice.” Ted felt quite certain that the head waiter knew her well enough to call her by name, but that there was something in the warning glance she gave him which prevented him from doing so. Ted also realized that, as the escort of this young woman, he was being treated with great deference.

When they were seated in a little private alcove with its own window overlooking the sweep of a crescent beach, the white, serrated lines of incoming surf, and the tranquil turquoise of the ocean, she said suddenly, “You can’t turn back the hands of the clock. You’ve got to keep facing forward as you go through life, and take things as they come.”

Ted said, “That’s what makes life hard — and interesting.”

The waiter brought them a wine list.

“They have some very fine brandy here,” she said. “A double brandy would do us both good. How about it?”

Ted nodded. The waiter deferentially withdrew.

“I have the feeling that you’re something of a soldier of fortune,” she said.

“I like to plunge,” he admitted.

“Perhaps you’d like to do something for me.”

“Perhaps.”

She was thoughtfully silent for a brief space. The waiter brought their drinks. She touched her glass to his, said, “Here’s to...” and then her voice suddenly choked.

Ted said, “Forget it. It’s over. Keep facing forward.”

She blinked back tears. They sipped the brandy. Abruptly, she said, “I think the best way to get anywhere with you is to come directly to the point.”

He nodded.

“What were you doing on the beach this morning?”

“Getting exercise and fresh air.”

“How long had you been there before... before I fell over-board?”

“Oh, perhaps an hour.”

“Surely you hadn’t been walking up and down that same stretch of sand for an hour?”

“I’d been in the general vicinity.”

“Near the yacht club?”

“Yes.”

“Where you could have seen anyone go aboard the Gypsy Queen?”

“Yes.”

“Look, let’s be frank with each other. You’re representing a paper company. Addison Stearne has a chain of hotels. He told me he was going to put in a large order for some supplies. Was your trip to Santa Delbarra in any way connected with that business?”

“Yes.”

“Had you seen Stearne?”

“No.”

“You were on the beach waiting for him?”

“Well — yes.”

“You were watching for him to come ashore?”

“Yes.”

She frowned down at the brandy glass. “Yet you didn’t see me go aboard? What I’m getting at,” she went on with a rush of hurried words after a brief pause, “is that there must have been some period when you had your attention distracted, or when you weren’t in a position to watch the yacht.”

“Well, yes,” he admitted, “about fifteen or twenty minutes before I noticed you on the yacht, I became interested in a shell. I examined it closely for two or three minutes.”

“And during that time, you weren’t watching. That is, you weren’t where you could see anyone who happened to get aboard the yacht.”

“I guess that’s right.”

“That was fifteen or twenty minutes before you saw me?”

“Yes.”

She nodded her head with quick emphasis. “That would make it just about right. In fact, I think I remember seeing you. You were crouched over — or kneeling or sitting down, holding something in your hand, and...”

“I was kneeling, looking down at the shell. I didn’t pick it up because there seemed to be something in it.”

“But you were holding your hand near it?”

“Probably.”

“Yes. I remember seeing you — just in a general way. That was when I was casting off the skiff and going out to the yacht.”

He asked suddenly, “What is it that you want me to do for you?”

“I want to know who goes aboard the Gypsy Queen during the next three or four days.”

“Just during the days?”

“No. All of the time.”

“That all?”

“Yes.”

He laughed and said, “I’m afraid I’d have to be twins, standing out on that beach...”

“Oh, but you wouldn’t have to. While I was aboard the Albatross — Miss Harpler’s yacht, you know — I made arrangements with her to co-operate. She said she’d be glad to until I could make other arrangements. She said you could come on board her yacht and watch from there.”

“You told her that I was going to do it?” Shale asked.

“Well, not exactly. I told her I wanted to have someone watch the yacht, that I was particularly interested in finding out who went aboard, and how long they stayed. I think she was the one who mentioned that you might be available.”

“I’m afraid you’ve failed to take into consideration the fact that I’m working on a job. The sales manager of the Freelander Pasteboard...”

“He wants you to get the Order for that hotel business, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this would be working on it.”

“I don’t get you.”

“You see, I’m going to have something to say about how the estate is managed. I can’t give you all the details, but I’ll have some voice in the business of the estate — directly or in-directly. Your company doesn’t care where the order comes from. These hotels are going to keep right on using paper, you know.”

He said cautiously, “If the sales manager could be convinced that you were...”

“Anyhow, the district attorney told you to wait here. You can’t leave. If you do this for me, I’ll do all I can to get you a whopping big paper order. Is it a bargain?”

Shale thought it over. “The district attorney told me to stay on at the Balboa Hotel. He’d hardly understand it if I went out to live on the yacht.”

“That’ll be all right. You can call the hotel for messages, ring the desk clerk four or five times a day.”

“Suppose I don’t know the persons who get on and off the yacht? What do I do then? Try to follow them?”

“No. Get a good description, the time they went aboard, the time they left, and whether they brought anything out with them. I’ll give you a pair of very fine night binoculars. Use them. Try to be able to identify those people when you see them again.”

“When does this start?” asked Ted,

“As soon as you’ve finished your drink.”

Shale said, “It’s a bargain.”

“That’s splendid. Please don’t go back to your hotel. Just get in the car, and we’ll drive down to the Albatross.”

“Why don’t you want me to return to the hotel?”

“Because if you do, someone’s going to trace you to the yacht.”

“I left some clothes in my room. I wanted to have them pressed as soon as they were dry.”

“That’s all right. You can telephone the hotel. The valet will go up and get your things. I’ll telephone for you while you’re paying the check. Where are they?”

“Hanging over the bathtub.”

“No, no,” she said as he made to rise, “stay right where you are. Get the check from the waiter and pay it. Then we won’t lose any time.”

She entered the telephone booth and pulled the door shut behind her. The waiter, hovering about, brought the check at Ted’s signal. Shale took from his pocket the folded bank note Nita Moline had given him. It was a fifty-dollar bill.