The Joker in the Pack

Chapter five

Never had the sky poked so blue nor the sea so sparkling nor the crowds, swarming the beach, so happy and wonderful, Helga thought as she drove back to the hotel. She felt ten years younger, gayer and utterly reckless.

This best of generals didn’t lose the battle! This was the second time that she had beaten a blackmailer to the punch, and what a punch she had given that sleety creep! As she pulled up in a traffic block, she laughed aloud. An elderly man in a car alongside hers turned to stare at her. She gave him a flashing smile. He grinned shyly and looked away.

She could still see Jackson’s craven face as he had given her the red folder, the letter and a photocopy. He had been shaking and sweating. She had thrown a thousand dollar bill at him, demanding a receipt. His hand had trembled so violently, he could scarcely write.

Snatching the receipt from him, she had said contemptuously, ‘Have fun with your whore, Mr. Jackson. I won’t talk, but sooner or later, someone will,’ and she had left him.

That would sour his sordid romance, she thought and laughed again. The cards were still falling for her! In a few hours she would be flying home. Herman, in hospital, would be out of the way. She thought of Dick Jones, seeing his beauty and her heart began to race. She would have to handle him carefully, but he was young and full of sap. Seducing him would be an exciting experience and God! how she needed an exciting experience! For the first time that she could remember she was now desperately impatient to return home. Previously, the luxury villa with Herman hobbling around, had been like a coffin to her, but not now! With Dick there, opportunities there, Herman in hospital, she wouldn’t even think of going to Switzerland. Winborn had offered to advance her money. As soon as she returned to Paradise City, she would telephone him, telling him to put money in her account and debit the Swiss account.

She glanced at her watch. She had still two and a half hours before leaving Nassau. She decided she wouldn’t have lunch in the sedate grill-room. In the mood for excitement, she would go to one of the West Indian restaurants. She didn’t care that she was so severely dressed. She wanted fun and she was going to have fun!

Driving along the sea road, she pulled into the parking lot of the Riviera Tavern. The place was crowded with scantily dressed boys and girls. Music, with a terrific beat, blared from amplifiers.

A coloured man in white slid up to her.

‘A table, lady?’ There was a knowing grin on his face, telling her he had recognized her. She didn’t care. She was in the mood to join the young, dancing.

‘Yes, and a double vodka martini!’

‘Lady, you will be happier in a bikini,’ the man said. ‘We sell them here. There’s a changing room at the back.’

She laughed.

‘Marvellous!’

Ten minutes later she was sitting at a table in a scarlet and white bikini, the drink before her. She was happily aware that her trim body compared more than favourably with those of the girls with their puppy fat and wobbly bottoms prancing in the centre of the room.

A tall, lean boy with shoulder length hair and a smiling self-assured expression, wearing only swim trunks, danced up to her.

‘No, baby, no... you don’t sit still in this joint. Come on! Come on! Turn it on! Shake it!’

She moved into the crowd with him and abandoned herself to the music. Some of the girls stared at her, but most of them seemed to accept her.

Jiggling before her, the boy said, ‘You new around here, baby? I watch the chicks... the first time I’ve seen you.’

Chicks! She could have hugged him.

She was so elated and happy she didn’t even want the martini. When the music stopped, the boy said, ‘You want to sharpen up on that tan, gorgeous. You swim?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Swim with me?’

‘Why not?’

He grabbed her hand and ran with her across the sand and into the sea.

‘You follow me, baby. I won’t go far out,’ he said.

She paused to watch him. A show off, she thought, no style and little speed. Letting him get well ahead of her, she cut into a racing dive, overtook him and went past him like a rocket. She swam a hundred yards or so, turned around and waited for him.

As he approached, she saw he was no longer happy.

‘Say, who are you? Some athlete or something?’ There was a sour note in his voice.

She realized her mistake. Men! Always wanting to be the top shots! She should have played helpless.

‘Why didn’t you say you could swim like that? You putting me on?’

The spark had gone. Would she ever learn?

‘My drink is getting warm,’ she said and turning, she swam back, leaving him staring after her.

To hell with men! she thought. Use them when you need them, drop them when you don’t!

In the changing room, she rubbed herself dry, put on her dress, paid for her half-finished drink and decided, after all, to have a lonely lunch in the hotel grill-room. As she left she heard a girl say, ‘What the hell does she want to barge in here for?’

And to hell with you! Helga thought.

She got in the Mini and stared through the dusty windshield. Well, at least she had been called a chick!

She had regained her high spirits by the time she reached the hotel. She was hungry and went straight to the grill-room. The Maître d’hôtel met her at the entrance, his expression serious.

‘Excuse me, Mrs. Rolfe, they are asking for you at the desk.’

She stiffened and stared at him.

‘Who?’

‘I believe your man, Hinkle.’

Impatiently she looked at her watch. The time was 12.35.

‘He must wait,’ she said curtly. ‘I want lunch.’

The Maître d’hôtel hesitated, then conducted her to a corner table. She ordered a crab salad and a half bottle of Chablis.

She was damned if anything was going to prevent her lunching, she told herself. Probably some stupid mix up with the luggage or something.

As she was finishing the crab salad, she saw Hinkle hovering in the doorway. One look at his face made her crumple her serviette and start to her feet.

Watched by the other people lunching, she joined Hinkle and they moved into the lobby.

‘What is it?’ she asked sharply.

‘Mr. Rolfe, madame. I regret to tell you he is very poorly.’

She stared at him, her heart skipping a beat.

‘Poorly? What do you mean?’

‘Dr. Bellamy is with him. Would you come up with me, madame?’

A little chill ran through her, but aware that the staff and several tourists were watching, she walked with Hinkle to the elevator.

With the elevator attendant all ears, she couldn’t ask questions until they began walking down the corridor.

‘Won’t we be leaving, Hinkle?’ She could think of nothing else.

‘I am afraid not, madame. Mr. Rolfe’s relapse appears to be serious.’

Her triumph over Jackson, the exciting prospects of going home with Dick Jones vanished like a fist becoming a hand.

Goddamn Herman! she thought. But as soon as the thought passed through her mind, she felt ashamed. “How would you hate to be stricken with a drooling mouth, a useless arm and paralysed legs, you selfish thoughtless bitch,” she told herself.

She found Dr. Bellamy waiting for her. She had never seen such a worried looking man.

‘Oh, Mrs. Rolfe, I have bad news. Mr. Rolfe is unfit to fly.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘I regret to say that I don’t know. Dr. Levi will be arriving in a few hours.’

‘You don’t know?’ Helga snapped. ‘Has he had another stroke... you must know!’

‘He was under sedation. He seems to have drifted into a coma.’

‘Seems? Surely you must know if he is in a coma or not?’

‘The symptoms are puzzling, Mrs. Rolfe. Nurse Fairely became alerted when his breathing became light and his colour took on a bluish tinge. She sent for me. The heart action is strong, but the beat much slower.’

Helga stiffened.

‘Is he dying?’

‘I would say not, Mrs. Rolfe. It is an extraordinary change. I can’t account for it. I have taken the precaution of giving him oxygen. My assistant is with him and will remain with him. Everything that can be done, will be done.’

‘So there is no question of flying him home?’

‘I am afraid not.’

‘So we must wait for Dr. Levi?’

‘Yes, Mrs. Rolfe.’

‘And you can’t suggest what has gone wrong?’

‘I think it would be better to wait for Dr. Levi. Mr. Rolfe is his patient.’

Doctors! she thought.

‘Well, we must wait then,’ and not attempting to conceal her irritation, Helga left the room. She found Hinkle waiting in the corridor. ‘I want to change, Hinkle, then we must talk. Would you give me fifteen minutes?’

‘Certainly, madame.’

She entered her suite, her mind in a frustrated, bitter fury. Quickly she got out of the dress and put on a pyjama suit, then she lit a cigarette and began to pace up and down the big living room. All she could think of was Dick. She was still pacing when Hinkle tapped on the door.

‘This fool of a doctor doesn’t know what is wrong,’ she said angrily as Hinkle came into the room. ‘We have to wait for Dr. Levi. When did this happen?’

‘A few minutes after you left, madame, Nurse Fairely called me and told me she had called Dr. Bellamy. He in his turn called Dr. Levi. Fortunately it was early enough for me to cancel the packing arrangements.’

She stubbed out her cigarette, exasperated.

‘I’ll go out of my mind if I have to stay much longer in this hotel!’

‘That I can appreciate, madame. Perhaps Dr. Levi will give you some idea how long it will be.’

‘I hope so!’ She began to pace the room again. ‘Well, all right, Hinkle, we must wait.’

‘There is Jones to be thought of, madame,’ Hinkle said, his voice dropping a tone.

As if she was thinking of anything else!

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Obviously we won’t be requiring him now, madame. I suggest I see him and advise him to ask the hotel to re-employ him.’

No, Hinkle, she thought, nice and kind as you are, you don’t make decisions.

‘If Mr. Rolfe can travel in a few days, I still wish to give the boy his chance.’ She kept moving around the room so she need not look at Hinkle who she was sure was registering disapproval. ‘Let us wait until we hear what Dr. Levi has to say. Where is Jones?’

‘I don’t know, madame. I haven’t seen him this morning. He had instructions to be in the lobby at 13.15. He is probably down there now, waiting.’

‘All right, Hinkle. I’ll send for you as soon as I have spoken to Dr. Levi.’

‘Very well, madame,’ and Hinkle withdrew.

Helga went immediately to the telephone and called the Hall porter.

‘Is Dick Jones in the lobby?’

‘Yes, Mrs. Rolfe. He is waiting for instructions.’

‘Tell him to come to my suite, please.’

She replaced the receiver and with an unsteady hand she lit yet another cigarette. What she wanted more than anything in the world, when Dick arrived was to lead him into her bedroom, but she knew this was impossible. She would have to wait. She clenched her fists in frustrated fury. Wait! Wait! Wait! That’s all she seemed to be doing with her life... waiting!

After knocking, Dick entered. He stood just inside the door, holding a shabby panama hat in both hands in front of him. He was wearing a cheap, crumpled grey linen suit, a white shirt and a dark blue string tie. Her eyes ran over him. In spite of his shabbiness he was still beautiful to look at and his big, fawn-like eyes gave her a sinking feeling.

‘You have heard that Mr. Rolfe is too unwell to travel?’ she said.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ A pause. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Thank you, Dick.’ She may as well get him used to her calling him by his first name. ‘It is most unfortunate. It means I will have to postpone my trip.’

She was watching him closely and just for a brief moment the dark eyes lit up.

So you are pleased, little boy, she thought. All you are thinking about is your stupid motorbike. Well, I’ll change all that. Soon, all you will be thinking about is me.

‘I am waiting to hear what the doctor has to say. It could be that we will leave in three or four days. You may go home. When I want you, I will send for you.’ She crossed to the table and took her purse from her handbag. ‘Here is your week’s salary. You are now a member of my staff. Do you understand?’

His liquid black eyes dwelt for a moment on the hundred dollar bill she was holding. His full lips moved into what could have been a smile, but it was instantly repressed.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

She gave him the bill.

‘You are to have no contact with Jackson, Dick. Is that understood?’

He flinched.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘All right. Now go home and wait.’ She looked fixedly at him. ‘Enjoy your bike while you can.’

He regarded her, then looked away. A flash of something in his eyes? She wondered, but she wasn’t sure.

He opened the door, gave her a stiff little bow and stepped into the corridor, closing the door softly.

Could that flash in his eyes have been hatred? she wondered. It was possible. She smiled. Opposition was always a challenge. She was confident his opposition wouldn’t last long. This affair was going to be even more exciting than she had first imagined.

Like a red ball, the sun sank slowly into the sea. Long shadows crept up the beach. The palm trees were black against the rose and yellow sky. Happy people continued to laugh, shout, run, splash and scream. Cars continued to crawl along the sea road. To Nassau this was just another hot evening with a night to come of brilliant lights, music, dancing, the beat of drums and the shuffle of feet.

Helga sat on the terrace, only half aware of the night sounds, her mind occupied with the problem of her future.

‘You sent for me, madame?’

Hinkle appeared at her side. He placed a silver tray on which stood a shaker and a glass on the table. He poured, then placed the glass within her reach.

‘Sit down, Hinkle.’

‘I would rather not, thank you, madame.’

She turned on him.

‘For God’s sake, sit down!’ Her voice was strident.

Startled, Hinkle pulled up a chair and sat on the edge of it.

‘I’m sorry, Hinkle. You must forgive me. I didn’t mean to shout at you. My nerves are shot.’ She forced a smile.

‘That is understandable, madame. Have you any news?’

‘I have talked to Dr. Levi. Clever as he is and smooth as he is, I have come to the conclusion that he knows no more of what has happened to Mr. Rolfe than Dr. Bellamy does — which is exactly nothing!’

Hinkle’s fat face registered shock.

‘But surely, madame...’

‘The fact is, Hinkle, these expensive and so called expert doctors won’t admit when they are baffled. I am not taken in by Dr. Levi’s vague talk. He says Mr. Rolfe is much worse — that is obvious — and he thinks the worsening is nothing to do with his stroke. This is something new. At least he is honest to admit he isn’t sure what the new development can be. He talked vaguely about the symptoms resembling narcolepsy. Doctors! How they love to hide behind their jargon! When I asked him what narcolepsy meant he said it is a curious condition — I am quoting him — which brings on uncontrollable attacks of sleep. When I asked him how this could have happened to Mr. Rolfe, he said he didn’t know. He said Mr. Rolfe appeared to be in no immediate danger but it would be most unwise to fly him home. Arrangements are now being made to move him to the Nassau hospital.’

Hinkle moved uneasily.

‘I am very sorry, madame. This is most distressing news. What does Dr. Levi propose?’

Helga lifted her hands in despair.

‘He is calling in Dr. Bernstein who will fly from Berlin today.’

‘There is, of course, no decision of when we can leave here?’

‘I wish to God there was. No, Hinkle, we must wait.’

Hinkle, his face gloomy, got to his feet.

‘Very well, madame. Will you be dining here?’

‘I think I will... on the terrace. Dr. Levi wanted me to dine with him but I have had enough of doctors for tonight.’ She looked up at him. ‘Give me one of your lovely omelettes.’

His face lit up.

‘That will be a pleasure, madame.’

‘Still no news of Miss Sheila?’

He shook his head.

‘No, madame, but the mail, these days, is very unreliable.’

An hour later, Helga watched Herman’s removal to the hospital. Dr. Levi, Dr. Bellamy and his assistant, two interns, two stretcher men and Nurse Fairely fussed around the inert body as it was carried to the elevator.

One of the richest and most powerful men in the world, she thought, now a sleeping, half-dead body but which still commanded the V.I.P. treatment.

‘Leave all this to me,’ Dr. Levi said in his deferential voice. ‘Should any change occur I will let you know immediately. You must not worry. Once we get this extraordinary change in him diagnosed, I feel confident there will be a recovery.’

Words! Words! Words!

‘Thank you,’ she said.

How much better it would be, she thought, as she watched the elevator descend from sight, if he had said there was no hope: better for Herman: much, much better for her.

The rest of the evening was a dreary, depressing repetition of the previous evenings. She ate the omelette, praised it and then sat on the terrace, listening to the people still on the beach, enjoying themselves. The hours dragged. She tried to read a book, but it failed to interest her. She thought of Dick. What was he doing now? Rushing along the roads on his motorbike? Had he a girl? Was the girl clinging to him on the back of the bike? If it hadn’t been for Herman’s new and mysterious illness, the boy, Hinkle and she would, at this moment, be at the villa in Paradise City.

Dr. Levi had said he could give her no idea when it would be safe to fly Herman home. So she was stuck in this hotel, alone, until this goddamn doctor made up his goddamn mind! It could be days or even months!

Suddenly she realized she was wallowing in self pity. She pulled herself together. She was not going to just sit here, pitying herself, prepared to accept a long, lonely wait either for Herman to die or for him to be taken home. She must do something! She would do something!

Her eyes narrowed as she thought. She would have to remain in Nassau. This was something she had to accept and now wanted to accept because Dick was here. But that didn’t mean she had to stay in this stifling hotel, watched and talked about. Her active brain began to race. If she could find a small villa! Frowning, she saw a problem. Hinkle! She had gained his trust. She must be very careful to keep that trust. She knew Hinkle was longing to return to the Paradise City villa. She knew how he hated hotel life. She sat still, a cigarette between her slim fingers, as she thought. A villa with Dick! A villa without Hinkle! This was the solution! Keep thinking, she told herself, the solution will come if I keep thinking.

The buzz of the telephone startled her. Impatiently she went into the living room.

‘Who is it?’

‘Mr. Winborn, Mrs. Rolfe, calling from New York.’

‘Put him on.’

‘Mrs. Rolfe, Dr. Levi has telephoned me.’ Winborn’s voice, cold and polite came on the line. ‘It seems that Mr. Rolfe has had a relapse. I am exceedingly sorry. It is a puzzling business, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. Dr. Levi is going to consult Dr. Bernstein.’

‘So I understand. I called to know if there is anything I can do for you.’

‘I won’t be going to Switzerland. Perhaps you could arrange for me to be able to cash cheques here?’

‘Certainly, Mrs. Rolfe. I will make the necessary arrangements... say five thousand a week?’

‘That will be more than ample.’

How easy it was to spend other people’s money, she thought. If the money had been his, he wouldn’t have thought in terms of five thousand dollars a week.

‘You didn’t find a letter for me then, Mrs. Rolfe?’

‘I would have called you if I had.’

‘Odd, isn’t it? Nurse Fairely said Mr. Rolfe was so persistent.’

‘Most odd.’

Go on talking, Helga thought, you’re not as smart as you think.

A long pause, then he said, ‘Well, please keep me informed. Good night, Mrs. Rolfe,’ and he hung up.

Helga looked at her watch. The time was 23.25. She wondered if she should take sleeping pills. Why not? Sleep shut away her loneliness. She went into the bathroom. Half an hour later, she was dreaming that Dick was lying beside her. It was an erotic, wonderful dream and when she woke to find the sun coming through the blinds, she felt relaxed and refreshed.

She was dressed when Hinkle brought her her coffee.

‘I’ll call the hospital,’ she said as Hinkle poured the coffee.

‘There is no change, Mrs. Rolfe,’ Dr. Bellamy’s assistant told her.

As she hung up, she looked at Hinkle and shook her head.

‘No change.’

‘Let us hope when the other doctor arrives...’

‘Yes.’

When he had gone, Helga went down to the lobby and asked the Hall porter who was the best real estate agent in town. He gave her a name and directions and taking her Mini, she drove to the agency.

William Mason, the estate agent, was a young, cheerful looking Englishman who gave her a warm welcome. He said he was sorry to read about Mr. Rolfe’s illness and he offered his best hopes for a speedy recovery.

‘I am told there is difficulty in renting a furnished villa, Mr. Mason,’ Helga said. ‘My major-domo has made inquiries and everything seems to be taken. I don’t know how long I will have to remain in Nassau, but I must have a furnished place. I can’t continue to stay at my hotel.’

‘I can well understand that, Mrs. Rolfe, but I regret I have nothing suitable for you. I can assure you, to save you wasting your time, that there is nothing the other agents could offer you either. The big villas have been snapped up.’

‘Haven’t you something small? Now my husband is in hospital, I don’t need anything large.’

‘Well, yes, I have something very small, but I don’t think it would be suitable for you, Mrs. Rolfe. It has only one bedroom. It is a gem of a place, but tiny.’

Her heart began to beat fast with excitement.

‘I would only want it for myself. My servant would come in daily.’

Mason beamed.

‘Well then, perhaps you would like to see it. It is expensive and very isolated, but it is really nice.’

‘Can I see it now?’

The tiny villa was exactly what Helga wanted. Completely isolated, with a quarter of a mile of private, screened beach, it had a big covered terrace which led into an enormous living and dining room, two bathrooms, an elaborately equipped kitchen, a big swimming pool with a covered Barbecue, a bar and up a steep flight of stairs a bedroom nearly as big as the living room. It was immaculately furnished throughout and it seemed to her everything was brand new.

‘But this is wonderful!’ she exclaimed. ‘This is just what I want.’

‘The rent is three thousand dollars a month. I have tried to get it reduced, but the owner won’t budge.’ Mason smiled at her. ‘In confidence, Mrs. Rolfe, this is a wealthy man’s love nest. As you can see nothing has been spared in the way of luxury. A woman comes in every day to clean. Unhappily there was a motor accident and the lady was killed. My client hasn’t been near the place since. This is the only reason why it is to rent.’

A love nest!

Helga smiled. What a love nest! Again the cards were falling her way.

‘I’ll take it for a month,’ she said. ‘When can I move in?’

‘As soon as the agreement is signed.’ Mason looked slightly startled at her quick decision. ‘Will you need the cleaning woman?’

‘No. I have my own servant. You mean I can move in tomorrow?’

‘Certainly, Mrs. Rolfe. It will be two thousand dollars paid in advance and the agreement signed, then it is yours.’

‘The telephone is connected?’

‘Yes, no problem.’

‘Then let us return to your office and I will sign.’

Driving back to the hotel, Helga’s mind was busy. First, she would have to handle Hinkle, then she would have to get hold of Dick. In spite of her impatience to have Dick on her own, she would have to wait (this goddamn waiting again!) until Dr. Bernstein had arrived and had seen Herman. She would have to wait until Hinkle left.

Back at the hotel, she found Hinkle sitting on the second terrace reading John Locke’s essays.

She sat beside him, putting her hand on his arm to prevent him from rising.

‘I’ve been thinking, Hinkle,’ she said. ‘It is unnecessary for both of us to remain here. I am worried about the villa. If Mr. Rolfe can return, I want the place ready for him. You know what the servants are like without your supervision. They do nothing. The gardeners also will be doing nothing. We have experienced this before when you came to Switzerland with Mr. Rolfe. I have to stay as much as I dislike it, but I want you to go back and make sure everything is immaculate when Mr. Rolfe returns.’

Hinkle’s eyes lit up.

‘But I can’t do that, madame,’ he said without much conviction. ‘Who will look after you? No, madame, I would worry about you.’

She forced a laugh.

‘Kind Hinkle! Surely you know me well enough by now to know I can look after myself. The hotel service is really very good. I know you hate sitting around like this. There are so many things to attend to at home. Wouldn’t it be a wonderful opportunity to have Mr. Rolfe’s study re-decorated? You have so often said how it needs a face lift and while he is in bed, you could have it done. So please leave tomorrow and make a start.’

Hinkle beamed.

‘Well, yes, madame, I have long wanted to refurbish Mr. Rolfe’s study. Yes, if you really think you could manage, it would be an opportunity.’

It was as easy as that.

Helga had little idea how she passed the rest of the day or the following morning. Her nerves were stretched to breaking point. It was only her steel control that kept her from screaming at the staff, at Hinkle, at Dr. Levi and Dr. Bernstein.

She held on because she was sure she had a retreat and in a day’s time she would have Dick with her.

Before leaving, Hinkle had said kind things to her. She forced herself to say nice things to him. She could see how relieved he was to go, but she didn’t envy him. Her life, she told herself, would begin when he had gone. From her living room window, she watched him get into the Rolls which she assured him she didn’t need. As he drove away, she heaved a sigh of relief: one less pair of eyes to watch her.

Dr. Levi brought Dr. Bernstein to see her in the evening. Dr. Bernstein was a short, excessively fat man. She disliked him on sight. He spoke with a heavy German accent and waved pudgy hands while he talked. In spite of his authority, his obvious confidence in himself, Helga, who was a good judge of men, realized after a few minutes that he was as baffled as Dr. Levi.

‘The stroke, of course, as Dr. Levi has told you, was massive,’ Bernstein said. ‘It has done damage, but, let us hope, not irreparable damage. This relapse could possibly be the reaction of an overtaxed heart. I wouldn’t like to go further than this, Madame Rolfe. In fact until I have made various tests, it would be better not to go into details. I will observe the patient. It will take time.’

Bored with this fat, little man, Helga said, ‘So you don’t know what has happened? You have to make tests and you may find out. Is that the position?’

He looked at her, his eyes snapping.

‘You can rely on me to make a searching examination, Madame Rolfe. This is an unusual case.’

She nodded, then turned to Dr. Levi.

‘I am moving from here, doctor. Here is my new telephone number.’ She gave him a card. ‘Please keep in touch with me.’

‘Of course, Mrs. Rolfe.’

Turning to Dr. Bernstein who was frowning, she said, ‘You can give me no idea when my husband can go home?’

‘An idea?’ He lifted his heavy eyebrows. ‘Certainly not. It is far too soon to think of air travel. Much will depend on the results of the tests.’

That night she had to take three sleeping pills before she slept. Tomorrow, she told herself, as she lay waiting for sleep, her life would begin.

Waking, she reviewed the coming day. Hinkle had gone. Herman was in the Nassau hospital for an unspecified time. Winborn was safely in New York. She had a love nest! There was no need to wait any longer. Now for Dick!

She frowned. But how was she to contact him? Her first impulse was to get in the Mini and drive to the broken-down bungalow and collect him, but she realized at once that the wife of one of the richest men in the world couldn’t do that. She could tell the Hall porter she wanted to see Dick Jones. That too could be dangerous. Why should she want to contact a half-caste boy? The Hall porter would wonder.

Goddamn it! She thought. Must my life always be so complicated?

She had to be careful. She had to avoid gossip. So she lay in bed and thought. It irritated her to realize when one had something to conceal one had to cover one’s tracks, continually look over one’s shoulder and be cautious, and ‘caution’ was a word she loathed.

Then she thought of Frank Gritten.

She reached for the telephone and called his number.

‘This is Mrs. Rolfe, Mr. Gritten,’ she said when he came on the line. ‘Thank you again for what you did for me.’

‘I hope you were successful,’ Gritten said.

‘I was. You were good enough to say you would help me if I needed help.’

‘I am at your service, Mrs. Rolfe.’

‘I want to get in touch with an ex-servant of my hotel. His name is Dick Jones and he lives at 1150 North Beach road. Could you have a message sent to him to meet me at the Riviera Tavern at three o’clock this afternoon?’

There was a long pause. She could imagine Gritten puffing at his pipe. Then he said, ‘That’s no problem, Mrs. Rolfe.’ Another pause. ‘Would you like me to accompany you when you meet Jones?’

Startled, Helga said, ‘What on earth for?’

‘Jones is a J.D., Mrs. Rolfe. He served a year in a reform school when he was twelve years old. I suggest he isn’t the type you should meet without someone like me with you.’

Helga stared into space. She saw the boy, saw his beauty, his fawn-like eyes.

‘You surprise me, Mr. Gritten. Has he been in trouble since then?’

‘No, Mrs. Rolfe, but all the same, once in trouble, always in trouble.’

‘Isn’t that being rather cynical, Mr. Gritten?’

‘I am an ex-cop. One becomes cynical. We have a very high record here of J.D.’s. Most of them land up in jail. Do you still want to meet Jones now you know more about him?’

She didn’t hesitate.

‘Of course.’ There was a snap in her voice. ‘Please arrange it for me. Three o’clock at the Riviera Tavern.’

‘All right, Mrs. Rolfe.’

‘And thank you for not asking questions.’

He laughed.

‘If there is anything else I can do, it will be my privilege.’

She thanked him and hung up. Was she being utterly reckless and stupid?

She thought of the boy and her heart began to race.

I can be too cautious, she thought. I have him where I want him. I am glad Gritten told me he has been in trouble. That means he will be more ready to do what I want. He will know I could get him into very serious trouble with that tape.

She relaxed back in her chair.

To hell with caution! She wanted a man, so she was going to have a man!

She enjoyed her lunch in the grill-room, knowing it was the last time she would eat there. After lunch, she saw the hotel manager and arranged for her cheque to be ready the following morning. He said how much he regretted that she was leaving the hotel and how much pleasure it had given him and his staff to serve her. She said the appropriate things.

A few minutes to 15.00, she drove to the Riviera Tavern. As she pulled into the parking lot she saw a group of scantily dressed young people surrounding an Electra Glide motorcycle. There were more girls than boys. The girls were chattering and squealing like a flock of parakeets; the boys silent and envious.

Astride the motorcycle was Dick Jones. For a moment she didn’t recognize him. He was wearing a gondolier’s straw hat with a red ribbon. The hat was tilted sideways, giving him a cheeky, sexy look. He wore only a pair of skin tight red trousers. Around his neck was a thick, gilt chain from which hung a replica of a tiny human skull, carved from bone.

Was this his off-duty gear? Helga wondered or had her money bought this finery? He was certainly a brash, handsome-looking little animal, she thought. No wonder the girls were swarming around him and the glittering white and red motorcycle was impressive.

She sat watching, a cigarette between her fingers. Suddenly Dick seemed to become aware of being watched. He looked sharply at her and their eyes met. Purposely, Helga gave him her cold, steel hard stare.

His happy expression, his wide smile, revealing perfect teeth, faded. He straightened his hat and said something to the group around him.

They all stopped chattering and turned to stare at Helga who stared back at them. Then they broke up and all ran back to the Tavern, giggling and laughing, the boys shouting... all but one.

In the group Helga hadn’t noticed this particular girl, but the moment the girl became isolated as she stood by the motorcycle she seemed to Helga to be larger than life.

Around twenty-two or -three, this girl was well above average height and as she stood sideways on to Helga there seemed nothing of her: tiny breasts, no rear, long legs. Her hair that reached to her waist was tinted Venetian red. Helga thought she would probably be a mousy blonde before she had tinted her hair. The girl was wearing a grubby white T-shirt and tight, sun-bleached Levis with rabbit fur around the cuffs. All this Helga took in in one searching stare, then she looked at the girl’s face. She felt a little pang of uneasiness: a strong face without being hard: a short nose, a wide, firm mouth and big eyes: no beauty, but by God! Helga thought, she was arresting: not like the other stupid puppy girls who had run away.

The girl continued to stare at her until Dick spoke to her. Then she shrugged and walked away with long, graceful strides, her head held high.

Getting off his motorcycle, removing his hat, Dick approached the Mini.

Helga saw the group of youngsters now standing in the shade of the restaurant’s veranda. They were watching. This was a mistake, she told herself, to meet him here, but she didn’t give a damn.

He came up to her and gave a stiff little bow.

Her voice cold and hard, she said, ‘Do you know the Blue Heron villa, Dick?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ His eyes were shifty.

‘I have rented it. You will begin work tomorrow morning. It will be your job to keep it clean. Do you understand?’

He stared at her, then nodded.

‘Can you cook?’

His eyes widened.

‘Cook? Well, no, ma’am. I can’t cook.’

‘It doesn’t matter. Your hours will be from eighty-thirty until seven in the evening.’

He twisted his hat in his hands, looking away from her.

‘Did you hear what I said?’ Helga snapped.

He stiffened, then nodded.

‘I will not have you nodding at me, Dick! You will say yes or no!’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

She regarded him as he stood in the hot sun, looking down, not meeting her eyes, his hands fidgeting with his hat, his expression sullen.

‘Listen to me, Dick! I am doing you a favour! If I gave that tape to the police, with your record, you would be in serious trouble. You understand that?’

He flinched, then nodded.

‘Yes, ma’am, and thank you, ma’am.’

She tried to resist asking the question, but burning curiosity proved too much for her.

‘Who was that girl?’

His fawn like eyes widened.

‘What girl, ma’am?’

‘The girl with the red hair.’

‘That’s Terry, ma’am.’

‘Terry... what is her other name?’

‘Terry Shields, ma’am.’

Helga felt a wave of impatience run through her. Why should she have asked? She might have known the girl’s name would mean nothing to her.

‘Then tomorrow at eight-thirty. I expect you to be punctual, Dick.’

His eyes shifted.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘All right. Now go along and play with your friends.’

She started the car’s motor and without looking at him she drove past the restaurant. The girls and the boys were watching her, but she didn’t see Terry Shields. Was this girl Dick’s special? She had stood so possessively by him when the others had run off. She had stared at her with hostility until Dick had spoken to her.

Competition?

Helga smiled.

She had no fear of competition. Dick would do as she told him: he had no alternative.

She would pack a bag and spend the night in the love nest, getting the feel of the atmosphere. There were things to buy. Milk, coffee, vodka... even toilet rolls. She must make a list. It was a long time since she had fun. It was a long time since she had been in a self-service store. It was also a long time since she had had a man in her bed. She had been patient. She had waited and waited and waited.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough!