What`s Better Than Money?

CHAPTER ONE

I

A lot can happen in eleven years.

Looking back on those years, I can say now that they were the most exciting and most invigorating of my life.

The one black spot was when my father died, two years after I had qualified as a consulting engineer.

He died from a heart attack while working in the bank: the way he would have wanted to die if he had had the choice. He left me five thousand dollars and the house which I sold. With this for capital, plus my qualifications as a trained engineer, I went into partnership with Jack Osborne.

Jack had been in my battle unit when I had gone to the Philippines. We had landed on the beaches of Okinawa together. He was five years older than I was, and had completed his training as an engineer before he had gone to war. He was thick set, short and tubby with sandy coloured hair, going thin on top and a brick red face, covered with freckles.

But what a ball of fire! He had a capacity for work that left me standing. He could work twenty hours of the day, snatch four hours’ sleep, and then start again with the same dynamic drive.

It was my good luck that he came to Holland City to look me up around the time when I had five thousand dollars from my father’s estate.

Jack had been in town three days before, he called on me, and during that time he had talked to people, summed up the city, and had decided this was the place where a consulting engineer could make a living.

Then he breezed into my one-room apartment, put out a hard, rough hand and grinned at me.

‘Jeff,’ he said, ‘I’ve looked this place over, and this is where I’m set ing up my flag. How about you and me going into partnership?’

So we set up in business as Osborne and Halliday.

Halliday was my father’s name. I had taken my mother’s name of Gordon when I had gone to Hollywood as I had been unsure of myself and I had had an instinctive feeling that I might run into something that I wouldn’t like to get back to my father. One of those odd instincts that happen and that pay off.

For the next three years we didn’t do much except sit around in our one-room office and wait and hope. If we hadn’t had some money behind us we would have starved, but between us we managed to get by, but it was tight living. We shared a room in a rooming-house; we cooked our own meals. We did our own typing. We ran the office without the usual girl help.

Then, out of the blue, we got an offer to put up a block of apartment houses down by the river. The competition was blue murder, but we went at it like soldiers. We cut the costs to the bone and we got the job. Financially, we didn’t get much out of it, but at least it showed those interested what we could do.

Slowly we began to get other jobs, not as cut-throat but nearly as bad. It took us two more years to crawl out of the red into the black. Don’t imagine it was easy. It was tooth, claw and no holds barred, but we came out of it, and finally into the open.

Jack and I worked well as a team. He handled the outside work while I looked after the office. By now we were able to afford help. We hired Clara Collins, a thin, middle-aged spinster who looked on us as a couple of crazy kids, but who ran the office with an efficiency that more than covered her cost.

After we had been in business six years, we began to get a lot of private building: houses, bungalows, petrol stations, and even a small movie house, but we weren’t get ing any civic building and that’s where the big money lay.

I decided to cultivate the mayor. His name was Henry Mathison. I had met him a couple of times and he seemed pretty easy to get along with. His son had been killed in the Philippines and when he learned Jack and I had fought out there, he was friendly, but he wasn’t friendly enough to throw any business our way.

Every civic project that came up we sent in estimates, but we never heard further. The established engineers always got the jobs: three firms that had been in Holland City for over twenty years.

It was while I was trying to find a real point of contact with the mayor that I met Sarita Fleming.

Sarita was in charge of Holland City’s Public Library. Her people lived in New York. She had taken some kind of degree in Literature and had been offered this job which she had jumped at as her mother and she didn’t get along together. She had been at the library two years before I wandered in, looking for information about Mathison.

After I had explained to her exactly what I wanted, Sarita couldn’t have been more helpful. She knew quite a lot about the mayor. She told me he was keen on duck shooting, was a good amateur cine operator and he liked classical music. Duck shooting and cine camera work were out of my field, but classical music put me back in the fight. Sarita said he was wildly enthusiastic about Chopin’s piano music.

She mentioned she had four tickets for a Chopin recital that was being held at the City Hall with Stefan Askenase at the piano, one of the greatest Chopin exponents in the world. She had been selling the tickets in the library and she had kept four of them back just in case. She knew Mathison hadn’t got a ticket and wouldn’t it be an idea for me to ask him to go with me?

The idea was so sound I looked up and stared at her, and this was the first time I really saw her.

She was tall and slim with a good figure. She wore a simple grey dress that showed off her figure to advantage. She had nice brown eyes, brown hair, parted in the middle and pulled back to form a coil of silky hair on the nape of her neck.

She wasn’t pret y, but there was something about her that excited me. Just looking at her, I had a feeling that she was the only possible woman I could live with, wouldn’t grow tired of, and who would make me happy.

It was an odd feeling. It came to me in a flash, and I knew then that if I was going to continue with my streak of good luck, before very long, she would be my wife.

I asked her if she would make up the fourth of the party: Mathison, his wife, she and me, and she accepted.

Jack was enthusiastic when he heard what I was planning.

‘Thank the Lord I have a partner with some culture,’ he said. ‘Take the old fel ow to Chopin and impress him. Maybe he’l throw some business our way if he thinks you and he have the same taste.’

I called up Mathison and asked him if he and his wife would care to join me and a friend for the concert, and he jumped at it.

As it worked out, it wasn’t Chopin nor I who impressed Mathison, it was Sarita. She made a big hit with him, and not only with him, but his wife as well.

The evening had been a success.

As we shook hands before parting, he said, ‘It’s time we saw something of you at the office, young man. Look in tomorrow. I want you to meet Merrill Webb.’

Webb was the City’s planning officer. He was the guy who handed out the jobs. Without his say-so, you got nowhere. I hadn’t even met him.

I was feeling on top of the world as I drove Sarita to her apartment. I knew I had her to thank for this opening, and I asked her if she would dine with me the night after next and she said she would.

The next morning I went to the City Hall and met Webb. He was a lean, dried up, stoop-shouldered man in his late fifties. He talked to me casually, asking about my training and Jack’s training, what we had done so far and stuff like that. He didn’t seem particularly interested. Finally, he shook hands and said that if he had something he thought we could handle he would let me know.

I was a little damped by this. I had had hopes that he would have given us something to work on right away.

Jack said he wasn’t surprised.

‘You keep after Mathison. He’s the guy who tel s Webb what to do. Keep after Mathison, and sooner or later, we’l land in the gravy.’

From then on, I saw a lot of Sarita. We went out every other night, and after a couple of weeks I knew I was in love with her and wanted to marry her.

I was now making a reasonable living; not a great deal, but enough to support a wife. I saw no reason why we should wait, providing she was willing to throw her lot in with me, so I asked her.

There was no hesitation when she said yes.

When I told Jack he leaned back in his desk chair and beamed at me.

‘Boy! Am I glad! It’s high time one of us became respectable! And what a girl! I’l tell you something: if you hadn’t got there first, I would have grabbed her. The best, Jeff. I’m not kidding. That girl’s solid gold right through. I know a sterling character when I see one: she’s it.’

Don’t imagine during these years I hadn’t thought of Rima nor of the guard she had murdered. Don’t imagine there weren’t times when I would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare when I imagined Rima was in the room, looking at me. But as the years went by, and the thing became something in the dim past, I began to feel confident that it was in the past and would remain that way.

I had thought a lot about it before I had asked Sarita to be my wife. Finally, I decided it was a risk I could afford to take. No one knew me as Gordon. I had grown up and altered considerably since I was in Los Angeles, although the scar persisted and so did the drooping eyelid. I felt I had seen the last of Rima and the last of my past.

We were married towards the end of the year. As a wedding present we got the job of building the new wing to the State hospital. It was a nice job and it made us money. That was Mathison’s influence.

It enabled Jack to move into a three room penthouse and Sarita and I into a four-room, more modest apartment in the better district. It allowed both of us to buy better cars and we entertained more.

Life seemed pretty good. We felt we had at last arrived. Then one morning the telephone bell rang and Mathison came on the line.

‘Come over here right away, Jeff,’ he said. ‘Drop everything. There’s something I want to talk to you about.’

This abrupt summons left me wondering, but I dropped everything, told Clara I’d be back when she saw me, told her to tell Jack who was out on a construction job where to find me, and hot footed over to City Hall.

Mathison and Webb were together in Mathison’s office.

‘Sit down, boy,’ Mathison said, waving me to a chair. ‘You’ve heard about the Hol and bridge?’

‘Why, sure.’

‘This morning we have got it fixed. We have the money, and now we’re going to build.’

This was a project that every construction engineer in the county and a lot outside the county had been waiting for. It was to take the up-town traffic out of Holland City across the river. This was the big job. The estimated cost ran into six million dollars.

My heart started to thump. Mathison wouldn’t have cal ed me just to tel me this piece of news. I waited, looking at him and then at Webb.

Mathison grinned at me.

‘Do you think you and Osborne could build it?’

‘We can build it.’

‘I’ve talked it over with Webb. Of course it’l have to go before the committee, but if you come up with the right figures and you can convince the bone heads you can build the bridge within a year, I think I can persuade them to let you go ahead. You’l have all the boys up against you, but I’m going to lean over backwards just a little and if your price isn’t right, I’m going to tell you so before the committee sees your estimates: that way you should get the job.’

For the next thirty days I scarcely saw Sarita.

Jack and I slaved in the office from eight o’clock in the morning until sometimes as late as three o’clock the next morning.

This was our big chance to break into Big-time and we weren’t taking any chances.

Finally, the pressure got so tough, I asked Sarita to come into the office to handle the typing so Clara could spend her time on the calculating machine, getting out figures for us.

The four of us slaved.

At the end of thirty days we had the estimates and the plan of operation ready.

I went around to Mathison and handed the document over. He said he would let me know, and that was that.

We waited three long, nerve-racking months, then he telephoned me and told me to come over.

‘It’s okay, boy,’ he said, coming over to shake me by the hand. ‘The job’s yours. I’m not saying I didn’t have a fight to convince some of them, but your figures were right, and you had half the committee on your side to start with. You can go right ahead. Talk to Webb. There’l be another meeting tomorrow. I want you and Osborne to be there.’

That happened exactly ten years, eleven months and two weeks since last I saw Rima.

II

I hadn’t considered what the building of a six mil ion dol ar bridge would mean until Joe Creedy, the City’s Public Relations Officer, breezed into our office and told me.

We had celebrated of course: just our own private celebration with Sarita, Jack, Clara and myself. We had gone to the best restaurant in Holland City and had had a champagne dinner. As far as I was concerned the celebrations were over and we had now to get down to the business of building the bridge, but Creedy had other ideas.

Creedy was a big, broad-shouldered man with a heavy, serious face and a likeable manner. He paced the office while Jack and I sat at our desks and listened to him.

‘There’ll be a civic banquet on Saturday,’ he told us. ‘You two wil be guests of honour. One of you will have to make a speech.’

Jack grinned broadly and jerked his thumb at me.

‘You’re the boy, Jeff. I wouldn’t know how to make a speech.’

‘I’ll write it,’ Creedy said. ‘I don’t care who delivers it so long as it gets delivered. On Sunday at three o’clock I’ve fixed it for you two to appear on television. I’l pick you up here and take you over to the studio.’

‘Television?’ I said and I felt a little stab of uneasiness. ‘What do we want to be on television for?’

Creedy smiled patiently at me.

‘We’re spending six mil ion dol ars of this city’s money,’ he said. ‘The public are entitled to see the two guys who are spending their money. There’s nothing to it. I’l ask the usual corny questions and you’l give me the usual corny answers. We’l have a scale model of the bridge prepared and you’l explain how you’re going to build it.’

I was now beginning to get even more uneasy. My past was beginning to come alive in my mind. I told myself not to panic. After all, the television hook-up covered the county: we were a long way from Los Angeles.

‘I’m trying to get Life to do an article about the bridge,’ Creedy went on. ‘They’re biting. It would be a fine thing for the city to get a coverage from Life.’

My uneasiness sparked into panic. Coverage in Life was world wide. I would have to make sure there would be no photograph of me in the magazine.

Jack said happily, ‘Sounds as if we have become a couple of famous people, Jeff. It’s about time.

We’ve worked hard enough.’

Creedy took out his notebook.

‘You’re famous al right. Let’s have some dope about yourselves. I want to prepare the TV interview.

Let’s get the basic facts: where you were born, who your parents were, what your training was, your war service, what you’ve done since the war, your future plans: that kind of junk.’

Jack gave him the information, and while I listened I began to sweat. I had to cover up on the time I had spent in Los Angeles.

When it came my turn, it was easy until I came to my return home from hospital.

Creedy said, ‘You began your studies again, and then you suddenly quit: is that right?’

‘Yes.’ I didn’t want to tel him any lies so I picked my way careful y. ‘I couldn’t set le to work. I left college after three months, and for a while I just kicked around.’

‘Is that so.’ He showed interest. ‘Where did you get to?’

‘Al over. I just loafed around and did nothing.’

He looked sharply at me.

‘How did you earn a living?’

‘I did a job here: a job there.’

Jack was now looking interested.

‘You never told me,’ he said. ‘I thought you had been in the engineering racket al the time.’

‘For a year or so I bummed around.’

‘This could make for colour,’ Creedy said. ‘Where did you get to? What kind of jobs did you do?’

This was now dangerous. I had to kill it.

‘I’d rather not go into that. Suppose we skip it if it’s al the same to you.’

Creedy stared at me, then shrugged.

‘Sure. What are you going to do with the money you’l make out of the bridge?’

I relaxed. That was an easy one.

‘Buy a house I guess. I might even build one.’

Creedy closed his notebook.

‘Wel , I guess that’ll hold it for the moment. Don’t forget the banquet on Saturday.’

When he had gone, we got down to work again. There was so much to do, I didn’t have time to think about this unexpected publicity until I was driving home.

Then I began to worry.

I now began to think of Rima not as someone in the dim past, but someone who could come into my present and my future.

Suppose she spotted my photograph in the newspapers and recognised me? What would she do? It depended on the state she was in. Maybe by now she had had a cure and was living a decent, normal life.

Maybe she was no longer alive. I told myself to quit worrying. She was in the past, and with any luck she would remain in the past.

Sarita had dinner waiting for me when I walked into our three-room apartment.

The sight of her waiting by a roaring fire, a shaker of dry Martinis on the table, and an atmosphere in the room that can only come from a woman who really cares for her man, quieted my uneasiness.

I held her close to me, my face against hers, and I was thankful she was mine.

‘You look tired, Jeff. How has it been going?’

‘Pret y hectic. There’s still an awful lot to do.’ I kissed her and then dropped into the lounging chair.

‘It’s good to be home. There’s to be a banquet on Saturday night in our honour, and Jack and I have to go on television on Sunday.’

She poured two cocktails.

‘Seems I have married a famous man.’

‘So it seems, but I know I have you to thank for it.’ I raised my glass to her. ‘You began the bridge.’

‘No – it was Chopin.’

After dinner we sat by the fire. I was in the armchair and Sarita on the floor, her head against my knee.

‘Pretty soon,’ I said, ‘we’re going to have some money to burn. Creedy asked me what I was going to do with it. I said maybe I’d build a house. Would that be an idea?’

‘We wouldn’t have to build it, Jeff. I’ve seen a place that is exactly what we want.’

‘You’ve seen it? Where?’

‘It’s that lit le cot age up on Simeon’s Hil . It’s owned by Mr. Terrel . Last year he and his wife invited me out there for dinner. Oh, Jeff! It has everything, and it’s not too big.’

‘What makes you think it’s in the market?’

‘I met Mr. Terrell yesterday. He is taking his wife to live in Miami. She needs the sun. Of course it is for you to decide, but you must see it. I’m sure you’l love it.’

‘If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me. You don’t know what he wants for it?’

‘I’ll cal him tomorrow and ask him.’

I wasn’t the only one of the firm who was planning to spend some money.

When I got into the office the next morning, Jack told me he had ordered a Thunderbird.

‘Boy! Am I going to cut a dash!’ he exclaimed. ‘What’s money for unless you spend it? And another thing: it’s time I had some new furniture. Could you persuade Sarita to do something about it? I haven’t time to look after that myself.’

‘Have dinner with us tonight and persuade her yourself. There’s talk about us buying Terrell’s cot age on Simeon’s Hil . Sarita is making inquiries this morning.’

He grinned at me.

‘We’ve arrived, pal! I’m get ing a big bang out of this.’ He gathered up a heap of papers and crammed them into his brief case. ‘I’ve got to get off. See you tonight.’

I spent the morning interviewing contractors and working out costs. While I was eating a sandwich lunch, Creedy blew in with a couple of guys, one of them carrying a Rolleiflex camera and a flash equipment. The sight of the camera brought back my uneasiness.

‘These boys are from Life,’ Creedy said. ‘I’ve given them most of the dope. They just want some photographs of you working at your desk. Osborne around?’

I said Jack was on the site.

As I was speaking the camera man let off his flash.

‘Look, I don’t want my photograph in your paper,’ I said. ‘I…’

‘He’s shy,’ Creedy said, laughing. ‘Of course he does! Who wouldn’t want his photograph in Life!’

The camera man went on popping off his flashlight. I realised there was nothing I could do about it. I did put my hand up to my face to cover my scar, but the other fellow then showed interest in it.

‘Did you get that during the war, Mr. Hal iday?’

‘Yes.’

‘We’d like a shot of it. Would you turn your face a lit le to the left?’

‘I don’t want it advertised,’ I said, curtly. ‘If it’s all right with you two, I have to get on with my job.’

I saw Creedy looking at me, frowning, but I didn’t care.

The two guys exchanged glances, then the camera man strolled to the door. The other one said, ‘You were at Holland City’s Plastic Hospital, weren’t you, Mr. Hal iday?’

‘Yes.’

‘Had a tough time?’

‘So did the others.’

He grinned sympathetically.

‘I hear you play the piano. Is that right?’

‘When I have the time.’

I had forgotten about the camera man and had taken my hand off my scar. The flash told me he hadn’t forgotten me. He moved out of the office, and the other fellow shook hands, said he had all he wanted and then he and Creedy went away.

That spoilt my day’s work. I kept thinking of the photographs that would appear in Life. I kept wondering who of those I had known in Los Angeles would recognise Jeff Halliday as Jeff Gordon and wonder.

I managed to shake off my mood of depression by the time Jack and I got home.

Sarita was excited. She had talked to Mr. Terrell who had told her he was leaving in two months’

time, and if we wanted the cottage we could have it.

Sarita had arranged for us to go out there after dinner and inspect it.

During dinner, Jack talked to her about how he wanted his penthouse furnished and Sarita promised to get it organised for him.

The three of us drove out to Simeon’s Hil . As soon as I saw the cot age, perched on the hil with a big garden and a view over the river, I fell for it.

But at the back of my mind now was a growing fear so I didn’t enthuse al that much about it.

Inside, it was as perfect as Sarita had claimed it to be. It was exactly what we wanted: three bedrooms, a big lounge, a study, a kitchen with every push button device you could think of, and a built-in bar on the patio as well as a big brick oven for barbecues.

The price was thirty thousand and it was cheap.

‘Boy!’ Jack exclaimed. ‘This is the place for you two! It’s as perfect as you could find anywhere.’

He was right, but something warned me to be cautious. I asked if Mr. Terrell would let me think it over. He said he would give me a week to make up my mind.

When Jack had left us and we were getting ready for bed, Sarita asked me if I didn’t like the cot age.

‘It’s fine, but I don’t want to rush into it. Suppose you go to Harcourt and see if he has anything like it on the market. We may as well take a look before closing with Terrell’s place. We have a week.’

The next two days passed fast enough. I was working to capacity and Sarita was house hunting. She didn’t find anything, and I could see she was a lit le impatient with me for wanting her to look. She was so sold on Terrell’s place she just couldn’t believe there could be anything to beat it.

She brought home a copy of Life. There was a biggish picture of me, sitting at my desk with the drooping eyelid and the scar very much in evidence.

The caption ran as follows:

‘ War Veteran Jeff Halliday plans to build his own house after building Holland City’s six million dollar bridge. A good amateur pianist, he plays Chopin’s Nocturnes as a relaxation after a sixteen hour stint at his desk. ’

That caption really bothered me. It was a complete giveaway if anyone who knew me as Jeff Gordon saw it, together with the photograph.

The following night was the banquet. It was an ordeal for me, but I got through it without disgracing myself.

Mathison said a lot of nice things about Jack and myself. He said the city had every confidence in us.

He had watched us come up in the world, and he was sure we were going far, and that we would make a splendid bridge, and a lot more of that kind of guff.

I looked across at Sarita while Mathison was sounding off. She was dewy eyed and very proud. We smiled at each other. It was one of the highlights of my life.

Sunday was the television date.

Sarita didn’t come to the studio. She said she preferred to watch me on our set at home.

It went off all right. Creedy’s idea of having a scale model of the bridge was a good one. It al owed both Jack and myself to explain just how we were going to handle the job, and it proved to the taxpayers that a job of this size couldn’t be built without spending a great deal of money.

During the interview, Creedy said, ‘It’s no secret that you two are getting a hundred and twenty thousand dollar fee for this job. What are you going to do with the money?’

Jack said, ‘After I’ve given most of it to the tax col ector, I’m buying a car.’

Creedy looked at me.

‘You, I understand, Mr. Hal iday, are planning a new home.’

‘That’s right,’ I said.

‘Are you building it yourself?’

‘I haven’t decided yet.’

‘He has enough to do handling the bridge without thinking of building a house,’ Jack broke in, and the interview broke up in general laughter.

As soon as the camera swung away from us, Creedy opened a bottle of champagne and we had drinks. I was itching to get home to Sarita, but I couldn’t break away too soon.

‘Wel , boys, I guess the bridge is launched,’ Creedy said. ‘Now, go ahead and build it.’

We shook hands with him.

One of the technicians came over.

‘You’re wanted on the telephone, Mr. Hal iday.’

‘I bet that’s his wife, cal ing to tel him how handsome he looked,’ Jack said. ‘I’l meet you downstairs.’

He and Creedy walked out of the studio.

For a moment I hesitated, then aware that the technician was looking curiously at me, I went to the telephone and picked up the receiver.

I had an instinctive feeling who was calling. I was right.

‘Hel o,’ Rima said. ‘I’ve been watching your lit le performance. Congratulations.’

I felt cold sweat start out on my forehead.

People were buzzing around me. I had to be careful what I said.

‘Thanks.’

‘So you’re a rich man now.’

‘I can’t talk now.’

‘I didn’t expect you to. I’l meet you in the lobby of the Cal oway Hotel at ten o’clock. You had better be there.’

I heard her break the connection, and slowly I replaced the receiver.

I took out my handkerchief and wiped my sweating face. I knew I was as pale as death and I was shaking.

‘Anything wrong, Mr. Halliday?’

‘No. It’s al right.’

‘Maybe the heat from the lamps. You look pret y bad.’

‘I’ll get out into the open air. I’l be okay.’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘No… no thanks. I’l be al right. It was just the heat.’

I went out of the studio and down the stairs to where Jack and Creedy were waiting.