A GENTLE tapping on the door brought Helga awake with a start. Her mind flashed back to the events of the night and her heart began to hammer. She struggled up in bed.
“Who is it?”
“Me, ma’am. Would you like some coffee?”
She relaxed back on her pillow. Sunlight was coming through the shutters and drapes. She turned on the bedside light and looked at her watch. It was 09.15.
“I’d love some coffee, please.”
“Like something to eat, ma’am?”
She realized she hadn’t eaten since lunch-time the previous day and she was hungry.
“An egg, Larry.”
“Okay, ma’am.”
“Give me about fifteen minutes.”
“Sure, ma’am.” and she heard him walk away.
She got out of bed and went into the bathroom. It took her longer than fifteen minutes to fix her face and her hair, but when she bad finished and regarded herself in the mirror, she was satisfied. She dressed quickly, pulling on a heavy cable stitch sweater and cavalry twill slacks.
As she left her bedroom, Larry came from the kitchen, carrying a tray.
“All ready, ma’am.”
He followed her into the sitting-room and put the tray on the table. He had cooked her an omelette, browned to a turn and as light as any omelette Hinkle had ever cooked. Toast, marmalade and a big pot of coffee completed the meal.
“You’re a real cook, Larry,” she said as she sat down. “This looks wonderful.”
He grinned, pleased.
“Yeah, I reckon if there’s one thing I can do, it’s to cook.”
As she flicked open the napkin, she asked. “Is he all right?”
Larry sat in a lounging chair. He took out a packet of chewing gum.
“Sure. I let him use the bathroom. I gave him a steak for breakfast. He won’t be any trouble now. He knows when he’s licked.
She relaxed and began to enjoy her breakfast.
“I was worried about you last night, Larry. The drive must have been horrible. You were wonderfully quick.”
“It was okay, but I wouldn’t say I was quick. Coming back was bad.” He shrugged. “I made it.”
She ate in silence for some minutes, then she asked, “You didn’t leave the man alone with the letter?”
“No, ma’am… don’t worry. I never left him. He didn’t like it, but Ron’s right. Maxie would cut his own throat for money.”
The omelette finished, she began to butter toast.
“Did you call Ron?” she asked, her voice falsely casual.
“Yeah, I called him.” He leaned forward, his huge hands resting on his knees. “You see, ma’am, Ron means a lot to me. I wanted him to know I was helping you. After the names he called me, I wanted him to know I was doing my best for you.”
“What did he say?”
“He was pleased.”
Suddenly she didn’t want to eat any more. She laid down the toast and pushed aside her plate.
“Did you tell him Archer was here?”
He shook his head.
“No, ma’am… nothing like that. I just told him I was helping you.”
She reached for a cigarette, relaxing a little.
“You must never speak to anyone about Archer being here, Larry.”
“Sure, ma’am. You don’t have to worry.”
But still she wasn’t satisfied.
“But didn’t Ron want to know how you were helping me?”
He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand am could see he was uneasy.
“Yeah, he did ask. I told him we were getting the photos back.”
Her hands turned into fists.
“Did you tell him how… about Max?”
He shifted about in his chair, then he said, “Well, ma’am, I had to. I did tell him Maxie was helping. But that’s okay, ma’am, Maxie and Ron are good friends. Ron was pleased Maxie was helping.”
Helga got stiffly to her feet and walked over to an occasional table. She picked up a lighter and lit her cigarette.
“Didn’t he ask how Max was helping.”
“No, ma’am… he wasn’t interested. He had other things on his mind.”
“What things?”
Harry looked blankly at her.
“He didn’t tell me, ma’am.”
Helga pressed her hands to her face. Her whole future life was in the hands of these men. This magnificent-looking boy could have been an idiot for all the help she could get from him!
After a long pause, Larry said, “There’s a fat guy out there clearing the snow. As soon as he’s through I’ll bring up the car.”
Relieved to do something, Helga went to the window. Below her fat road sweeper friend shovelling the snow from the drive. A wheelbarrow full of grit stood nearby.
“I’ll bring the car up, Larry,” she said. “You must keep out of sight. Village people talk. I don’t want him to see you.”
“Yeah… there’s that. Have you finished?”
“Yes… thank you. It was beautifully cooked.”
He picked up the tray and took it into the kitchen.
She stood by the window watching the road sweeper and when she saw he was finishing, she went into the bedroom took a fifty franc note from her bag, put on her coat, snow shoes and hat and went down the drive. The road sweeper lifted his cap when he saw her. She spent a few minutes chatting with him. He asked respectfully after her husband. He told her there would be no more snow but she didn’t believe him. The village people always told foreigners that better weather was coming. She gave him the fifty franc note and he jerked off his cap, his face wreathed in smiles, then she went down to the car and drove it up to the garage.
She returned to the villa. As she shut the front door, hearing Larry in the kitchen, the telephone bell began to ring. Stripping off her coat and dropping it on the chest, she started for the sitting-room as Larry appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“It’s all right,” she said curtly. “I’ll handle it.”
“Sure, ma’am,” and he went back into the kitchen.
She reached the telephone and picked up the receiver.
“Mrs. Rolfe?”
“Yes… who is it?”
“A call from New York. Mr. Rolfe. A moment, please.”
She drew in a breath of exasperation, sat down and reached for a cigarette. As she was lighting, Rolfe’s querulous voice came on the line.
“Helga?”
“Yes. Did you get my telex.”
“I did… what’s going on? I called the Eden and they told me you had checked out.”
“My dear man, the only way to get this goddamn villa ready for you is to be here,” Helga said, her voice shrill. “I’m wearing my fur coat if that interests you and it is bloody cold! Why are you calling?”
“Helga! You don’t have to use such language!”
“Don’t tempt me, Herman. I’m cold and fed up. I can use a lot worse!”
“I do wish you wouldn’t talk like this. Now listen to me, I want you to come back to New York at once. I’m not coming to Castagnola. I have sudden business in the Bahamas. The Eden tells me it is snowing in Lugano. You know I don’t like the snow. I’ve decided to go to Nassau. You’ll join me. You’ll enjoy the sun. There is a flight from Milan at four o’clock this afternoon to New York. We’ll fly together to Nassau tomorrow.”
Helga gripped the telephone receiver so hard her nail turned white.
“That’s impossible,” she said. “I have the cleaning women here and I can’t and won’t pack in a minute!”
She heard her husband snort.
“Oh, nonsense! You have plenty of time. Now don’t start making difficulties.”
“I intend to make difficulties! I have things to do here. Besides, it is snowing and I’m not driving to Milan in this goddamn snowstorm just to please your whim! If you can’t wait for me, then go ahead and I’ll join you at the end of the week. Where will you be staying?”
“I don’t see why you should get so worked up,” Herman complained. “I insist you moderate your language when you talk to me.”
“Where will you he staying?” Helga said, raising her voice.
“The Emerald Beach hotel for two days, then I hope Hinkle will find us a furnished bungalow.” Herman’s voice had turned sulky. “I don’t see why you can’t come at once. You’re always making difficulties, Helga.”
She wanted to scream at him to go to hell, but she bit that back.
“That’s a charming remark, Herman, considering I have been freezing in this damned place so you could arrive in comfort!”
She heard him snort impatiently.
“I don’t see why you should even be there. You just don’t know how to get things organized.”
“I’ll fly to New York on Saturday and not before!”
“I’m not going to wait for you. I’m leaving for Nassau tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll join you when I’m ready.” She paused, took hold of herself and softening her voice, she asked, “How are you?”
They spent a few more minutes talking indifferently to each other, then she hung up.
Well, at least now, she wouldn’t have to worry about Herman and that was a relief.
The sun was shining and the countryside from the picture window looked clean, white and sparkling.
She went into the kitchen where Larry was finishing the washing-up.
“You don’t have to do that. There’s a dishwasher.”
“Yeah… I see that, but it foxes me. I’ve never used one.”
Helga realized she had never used a dishwasher either and she laughed. “There’s a book of instructions somewhere.”
“I don’t mind doing the washing-up,” Larry said. “That’s all I did in the Army.”
Then she remembered what Archer had said: that Larry was an Army deserter.
“You were in the Army?”
He looked at her, his face expressionless.
“You know that, ma’am… Archer told you.”
She nodded.
“He told me you are a deserter.”
“That’s it… AWOL. That’s me.” He dried his hands and leaned against the double sink. “I had enough of the Army so I walked out.”
She studied him, then she hoisted herself on the kitchen table, swinging her shapely legs.
“So all that talk about your father sending you to Europe was so much talk?”
He ran his fingers through his blond hair.
“Excuse me, ma’am. I didn’t mean to snow you, but you asked and I guess I said the first thing that came into my head.”
“That’s all right, Larry. I understand.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“So your position is more difficult than I thought. If the Army police…”
“There are no M.P.s here, ma’am. I’m not worrying.”
No, she thought, you may not be worrying, but I am.
“I intend to fly back to New York on Saturday,” she said. “What will you do when I’ve gone?”
“Saturday?” This seemed to give him a jolt. He frowned as he thought. “I’ll manage. I’ll get a job at a hotel or at a filling station… something like that.”
“We’ve gone over that before, Larry. You need a work permit.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head and his frown deepened. “Well, don’t you worry, ma’am. I’ll manage somehow.”
“But how?”
He looked up and his frown went away. He gave her his warm, friendly smile.
“I don’t know right now. I’ll have to think about it, but as Ron said: a problem is a challenge and I guess this is my problem.”
“I’d like to help you. You’ve helped me. Would you like to go home?”
He stared at her.
“I sure would, ma’am, but I can’t. That’s the first place the cops would look for me. No… I can’t go home.”
“But you would like to go back to the States?”
“Yeah… I guess I would.”
“If I gave you your ticket and some money, Larry, would you be able to get a job?”
He nodded.
“Sure… I’ve got this faked passport. I could easily get a job if I went back.”
“All right, Larry, then that’s what I’ll do. When the bank sends the photos, I’ll book a seat for you on the New York flight and I’ll give you a present of five thousand dollars. Would that be all right?”
He stared as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, then his face lit up: the face of a child who has seen Father Christmas for the first time.
“Do you really mean that, ma’am?”
“Yes… I mean it. I owe you a lot, Larry.”
He thought, then shook his head.
“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t say that. I got you into this mess.”
She was glad he said that.
“That’s honest of you, Larry. Yes, you did get me into this mess.” She lifted her hands and let them drop into her lap. “But to be as honest as you, I admit I was heading for a mess anyway, and I’m lucky it was with you and not with some other man without scruples.” She smiled at him as she slid off the table. “Now I’m going down to the village. I feel like a walk. I’ll get some fresh bread. Is there anything you want?”
“I’m getting short of gum… if I could bother you.”
“I’ll get you some. You must keep out of sight. Will you be very bored?”
He grinned.
“Bored? No, ma’am, I don’t get bored. I’ll get you a good lunch.”
She smiled.
“Wonderful! I won’t be more than an hour or so.” She went into the hall and put on her coat. Larry came to the kitchen door. “If anyone comes… if the telephone rings… don’t answer.”
“Sure, ma’am… I know.” He paused, then went on, “When do you think the bank will send the photos?”
“Not until the day after tomorrow.”
“You think they will send them?”
She nodded.
“Yes… the signature is convincing.”
“Yeah, I guess Maxie is smart.”
Smiling, she put her hand on his arm.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you, Larry.”
She opened the front door and feeling suddenly young and almost happy, she hurried out into the sunshine and the cold.
The walk to the village with the cold nipping at her invigorated her. Her problems, she told herself, were slowly coming under control. Herman was out of the way. Archer was locked up. She would give Larry five thousand dollars and his ticket to New York and her debt to him would be paid. When she saw Herman she would tell him about the missing two million dollars, blaming herself as much as Archer, but insisting the account should be transferred to Spencer, Grove amp; Manly. She would be able to fly to New York with a completely free mind. Then Nassau! Yes, she felt in need of warm sunshine and the sea, and from now on, she told herself, no more men!
She bought bread, and after some trouble, four packs of chewing gum. She was in an almost gay mood as she walked up the road, back to the villa.
It was 11.50 by the time she reached the front door. She took her key from her bag and opened the door, pleased to come into the warm.
“Larry?”
She took off her coat. She wished the scaffolding pole hadn’t to remain, jamming the cellar door. She disliked untidiness, and the pole spoilt the neatness of the hall.
“Larry?”
The silence that greeted her made her pause to listen. Hearing nothing, she took off her hat and went into the kitchen. There was a chicken in its plastic wrapping defrosting on the table, a packet of spinach and a packet of dehydrated potatoes, but no Larry.
Suddenly alarmed, she went to the sitting-room and threw open the door.
Facing her, sitting in a lounging chair, a whisky and soda in his hand, was Archer.
The shock of seeing him sent the blood from her face.
“Did you have a nice walk?” Archer asked mildly.
Helga’s hands turned into fists. She tried to speak but no sound came.
“A bit of a shock? Of course… let me get you a drink.” He heaved himself to his feet and moved to the bar. The usual?”
“Where’s Larry?” Her voice was a croaking whisper.
“Ah, Larry… Larry is downstairs. He’s a little under the weather, but he’s all right.” Archer rattled ice cubes in the cocktail shaker. “After all, he’s young and tough. Sit down Helga.”
She stood motionless, her brain scarcely working as she watched him make the cocktail, pour it with a flourish and bring the glass to an occasional table.
“Sit down… sit down, Helga. I’m afraid you’ll have to cook the lunch.” He regarded her. “I hope you can cook… I can’t.” He sank into his chair and picked up his glass.
“What have you done to him? What happened?” Helga remained motionless. She now had control of herself and was desperately trying to absorb the shock.
“It was really rather simple.” Archer sipped his drink, then took his cigar case from his pocket and selected a cigar. “Larry isn’t over bright. You have probably noticed that. I listening at the door and I heard your conversation. When you had gone, I called to him. I asked for a cup of coffee. He’s young, and the young have too much confidence. He hasn’t ever taken me seriously… his mistake. He brought me a cup of coffee. I hid in the boiler room and as he went to the games room, I sneaked up behind him and hit him on the head with a billiard cue. So easy, Helga, it was almost ridiculous. I came up here, put your ingenious pole in place and that’s that.”
Slowly, she moved forward and sat down. Her mind refused to work.
“Have you hurt him?”
He touched the side of his bruised face gently.
“No more than he hurt me.”
“I want to go down and see him. You might have injured him seriously.”
“You’re not going, so shut up!” His voice turned vicious. “I’ve had about enough of you! He’s all right. I just stunned him. He was trying to get to his feet when I reached the hall.” He lit his cigar, then went on, “You have the three aces now, Helga… I have the four.”
She was shaking so badly that she had to keep her hands gripped between 159
her knees.”
“I see now, Helga, you’re damned dangerous,” he went on. “I suppose I gave you the idea to forge my signature. Well, tit for tat. So the pansy made a good job of it?”
Helga said nothing.
“Well, my next move is to telephone the bank and tell them to ignore the letter.” Archer got to his feet. “Then we are back on square A.”
“Wait!”
The snap in her voice made him pause and regard her thoughtfully.
“What little trickery is now going on in your mind?”
“I don’t intend to be blackmailed! I have had time to think and I have thought. My life with Herman is getting more and more deadly.” Helga had control of herself. This was the time to bluff, but it would have to be expert bluff. “Rather than submit to blackmail, I’m prepared to give up my inheritance.”
“How dramatic! The dialogue is right out of a Victorian novel,” Archer said and smiled. “Not you, Helga. That’s something I’ll never believe.”
She shrugged.
“I couldn’t care less what you believe or don’t believe. I mean it. I intend to have those photographs. If I don’t get them, then I’m going to call the police and I will charge you with embezzlement. Go ahead and call your bank… then I’ll call the police.”
“Oh come! It’s nice bluff but it won’t work with me,” Archer said but he didn’t move to the telephone.
“Then I’ll call the police and after, you call the bank.”
She got up and went to the telephone. She picked up the receiver and began to dial.
He came blundering over and snatched the receiver from her hand.
“Don’t be so hasty, Helga.” She saw the uneasiness in his eyes. “You haven’t touched your drink. Let’s sit down like civilized people and discuss this.”
She realized she had won the first move in the game. She had frightened him. Her face expressionless, she went back to her chair and sat down. She was pleased that when she picked up her drink, her hand was steady. She sipped and nodded.
“Your martinis are always good.”
He lowered his bulk into his chair.
“Thank you.” He studied the end of his cigar. “Suppose I let you have the photographs… what will be your contribution?”
“I will tell Herman we both speculated and lost and the account must be taken from you.”
He shook his head.
“No. That’s back to square A. Let’s move to square B. You take all the blame for the gamble and I keep the account.”
It was her turn to shake her head.
“No, Jack. You’re through. The only other alternative is you go to jail.”
“And you lose sixty million dollars?”
“Yes, but I’m prepared to do just that, but are you prepared to spend ten years in jail? What are you now… forty-eight? No one will want an ex-jailbird at fifty-eight, will they?”
She watched him lick his lips.
“You’re very persuasive, Helga,” he said finally, “but I simply don’t believe you. You were always a good bluffer but you’re not bluffing me.”
“Then call the bank, Jack, and I’ll call the police… it’s as simple as that.”
“Suppose we move to square C?” Archer said, studying the end of his cigar. “I told you: without Herman’s account I am in financial trouble. I owe money everywhere and I’m being pressed. I would like to go back to the States. I could make a start. Now suppose I give you the photographs and give up the account and in return you give me a substantial sum of money so I can clear my debts and make a fresh start back home? What do you say?”
“I will not submit to blackmail,” Helga said quietly.
“You could afford two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Helga. For that sum you get the photographs and the negatives and eventually you’ll collect sixty million dollars. Come Helga, that’s a fair bargain.”
She reached for a cigarette and lit it, then she sipped her drink.
“And where do you imagine I’d find two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”
“Any Swiss bank would lend you that against Herman’s securities. He needn’t know.”
She shook her head.
“You have made a mistake, Jack. You should never have picked on me to blackmail. I’m not the blackmailing type. This morning as I lay in bed, I thought about my possible future. I discovered I am utterly bored and sick of Herman. I want my freedom. I want to be able to take a lover when I need one. I thought about all the money. Sixty million? It’s too much. I wouldn’t know what to do with such an enormous sum. Then I worked out what I would be worth if Herman divorced me and I was pleasantly surprised. I find I wouldn’t be badly off if he threw me out.” She was lying steadily and she hoped convincingly. “There are things you don’t know. For instance you don’t know that Herman gave me for my last birthday bonds that will bring me in an income of ten thousand dollars a year. (A lie.) He gave me for my birthday before last a cottage in Carmel where I could live very happily and comfortably. (Another lie.) I have two hundred thousand dollars worth of jewellery. (True.) I have five fur coats: all valuable. (Also true.) I have a car and a motor cruiser. (Again true.) Herman also gave me a Picasso which is worth at least a hundred thousand. (A lie there was no Picasso.) If I sell carefully and invest carefully, I will have an assured income of thirty thousand dollars for life, plus a cottage. (God! she thought, how I wish all this was true!) So I have come to the conclusion that it might be good to be rid of Herman so the answer to square C as you put it, is no.”
He stared at her for a long moment and she met his eyes without flinching.
“Do you really mean that, Helga? You’re not bluffing?”
“No, I’m not bluffing.” She finished her drink. “I think I would like another, please.”
His set face relaxed a little.
“Let’s both have another.”
He went over to the bar.
“You see, Helga,” he said as he mixed the cocktail, “if you really mean all you’ve been saying, then I’ll be forced to move to square D. I don’t want to do that, but if you’re not bluffing, then I’ll have to.”
The tone of his voice and the expression on his fat face made Helga alert.
“And what is square D?” she asked.
“I will sell the photograph of you showing everything you’ve got to Herman.”
She kept the expression of her face deadpan with an effort.
“And do you imagine he will buy it?”
“Yes, I think he would if I threatened, unless he did, I’ll send it to the pornographers. As a dirty postcard it would have a very wide sale.”
Inwardly she flinched.
“And in the meantime you would be in jail?” 163
“I don’t think so. I have also been doing some thinking. I have an idea that Herman wouldn’t prosecute if I convinced him that on a dirty postcard his wife would be quite a star attraction.”
She forced herself to brazen it out.
“Then you don’t know Herman. He would divorce me and not only prosecute you for embezzling but also for blackmail. You could go to jail for twenty years.”
Archer shrugged.
“Desperate situations need desperate measures. I think Herman would play. The last thing he would want would be to know his cronies were sniggering over your pretty nakedness.”
There came a sudden thudding sound from the hall that brought Archer to his feet. Helga also stood up.
Then Archer smiled.
“Your pimp trying to break out,” he said and sat down again. “That’s something he won’t do. That pole was a bright idea of yours, Helga. It is strong enough to pen in a bull. I know… I’ve tried.”
Still standing, she stubbed out her cigarette. Her mind was working swiftly. She knew she was caught unless she could find another way out. She was sure Herman would pay rather than let the photograph go into circulation. Archer would get his money and his freedom and she would lose everything! Her bluff had failed!
“Are you all right, ma’am?” Larry bawled through the door.
“Don’t move, Helga,” Archer said, stretching out his long, thick legs. “Never mind about him. Sit down. What do you think of square D?”
She picked up her drink.
“Ma’am!” Larry’s voice crashed into the room.
She braced herself, then taking a quick step forward she threw the contents of her glass in Archer’s face. Spinning around, she darted into the hall. She threw herself against the pole. It shuddered but held. She heard a roar of rage from Archer and as she heaved frantically at the pole, he came blundering out. The vodka was stinging his eyes and he was half blind. She dodged around the pole, caught hold of it and pulled with all her strength. She felt it shift as Archer struck at her. His fist thudded into her shoulder, sending her staggering back, but somehow, she kept her grip on the pole. It came with her. She sprawled on the floor, the pole on top of her.
The door crashed open and Larry charged out. Archer was frantically wiping his eyes clear with his handkerchief. Larry went for him. The two men crashed together: Archer’s fingers at Larry’s face and Larry’s great fists smashing into Archer’s body.
Helga threw the pole from her and she scrambled to her feet. She could hear Archer’s sobbing gasps and saw his knees sagging as Larry’s fists, moving like pistons, thudded into Archer’s fat body.
Archer’s legs sagged and he went down on his knees. Larry stepped back, then hit Archer on the side of his jaw. Helga flinched and shut her eyes. To her, it was a terrible blow: a blow that could kill.
When she looked again, Archer was flat on his back, unconscious. His chest was heaving and blood trickled down his nostrils. The skin along his jaw had split and was bleeding.
“No more!” Helga cried. “Don’t… don’t…!”
Muttering to himself, Larry caught hold of Archer’s ankles and dragged him to the cellar doorway. Then walking backwards down the stairs, he dragged Archer after him. The sound of Archer’s head thumping on each stair made Helga feel faint. She went limply into the sitting-room and flopped on the settee. She lay there with her hands to her face, fighting off the feeling of faintness that threatened her.
Time ceased to exist. She felt she was floating between consciousness and unconsciousness. Then she felt a hand touch her gently.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” 165
She took her hands from her face. Larry was bending over her, concern and worry in his eyes.
“Yes.” She looked helplessly up at him. “Did he hurt you?”
“It’s okay. I asked for it. You stay right there, ma’am. I’ll get you a cup of tea.”
“I don’t want anything. Is he all right?”
Larry fingered the back of his head.
“Oh, sure. I wouldn’t have believed it. I didn’t think he would have had the guts. He didn’t telephone the bank?”
“No.”
“I was scared he would do that.”
“I stopped him.”
His warm, friendly smile was comforting.
“Well, you’ve got guts, ma’am. I thought he’d really fixed us.”
“I did, too.”
He straightened.
“I guess all that excitement has made me hungry. I’ll get lunch. Some food will do you good.”
“No! I’ll lie on my bed. I just want to stay quiet. You go ahead, Larry.”
His look of concern returned.
“You’re feeling bad, ma’am?”
Her fare worked as she tried to control her tears. She nodded. He bent and scooped her up effortlessly and carried her into her bedroom. The feel of his hands around her waist and thighs started her blood moving hotly through her body. She relaxed against him. The faint smell of his body sweat, the hardness of his chest against her face, his thorough maleness sent sensuous waves of desire through her. He lowered her on to the bed and gently took off her shoes.
“You rest, ma’am,” he said and going to the window, he pulled the drapes, shutting out the sunshine. “You just take it easy.”
“You’re a wonderful comfort to me, Larry,” she said, watching him as he moved to the door. “Thank you.”
He smiled.
“You take it easy.”
He left the room, closing the door after him.
She lay still, wishing he hadn’t gone. She now wanted him with a sexual ache that tormented her. She could hear him in the kitchen, whistling softly as he began to prepare a meal for himself. She wanted to call to him. She wanted him to strip off her clothes and take her with this sudden gentleness he had revealed and which she hadn’t believed possible in him.
But she didn’t call him.
She lay in the semi-darkness, shivering a little. She felt drained and exhausted. She thought of the hours ahead of her before the photographs arrived.
She had to be patient, she told herself and closed her eyes. She gave herself up to the long wait.
When the Grandfather clock in the hall chimed seven, she roused herself. She felt rested and in control of herself. She got off the bed, stripped off her sweater and slacks and then went into the bathroom.
She could hear the television going in the sitting-room.
Her shoulder ached where Archer had hit her and when she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, she grimaced. There was a black, spreading bruise from her shoulder to her breast. Lifting her eyes to her face, reflected in the mirror, she saw how tired, white and gaunt she looked.
She drew a bath and lay in the comforting hot water for more than half an hour. As she was drying herself, she heard the television set being turned off, then a tapping on her bedroom door.
“Do you feel like something to eat, ma’am?” Larry called.
“Anything… something light.”
“Okay, ma’am… I’ll fix it.”
She worked on her face, spent ten minutes fixing her hair, then she returned to the bedroom. She put on fresh pants, bra and stockings. She stood before her open wardrobe and surveyed the many dresses, costumes and suits. Finally, she selected a simple white silk dress and slipped it on. She put a gold chain around her slim waist and surveyed herself.
Not bad, she thought: tired, but interestingly tired and no longer looking like a hag.
She left her bedroom and went into the sitting-room. She could hear Larry in the kitchen, but she now badly wanted a drink. She made a stiff vodka and martini, then lighting a cigarette and carrying her drink, she went into the kitchen.
Larry was standing by the glowing grill. His jaw was moving as he chewed. At her entrance, he turned around and his ryes widened a little at the sight of her.
“Gee, ma’am… you look beautiful!”
She couldn’t remember when a man had said that to her: a long time ago, she thought and she smiled.
‘Thank you, Larry. Won’t you have a drink?”
“No, thank you, ma’am. Drink doesn’t get along with me. I got drunk once and I got into a lot of trouble so I keep away from it.”
“You’re wise. What are you cooking?”
“You said you wanted something light. I dug out a couple of soles. I guess this freezer has all the food in the world.”
“I think it has. A sole sounds wonderful.”
She sat on a kitchen chair and sipped her drink.
“Is he all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, I guess. I went down to take a look at him. He’s not all that happy. I guess I dug a few into him he didn’t like.” Larry pulled the tray from under the grill and expertly turned the soles, then pushed the tray back. “He’s sorry for himself.”
“Perhaps I’d better go down and see him,” Helga said, suddenly worried.
“I wouldn’t do that, ma’am. He’ll be all right. I made him some soup. You don’t have to bother about him.”
“Are you sure he’s all right?”
His indifference alarmed her.
““I’ll better see him.”
“No, ma’am. You keep away from him. He’s in a nasty mood. There’s no point in yon seeing him. He’ll only call you names.” Larry grinned. “He called me plenty… but tomorrow, he’ll be fine.”
She decided to take his advise.
“What have you been doing with yourself all this time?”
“Yeah… he’ll survive.”
“Oh, taking it easy. There was a good football match on the telly.”
“I must have slept. No one telephoned or called?”
“No, ma’am.” He peered into the grill. “If you feel like it, we can eat.”
She watched while he quickly laid the kitchen table and then served the soles. She was astonished by his quick efficiency and suddenly ashamed of her own inadequacy. She had no idea how to prepare any meal except a hamburger or possibly to fry an egg which she generally broke when serving it. She realized, as he deftly filleted the soles, how badly she had eaten when she had been without much money: sandwiches, hamburgers and meals from a slot chine.
“I should be doing this, Larry,” she said as he set her plate before her. “That’s what a woman is supposed to do.”
“I guess lots of girls don’t know how to cook,” he said and sat down. “But they can do other things.”
Again she felt hot blood move through her.
“Yes… that’s right.”
They ate in silence. When they had finished, she said, “It was wonderful, Larry… you really are a great cook.”
“I’m glad it pleased you, ma’am. You take it easy. I’ll clear up.” He collected the plates and moved to the sink.
“I must help you.”
He grinned at her.
“I’ll manage. You go ahead and take it easy. Coffee?”
“That would be nice.”
She went into the sitting-room, crossed to the bar and poured a small brandy. Then she sat down. As she swirled the brandy around in the balloon glass, she thought of Herman; querulous, selfish, demanding and expecting every attention. This boy was really wonderful! What a marvellous husband he would make for some lucky girl!
She heard him washing up, whistling to himself, then after a while he came in with two cups of coffee.
“Have you given him anything to eat, Larry?” she asked. Archer was preying on her mind. She took the cup of coffee he handed her.
“Don’t worry about him, ma’am. He’s had soup… he’s okay.”
“Perhaps I’d better see him. He’s not young, Larry, and you hit him terribly hard.”
Larry sat down. He held the cup and saucer awkwardly.
“You leave him alone, ma’am. There’s no point in you getting upset. He used some pretty strong language.”
“But you’re sure he’s all right?”
“Sure… sure… sure.”
She gave up.
After a pause while they sipped the steaming coffee, she said, “I’ll call the American Express tomorrow and book your seat.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She looked at him and smiled.
“I’ll miss you, Larry.”
“Yeah… I guess I’ll miss you, too.”
“It’s been a fantastic adventure, hasn’t it?”
“It has that.” 171
Not one of the world’s most brilliant conversationalists, she thought with regret, but he is magnificent to look at.
“It’s nearly over,” she said. “The day after tomorrow the photos will come. Then we say goodbye.”
“I guess that’s right.”
Watching him, looking at the breadth of his shoulders, his huge hands and his masculinity, she again felt the tormenting sexual urge go through her.
She remembered she had told herself: no more men, but just this once, she thought. We have tonight, all tomorrow and tomorrow night together. She knew she couldn’t sit around in the villa, waiting for the hours to pass while she had him with her. Surely, he would feel the same way. She would have to give him a little encouragement: just a hint and he would take her. Tonight: more love during the following day and more love the next night, then she would be satisfied. She would say goodbye and have a memory to live with, and then positively no more men!
“Excuse me, ma’am…”
She looked up, jerked away from her thoughts and she smiled at him.
“Yes, Larry?”
“There’s an ice hockey match on at nine on the telly. Would it bother you if I watched it?”
She felt as if she had received a slap in the face. She looked down at her hands.
“Of course not… if you want to.”
“Yeah… I dig for ice hockey. Do you like, it ma’am?”
She contained herself with an effort.
“No… it doesn’t interest me.” She looked at the clock on the overmantel. It showed 20.55. “The programme will in five minute.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll go to bed. I’ll find something to read.”
He went over to the television set and turned it on. She had an idea he hadn’t heard what she had said.
She stood up and looked at herself in the wall mirror. Why hadn’t she lit a flame in him? she wondered. Ice hockey, for God’s sake! She regarded the slim, blonde woman reflected in the glass. She looked pale and perhaps a little tired, but she didn’t look anything like her real age. Suppose she went to him and put her arms around him and arched her body hard against his? Would that light the flame? She looked at his broad back as he bent over the set. The announcer was introducing the players as they skated around the rink. He was saying the Swiss side had a hard struggle ahead of them. The Canadian Eagles hadn’t been defeated this season.
“Hotdamn!” Larry muttered to himself and sat down before the screen.
She lifted her shoulders helplessly, then she went to the bookcase and took the first book to hand.
The skaters were charging down the rink and she could hear Larry muttering to himself.
She went to the door and opened it.
“I’ll read, Larry. I won’t be asleep when the games over. Look in and say goodnight.”
He was leaning forward as three skaters collided and started a punch-up.
“Larry?”
He didn’t look around. She was sure he had forgotten her existence. Irritated, she raised her voice, “Larry!”
He looked over his shoulder, frowning.
“Yes, ma’am?” 173
“Look in and see me when it’s over… I won’t be asleep.”
“Sure… sure,” and he turned back to the screen.
She went out and into her bedroom.
She stood in the middle of the elegant room, feeling utterly depressed. She supposed she had no sex appeal for him.
She tossed the book on the bed, then began to undress. Going to her closet, she selected a flimsy, see-through nightdress and put it on. Taking the gold clips from her hair, she shook it loose so it cascaded to her shoulders. Then she went into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, she came out and paused to look at herself in the full-length mirror. Surely any man with normal instincts would desire her… or was she deceiving herself?
She got into bed, picked up the book and glanced at the title. It was Galsworthy’s Forsyte Saga. Irene and Soames: a woman’s indifference to a man, and with her, the situation was reversed: a man’s indifference to a woman. She put the book down. She could hear faintly the exited voice of the commentator, speaking in Italian. She wished Larry would turn off the sound: it was not as if he could understand what the man was saying. She lay back on the pillows and stared up at the ceiling.
Then she heard the telephone bell ring.
Not Herman again? she thought. She was in no mood to listen to his querulous complaints. She picked up the extension receiver by her bed.
“Yes?”
“Is that Mrs. Rolfe?” A harsh male American voice.
She stiffened.
Who on earth could this be? she wondered and said a little hesitantly, “Yes… who is it?”
“You don’t know me, but you’ve heard of me. I’m Smith… Ron Smith.”
She sat bolt upright, aware her heart was beginning to thump. What was coming? More blackmail?”
“Do you want to speak to Larry?” she asked.
“Is he there?”
“Yes.”
“Can he hear you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m asking you if he is in the same room with you.” There was an important note in the harsh voice now.
“No… he’s watching television. Do you want to talk to him?”
“I want to talk to you.”
She felt her mouth turn dry. She was sure now he was going to blackmail her.
“I don’t think I want to talk to you, Mr. Smith,” she said trying to keep her voice steady. “I…”
“Cut it out! This is urgent and important to you! I’ve had a hell of a time getting your phone number. I don’t know why I should have bothered. Rich women like you aren’t worth bothering about, but a life is a life, even if it is worthless.”
He’s mad, she was thinking and she was tempted to replace the receiver, but before she could make up her mind, he went on. “Mrs. Rolfe, you are in deadly danger. Don’t talk… listen. I’ve just got out of jail. I’ve been locked up for a week. I’ve been pretty busy but this afternoon I’ve been going through the newspapers for the past week to check on the political scene.”
“I really can’t see what this has to do with me,” Helga said sharply. “What do you mean… deadly danger?”
“Stop yacking! I’m wasting good money on this phone talking to you! In six German newspapers, published the day after I went to jail, there are photographs of Larry!”
“Why tell me? I know he’s an Army deserter. I…”
“Can’t you stop yacking and listen? He’s not an A deserter! He’s an escapee from a Military prison where lie was being held, waiting to be flown back to the States and to be put away for life in an asylum for the criminal insane!”
A wave of ice water seemed to run down Helga’s spin.
“I - I don’t believe it!”
“Why should I care? Don’t believe it!” The voice was now a snarl of impatience. “I’m telling you! The papers call him the Hamburg Strangler. He’d strangled five tarts before the cops caught up with him. He was tried and found guilty. It’s all here in the papers. He escaped while waiting transport back to the States.”
She lay back on the pillow. Her heart was now beating sluggishly and she felt dreadfully cold.
“Oh, God!” she whispered.
“They say no one should go near him,” the voice went on. “He’s dangerous.”
She took hold of herself.
“But it was you who told him where to get the passport.”
“Sure… he seemed a nice kid to me. I’ve only just read this goddamn thing! When he phoned me and told me about blackmail stunt I used my influence to help you… and I don’t want your goddamn thanks. But when I read this in the papers, although I think you’re worse than nothing, I had to warn you.”
Helga shivered.
“I’m alone here… he’s in the next room!”
“Here’s what you do. Lock yourself in… call the police and hope they get to you fast. So long, Mrs. Rolfe. I’m not sorry for you. Rich women with hot pants bore me and if Larry wrings your neck I won’t cry. Call the police!”
The line went dead.
With a shaking hand, Helga replaced the receiver.