The Hamburg Strangler!
Helga’s mind flashed back to three uneasy nights she had spent in New York when another strangler had bet large: a young man with a beguiling appearance who had picked up rich, lonely women in hotel lobbies, had persuaded them to take him to their rooms and who had left them strangled and mutilated. She remembered reading the horrifying details in the tabloid press. She had been there on business and had been yearning for a man, but when she had read the news that this killer was at large, she had become so nervous she had shunned every man who looked at her.
And now this!
She lay still.
A homicidal killer in her home!
Then she realized there was a complete silence in the villa. For a moment she couldn’t understand why, then she realized that Larry had turned off the television set!
Her heart hammering painfully, she looked towards the door. The key was in the lock. Terror held her in a paralysing grip. She must lock the door! her mind screamed at her. She must call the police! But she found she was incapable of moving. She lay in the bed, cold, shaking and her breath coining in quick, short gasps.
Then she heard slow footfalls, muffled by the carpet in the corridor, but unmistakable.
She had told him to come to her room!
She stared at the key in the door and yet she still couldn’t move. He was probably one of those awful sex maniacs who killed only when his lust was satisfied! She would be raped and then strangled!
She saw the door handle turn and she knew she had left it too late. A scream inside her began to build up but died as the door opened.
Larry stood in the doorway. She stared up at him from her bed in horror. Terror misted her eyes. She could only make out his menacing bulk: his face was out of focus.
“Ma’am… don’t be frightened of me. Please, ma’am. I can explain. Please listen to me.”
She made the effort and fought down her terror. His face swam into focus. Fear, misery and despair made him look helplessly immature and childishly harmless.
She lay there, staring at him, unable to form any words.
“When the phone went,” he said, “I picked up the receiver. I did it automatically, ma’am. I wasn’t spying. I heard what Ron said. It’s all lies. I swear everything he told you are lies! Please believe me.”
“Go away,” Helga said huskily. “Go away.”
Instead, he moved into the room, keeping away from the bed and he went over to an armchair by the window and sat in it. Then he put his hands to his face and began to cry. His soft blubbering lessened her terror. She wondered if she could get to the door, take out the key, get out and lock him in, but she decided that wouldn’t be possible. She knew how quickly he could move.
“Stop it!” She tried to harden her voice. “Please leave my room!”
“I don’t know what I’ll do if you won’t believe me, ma’am,” he mumbled. “You’ve been so kind to me. I’m so unhappy. You don’t know how unhappy I am!”
The Hamburg Strangler! she thought. Five prostitutes! Yet, seeing him crouched in the chair, his hands covering his face, he looked so defenceless she began to gain confidence. He had said he was grateful to her, she reminded herself. Why should he harm her if she didn’t show fear or irritate him. She would have to be very careful how she behaved to him and she must somehow get him out of the room so she could lock the door.
“I didn’t know you were so unhappy, Larry,” she said gently. “Will you tell me why?”
He took his hands from his face. Tears had made his face puffy and his misery touched her.
“I’ve been snowing you, ma’am… all this time. After what you’ve done for me, I wanted to keep your respect.” He hesitated, then lowered his head so he didn’t look at her. “You’d better know the truth now… I don’t go for girls…” He paused and mumbled something that Helga couldn’t hear. “What did you say?”
He gripped his knees with his huge hands.
“Larry… what did you say?”
“I go for men.”
Helga regarded him unbelievingly.
“For men?”
He nodded miserably, not looking at her.
“But you said a girl took your money,” she said after a long pause. “Archer told me when ho first met you you were trying to pick up a tart.”
He looked up then and she saw the shame and misery in his eyes.
“It wasn’t a girl who took my money… it was a man.” He spoke so quietly she could scarcely hear him. “That other girl… I was trying to get her boy friend from her.”
Helga suddenly understood. This was, of course the answer to his indifference to her. In a perverse way what he was telling her pleased her. It meant that she hadn’t lost her sex appeal, but she instantly dismissed this trivial thought. It would also explain why he had murdered five prostitutes. Certain homosexuals loathed prostitutes.
“You see, ma’am, Ron and I were close.” Larry looked away from her. “He’s like me. He wanted me and I wanted him, but I guess I’m restless. I don’t like anything permanent… I don’t want to be tied down. A week with Ron was enough. I did desert from the Army, but what he told you were spiteful lies. I’ve never killed anyone.” He thumped his knees with his big fists. “I guess I’m stupid. When you said you would pay my fare to New York and give me five thousand bucks, I just had to tell Ron. He had sworn I would come crawling back to Hamburg because I wouldn’t be able to live without him. I wanted him to know I wasn’t coming back and why. I told him how kind you had been to me and is going back to the States and about the money.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “That was stupid of me, ma’am. Ron flipped his lid. You see, ma’am, he just hated the idea you were helping me and he couldn’t. He got in this terrible rage and he called me names. He was yelling and swearing at me. He said he would fix me. I couldn’t stand listening to what he said so I hung up on him.”
“When did you call him?” Helga asked.
“When you went to the village. I just had to tell him… I was stupid.” He stared miserably at her. “But I didn’t think he would do anything. He often got wild, but he never did anything. I never thought he would call you and tell you all those lies. I heard him tell you to call the cops. That’s what he wants. If they come here, they’ll find out I’m AWOL. Ron knows if they pick me up, I’ll be sent back to Hamburg and after I come out of the Stockade, he will be waiting for me. The fact is, ma’am, Ron likes me more than I like him. He can’t live without me… I know he can’t. That stuff about me being in the papers was all jealous lies… lies to make you call the cops.”
Helga drew in a long, deep breath. She had had many dealings with homosexuals. Her hairdresser in Paradise City was one. The Captain of Waiters at her favourite New York nightclub was another. Her Couturier in Paris and the simpering little artist who had decorated this bedroom… dozens of them in every walk of life who she loathed and despised and who she knew could be viciously jealous, envious and unpredictably spiteful to each other and yet, at times, so marvellously gentle and kind.
“Yes, she could believe this story. She relaxed back on her pillow. God! How terrified she had been! The Hamburg Strangler! How stupid to have believed such a malicious story, let alone allow it to have frightened her so!
“You do believe me, ma’am? You won’t call the police?”
So he was one of those! It was hard to believe as she looked at him, but where had she heard some all-in wrestler, wearing a cloak and a top hat, had been a pansy?
She suddenly hated the sight of this big, hulking boy. She wanted to scream at him to leave the villa this very moment, but then she remembered those awful moments when Archer had escaped. Larry had to remain here to control Archer until the photos arrived. With a sinking heart, she thought of the long day and the long night ahead of her before the photos did arrive.
“Yes, Larry, I believe you,” she said. “I didn’t understand… I do now.”
“You don’t know what hell it is in the Army when you’re like me,” he said, half to himself. “I couldn’t stand any more of it.”
She didn’t want to hear: he was a neuter thing to her now and he bored her. All right, Larry… now go to bed.”
He got reluctantly to his feet.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t want you to know. You’ve been so good to me.”
Yes… go to bed!” She could scarcely conceal her impatience to get rid of him.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He walked to the door, hesitated, looked hopefully at her, then went out, closing the door gently behind him.
She lay still listening to his receding footfalls, then she put her hands to her face and began silently to laugh.
What a joke against her!
She had picked up this lump of maleness, longing to take him into her bed. She had spent money on him, fed him, dangled her charms before him, risked her reputation, risked sixty million dollars, had been blackmailed because of him and had had to listen to glib lies from another of his beastly breed who had terrified her as she had never been so terrified… and for what? For trying to inveigle a loutish, immature, brainless queer into her bed!
What a goddamn joke!
Finally, her bitter laughter ceased. She got out of bed and locked the door. Going into the bathroom, she swallowed three sleeping tablets, then she got back into bed.
She thought of Nassau and its miles of golden beach.
There would be lots of men there… real men. She would have to be careful, of course, but during the day, Herman would be fully occupied.
There would be opportunities… there were always opportunity
She reached up and turned off the light. She lay still in the darkness, willing herself not to think while she waited for the tablets to send her to sleep.
It wasn’t until 10.25 the following morning when Helga emerged from her bedroom. She had slept heavily, but dreamlessly. She had a slight headache and she was in an irritable mood.
While she had bathed and dressed, she had thought of Larry and the desire grew in her to get rid of him as quickly as was safe.
“Coffee, ma’am?”
Larry was standing in the kitchen door. His expression was downcast and he avoided meeting her eyes.
“Thank you: that would be nice,” she said briskly and impersonally as if talking to a servant. She went to the front door and checked the mail box. There were several letters and she returned to the sitting-room, flicking through them. There were two letters for her from women friends back home and the rest were for Herman.
She was reading her letters when Larry brought in a tray with toast, marmalade and coffee.
“Nothing to eat,” she said without pausing in her reading. “Thank you. Just put it down.”
He hung around like a child in disgrace, for some moments watching her reading, then as she paid no attention to him, he returned to the kitchen. She drank her coffee, completed reading the letters which were full of the latest ‘Who-is-now-sleeping-with-whom’ scandals and other gossipy items. After she had readdressed her husband’s letters to Nassau, she went into the kitchen.
Larry was sitting on a kitchen chair, his big fists resting on his knees while he stared at the floor.
“I’m going now to the American Express to get your ticket,” she said. “Also to the bank to get your money. I have other things to do in Lugano. I may be late back.”
She had no intention of spending the day with him. The time would go much faster watching a movie.
He looked up.
“Okay, ma’am.”
“How is he this morning?”
He rubbed the side of his jaw. “He’s okay.”
She was now utterly sick of Archer and utterly sick of Larry. “Don’t answer the telephone nor the front door.”
“No ma’am.”
She went into the hall and put on her coat. As she was struggling into her snow boots, he came to the kitchen door.
“You - you won’t tell the cops, ma’am?”
She looked around impatiently.
“Oh step fretting! You will be flying to New York tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You have plenty of food. I may have dinner out… if I do I won’t be back until ten-thirty tonight. You have the television to amuse you.” She opened the front door. “And don’t do anything stupid down there… like last time.”
“No, ma’am.” His hangdog expression bored her.
“Just be careful.”
She went down the steps into the cold sunshine.
What a relief to get out of the villa and away from this poor creature, she thought as she opened the garage doors. One more night and the nightmare would be over. She backed the car out of the garage and drove down to the main road.
She had trouble finding parking in Lugano, but eventually, after circling patiently for twenty minutes, she saw a car pull out from a parking meter. By fast driving, she managed to foil an Alfa whose driver had also been circling for some time. He scowled at her as he drove on. She put a twenty centime piece into the meter, then walked to the American Express office. There, she booked a Tourist class ticket for Larry on the following day at 14.00 and for herself first class on the same day but at 22.05 for New York. She had no intention of flying to New York with Larry. She would drive him to Milan airport and make sure he left, then she would leave the car with a garage with instructions it was to be returned to Gastagnola and left in the garage at the villa. She would spend the time until the flight at the Principe e savoia hotel where she was known and where she would be pampered.
She used her American Express Credit card to take care of the two fares, then she walked across the Reforma Square to the Credit Suisse Banque. Here, she asked for $5,000 in unsigned Travellers’ Cheques. While she was waiting, the manager of the bank came from his office to shake hands with her and to inquire after her husband. This kindness and deference she was receiving from the bank manager pleased and flattered her, but she wondered, a little cynically, if, without money, she would have received the same treatment.
She then walked through the old shopping centre, shop window gazing. She wasn’t in the mood to buy, but the goods displayed interested her and helped to pass the time.
She returned to the Mercedes and drove along the lake side to the Eden hotel. Leaving the car in the hotel garage, she went to the Grill room. A table was quickly found for her and the Maitre d’hotel came to shake hands. She broke the news to him that Herman would not be coming to Lugano this year and his face fell. She ordered devilled scampi with wild rice and lingered over the meal, being in no hurry. After coffee and paying her check, she walked slowly along the lake side to the Casino cinema. They were showing Katie Hepburn in The Lion In Winter. She adored this actress and she felt an anticipation of excitement as she bought her ticket. She sat in the darkness and the warmth of the cinema and concentrated on the film. Hepburn didn’t disappoint her: a wonderful, professional performance, she thought as she came out into the cold. She wandered back in the gathering gloom to the Eden hotel, analysing and remembering certain scenes of the film and r-enjoying it.
Not once since she had left the villa did she think of Larry or Archer. She settled in the comfortable hotel bar with a copy of the Herald Tribune and a vodka martini. Having spent some time checking the Stock Market quotation read the news, had another cocktail and then decided it was time for dinner.
Leaving the hotel, she drove back to the Reforma and was lucky to find a free parking meter. Then she walked to her favourite restaurant, Bianchi in via Pessina. Here she was given a warm welcome by Dino, one of the head waiters and who always looked after her. He was a good looking Italian with beautiful manners. As he conducted her to a table, he inquired after Mr. Rolfe and sighed when he learned he wasn’t coming this year.
Seated, she asked him what she should eat. The partridges were very good, he told her, but she shook her head. Then venison. A little Puccini toast and a coeur de chevreuil. She agreed and he went away to place the order.
It was early and the restaurant hadn’t begun to get busy so Dino returned to gossip. Then the Patron came over to have a word. Helga relaxed in this friendly, cosseted atmosphere. The Puccini toast was served and an excellent Merlot wine poured.
She enjoyed the impeccable meal and finished regretfully at 21.40. She paid the check, shook hands with the Patron, had a word with Dino and returned to her car. It was only when she was starting the engine that she began to think of Larry.
Immediately, she began to feel a little uneasy. Perhaps she shouldn’t have left him so long. He was such a hick he might have done something stupid. She herself would look stupid if on her return she found Archer waiting for her and Lam-imprisoned in the cellar. But she had warned Larry. Surely he must have learned his lesson? She couldn’t possibly have spent all those hours alone with him. The very sight of him now sickened her.
Driving towards Castagnola, her uneasiness increased. Suppose Archer had got out? By now the photos would be in the post. If he had trapped Larry and was free, he would wait, guarding the cellar door until the postman arrived. The envelope would be addressed to him. Then she thought of the .22 automatic she had in her bedroom. She had everything to lose. She wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him in the leg if he refused when threatened by the gun to return to the cellar and to release Larry. She felt sure he wouldn’t have the guts to oppose her after she had fired one shot towards him, threatening the next shot would be in his leg.
The Grandfather clock in the hall was chiming eleven as she unlocked the front door. She stood in the open doorway, her heart skipping a beat. The pole that had jammed the cellar door was lying on the floor and the cellar door stood open!
What was happening?
She moved into the hall and closed the front door. Was Larry downstairs with Archer? Perhaps he had gone down there with food, but surely that was unlikely at this hour.
She went silently to the head of the stairs leading down to cellars and listened, but she could hear nothing. The light in the passage below was on.
She hesitated, then called, “Larry? Are you down there?”
A sound behind her made her spin around.
Archer was standing in the sitting-room doorway, a whisky and soda in his hand. The bruise on his face had deepened to an ugly purple-black.
“Larry’s in here, Helga,” he said. “Take off your coat and come on in. We’ve been waiting for you. Did you have a pleasant day?”
She kept control of herself as she took off her coat and hat. She paused to fluff up her hair with fingers that trembled.
Archer turned and went back into the room, leaving the door open.
Helga felt fury grip her: fury against herself. Her disgust, contempt and frustration had made staying with this hulking queer impossible. She should have controlled those feelings. Now she was going to pay for them.
She entered the sitting-room. Archer was standing by a lounging chair, waiting for her. Across the room, Larry was sitting on an upright chair, his hands hanging between his knees, his head down so she couldn’t see his face.
“Sit down, Helga,” Archer said.
She was glad to sit down. Once again her legs felt weak and once again she was struggling to absorb a shock.
“Excuse me.” He walked up to her and took her handbag from her before she realized what he was doing.
“How dare you!” she exclaimed but without conviction.
“Come off your high horse, Helga. You’re not in a position to get snooty.” Archer backed away, opened the bag and took from it one of the air tickets and the leather folder containing the Travellers’ Cheques. He carried them across the room and put them on an occasional table by Larry.
“There you are, my boy,” he said. “Your ticket and your money… now you get off.”
Helga watched.
Larry didn’t look up. He just sat slumped in his chair, his head down.
“Come along, Larry,” Archer said in his soothing, professional voice. “There’s no point in you hanging around here any longer. Take Helga’s car and leave it at the Lugano station. I’m sure she won’t mind and she can pick it up later. There’s a train to Milan you could catch if you hurry.”
Slowly, Larry got to his feet. He picked up the ticket and the leather folder and stuffed them into his hip pocket. Then he looked directly at Archer.
“I don’t want her car… I don’t want anything from you.”
His voice was a mumble and Helga could scarcely make out what he was saying.
“All right, Larry… you handle it,” Archer said. “Good luck… have a good trip.”
Walking heavily, Larry made for the door. As he opened the door, Helga said huskily, “Haven’t you anything to say to me?”
He didn’t appear to hear her. He went out and through the open door. She watched him open the front door and go out into the darkness. The front door shut behind him.
She closed her eyes.
There was a long pause, then Archer said, “Well, he’s gone. I’m sure you are puzzled, Helga. He lowered his bulk into an armchair. Taking his cigar case from his pocket, he selected a cigar and bit off the end. “Let me explain. Up to this morning, I have always regarded you as a clever and astute woman. You have disappointed me. To be successful in dealing with people, one needs to have a certain amount of psychological insight. This I thought you had, but obviously you haven’t. You were so besotted by Larry’s bulk and his apparent virility that you failed to realize he was a homo. That was a mistake and a bad one. I spotted it, not immediately, but soon enough to understand that he would need different handling from the way you were handling him. The one thing a homo dislikes more than anything else is contempt. He will put up with the jokes and giggles: these are things he has come to live with, but he hates contempt. So long as you thought you could drag him into your bed, you gave him kindness which he was thirsting for: all homos do. In actual fact, Helga, Larry is rather a nice boy. He’s stupid, of course, immature, doesn’t know his own strength, but basically he is simple and nice and there is no real viciousness in him. He is handicapped by his size. He would be a lot happier if he had been a pretty boy, but as he looks like an athlete, he has tried to give people who don’t spot what he really is a false image of himself drawn, no doubt, from the toughs he has seen on television. The scowl and the hard voice are marks to encourage those who think he is just another hard guy in a leather jacket and jeans. All rather pathetic really because his own breed recognize him instantly.” Archer paused to light his cigar. “You couldn’t have played a better card for me and a worse card for yourself when you reacted the way you did after Larry had told you the truth about himself. I realize you were frustrated and bitter that you weren’t going to drag him into your bed, but where was your psychological insight? Instead of being understanding and sympathetic, you were stupid enough to show him your true feelings: disgust and contempt. From the moment you knew, you treated him like, something unclean… like a leper, you might say, and you hurt him, Helga. You hurt him deeply, and you are so insensitive you didn’t even care that you had hurt him. He admired and respected you and even loved you in an odd way because up moment he told you what he was, you had whelmed him with kindness. This morning, you behaved even more stupidly if you were hoping to keep him as an ally. Without saying it in so many words, you told him you couldn’t bear to stay a minute longer in his company and your contempt was like a branding iron on his very sensitive skin. You walked out on him. I was at the cellar door, listening. The contempt in your voice when you told him to amuse himself with television and you wouldn’t be back until late, leaving him alone, told me, because of your complete lack of understanding that you had once again handed me the four aces.”
Helga listened. Her mind was beginning to function again. Larry was gone. Now only Archer and she were left in the villa. Tomorrow morning the photos would arrive. She thought of the gun. It was she who held the four aces. With the gun, she would get and destroy the photos even if she had to shoot this thief, forger and blackmailer.
She looked at Archer, her face expressionless.
“Yes, I was stupid,” she said and lifted her shoulders. “Well, one has to pay for being stupid.”
He regarded her watchfully.
“You are a fantastic woman, Helga.” There was a note of admiration in his voice. “Your dangerous, sharp brain is already working to find a way out, but I assure you, this time, there is no way out. We are back to square A.”
“Are we?” Again she lifted her shoulders. “But tell me more about Larry. How did you and he get buddies? I know you are supposed to be able to charm a bird off a tree, but I never imagined you could charm a pansy to confide in you.”
Archer blew cigar smoke towards the ceiling.
“Have a brandy?” He picked up his glass and stood up. Helga noted that he walked a little unsteadily. He had probably been drinking most of the evening while waiting for her and her eyes narrowed.
“No, thank you.”
He went to the bar and refilled his glass.
“I consider myself an amateur psychologist. When you had gone I went back to the games room and I prepared for a long wait. I heard Larry roaming around the villa: ceaselessly pacing up and down and I knew he was suffering. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Obviously, he was lonely. Around two o’clock, he came down with my lunch. I was lying on the settee, waiting for him, knowing this was my chance. I made out I was much more feeble than I was to lull his alertness. After all, he had beaten me up, so I moaned a little. I could see he was unhappy and uneasy. He had cooked me a couple of lamb chops; they looked most tempting. I said I would try to eat them and I thanked him as only I know how to thank people for taking so much trouble. He was thirsting for kindness.” Archer gave a snorting laugh. “It was rather pathetic to see his confusion at being so praised. I asked where you were and he told me you had gone out for the day. I saw his expression of resentment and how hurt he was. I said it couldn’t be much fun for him to be on his own in this big villa and should we talk while I ate my lunch? It was easy after that, Helga. I talked about you, I told him that you had married an enormously wealthy cripple for his money and how you’ve never stopped cheating him. I told him about the men you have had. Perhaps I exaggerated a little, but it was necessary to get him on my side. He remembered how you had fumbled at his zipper and that had shocked him: it didn’t go along with his image of you as a kind, blonde madonna. I said you were utterly immoral, that you used men to service your body and after, threw them aside. I told him your only interest in him was his body and when you found you weren’t going to get that, you couldn’t stand the sight of him. I reminded him you would be returning with his money and ticket to New York. I said you deserved to be punished and he could do it. “Take what she gives you and walk out on her… leave her to me”, I said. He liked the idea. He wanted you to suffer for the way you had treated him. So we waited together for you to return. Now he’s gone, Helga, and you and I will finalize this little drama. It’s time we did. I fly back to Lausanne at seven o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Helga looked up sharply.
“So early?”
The postman, she thought, didn’t come to the villa until after ten.
“Yes. I have appointments I can’t afford to miss. Well now, Helga, you have played your cards badly and I have played them well so accept defeat. You will tell Herman it was your idea and not mine to buy the Nickel shares and you will insist that I keep the account.”
“The postman doesn’t come until after ten. When the photos arrive, we’ll discuss this further. You’ll have to cancel your appointments.”
He regarded her, then he began to shake with silent laughter. Watching his face turn red and his paunch jerking as he laughed, she felt cold despair grip her. She had a frightening feeling that in the grimly fought battle of lies and violence he had finally beaten her. He couldn’t laugh like this unless he was very sure of himself.
“I take it the joke is on me?” she said, her voice hard.
He wiped his streaming eyes with his handkerchief, gasped, coughed and then slapped his fat knees.
“That’s the understatement of the year,” he said. “Learn a lesson, Helga… never try to bluff with me.” He leaned back in his chair and grinned at her: a smirking, triumphant grin that made her heart sink. “In a few minutes, I am leaving for Lugano. I intend to spend a comfortable night at the Eden, then at seven tomorrow I will fly to Lausanne. I don’t need to wait for the postman who you are so anxiously waiting for.” He became convulsed with laughter again, but this time it wasn’t silent. His raucous ha! ha! ha’s! were like the thong of a whip cutting her flesh.
She waited, now dangerous fury boiling up inside her. Her hands into fists, she watched him and a feeling grew in her to hurt or even kill him.
Finally, his laughter subsided and again he mopped his eyes.
“You poor fool!” His eyes were now cold and contemptuous. “I never sent those photos to the bank! I was bluffing! They have been in my suitcase all the time!”
The blow was a savage one and it left her breathless. Her mind went back to those moments when she had stopped Larry from beating him up, when he had lied about his bad heart. She thought of Larry making the dangerous fast drive back to Basle, of the three thousand five hundred francs she had paid for the forged signature and of the long, tormenting hours believing that when the postman eventually came, she would be safe.
And all the time the photos had been in his suitcase, lying in the back of his hired car which she had seen, which had been there for the taking!
But now she knew the photos were within reach! He didn’t know it yet, but she still held the four aces. She had the gun!
She got slowly to her feet, her handkerchief pressed to her lips.
“I - I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered and started across the room, then as she reached the door, she moved faster. In the hall, she ran frantically to her bedroom, pulled open the closet door, wrenched open the top drawer and her hand closed over the.22 gun.
As she picked up the gun the savage feeling that had been growing in her to kill him again ran through her. If he didn’t give her the photographs she would kill him! She didn’t give a damn about the consequences! He had made her suffer as she had never thought it possible to suffer! He had sneered and laughed at her! It wouldn’t be a shot in the leg… she would kill him!
Her breath was coming through her open mouth in short. hard, rasping 193
gasps. Her heart was slamming against her ribs. But this wouldn’t do, she told herself. Shaking, gasping and half out of her mind as she was would make a deadly shot impossible.
“Helga?” Archer called. “Are you all right.”
She drew in a long shuddering breath, then again. She steadied herself. Her heart ceased to race but still thumped painfully. Keeping the gun down by her side and out of t, she walked back into the sitting-room.
Archer, sitting in the armchair, regarded her with an amused smile.
“Did you chuck up?” he asked. “I didn’t think you were quite so sensitive.”
“You will give me the photos,” she said in a husky whisper, “or I’ll kill you!” She lifted the gun into sight.
“How dramatic you are.” He got to his feet. “I’m leaving now. Have a good time in Nassau. Watch out for the boys there, Helga. Don’t let Herman catch you at it.” He bent to stub out his cigar. “So it is understood? You take the blame for buying the shares and I keep the account?”
“I mean it? Give me the photographs! I don’t give a damn what happens to me! Give them to me or I’ll kill you!”
He gave a snorting laugh and walked towards the door.
“Attractive as you are, Helga there are times when you bore me,” he said as he opened the door.
She aimed the gun at his broad, fat back and with a shudder, she pulled the trigger. Only the snap of the hammer greeted her.
He looked around, lifting his eyebrows.
“I’m surprised at you, Helga. A whore… now a murderess? So you would have done it. I wasn’t sure so I took the precaution to find your little toy and unload it. Admit I’m smarter than you. Goodbye. Convince Herman and remember never to try to bluff with me again. I’m a lot better at it than you.”
She stood motionless, shivering, staring at the empty gun in her hand. She heard the front door slam, then she walked slowly to a chair and sank into it. She heard a car engine start up and the car drive away.
Then she began to weep. She had always thought she was smarter than Archer. She had always been slightly contemptuous of his abilities, but the sonofabitch had beaten her! He had out-bluffed her in every move and now she would have to have him on her neck until Herman died!
She beat on the back of her chair with her fists as she cried in frustration and bitter rage. A slob like that! Now she would have to face Herman and admit she hadn’t been capable of handling his money: that she had been responsible for losing two million dollars!
“Ma’am?”
She started, stiffened and looked up.
Larry was standing in the doorway.
The shock of seeing him made her speechless. She could only stare at him, fighting back the tearing sobs that were racking her.
“It’s all right, ma’am,” he said and moving into the room, he dropped a manilla envelope into her lap. “You don’t have to cry like that.”
With shaking hands, she tore open the flap of the envelope and pulled out two glossy prints: one of her handing money to Friedlander and the other of her naked on the bed with Larry. She peered into the envelope. The negatives were there.”
“Better burn them right away, ma’am,” Larry said.
“How did you get them?”
“I knew he was up to something. I wanted you to have them. I pretended to go along with him but I came back and led. I heard him tell you they were in his suitcase. I went to his car and found them.”
She picked up a cigarette lighter, flicked the flame into life and held it to the 195
photographs. She dropped the ash into the ash tray, then she did the same with the negatives.
“I’m sorry,” she said brokenly, looking at him. “I’m really, Larry, for the way I’ve behaved.”
“That’s okay, ma’am.” He put the air ticket and the Travellers’ cheques in their leather folder on the table. “You were good to me too. This makes us quits. I’m going back to Hamburg. So long, ma’am.”
She struggled to her feet and caught hold of his arm.
“Don’t be stupid, Larry! Take this money and go back to the States! You must! Start a new life! I’ll drive you to Milan. I’ll give you more money! You don’t know what you’ve done for me! I can never forget it!”
He pulled away from her as if her touch was unclean.
“No, thank you, ma’am. I don’t want any more help from you.” He looked at her and she flinched from the accusing expression in his eyes. “You and Archer are filth to me. I don’t like saying this to you, but it’s the truth. I didn’t know people like you existed. I’m going back to the Army and I’ll serve my sentence, then I’ll be out in another year. I did this for you because of what you did for me, but I never want to see you again.”
“You mean you’re going back to Ron?”
“Ron is better than you. Yes, I’m going back to him. He doesn’t cheat and he’s honest.”
Helga lifted her hands helplessly.
“All right. I hope you will be happy with him, Larry, and thank you again.”
He went to the door, paused, turned and pulled at the peak of his cap.
“So long, ma’am. I hope you’ll be happy too.”
Her mind now was no longer with him. She was drinking of Archer. She would throw him to the wolves. Then Nassau, the sand, the sea and the sun. It would be good to lie in the sun and to think of Archer in the Establissement de l’Orbe in a small cell for at least five years.
She heard the front door shut. After a long pause, she went into the hall and turned the front door key.
The End