Authors: James Hadley Chase

An Ace Up My Sleeve (18 page)

BOOK: An Ace Up My Sleeve

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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 & 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.

BOOK: An Ace Up My Sleeve

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