Just Another Sucker

‘I want to think about it,’ I said. ‘I’ll give you my decision tomorrow. Suppose you telephone me here at eleven?’

‘Can’t you say yes or no now?’

‘I want to think about it. I’ll give you a definite decision tomorrow.’

She got to her feet. Opening her bag, she took out a small roll of bills and dropped them on the table that stood between us.

‘This should cover the cost of the cabin and any other expenses you may have. I’ll telephone tomorrow.’

She went away as silently as she had come, disappearing into the darkness like a ghost.

I picked up the money she had left on the table. There were ten ten-dollar bills. I slid them through my fingers, multiplying them in my mind five hundred times.

The time was now ten minutes after ten. I had a couple of hours yet before I need return home. I sat there in the moonlight, staring at the sea and I considered her proposal. I considered it from every angle: particularly the risk involved.

A few minutes after midnight, I made my decision. It wasn’t an easy one to make, but I was influenced by the money she was offering me. With that sum I could make a new life for Nina and myself.

On my terms, and my terms only, I decided to do what she wanted me to do.

The following morning, I went down to the cabin early. I told Bill Holden I wanted to keep the cabin on for at least another day, possibly longer, and I paid him the rent for two days.

I sat in the sun outside the cabin until a few minutes to eleven, then I went in and sat by the telephone.

Exactly at eleven o’clock the telephone bell rang. I picked up the receiver.

‘Barber here,’ I said.

‘Is it yes or no?’

‘It’s yes,’ I said, ‘but there are conditions. I want to talk to you and the other party. Come here with her at nine o’clock tonight.’

I didn’t give her a chance to argue. I hung up. I wanted her to realise that the initiative had passed from her to me now, and it was going to stay that way.

The telephone bell rang, but I didn’t answer. I went out of the cabin, shut and locked the door.

The bell was still ringing as I walked away to where I had parked the Packard.

II

I returned to the cabin just after six. I had been home and had collected a number of articles. Nina had been out which was lucky for me as she would have wanted to know why I needed a long length of flex, my tool kit and the tape recorder I had bought when I was working for the Herald and which she had kept for me all this time.

The two hours I had spent the previous night examining Rhea Malroux’s plan hadn’t been wasted. I had quickly realised that it was essential for my safety to make absolutely certain neither Rhea nor her stepdaughter left me holding the baby if anything happened to go wrong. I had decided to make a record of our conversation this night: neither of them would know of the recording, but if Malroux did call in the police, and there was always that risk, then these two couldn’t deny knowing anything about the plan nor shunt the blame onto me.

When I reached the cabin, I took the recorder into the bedroom and put it in the closet. The machine ran pretty silently, but there was just a chance one of them on the alert might hear it if it was in the sitting-room. I bored a small hole in the back of the closet through which I passed the mains lead. This I took into the sitting-room and plugged into a two-way adaptor that was controlled by the switch at the door. I satisfied myself that when I entered the cabin and turned on the light, the recorder and the light in the sitting-room would be switched on simultaneously.

I spent some minutes trying to make up my mind where to conceal the microphone. I finally decided to fix it under a small occasional table that stood in a corner, out of the way, but with an uninterrupted field of sound.

All this took time. By seven o’clock, I had had a practice run and I was satisfied the recorder worked as I wanted it to work, and the microphone picked up the sound of my voice from any part of the room.

The only two snags I could think of were if the two women wouldn’t go into the cabin, and if they didn’t want the light on. I thought I would be able to persuade them to enter the cabin. I could point out someone might be out for an evening stroll and might spot us if we didn’t keep out of sight. If they wanted the light out, I could turn the lamp off by the switch on the lamp and not by the switch at the door.

There were still a number of people on the beach, but the crowd was thinning. In another hour, the beach would be deserted.

I was just gathering up my tools when there came a knock on the door. I had been so preoccupied with what I had been doing the sharp rap made me start. For a moment I stood staring at the door. Then I shoved my tool kit under a cushion and went to the door. I opened it.

Bill Holden stood there.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Barber,’ he said. ‘I wanted to know if you’re keeping the cabin on for tomorrow. I have had an inquiry for it.’

‘I want to keep it for a week, Bill,’ I said. ‘I’m writing a few articles and it is a good place for me to work. I’ll settle with you at the end of the week, if that’s okay with you.’

‘Sure thing, Mr. Barber. It’s yours until the end of the week.’

When he had gone, I collected my tool kit, locked up and went over to the Packard. I didn’t feel like going home so I drove to a sea food restaurant about half a mile down the road. By the time I had eaten, the hands of my watch showed twenty minutes to nine.

It was getting dark.

I drove back to the cabin. The beach was now deserted. I remembered not to turn on the light. I could just see my way to the air-conditioner which I put on. I wanted the cabin to be invitingly cool when they arrived. Out on the veranda it was hot: too hot for comfort, but I loosened my tie and sat out there in a lounging chair.

I was pretty tense, and I wondered if Rhea would be late again, and what the stepdaughter, Odette, would be like.