‘I want Miss Malroux,’ I said. ‘This is Jerry Williams.’
‘Will you hold the line, Mr. Williams? I’ll see if Miss Malroux is available.’
I held the line, aware that I was breathing over-fast.
There was a longish delay, then Odette’s voice said brightly, ‘Hello?’
‘Is anyone listening?’
‘No. It’s all right. Hello, Harry.’ There was a caress in her voice. ‘You’re the only man who has ever dared to hit me. You are quite a character.’
‘I know. Watch it I don’t hit you again. You know what to do? I’ll be at the Pirates’ Cabin in twenty minutes. The Packard will be parked on the far right-hand side of the parking lot. The dress will be on the back seat. You haven’t forgotten any of the details?’
‘I haven’t forgotten.’
‘Then get moving. I’ll be waiting for you,’ and I hung up.
It took me a quarter of an hour, driving fast to reach the Pirates’ Cabin. The parking lot was pretty full, but I managed to park the Packard where I had told her it would be. There was no parking attendant and that suited me. Someone was playing a squeeze-box and singing. I could see through the windows that the bar was crowded.
I sat in the Packard and waited. I was pretty tense. Every car that came into the park made me stiffen.
At twenty-five minutes after nine, I saw a white T.R.3 slide through the gates and park within twenty yards of my car.
Odette climbed out. She was wearing a white plastic mack over a scarlet dress. She paused beside the T.R.3 and looked in my direction.
I leaned out of the Packard and waved to her. The thin drizzle of rain was now becoming heavier. She waved back, and then walked quickly to the restaurant and entered the bar.
I got out of the Packard and crossed over to her car. There was a suitcase lying on the passenger’s seat. I looked to right and left, satisfied myself no one was watching me, then took the suitcase over to the Packard.
Through the bar windows I could see Odette. She was speaking to the barman. He shook his head at her and she moved away from the bar and out of my sight.
I looked at my wrist watch. The plane to Los Angeles left at ten-thirty. We had plenty of time. I had made her reservation by telephone in the name of Ann Harcourt. I had told the clerk she would pick up and pay for her ticket at the airport. I had also telephoned and reserved a room at a small hotel in Los Angeles that I had once stayed at. It was quiet, and away from the centre of the town; I felt sure she would be all right there.
I saw Odette come out of the bar. My heart skipped a beat when I saw she wasn’t alone: there was a man with her.
She began to walk towards the Packard. The man caught hold of her arm, pulling her back. I couldn’t see much of him. He was short and fat, and he was wearing a light coloured suit.
‘Come on, baby,’ he said in a loud, wheedling voice, ‘let’s have a party. I’m on my own: you’re on your own; let’s be lonely together.’
‘Get away from me!’ Odette said. ‘Take your hands off me!’
She sounded scared.
‘Aw, come on, baby. Let’s have some fun together.’
If she couldn’t handle him, we were in trouble. I didn’t dare show myself. He might not be as drunk as he seemed. If things turned sour, he might remember me.
‘Get away from me!’ Odette repeated and she started once more towards the Packard. The drunk hesitated, then came after her.
I moved around to the off-side of the car. I wanted to yell to her to keep away from the Packard. He might remember the car, but she kept coming.
The drunk staggered after her, caught hold of her arm and swung her around.
‘Hey! Don’t get snooty with me, baby. Come on back. I’ll buy you a drink.’
She slapped his face. The sound her hand made as it contacted his face was a minor explosion.
‘Okay, so you’re tough,’ the drunk snarled and grabbing her, he tried to kiss her.
I had to do something now. She was struggling, but I could see he was too strong for her. She had enough sense not to cry out.
In the glove compartment of the Packard I always kept a heavy flashlight. I grabbed hold of it. It was a foot long and made a good club.
It was pretty dark, and we were away from the single spotlight above the gates. I circled around so I could come up behind him. I was so jittery, my breath was whistling through my clenched teeth.
As I came up, Odette managed to break free. The drunk became aware of me and spun around.
I slammed him over the head with the flashlight, driving him to his knees. I heard Odette catch her breath in a strangled scream.
Cursing, the drunk made a grab at me, but I hit him again: this time much harder, and with a grunt, he spread out, face down at my feet.
‘Take my car!’ I said to Odette. ‘Get going! I’ll follow in your car!’
‘Have you hurt him?’ She was staring down at the drunk, her hands to her face.
‘Get going!’
