‘This is Harry,’ I said. ‘Listen carefully: we could be in trouble. I can’t talk over an open line, but whatever you do, stay in your room. I’ll be phoning you again. I may want you back tomorrow.’
I heard her catch her breath.
‘Is it that man – the drunk?’
‘No. It’s worse than that. The people I thought would come into this later are already in it. Do you understand?’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘It may still work. If I think it won’t, I’ll call you again t night. For now, keep out of sight and stay in your room.’
‘But what’s happening?’ There was a touch of panic in h voice. ‘Can’t you tell me?’
‘Not over an open line. Just stay where you are and don’t go out. I’ll call you tonight,’ and I hung up.
I felt sorry for her, but I didn’t dare talk. I didn’t know if the girl on the hotel switchboard was listening in.
I went to the window and looked out. The heavy rain was making patterns on the sand. The beach looked forlorn and empty. I lit a cigarette and began to prowl around the room.
At least Malroux hadn’t called in the police so far, but if the police found the T.R.3 with its crushed wing, they would have the excuse to call on him, and then he might admit his daughter was missing.
I saw Rhea coming across the beach. She was wearing a black raincoat, and she was sheltering under an umbrella. If Holden caught sight of her, he couldn’t possibly recognise her as she held the umbrella so it hid her face.
I opened the door as she came up the steps.
‘He’s collecting the money from the bank now,’ she said as she folded the umbrella and shook it before coming in. ‘I told him I was going to church to pray for Odette.’
I am not a religious man, but that cold-blooded statement gave me a feeling of disgust and an acute dislike for her.
‘When do you plan to collect the money?’ she asked as I took her raincoat. She went over to a lounging chair and sat down.
‘I’m not all that sure we’re going to get it,’ I said.
She stiffened, her eyes hardening.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Maybe this will surprise you,’ I said, putting the raincoat on the table and sitting down. ‘Your husband’s bank manager and his chauffeur have shot their mouths off. The police know already that Odette has been kidnapped.’
If I had slapped her across her face, the effect of my words couldn’t have been more electrifying.
‘You’re lying!’ She jumped to her feet, her face chalk white and her eyes glittering. ‘You’ve lost your nerve! You’re scared to collect the money!’
‘Do you think so?’ Her frightened rage helped to steady my own feeling of panic. ‘This morning, Mr.
Masters, the manager of your husband’s bank, called the District Attorney and told him your husband wanted five hundred thousand dollars in a hurry. It seems there is an arrangement now between bank managers and the police for the bank managers to inform the police when large sums are drawn from their customers’ accounts in small bills, and in a hurry. The police automatically assume, until proved otherwise, this money is for a ransom note.’
‘How do you know this?’ she demanded shrilly.
I told her about my new job and how I had talked to the D.A.
‘Renick has already talked to your chauffeur, O’Reilly,’ I went on. ‘Maybe you don’t know, but O’Reilly is an ex-cop. He’s told Renick that Odette didn’t meet her girl friend last night, nor did she come home. The D.A. has put two and two together and has made four. He is sure Odette has been kidnapped, and he’s standing by for the biggest sensation since the Lindberg case.’
Rhea put her hand to her throat and sat down abruptly. She was no longer beautiful. The expression of fear and frustrated fury was ugly to see.
‘What are we going to do?’ she said at last. She began to hammer the arm of her chair with her clenched fists. ‘I must have the money!’
‘I warned you, didn’t I?’ I said. ‘I told you the police could come into this.’
‘Never mind what you told me! What are we going to do?’
‘You’d better hear the whole story, then maybe you can decide what you want to do.’
I gave her all the details. I told her about the drunk, the car accident and that the police were now looking for the T.R.3, and when they found it, they would come to her husband and ask questions.
She sat motionless, her hands clenched between her knees while she listened.
‘Well, that’s it,’ I said. ‘On the credit side, the D.A. won’t make a move unless your husband asks him to. They won’t attempt to follow your husband when he goes out to deliver the money. Everything really depends on your husband. Will he tell the police Odette has been kidnapped when they question him about her car?’
She drew in a long slow breath as she glared at me.
‘So this is what you call efficiency!’ she said furiously. ‘Your clever little plan! Couldn’t you have guessed she would have got involved with some drunk, going to a place like the Pirates’ Cabin?’
I didn’t say anything. I watched her, wondering just how good her nerve was.
