a very important letter that’ll probably get there before I do. Be sure to hang on to it.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Chapman. We’ll hold it.”
I took out some stationery and a pen and practiced writing the signature for a solid hour, striving for perfection and at the same time trying to condition myself to signing Harris Chapman so it would be automatic and I couldn’t slip and sign Jerry Forbes some time when I was thinking of something else. It occurred to me that in the short time I’d been in Florida I had been three different people—George Hamilton, Jerry Forbes, and now Chapman, and that in another ten days I’d go back to being Forbes again. A little more of this and I wouldn’t really know who I was.
I compared the results of the practice with the originals on the traveler’s checks. To my eye, they were indistinguishable; presumably an expert could tell them apart, but there was no reason the question should ever arise. I tore up the sheets and flushed them down the John.
Around six I showered and shaved, and dressed in one of Chapman’s suits. The trousers were about two inches too large in the waist, but it didn’t show with the jacket buttoned. Wearing his clothes made me feel queasy, but it had to be done. I found a surprisingly good restaurant and had dinner, after two Martinis at the bar, but it was necessary, for strategic purposes, to ruin the steak beyond the semblance of flavor. Chapman always ate them incinerated, so I ordered it well-done. When the waiter brought it out, I cut into it just once, beckoned peremptorily, and told him to take it back and tell the chef to cook it.
He returned with it a few minutes later. I cut into it, scrutinized it carefully, and gave him a glacial stare.
Tm sorry,” I said, “but this steak is still raw. Maybe if I wrote the chef a note—”
The place was crowded, and people at nearby tables were turning to stare. I stared back at them, completely unperturbed. The waiter would have liked nothing better than to poison me, but he removed it once more. This time I ate it when he brought it back. It was like charcoal.
I paid with one of the traveler’s checks. The cashier glanced at the signature, and as she counted out my change she said, “I’m sorry about the difficulty with your steak Mr. Chapman. We’ll do better next time.”
It had been quite successful.
I called Coral Blaine around eight, and it went off beautifully. I was discovering again how right Marian had been. She’d said I wouldn’t have much trouble with her. She was such a featherbrained chatterer she’d probably never pay any great attention to anything I said. I got her started on some of her upcoming “parties” and let her rattle. It was only towards the end that I mentioned the real-estate deal and said I’d probably be going back to Miami in another day or so.
The next day I raised and landed a sail, but told Wilder to release it. It was Saturday, of course, so I didn’t have to talk to Chris. I called Coral. It was becoming routine by now. When there was a pause in the flow of her gossip, I asked, “How would you like to live in Florida, angel?”
“Heavens, darling, what are you talking about?”
“Just an idea,” I said. “We might move down here some day. Not for a few years, of course, but it’s worth thinking about. This is a big-time country, and there’s real money to be made here. I’m feeling out a deal right now that could put a quarter of a million in our pocket. That’s a lot of mink stoles, angel.”
“Gracious, Harris, anybody would think I was marrying you for mink. But about moving to Florida—I’d have to think about that. With all the dear friends we have here.”
Well, she had one more dear friend there than she’d had yesterday. Marian Forsyth would have arrived in Thomaston this morning.
I’d hardly hung up when the phone rang. It was Fitzpatrick at last. “Well, Mr. Chapman, how’s the fishing been?”
“Not too bad,” I said. “I released a six-foot sail today.”
“Fine, I’m glad to hear it. But you want to come down in January some time and hit ’em off Palm Beach when they’re schooled up. Magnificent fishing.”
I smiled. Fitzpatrick was one of the good ones. He’d probably never fished in his life, but he’d talked to a fisherman before he’d called me.
“But I’ll get right to what I called you for,” he went on easily. “The owner of that piece of highway frontage dropped by today and we talked about it a little. Now he didn’t say so in so many words, but I’ve just got a hunch he might be open to an offer.”
“Hmmm,” I said thoughtfully. “It’d take a lot of cash to swing a deal like that— What kind of financing did you say it had on it now?”
“One of the Miami banks has a first mortgage for a hundred and fifty thousand. But I could almost guarantee that if you wanted to refinance, you could get two.”
“And he’s asking three seventy-five?”
“That’s right. But as I say, you can always try with an offer.”
“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “I’m coming back to Miami tomorrow for a few days, and I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Good. Ah, where’ll you be staying, Mr. Chapman?”
“Clive Hotel,” I said.
* * *
We fished with indifferent success until shortly after noon the next day, and came in. I checked out of the motel around two-thirty and drove to Miami. The Clive was a large hotel on Biscayne Boulevard and very convenient to everything downtown. The doorman called the garage to send a man after the car. I followed the boy in to the desk, and when I asked for my reservation the airmail Special from Webster & Adcock was waiting for me. I slit it open and looked at the check for twenty-five thousand dollars. This was just the first trickle, to break the dike.
After I’d registered, I stepped over to the cashier’s window and cashed three more of the traveler’s checks. There was no use letting them go to waste, and I was going to need plenty of cash before I was through. We went up to the room. It was one of the expensive ones, looking out over the waterfront park and the bay. As soon as the boy was gone, I put through the call to Coral Blaine. I was always jittery while that was hanging over my head. And it was time, too, to give her the first little nudge.
“I’m back in Miami, angel,” I said. “At the Clive Hotel, if you have to reach me for anything the next few days.”
She was in a kittenish mood tonight. “I just hope you’re behavin’ yourself
“I am,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I’m working. That real-estate deal with Fitzpatrick.”
“Darling, you’re supposed to be on vacation.”
“I’m never on vacation when there’s money to be made. You know that, honey. Oh, say, I saw Marian Forsyth on the street this afternoon. Did you know she was in Miami?”
“You
“Sure. I know you said she’d told Bill she was coming back Saturday. But I could have sworn this was her. She went past in a car.”
She became considerably cooler. “Maybe you just miss her, Harris. Or you’re thinking about her.”
“Cut it out, Coral. You know better than that. The only thing I’m thinking about her is that I don’t trust her. But you’re sure she’s there?”
“Of course, dear. I saw her myself, just this morning.”
”Well, you watch out for her. She’s probably spreading lies behind my back. By God, what does she want, didn’t I offer her half a year’s pay?”
“Darling,” she said wearily, “you’ve been more than fair with her. But do we
“Of course not, honey. And I’m sorry. It was just somebody that looked like her. Let’s talk about the future Mrs. Chapman.”
When we’d hung up, I got Fitzpatrick’s card out of the wallet and called him at his home. I caught him in. “Chapman,” I said. “You remember—?”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Chapman. How are you?”
“Just fine. I was hoping you could help me out with something. I want to open an account in a local bank, and wondered if you could recommend one. I thought you might have connections—”
