Standing on the top step, was a white, toy poodle.
* * *
As I was stripping off in the bedroom for a shower, Mazzo poked his head around the door.
‘Hurry it up, Mr. Ferguson, the old lady wants to see you,’ he said, and I could see he looked worried.
‘Mrs. Harriet?’
‘Yeah. She’s just arrived. Hurry it up.’
I took a quick shower. Mazzo had put out an open neck shirt and linen slacks.
‘What’s she doing here?’ I asked as I struggled into the clothes.
‘How do I know? She’s here, so watch it.’
‘Do I put on the mask?’
‘No. She’ll be here in a minute. Go out there, and wait for her.’
I put on sandals and went into the living room.
Mazzo’s worried, flustered look became infectious. I too began to get worried. What was this old woman doing here, and what did she want with me?
I hadn’t been in the living room for more than a few minutes when the door opened and Harriet, carrying the poodle, came in.
‘Surprised to see me again?’ She smiled at me, pausing in the doorway.
‘Pleasantly.’ I gave her my wide, movie smile of charm.
‘Yes.’ She moved to a chair and sat down. ‘I’ve been hearing all kinds of good things about you, Jerry. Mr. Durant is very satisfied.’
I relaxed a little, moved to a chair and sat down.
‘That’s what I’m being paid for,’ I said.
‘It won’t be long now.’ She regarded me, still smiling. ‘There will be a few more papers for you to sign, a few more appearances at the office, then you will be free to return to Hollywood and resume your talented career.’
I decided this was the moment to drop a spanner in the works.
‘Mrs. Harriet,’ I said, giving her my best smile. ‘I am sorry to tell you but I am not happy with the situation as it stands.’
Her little dark eyes hardened.
‘Not happy?’ There was a rasp in her voice.
‘No, and being so sympathetic to me, so generous in your praise for my small talent, I feel you wouldn’t want me to be unhappy.’
She raised her eyebrows, her back stiffening.
‘Why aren’t you happy, Jerry?’
‘Mr. Durant promised to pay me one thousand dollars a day to impersonate your son.’
She inclined her head, her eyes now like wet stones.
‘That was the arrangement, Jerry. It is a generous amount, and you agreed.’ She peered at me. ‘Are you asking for more money?’
‘No.’ I gave her my wide smile again. ‘You are an intelligent lady, Mrs. Harriet. Put yourself in my place. I am being constantly watched. I am, in fact, a prisoner. Frankly, I have no confidence in Mr. Durant.’
‘A prisoner?’ She gave a trilly laugh. ‘It is necessary to keep you secluded, Jerry. You must see that. Aren’t you happy with Mazzo? I have told him to give you good meals, to amuse you.’
‘To restore my confidence, I want to be sure that I am being paid one thousand dollars a day, Mrs. Harriet,’ I said, still smiling at her.
‘Dear Jerry! You have the daily credit notes. Mr. Durant has arranged this. Of course the money is being credited to you.’
‘Anyone can walk into the Chase National Bank and pick up a bunch of credit receipt slips. Anyone can put one thousand dollars on these slips in the favor of Jerry Stevens. Anyone can scrawl initials.’ I wiped off my smile. ‘Although I am just a two-bit actor, I’m not entirely a sucker. To be happy, I want to telephone the Chase National Bank and ask them if they have a credit account in my name.’ I waved to the telephones on the desk. ‘These have been cut off. I want to use a telephone that is not cut off. When I hear for myself that this money, promised to me and earned by me, is credited to an account in my name, then I will be happy again.’
She regarded me for a long moment, her face like stone.
‘Mr. Durant wouldn’t want you to use a telephone, Jerry,’ she said finally. ‘You must be reasonable.’
‘So, Mrs. Harriet, you are telling me I will not be allowed to use the telephone. I am not going to ask you why. I want you to listen to my side. So far, I have successfully impersonated your son. I have cooperated as required. Now it is your turn to cooperate with me. If I am not allowed to telephone the bank by tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, I will no longer cooperate.’
She looked down at the poodle and fondled its ears.
Then she looked up, smiled at me and nodded.
‘For an actor, Jerry, you have unexpected shrewdness,’ she said and got to her feet. ‘I will arrange that you can call the bank at ten o’clock tomorrow.’ She moved to the door.
I was ahead of her and had the door open.
She paused and laid her hand on my arm.
‘What a sensible young man not to trust anyone,’ she said.
I stared straight into those old, bleak eyes.
‘Do you trust anyone, Mrs. Harriet?’
Her lips moved into the faintest of smiles.
‘Then I’m not young, Jerry, dear,’ she said and left me.
chapter six
I didn’t want Loretta to creep into my bed while I was asleep so I sat up and waited for her.
Mazzo had served dinner in my room. He told me Mrs. Harriet was tired and had gone to bed early. He kept looking at me, his expression worried. I was sure he wanted to know what the old lady had said to me, but he remained silent.
After dinner, I tried to interest myself in a paperback, but my thoughts were far away. I had won my first battle with the old lady. I was confident, when I was allowed to call the bank, I would be told the money due to me had arrived. I had played a trump card with my threat to stop cooperating.
I sensed this sinister affair was moving to its conclusion.
Durant would return from Washington with this deal finalized, except for my forged signature. Then was the time to play hard to get.
There were two antagonists: Mrs. Harriet and Loretta. It seemed to me that both were planning to grab the Ferguson empire.
Then there was Durant: on whose side was he? The fact that as soon as he had left for Washington, Mrs. Harriet had appeared, seemed to me he was on her side.
On whose side was Mazzo? From his worried expression, I thought he could be on Loretta s side.
Who had ordered the murders of Larry Edwards and Charles Duvine? Mrs. Harriet? Loretta? Thinking about this, I decided Mrs. Harriet was the one, working with Durant. With their money, it would be easy to hire killers to fake accidents. Maybe Mazzo wasn’t the killer I had thought he was.
I had a hopeful feeling that Mazzo wasn’t hostile to me. Animal that he was, with careful handling, I might win him over to my side.
Then there was John Merrill Ferguson. Was he a mental vegetable or a locked-away prisoner? I thought of the iron bars at the windows. My rooms were on the right wing of the house. It would be quite a journey from my suite to his. I felt an urge to reach his prison. I might even see him. I wasn’t locked in when I went to bed, but there were the guards. Could I leave my room, make a trip to the left wing of the house without being spotted?
I was thinking about this when, as silent as a ghost, Loretta came in.
As she closed the door, she paused, staring at me.
