CHAPTER SIX
I
The dark girl in the skin-tight dress who had spoken to me moved with a hip-swinging walk towards Wilbur, a professional smile on her red lips. She paused near him, her slim fingers touching her hair, her black pencil lined eyebrows lifted in invitation.
Wilbur continued to snap his fingers and weave his thin body in time with the music, but his owl-like eyes, glittering behind his glasses, shifted to the girl and his bloodless lips lifted off his teeth in a grimacing smile that meant nothing. Then, still snapping his fingers, he moved towards her and she too began to strut and stamp in time with the music.
They circled each other, waving their hands in the air, arching their bodies, postulating like two savages in a ritual dance.
The people in the restaurant paused in their eating and their dancing to stare at them.
Wilbur grabbed the girl’s hand and twirled her around, sending her skirts flying out, revealing her long slim legs up to her thighs. He jerked her against him, then he shot her away from him at arm’s length, jerked her back to him, twirled her again, then releasing her, he prowled around her, jiggling and stamping, until the band stopped playing.
Taking her arm in a possessive grip, he led her over to a table in a corner opposite mine and sat down with her.
I had been studying him. My first reaction at the sight of him when he had walked into the club was one of relief and triumph. But now, after watching him dancing, watching the cold, vicious face, my mind went back to that moment when he had come into Rusty’s bar, knife in hand, and I saw again Rima’s look of abject terror and heard again her screams.
This was my moment of hesitation. I had known when I had begun my hunt for her that my object was to kill her, but the full realisation, how it was to be done, was something I had avoided thinking about. I knew that although I had found her, I was sure if I had her alone in that bungalow I couldn’t have steeled myself to murder her in cold blood. Instead, I had come in search of this man, knowing he wanted to kill her. I knew he would do it if he was told where she was. I had no doubt about that. There was something terrifying and deadly about him.
If I set this man on her, I would be responsible for her death; it wouldn’t be an easy death; it would be a horrible one. Once I told him where he could find her, I would be signing her death warrant.
And yet if she didn’t die, I would be saddled with her blackmailing threats for the rest of my days or until she did die. I would never shake her off.
‘What is better than money?’ she had said.
That was her philosophy. She had no mercy for me nor for Sarita: why then should I have any mercy for her?
I steeled myself. I would have to go ahead with this.
But before I told Wilbur where to find her, I had to get Vasari out of the way. There was a chance that Wilbur would be too quick for this ox of a man and would kill him if he tried to protect Rima. I wasn’t going to be responsible for Vasari’s death. I had nothing against him.
My first move was to find out where I could contact Wilbur. I had no intention of letting him know who I was. When I gave him Rima’s address it would be over the telephone: an anonymous tip.
I then had to get Vasari out of the way. From the conversation I had overheard while he and Rima had been quarrelling, the police were looking for him. Again an anonymous telephone call, warning him the police were coming for him, should send him on the run, but would Rima go with him?
The plan was complicated, but it was the best I could do. And time was running out. I now only had nine more days before I had to pay out the thirty thousand.
I watched Wilbur and the girl talking. He seemed to be trying to persuade her to do something. He leaned on the table, talking in a soft undertone, while he picked at a red pimple on his chin.
Finally, she shrugged impatiently, got up and walked over to the cloakroom.
Wilbur went over to the bar, ordered a Scotch which he tossed down and then moved over to the exit.
The band was playing again, and as he left he snapped his fingers and waved his hands in time with the music.
I got my hat and raincoat from the hat check girl as the dark girl came out of the cloakroom, wearing a plastic mac over her evening dress.
She went out into the darkness with me just behind her.
I paused at the kerbside as if looking for a taxi. The girl hurried down the road. I could see Wilbur waiting for her. The girl joined him, and they crossed the road, walking quickly, and went up a side street.
I followed them, keeping in the shadows. At the corner I paused and looked cautiously around. I was in time to see the girl starting up the steps of an apartment house with Wilbur on her heels.
They disappeared from sight.
I didn’t know if he was planning to stay the night with the girl, but I thought it was unlikely. I took up a position in a dark doorway and waited.
I waited half an hour, then I saw him come down the steps and saunter off down the road.
I went after him.
He wasn’t difficult to follow. He didn’t once look back, and he loitered along, whistling shrilly, and every now and then he went into a complicated dance step.
Finally he entered a dingy hotel near the waterfront. I paused and watched him through the glass panel door take a key off a rack and then wander out of sight up a steep flight of stairs.
I stepped back to read the overhanging sign:
I walked fast to the end of the street where I picked up a taxi and drove back to my hotel.
Was Wilbur staying at the hotel for the night or for longer? I couldn’t risk losing him now I had found him.
But even then I found myself hesitating. Only the thought of Sarita and my urgent need to protect my money stiffened my nerves.
I went to a pay booth in the lobby, turned up the Anderson Hotel in the book and dialled the number.
After a while a girl said, ‘Yeah? What is it?’
I drew in a long deep breath. I had to make a conscious effort not to put the receiver back on its cradle.
‘You got a little guy who wears glasses staying with you?’ I said, making my voice sound tough.
‘So what?’ The girl’s voice sharpened. ‘Who’s calling?’
‘A friend of his. Get him to the phone, sister, and hurry it up.’
‘If you’re a friend of his, what’s his name?’
‘Stop talking so much. Get him to the phone.’
‘Oh, hang on,’ she said, her voice suddenly bored.
There was a long wait. I stood in the stuffy pay booth, the receiver clamped against my ear while I listened.
Five minutes dragged by, then I heard sounds. I heard the girl say angrily, ‘How do I know who it is?
I keep telling you, don’t I? Find out for yourself!’ Then she gave a sudden squeal of pain. ‘Oh! You dirty little rat! Keep your filthy paws off me!’
I heard the receiver being picked up.
‘Yeah? Who is it?’
I imagined him standing there, the light glittering on his spectacles, his white cruel face expectant.
‘Wilbur?’ I said.
‘That’s me. Who is it?’
Speaking slowly and distinctly, I said, ‘I saw Rima Marshall last night.’
