‘You bastard—what happened to you!’
She came to me, arms outstretched, making me feel like the sailor home from the sea and the hunter home from the hill. Her arms went round my neck and she kissed me, spilling dry martini down the back of my jacket. I didn’t mind. It was nice to be wanted. We let the kiss run for a bit and I smoothed the hollow of her back, appreciating the high-quality silk of the little shantung jacket she wore. After all, I had permission from Letta to humour her a little.
Stepping back, I said, ‘I’m dead. This is Duncan Hilton. You never saw Rex Carver again after he left your apartment. Just be content with the new persona—and ask no questions.’
She nodded, content for the moment, but in time I knew that the questions would come. I went over to the cocktail shaker, added more gin and poured myself a drink.
She sat back on the settee, curled her legs under her and watched me. I had a curious feeling that she was waiting for something—perhaps for me to get a drink inside me before she felt ready to hand me whatever there was to hand.
‘This whole affair,’ she said, ‘is really something stinking big, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. What are you doing over here—apart from getting your bracelet back from Letta?’
‘My Treasury friend advised me to get out of England for a while. Go somewhere quiet and rest, he said.’
‘Paris is hardly quiet and rest.’
‘I’m going to Cannes.’
That hardly qualified either, I thought, but I didn’t bother to say so.
‘What is it all about?’ she asked. ‘Something quite out of the ordinary? And that damned brother of mine mixed up in it. Though he’s a complete fool, he’s still my brother and I’m beginning to get very worried about him.’
I sat beside her and smoothed the back of her hand. ‘Gentling’ they call it with animals. I had a feeling she needed it. She was all worked up. I pulled the python bracelet from my pocket and handed it to her.
‘Give me a cheque for three thousand pounds and it is yours. Letta won’t take a penny less.’
‘You’ve seen her?’
‘I had to. I’m her business agent.’
She fingered the bracelet and then slipped it on her arm. ‘I’ll give you a cheque before you go.’
That was unusual. No haggling. She clearly had something else on her mind.
‘What’s bothering you?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Come on, yes, you do. You’re as nervous as a kitten.’
‘Crap!’ She smiled.
‘Even that doesn’t sound as authentic as it used to.’
‘They gave you a rough time, didn’t they?’
‘The bruises don’t show when I’m dressed. What’s the matter with you?’
‘I suppose it’s because they wouldn’t tell me a damned thing about what’s behind all this. Go away and forget, they said.’
‘Then do it. Head for the sunshine at Cannes. The peace and calm of the five-star Carlton and the healing solitude of the Boulevard Croisette.’
She sipped at what was left of her martini, eyeing me over the glass.
‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘have you heard from your secretary, Miss Wilkins?’
I just stared at her.
‘Have you?’ she asked.
‘Why on earth should I? Heard from her from where? What’s Wilkins got to do with anything?’
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to make up my mind about, ever since you walked in here. You see, I was told to pass anything I got straight to them. You see . . . I only got it this morning. It was sent on with other mail from my London apartment. By the maid. Oh, hell . . . perhaps I oughtn’t to—’
I took her glass from her and put it on a small table. Then I grabbed her arm.
‘Try starting at the beginning. And get this straight. You can trust me. You won’t be disobeying any order. I’m working for them. They’ve given me just a handful of days to bring home the bacon. If I don’t, then leaving aside my funeral arrangements, there’s going to be a lot of other work for the undertaker.’ I shook her arm. Putting it in words had brought a quick freeze in my stomach. ‘I’m in a fix. If you’ve got anything that will help—let’s hear it.’
She got up, retrieved her glass, sipped, then walked away from me and stared at a Corot reproduction on the wall. Without looking at me, she said, ‘I’ll give you a cheque for the bracelet.’
‘I want more than that from you. If I have to squeeze it from you. Come on now.’
Turning, her face worried, she said, ‘They were most emphatic about anything I got going straight to them.’
‘You’re scared of them. I don’t blame you. They scare me. But if you know anything it ought to come to me first. Hell, I’m the one who has been turned loose to do their work for them. Now tell me what all this is about Wilkins.’
She came back, stood above me, and took the plunge. ‘I’ve had a letter from her,’ she said.
I just looked at her.
Then I heard myself say, ‘You’ve had a what?’
‘A letter. It’s on the desk over there. I was just going to send it off to them.’
I got up, and as I walked to the desk, she said, ‘I got it this morning forwarded with the rest of my mail.’
I went to the desk. There was an opened envelope lying on it. As I picked it up, I heard Gloriana pouring herself another drink behind me.
It was a long envelope, foolscap size, addressed to her and marked Confidential, and it had a fancy Spanish stamp on it. Inside were two sheets of paper. One was ordinary cheap
