miles across the sands, and there was no way of reaching the nearest town unless by car. She kept the ignition key of the car always in her bag, and out of Chris’ reach.
But as the days passed, and Chris seemed content just to read and sunbathe, she realised now, she had become complacent and careless. She should never have let him sit on the terrace alone, she told herself as she slipped into a pair of beach slacks. As she pulled on a cotton sweater, she suddenly thought of the car key, and she ran across the room to where her bag was laying. With shaking hands, she opened the bag and searched for the key but couldn’t find it. She dumped the contents of the bag on to the dressing-table and looked again. She realised with a feeling of panic that Chris must have come to her room when she was in the bath and taken the key.
She went out on to the balcony and looked towards the car park at the far end of the terrace.
The white Mercedes was missing.?She returned to the bedroom and hastily rah a comb through her hair.
You’re panicking for nothing, she told herself. He’ll be back. Why shouldn’t he go for a drive if he feels like it? I said I would be down at half-past twelve. It’s not twelve yet. He probably got bored with his book and went for a little drive. But she knew she was thinking nonsense. Chris had refused to touch any car since the accident and she had always done the driving. Why had he waited until she was in the bath before sneaking in and taking the keys unless something… something…
Unable to contain her panic, she snatched up her bag and hurried down the long corridor to the elevator.
She pressed the call button and immediately the green light appeared. A moment later the cage came to rest before her.
The boy, immaculate in white, said, ‘Good morning, madam: lounge floor?’?‘Yes, please,’ Val said and leaned against the mirror that ran the length of the wall of the cage.
‘Perhaps another, madam?’ he asked cautiously. She had never had more than one dry martini before lunch, but the waiter seemed to sense she needed a second. This was proof again of the superb service the hotel offered.
‘Why, yes… thank you. I think I will,’ Val said.
The martini was placed by her side, the empty glass removed. The waiter silently walked away.
Val looked at her watch. She reached for the glass and sipped the drink and put the glass back on the table.
He isn’t coming, she thought. Oh, God! What am I going to do? Daddy said he wouldn’t be around until five o’clock. If only I knew where… no! I mustn’t tell him! He’s the very, very last person I will tell. But who can help me? Dr. Gustave? Yes, perhaps I’d better call him. But what can he do? I can’t expect him to go rushing all over the place looking for Chris. The police? They could find him, but once they know who Chris is, the newspapers will get on to his disappearance and then… oh, not I’m not going to start that awful publicity all over again.
Again she looked at her watch. It showed twelve forty-five. She heard an approaching car and she leaned forward to watch a Rolls-Royce glide up to the entrance of the hotel. A fat woman, carrying a fat Pekinese, descended and walked slowly and heavily up the steps to the terrace.
He could be here any moment, Val thought. I just mustn’t panic. I must have faith. I’ll wait until one o’clock, then I really, really must do something.
A few minutes to one o’clock, she saw Jean Dulac, the manager of the hotel, coming along the terrace: a tall, handsome man with impeccable manners and the polished charm that is unique to the French. He paused at each table to exchange a word with his guests.
Val watched him come. It was a little after one o’clock before he finally reached her table. ‘Madame Burnett… alone?’ He smiled down at her. ‘But this is quite wrong.’ Then he paused, looking sharply at her white, strained face. ‘Perhaps there is something I can do? Can I help you?’
‘I hope you can,’ Val said shakily. ‘Please sit down. I…’?‘No, I won’t do that. People here have nothing else to do but to observe and gossip. Please come, in a few moments, to my office.’ He smiled at her. ‘Your worries are naturally my worries. Come and let me see what I can do.’ He gave her a little bow and moved on.
She waited a long and painful interval. Then as people began to leave their tables and move towards the restaurant, she got up and walked with controlled slowness to Dulac’s office. The office was behind the reception desk. A clerk, busy with an adding machine, paused to give her a bow as she came up to the counter.
‘Please go right in, Mrs. Burnett,’ he said. ‘Monsieur Dulac is waiting for you.’
She went into the big room with windows overlooking the bay. It was a gracious room with flowers, comfortable furniture and a small desk at which Dulac was sitting. He rose at once as she came in and led her to a chair.
‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘Now we can cope with the problem between us, Madame. It’s Mr. Burnett?’
Val sat down. She had a sudden urge to cry and she had to struggle hard not to break down. Dulac walked to the window and paused there for a moment, then returned to his desk. He gave her enough time to control herself before going on. ‘I have had quite a lot of unhappiness in my own life, but looking back, I have always found there is a solution to most problem. Mr. Burnett has driven away and you are very worried about what has happened to him. That is the problem, is it not?’
‘Then you know about my husband?’?‘I know about all the people who stay with me. How else could I serve them?’ ‘He’s—he’s gone away and I’m very frightened.’?‘He has been away over an hour.’ Dulac shook his head. “That is too long. We must consult the police.’
Val flinched, but Dulac lifted his hand.?‘I assure you you don’t have to worry about unwanted publicity. If you will allow me, I will arrange everything. Captain Terrell, the Chief of Police, is a good friend of mine. He is understanding and will take immediate action in the most tactful way possible. You can be quite sure he will not only find Mr. Burnett quickly, but no one besides ourselves will be any the wiser. I can promise you that.’
Val drew in a long, deep breath.?‘Thank you. Yes, of course… I’ll leave it to you. I’m very, very grateful.’?‘Everything that can be done will be done,’ Dulac said, getting to his feet. ‘Now may I suggest you go to your suite? I’ll have a tray sent up to you.’ He smiled as Val began to protest. ‘Something very light, but you must eat, you know.’
He led her to the door. ‘In half-an-hour, Captain Terrell will be with you.’?*****
Captain Frank Terrell was a large man with sandy hair flecked with white. His heavy featured face ended in a jutting, square jaw and his eyes were steel grey. He was well liked by the men who served under him and feared by the criminals who infested the rich stamping ground of Greater Miami.
He sat in an armchair that was dwarfed by his bulk and looked thoughtfully at Val as she sat opposite him, her hands gripped tightly between her knees.
‘Dulac has told me something about this problem, Mrs. Burnett,’ he said. There was a gentle note in his usually stern voice. ‘I have already sent out a description of your husband and his car. I have no doubt that within an hour or so one of my men will find him. I want to assure you that you have nothing to worry about.’
Val said, ‘Thank you… the newspapers…‘?‘You don’t have to worry about them. I know how to deal with reporters,’ Terrell said. ‘Dulac tells me your husband isn’t very well. He didn’t go into details. Would you care to tell me a little more about him?’
‘Why, yes… if—if you think it is necessary,’ Val said.?‘What exactly is the matter with him?’?‘Two years ago he had a motor accident. He suffered severe head injuries. He was unconscious for over five months. Before the accident he was a brilliant man and worked with my father. When he came out of the coma, he—he… well, to use my father’s words, he acted like a Zombie.’ Val paused and looked out of the window, struggling to control her tears. ‘He spent months in a sanatorium. Nothing anyone did seemed to help him. There was nothing physically wrong with him, but he just lost interest in everything… including me. He remained in the sanatorium for about eighteen months. He neither got better nor worse. I decided I couldn’t leave him there, and against my father’s wishes, I insisted that we should try to give him a more normal life in the hope, away from the sanatorium, he would make a recovery. The doctors agreed. So I brought him here. We have been here a week, and he did begin to show a little improvement.’
‘In what way?’ Terrell asked.?‘He began to take an interest in certain limited things. Before he came here, he would just sit and stare into space for hours. Here, he found a copy of Oliver Twist and he began to read it. He asked me to get him the complete works of Dickens which I did. He planned to read right through Dickens. He also began to show interest in the people here: discussing them with me.’
‘Did he show any awakening interest in you?’
