He didn’t look around. She was sure he had forgotten her existence. Irritated, she raised her voice, “Larry!”

He looked over his shoulder, frowning.

“Yes, ma’am?” 173

“Look in and see me when it’s over… I won’t be asleep.”

“Sure… sure,” and he turned back to the screen.

She went out and into her bedroom.

She stood in the middle of the elegant room, feeling utterly depressed. She supposed she had no sex appeal for him.

She tossed the book on the bed, then began to undress. Going to her closet, she selected a flimsy, see- through nightdress and put it on. Taking the gold clips from her hair, she shook it loose so it cascaded to her shoulders. Then she went into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, she came out and paused to look at herself in the full-length mirror. Surely any man with normal instincts would desire her… or was she deceiving herself?

She got into bed, picked up the book and glanced at the title. It was Galsworthy’s Forsyte Saga. Irene and Soames: a woman’s indifference to a man, and with her, the situation was reversed: a man’s indifference to a woman. She put the book down. She could hear faintly the exited voice of the commentator, speaking in Italian. She wished Larry would turn off the sound: it was not as if he could understand what the man was saying. She lay back on the pillows and stared up at the ceiling.

Then she heard the telephone bell ring.

Not Herman again? she thought. She was in no mood to listen to his querulous complaints. She picked up the extension receiver by her bed.

“Yes?”

“Is that Mrs. Rolfe?” A harsh male American voice.

She stiffened.

Who on earth could this be? she wondered and said a little hesitantly, “Yes… who is it?”

“You don’t know me, but you’ve heard of me. I’m Smith… Ron Smith.”

She sat bolt upright, aware her heart was beginning to thump. What was coming? More blackmail?”

“Do you want to speak to Larry?” she asked.

“Is he there?”

“Yes.”

“Can he hear you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m asking you if he is in the same room with you.” There was an important note in the harsh voice now.

“No… he’s watching television. Do you want to talk to him?”

“I want to talk to you.”

She felt her mouth turn dry. She was sure now he was going to blackmail her.

“I don’t think I want to talk to you, Mr. Smith,” she said trying to keep her voice steady. “I…”

“Cut it out! This is urgent and important to you! I’ve had a hell of a time getting your phone number. I don’t know why I should have bothered. Rich women like you aren’t worth bothering about, but a life is a life, even if it is worthless.”

He’s mad, she was thinking and she was tempted to replace the receiver, but before she could make up her mind, he went on. “Mrs. Rolfe, you are in deadly danger. Don’t talk… listen. I’ve just got out of jail. I’ve been locked up for a week. I’ve been pretty busy but this afternoon I’ve been going through the newspapers for the past week to check on the political scene.”

“I really can’t see what this has to do with me,” Helga said sharply. “What do you mean… deadly danger?”

“Stop yacking! I’m wasting good money on this phone talking to you! In six German newspapers, published the day after I went to jail, there are photographs of Larry!”

“Why tell me? I know he’s an Army deserter. I…”

“Can’t you stop yacking and listen? He’s not an A deserter! He’s an escapee from a Military prison where lie was being held, waiting to be flown back to the States and to be put away for life in an asylum for the criminal insane!”

A wave of ice water seemed to run down Helga’s spin.

“I - I don’t believe it!”

“Why should I care? Don’t believe it!” The voice was now a snarl of impatience. “I’m telling you! The papers call him the Hamburg Strangler. He’d strangled five tarts before the cops caught up with him. He was tried and found guilty. It’s all here in the papers. He escaped while waiting transport back to the States.”

She lay back on the pillow. Her heart was now beating sluggishly and she felt dreadfully cold.

“Oh, God!” she whispered.

“They say no one should go near him,” the voice went on. “He’s dangerous.”

She took hold of herself.

“But it was you who told him where to get the passport.”

“Sure… he seemed a nice kid to me. I’ve only just read this goddamn thing! When he phoned me and told me about blackmail stunt I used my influence to help you… and I don’t want your goddamn thanks. But when I read this in the papers, although I think you’re worse than nothing, I had to warn you.”

Helga shivered.

“I’m alone here… he’s in the next room!”

“Here’s what you do. Lock yourself in… call the police and hope they get to you fast. So long, Mrs. Rolfe. I’m not sorry for you. Rich women with hot pants bore me and if Larry wrings your neck I won’t cry. Call the police!”

The line went dead.

With a shaking hand, Helga replaced the receiver.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Hamburg Strangler!

Helga’s mind flashed back to three uneasy nights she had spent in New York when another strangler had bet large: a young man with a beguiling appearance who had picked up rich, lonely women in hotel lobbies, had persuaded them to take him to their rooms and who had left them strangled and mutilated. She remembered reading the horrifying details in the tabloid press. She had been there on business and had been yearning for a man, but when she had read the news that this killer was at large, she had become so nervous she had shunned every man who looked at her.

And now this!

She lay still.

A homicidal killer in her home!

Then she realized there was a complete silence in the villa. For a moment she couldn’t understand why, then she realized that Larry had turned off the television set!

Her heart hammering painfully, she looked towards the door. The key was in the lock. Terror held her in a paralysing grip. She must lock the door! her mind screamed at her. She must call the police! But she found she was incapable of moving. She lay in the bed, cold, shaking and her breath coining in quick, short gasps.

Then she heard slow footfalls, muffled by the carpet in the corridor, but unmistakable.

She had told him to come to her room!

She stared at the key in the door and yet she still couldn’t move. He was probably one of those awful sex maniacs who killed only when his lust was satisfied! She would be raped and then strangled!

She saw the door handle turn and she knew she had left it too late. A scream inside her began to build up but died as the door opened.

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