1975 - The Joker in the Pack Page 10

  A tall, lean boy with shoulder length hair and a smiling, self-assured expression, wearing only swim trunks danced up to her.

  “No, baby, no . . . you don’t sit still in this joint. Come on! Come on! Turn it on! Shake it!”

  She moved into the crowd with him and abandoned herself to the music. Some of the girls stared at her, but most of them seemed to accept her.

  Jiggling before her, the boy said, “You new around here, baby? I watch the chicks . . . the first time I’ve seen you.”

  Chicks! She could have hugged him.

  She was so elated and happy she didn’t even want the martini. When the music stopped, the boy said, “You want to sharpen up on that tan, gorgeous. You swim?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Swim with me?”

  “Why not?”

  He grabbed her hand and ran with her across the sand and into the sea.

  “You follow me baby. I won’t go far out,” he said.

  She paused to watch him. A showoff, she thought, no style and little speed. Letting him get well ahead of her, she cut into a racing dive, overtook him and went past him like a rocket. She swam a hundred yards or so, turned around and waited for him.

  As he approached, she saw he was no longer happy.

  “Say, who are you? Some athlete or something?” There was a sour note in his voice.

  She realized her mistake. Men! Always wanting to be the top shots! She should have played helpless.

  “Why didn’t you say you could swim like that? You putting me on?”

  The spark had gone. Would she ever learn?

  “My drink is getting warm,” she said and turning, she swam back, leaving him staring after her.

  To hell with men! she thought. Use them when you need them, drop them when you don’t!

  In the changing room, she rubbed herself dry, put on her dress, paid for her half-finished drink and decided, after all, to have a lonely lunch in the hotel grillroom. As she left she heard a girl say, “What the hell does she want to barge in here for?”

  And to hell with you! Helga thought.

  She got in the Mini and stared through the dusty windshield. Well, at least she had been called a chick!

  She had regained her high spirits by the time she reached the hotel. She was hungry and went straight to the grillroom. The Maître d’hôtel met her at the entrance, his expression serious.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Rolfe, they are asking for you at the desk.”

  She stiffened and stared at him.

  “Who?”

  “I believe your man, Hinkle.”

  Impatiently she looked at her watch. The time was 12.35.

  “He must wait,” she said curtly. “I want lunch.”

  The Maître d’hôtel hesitated, then conducted her to a corner table. She ordered a crab salad and a half bottle of Chablis.

  She was damned if anything was going to prevent her lunching, she told herself. Probably some stupid mix up with the luggage or something.

  As she was finishing the crab salad, she saw Hinkle hovering in the doorway. One look at his face made her crumple her serviette and start to her feet.

  Watched by the other people lunching, she joined Hinkle and they moved into the lobby.

  “What is it?” she asked sharply.

  “Mr. Rolfe, madame. I regret to tell you he is very poorly.”

  She stared at him, her heart skipping a beat.

  “Poorly? What do you mean?”

  “Dr. Bellamy is with him. Would you come up with me, madame?”

  A little chill ran through her, but aware that the staff and several tourists were watching, she walked with Hinkle to the elevator.

  With the elevator attendant all ears, she couldn’t ask questions until they began walking down the corridor.

  “Won’t we be leaving, Hinkle?” She could think of nothing else.

  “I am afraid not, madame. Mr. Rolfe’s relapse appears to be serious.”

  Her triumph over Jackson, the exciting prospects of going home with Dick Jones vanished like a hand becoming a fist.

  Goddamn Herman! she thought. But as soon as the thought passed through her mind, she felt ashamed. ‘How would you hate to be stricken with a drooling mouth, a useless arm and paralyzed legs, you selfish, thoughtless bitch,’ she told herself.

  She found Dr. Bellamy waiting for her. She had never seen such a worried looking man.

  “Oh, Mrs. Rolfe, I have bad news. Mr. Rolfe is unfit to fly.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “I regret to say that I don’t know. Dr. Levi will be arriving in a few hours.”

  “You don’t know?” Helga snapped. “Has he had another stroke . . . you must know!”

  “He was under sedation. He seems to have drifted into a coma.”

  “Seems? Surely you must know if he is in a coma or not?”

  “The symptoms are puzzling, Mrs. Rolfe. Nurse Fairely became alerted when his breathing became light and his color took on a bluish tinge. She sent for me. The heart action is strong, but the beat much slower.”

  Helga stiffened.

  “Is he dying?”

  “I would say not, Mrs. Rolfe. It is an extraordinary change. I can’t account for it. I have taken the precaution of giving him oxygen. My assistant is with him and will remain with him. Everything that can be done, will be done.”

  “So there is no question of flying him home?”

  “I am afraid not.”

  “So we must wait for Dr. Levi?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Rolfe.”

  “And you can’t suggest what has gone wrong?”

  “I think it would be better to wait for Dr. Levi. Mr. Rolfe is his patient.”

  Doctors! she thought.

  “Well, we must wait then,” and not attempting to conceal her irritation, Helga left the room. She found Hinkle waiting in the corridor. “I want to change, Hinkle, then we must talk. Would you give me fifteen minutes?”

  “Certainly, madame.”

  She entered her suite, her mind in a frustrated, bitter fury. Quickly she got out of the dress and put on a pajama suit, then she lit a cigarette and began to pace up and down the big living room. All she could think of was Dick. She was still pacing when Hinkle tapped on the door.

  “This fool of a doctor doesn’t know what is wrong,” she said angrily as Hinkle came into the room. “We have to wait for Dr. Levi. When did this happen?”

  “A few minutes after you left, madame. Nurse Fairely called me and told me she had called Dr. Bellamy. He in turn called Dr. Levi. Fortunately it was early enough for me to cancel the packing arrangements.”

  She stubbed out her cigarette, exasperated.

  “I’ll go out of my mind if I have to stay much longer in this hotel!”

  “That I can appreciate, madame. Perhaps Dr. Levi will give you some idea how long it will be.”

  “I hope so!” She began to pace the room again. “Well, all right Hinkle, we must wait.”

  “There is Jones to be thought of, madame,” Hinkle said, his voice dropping a tone.

  As if she was thinking of anything else!

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Obviously we won’t be requiring him now, madame. I suggest I see him and advise him to ask the hotel to reemploy him.”

  No, Hinkle, she thought, nice and kind as you are, you don’t make the decisions.

  “If Mr. Rolfe can travel in a few days, I still wish to give the boy his chance.” She kept moving around the room so she need not look at Hinkle who she was sure was registering disapproval. “Let us wait until we hear what Dr. Levi has to say. Where is Jones?”

  “I don’t know, madame. I haven’t seen him this morning. He had instructions to be in the lobby at 13.15. He is probably down there now, waiting.”

  “All right, Hinkle. I’ll send for you as soon as I have spoken to Dr. Levi.”

  “Very well, madame,” and Hinkle withdrew.

  Helga went immediately to the telephone and called the hall por
ter.

  “Is Dick Jones in the lobby?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Rolfe. He is waiting for instructions.”

  “Tell him to come to my suite, please.”

  She replaced the receive and with an unsteady hand she lit yet another cigarette. What she wanted more than anything in the world, when Dick arrived was to lead him into her bedroom, but she knew this was impossible. She would have to wait. She clenched her fists in frustrated fury. Wait! Wait! Wait! That’s all she seemed to be doing with her life . . . waiting!

  After knocking, Dick entered. He stood just inside the door, holding a shabby panama hat in both hands in front of him. He was wearing a cheap, crumpled grey linen suit, a white shirt and a dark blue string tie. Her eyes ran over him. In spite of his shabbiness he was still beautiful to look at and his big, fawn-like eyes gave her a sinking feeling.

  “You have heard that Mr. Rolfe is too unwell to travel?” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.” A pause. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you, Dick.” She may as well get him used to her calling him by his first name. “It is most unfortunate. It means I will have to postpone the trip.”

  She was watching him closely and just for a brief moment the dark eyes lit up.

  So you are pleased little boy, she thought. All you are thinking about is your stupid motorcycle. Well, I’ll change all that. Soon, all you will be thinking about is me.

  “I am waiting to hear what the doctor has to say. It could be that we will leave in three or four days. You may go home. When I want you, I will send for you.” She crossed to the table and took her purse from her handbag. “Here is your week’s salary. You are now a member of my staff. Do you understand?”

  His liquid black eyes dwelt for a moment on the hundred-dollar bill she was holding. His full lips moved into what could have been a smile, but it was instantly repressed.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She gave him the bill.

  “You are to have no contact with Jackson, Dick. Is that understood?”

  He flinched.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right. Now go home and wait.” She looked fixedly at him. “Enjoy your bike while you can.”

  He regarded her, then looked away. A flash of something in his eyes? She wondered, but she wasn’t sure.

  He opened the door, gave her a stiff little bow and stepped into the corridor, closing the door softly.

  Could that flash in his eyes have been hatred? she wondered. It was possible. She smiled. Opposition was always a challenge. She was confident his opposition wouldn’t last long. This affair was going to be even more exciting than she had first imagined.

  * * *

  Like a red ball, the sun sank slowly into the sea. Long shadows crept up the beach. The palm trees were black against the rose and yellow sky. Happy people continued to laugh, shout, run, splash and scream. Cars continued to crawl along the sea road. To Nassau this was just another hot evening with a night to come of brilliant lights, music, dancing, the beat of drums and the shuffle of feet.

  Helga sat on the terrace, only half-aware of the night sounds, her mind occupied with the problem of her future.

  “You sent for me, madame?”

  Hinkle appeared at her side. He placed a silver tray on which stood a shaker and a glass on the table. He poured, then placed the glass within her reach.

  “Sit down, Hinkle.”

  “I would rather not, thank you, madame.”

  She turned on him.

  “For God’s sake, sit down!” Her voice was strident.

  Startled, Hinkle pulled up a chair and sat on the edge of it.

  “I’m sorry, Hinkle. You must forgive me. I didn’t mean to shout at you. My nerves are shot.” She forced a smile.

  “That is understandable, madame. Have you any news?”

  “I have talked to Dr. Levi. Clever as he is and smooth as he is, I have come to the conclusion that he knows no more of what has happened to Mr. Rolfe than Dr. Bellamy does – which is exactly nothing!”

  Hinkle’s fat face registered shock.

  “But surely, madame . . .”

  “The fact is, Hinkle, these expensive and so called expert doctors won’t admit when they are baffled. I am not taken in by Dr. Levi’s vague talk. He says Mr. Rolfe is much worse – that is obvious – and he thinks the worsening is nothing to do with his stroke. This is something new. At least he is honest to admit he isn’t sure what the new development can be. He talked vaguely about the symptoms resembling narcolepsy. Doctors! How they love to hide behind their jargon! When I asked him what narcolepsy meant he said it is a curious condition – I am quoting him – which brings on uncontrollable attacks of sleep. When I asked him how this could have happened to Mr. Rolfe, he said he didn’t know. He said Mr. Rolfe appeared to be in no immediate danger but it would be most unwise to fly him home. Arrangements are now being made to move him to the Nassau hospital.”

  Hinkle moved uneasily.

  “I am sorry, madame. This is most distressing news. What does Dr. Levi propose?”

  Helga lifted her hands in despair.

  “He is calling in Dr. Bernstein who will fly from Berlin today.”

  “There is, of course, no decision of when we can leave here?”

  “I wish to God there was. No, Hinkle, we must wait.”

  Hinkle, his face gloomy, got to his feet.

  “Very well, madame. Will you be dining here?”

  “I think I will . . . on the terrace. Dr. Levi wanted me to dine with him but I have had enough of doctors for tonight.” She looked up at him. “Give me one of your lovely omelets.”

  His face lit up.

  “That will be a pleasure, madame.”

  “Still no news of Miss Sheila?”

  He shook his head.

  “No, madame, but the mail these days is very unreliable.”

  An hour late, Helga watched Herman’s removal to the hospital. Dr. Levi, Dr. Bellamy and his assistant, two interns, two stretcher men and Nurse Fairely fussed around the inert body as it was carried to the elevator.

  One of the richest and most powerful men in the world, she thought, now a sleeping, half-dead body but which still commanded the V.I.P. treatment.

  “Leave all this to me,” Dr. Levi said in his deferential voice. “Should any change occur I will let you know immediately. You must not worry. Once we get this extraordinary change in him diagnosed, I feel confident there will be a recovery.”

  Words! Words! Words!

  “Thank you,” she said.

  How much better it would be, she thought, as she watched the elevator descend from sight, if he had said there was no hope: better for Herman: much, much better for her.

  The rest of the evening was a dreary, depressing repetition of the previous evenings. She ate the omelet, praised it and then sat on the terrace, listening to the people still on the beach, enjoying themselves. The hours dragged. She tried to read a book, but it failed to interest her. She thought of Dick. What was he doing now? Rushing along the roads on his motorbike? Had he a girl? Was the girl clinging to him on the back of the bike? If it hadn’t been for Herman’s new and mysterious illness, the boy, Hinkle and she would, at this moment, be at the villa in Paradise City.

  Dr. Levi had said he could give her no idea when it would be safe to fly Herman home. So she was stuck in this hotel, alone, until this goddamn doctor make up his goddamn mind! If could be days or even months!

  Suddenly she realized she was wallowing in self-pity. She pulled herself together. She was not going to just sit here, pitying herself, prepared to accept a long, lonely wait either for Herman to die or for him to be taken home. She must do something! She would do something!

  Her eyes narrowed as she thought. She would have to remain in Nassau. This was something she had to accept and now wanted to accept because Dick was here. But that didn’t mean she had to stay in this stifling hotel, watched and talked about. Her active brain began to race. If she could find a sma
ll villa! Frowning, she saw a problem. Hinkle! She had gained his trust. She must be very careful to keep that trust. She knew Hinkle was longing to return to the Paradise City villa. She knew how he hated hotel life. She sat still, a cigarette between her slim fingers, as she thought. A villa with Dick! A villa without Hinkle! This was the solution! Keep thinking, she told herself, the solution will come if I keep thinking.

  The buzz of the telephone startled her. Impatiently she went into the living room.

  “Who is it?”

  “Mr. Winborn, Mrs. Rolfe, calling from New York.”

  “Put him on.”

  “Mrs. Rolfe, Dr. Levi has telephoned me.” Winborn’s voice, cold and polite came on the line. “It seems that Mr. Rolfe has had a relapse. I am exceedingly sorry. It is a puzzling business, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Dr. Levi is going to consult Dr. Bernstein.”

  “So I understand. I called to know if there is anything I can do for you.”

  “I won’t be going to Switzerland. Perhaps you could arrange for me to able to cash checks here?”

  “Certainly, Mrs. Rolfe. I will make the necessary arrangements . . . say five thousand a week?”

  “That will be more than ample.”

  How easy it was to spend other people’s money, she thought. If the money had been his, he wouldn’t have thought in terms of five thousand dollars a week.

  “You didn’t find a letter for me then, Mrs. Rolfe?”

  “I would have called you if I had.”

  “Odd, isn’t it? Nurse Fairely said Mr. Rolfe was so persistent.”

  “Most odd.”

  Go on talking, Helga thought, you’re not as smart as you think.

  A long pause, then he said, “Well, please keep me informed. Good night, Mrs. Rolfe,” and he hung up.

  Helga looked at her watch. The time was 23.25. She wondered if she should take sleeping pills. Why not? Sleep shut away her loneliness. She went into the bathroom. Half an hour later, she was dreaming that Dick was lying beside her. It was an erotic, wonderful dream and when she woke to find the sun coming through the blinds, she felt relaxed and refreshed.

  She was dressed when Hinkle brought her her coffee.

  “I’ll call the hospital,” she said as Hinkle poured the coffee.