An Ace up my Sleeve Read online

  “Do you want something to eat?”

  “Oh, go to hell!” He said wearily and without viciousness. “Leave me alone.”

  She went out and closed the door. Motioning Larry to follow her, she climbed the stairs.

  “Put the pole back, Larry,” she said and went into the sitting-room. With shaking hands she opened the envelope Larry had brought back and took out the three sheets of paper, stripped off two and looked at the letter. The signature was a replica of Archer’s scrawl. She found one of Archer’s letters and compared the two signatures, then she drew in a shaky breath of relief.

  She was sure the Bank would accept the forgery.

  “Is it okay, ma’am?” Larry asked as he came into the room.

  “Yes, I think so. Did he ask questions?”

  Larry shook his head.

  “He wanted five thousand but I beat him down to three five. I spent money on gas, but I have some change for you.”

  “Don’t bother me with that!” she said impatiently. She went to her desk and typed an envelope. “I’m going down to Lugano to mail this. If you’re hungry there’s food on the table in the kitchen. It should be defrosted by now.”

  “I’ll mail it, ma’am. The roads are bad and it’s snowing hard.”

  “No! I won’t stay here alone. I’m going.”

  “Be careful, ma’am. The roads are real mean.”

  She went into the hall and put on her coat. He followed her and stood lolling against the wall, chewing, and watching her.

  “Don’t go to sleep until I get back,” she said. “Eat something.” She looked at the pole jammed against the cellar door. “He can’t get out, can he?”

  Larry grinned.

  “With me around, ma’am, he won’t try.”

  She put on her hat and looked at herself in the hall mirror. God! she thought, how old I look!

  She put the letter in her bag. She found a pair of fur-lined boots in the recess and put them on.

  “I won’t be long.”

  “Okay, ma’am… if you’re sure you want to go.”

  She opened the front door and shivered as the cold bit at her. She cautiously made her way down the snow-covered steps. On the fourth step she nearly slipped but recovered.

  “Watch it, ma’am!” Larry said from the opened doorway. She kept on and reached the garage. Once inside the warm car she relaxed a little. She knew the road down to Lugano well. She knew the three danger points. She set the in motion. The snow tyres bit into the snow and she drove cautiously.

  She met no other car nor any other person. Three times the car went into a skid, but she was an experienced driver and although she hated skids, she controlled the car.

  Eventually, after some fifteen minutes of difficult driving, she reached the Central Post Office. She parked the car, got out and dropped the letter into the box.

  With the snow falling heavily, making her coat into a white mantle, she stood for a moment, relaxing.

  The first step in the operation was completed. Now it remained to be seen if the Bank would send the envelope. Shaking the snow off her coat, she went back to the car and got in. She lit a cigarette, staring through the windshield while she thought. The time by the lighted clock on the dashboard was 03.55. She realized how deadly tired she was. She thought with dread of the thirty odd hours ahead of her before she could expect a reply from the bank. If this snow continued, there would be no question of Herman surprising her. He took too good care of himself to fly when the weather was bad.

  She shifted the lever to Drive and drove back towards Castagnola. Driving around the steep climbing bend into the village, the Mercedes got out of control. The back wheels skidded and the car turned broadside on across the road and then began to slide sideways down the hill. She spun the driving wheel, touched the gas pedal and got the bonnet of the car pointing up hill again, but the hill was too steep for a take-off and the wheels merely spun, moving the rear of the car until the wheels thudded against the kerb. She sat motionless for some moments wondering what to do. Finally she decided she must make a new attack on the hill. She went into reverse and backed slowly down the hill until she reached the entrance to Cassarate which was on the level. She paused, fighting her tiredness, then drawing on her reserve stamina, she again started up the hill. This time she kept her foot very lightly on the gas pedal, but just enough to keep the engine going. In this way, with the snow biting, the car crawled up the hill.

  She realized there was no question of her getting the car up the private road to the villa. When the entrance was in sight, she pulled the car to the side of the road and got out.

  Leaving the parking lights on, she slipped and slid up the drive, until she finally reached the front door of the villa. She was cold, stunned and exhausted as she pressed the door bell.

  After a brief delay, Larry opened the door.

  “You made it, ma’am.”

  Wearily, she took off her coat and thrust it into his hands.

  “Shake it. Don’t bring all that snow into the house.”

  She sank on to the chest, closing her eyes. The warmth that seeped through her was comforting.

  “It’s mean out there, isn’t it?” he said as he shut the door.

  “Yes… I had to leave the car in the road.”

  She took off her hat and let it drop on the floor.

  “Food’s ready, ma’am. Come on and eat.”

  She shook her head.

  “No. I couldn’t. I’m going to bed. I must sleep.” Her voice broke. “I’m so tired.” She pressed her palms to her eyes. “Your room is at the end of the corridor, Larry.” She could smell the fillet of pork and the onions cooking. The smell made her cringe.

  She got wearily to her feet and walked towards her bedroom, then she paused and looked back.

  “Is he all right?” She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. “Shouldn’t you give him something to eat?”

  “You go to bed, ma’am. There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Larry said gently. “I’ll take care of him.”

  She was too tired to care.

  “Good night, Larry… and thank you.”

  His warm smile gave her renewed confidence.

  “You sleep, ma’am… you’ll be fine tomorrow.”

  She nodded.

  “It’s going to be all right, Larry.”

  “Sure.”

  She went along to her bedroom and closed the door. Slowly, she undressed. Her movements were listless. She put on her pyjamas, then too tired even to brush her teeth, she got into bed. She reached up and turned off the light.

  Then for the first time in many years, she began to pray, but she was asleep before the prayer was finished.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A GENTLE tapping on the door brought Helga awake with a start. Her mind flashed back to the events of the night and her heart began to hammer. She struggled up in bed.

  “Who is it?”

  “Me, ma’am. Would you like some coffee?”

  She relaxed back on her pillow. Sunlight was coming through the shutters and drapes. She turned on the bedside light and looked at her watch. It was 09.15.

  “I’d love some coffee, please.”

  “Like something to eat, ma’am?”

  She realized she hadn’t eaten since lunch-time the previous day and she was hungry.

  “An egg, Larry.”

  “Okay, ma’am.”

  “Give me about fifteen minutes.”

  “Sure, ma’am.” and she heard him walk away.

  She got out of bed and went into the bathroom. It took her longer than fifteen minutes to fix her face and her hair, but when she bad finished and regarded herself in the mirror, she was satisfied. She dressed quickly, pulling on a heavy cable stitch sweater and cavalry twill slacks.

  As she left her bedroom, Larry came from the kitchen, carrying a tray.

  “All ready, ma’am.”

  He followed her into the sitting-room and put the tray on the table. H
e had cooked her an omelette, browned to a turn and as light as any omelette Hinkle had ever cooked. Toast, marmalade and a big pot of coffee completed the meal.

  “You’re a real cook, Larry,” she said as she sat down. “This looks wonderful.”

  He grinned, pleased.

  “Yeah, I reckon if there’s one thing I can do, it’s to cook.”

  As she flicked open the napkin, she asked. “Is he all right?”

  Larry sat in a lounging chair. He took out a packet of chewing gum.

  “Sure. I let him use the bathroom. I gave him a steak for breakfast. He won’t be any trouble now. He knows when he’s licked.

  She relaxed and began to enjoy her breakfast.

  “I was worried about you last night, Larry. The drive must have been horrible. You were wonderfully quick.”

  “It was okay, but I wouldn’t say I was quick. Coming back was bad.” He shrugged. “I made it.”

  She ate in silence for some minutes, then she asked, “You didn’t leave the man alone with the letter?”

  “No, ma’am… don’t worry. I never left him. He didn’t like it, but Ron’s right. Maxie would cut his own throat for money.”

  The omelette finished, she began to butter toast.

  “Did you call Ron?” she asked, her voice falsely casual.

  “Yeah, I called him.” He leaned forward, his huge hands resting on his knees. “You see, ma’am, Ron means a lot to me. I wanted him to know I was helping you. After the names he called me, I wanted him to know I was doing my best for you.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He was pleased.”

  Suddenly she didn’t want to eat any more. She laid down the toast and pushed aside her plate.

  “Did you tell him Archer was here?”

  He shook his head.

  “No, ma’am… nothing like that. I just told him I was helping you.”

  She reached for a cigarette, relaxing a little.

  “You must never speak to anyone about Archer being here, Larry.”

  “Sure, ma’am. You don’t have to worry.”

  But still she wasn’t satisfied.

  “But didn’t Ron want to know how you were helping me?”

  He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand am could see he was uneasy.

  “Yeah, he did ask. I told him we were getting the photos back.”

  Her hands turned into fists.

  “Did you tell him how… about Max?”

  He shifted about in his chair, then he said, “Well, ma’am, I had to. I did tell him Maxie was helping. But that’s okay, ma’am, Maxie and Ron are good friends. Ron was pleased Maxie was helping.”

  Helga got stiffly to her feet and walked over to an occasional table. She picked up a lighter and lit her cigarette.

  “Didn’t he ask how Max was helping.”

  “No, ma’am… he wasn’t interested. He had other things on his mind.”

  “What things?”

  Harry looked blankly at her.

  “He didn’t tell me, ma’am.”

  Helga pressed her hands to her face. Her whole future life was in the hands of these men. This magnificent-looking boy could have been an idiot for all the help she could get from him!

  After a long pause, Larry said, “There’s a fat guy out there clearing the snow. As soon as he’s through I’ll bring up the car.”

  Relieved to do something, Helga went to the window. Below her fat road sweeper friend shovelling the snow from the drive. A wheelbarrow full of grit stood nearby.

  “I’ll bring the car up, Larry,” she said. “You must keep out of sight. Village people talk. I don’t want him to see you.”

  “Yeah… there’s that. Have you finished?”

  “Yes… thank you. It was beautifully cooked.”

  He picked up the tray and took it into the kitchen.

  She stood by the window watching the road sweeper and when she saw he was finishing, she went into the bedroom took a fifty franc note from her bag, put on her coat, snow shoes and hat and went down the drive. The road sweeper lifted his cap when he saw her. She spent a few minutes chatting with him. He asked respectfully after her husband. He told her there would be no more snow but she didn’t believe him. The village people always told foreigners that better weather was coming. She gave him the fifty franc note and he jerked off his cap, his face wreathed in smiles, then she went down to the car and drove it up to the garage.

  She returned to the villa. As she shut the front door, hearing Larry in the kitchen, the telephone bell began to ring. Stripping off her coat and dropping it on the chest, she started for the sitting-room as Larry appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “It’s all right,” she said curtly. “I’ll handle it.”

  “Sure, ma’am,” and he went back into the kitchen.

  She reached the telephone and picked up the receiver.

  “Mrs. Rolfe?”

  “Yes… who is it?”

  “A call from New York. Mr. Rolfe. A moment, please.”

  She drew in a breath of exasperation, sat down and reached for a cigarette. As she was lighting, Rolfe’s querulous voice came on the line.

  “Helga?”

  “Yes. Did you get my telex.”

  “I did… what’s going on? I called the Eden and they told me you had checked out.”

  “My dear man, the only way to get this goddamn villa ready for you is to be here,” Helga said, her voice shrill. “I’m wearing my fur coat if that interests you and it is bloody cold! Why are you calling?”

  “Helga! You don’t have to use such language!”

  “Don’t tempt me, Herman. I’m cold and fed up. I can use a lot worse!”

  “I do wish you wouldn’t talk like this. Now listen to me, I want you to come back to New York at once. I’m not coming to Castagnola. I have sudden business in the Bahamas. The Eden tells me it is snowing in Lugano. You know I don’t like the snow. I’ve decided to go to Nassau. You’ll join me. You’ll enjoy the sun. There is a flight from Milan at four o’clock this afternoon to New York. We’ll fly together to Nassau tomorrow.”

  Helga gripped the telephone receiver so hard her nail turned white.

  “That’s impossible,” she said. “I have the cleaning women here and I can’t and won’t pack in a minute!”

  She heard her husband snort.

  “Oh, nonsense! You have plenty of time. Now don’t start making difficulties.”

  “I intend to make difficulties! I have things to do here. Besides, it is snowing and I’m not driving to Milan in this goddamn snowstorm just to please your whim! If you can’t wait for me, then go ahead and I’ll join you at the end of the week. Where will you be staying?”

  “I don’t see why you should get so worked up,” Herman complained. “I insist you moderate your language when you talk to me.”

  “Where will you he staying?” Helga said, raising her voice.

  “The Emerald Beach hotel for two days, then I hope Hinkle will find us a furnished bungalow.” Herman’s voice had turned sulky. “I don’t see why you can’t come at once. You’re always making difficulties, Helga.”

  She wanted to scream at him to go to hell, but she bit that back.

  “That’s a charming remark, Herman, considering I have been freezing in this damned place so you could arrive in comfort!”

  She heard him snort impatiently.

  “I don’t see why you should even be there. You just don’t know how to get things organized.”

  “I’ll fly to New York on Saturday and not before!”

  “I’m not going to wait for you. I’m leaving for Nassau tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll join you when I’m ready.” She paused, took hold of herself and softening her voice, she asked, “How are you?”

  They spent a few more minutes talking indifferently to each other, then she hung up.

  Well, at least now, she wouldn’t have to worry about Herman and that was a relief.

  The sun was shin
ing and the countryside from the picture window looked clean, white and sparkling.

  She went into the kitchen where Larry was finishing the washing-up.

  “You don’t have to do that. There’s a dishwasher.”

  “Yeah… I see that, but it foxes me. I’ve never used one.”

  Helga realized she had never used a dishwasher either and she laughed. “There’s a book of instructions somewhere.”

  “I don’t mind doing the washing-up,” Larry said. “That’s all I did in the Army.”

  Then she remembered what Archer had said: that Larry was an Army deserter.

  “You were in the Army?”

  He looked at her, his face expressionless.

  “You know that, ma’am… Archer told you.”

  She nodded.

  “He told me you are a deserter.”

  “That’s it… AWOL. That’s me.” He dried his hands and leaned against the double sink. “I had enough of the Army so I walked out.”

  She studied him, then she hoisted herself on the kitchen table, swinging her shapely legs.

  “So all that talk about your father sending you to Europe was so much talk?”

  He ran his fingers through his blond hair.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. I didn’t mean to snow you, but you asked and I guess I said the first thing that came into my head.”

  “That’s all right, Larry. I understand.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “So your position is more difficult than I thought. If the Army police…”

  “There are no M.P.s here, ma’am. I’m not worrying.”

  No, she thought, you may not be worrying, but I am.

  “I intend to fly back to New York on Saturday,” she said. “What will you do when I’ve gone?”

  “Saturday?” This seemed to give him a jolt. He frowned as he thought. “I’ll manage. I’ll get a job at a hotel or at a filling station… something like that.”

  “We’ve gone over that before, Larry. You need a work permit.”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head and his frown deepened. “Well, don’t you worry, ma’am. I’ll manage somehow.”

  “But how?”

  He looked up and his frown went away. He gave her his warm, friendly smile.