An Ace up my Sleeve Page 17

“Go away,” Helga said huskily. “Go away.”

  Instead, he moved into the room, keeping away from the bed and he went over to an armchair by the window and sat in it. Then he put his hands to his face and began to cry. His soft blubbering lessened her terror. She wondered if she could get to the door, take out the key, get out and lock him in, but she decided that wouldn’t be possible. She knew how quickly he could move.

  “Stop it!” She tried to harden her voice. “Please leave my room!”

  “I don’t know what I’ll do if you won’t believe me, ma’am,” he mumbled. “You’ve been so kind to me. I’m so unhappy. You don’t know how unhappy I am!”

  The Hamburg Strangler! she thought. Five prostitutes! Yet, seeing him crouched in the chair, his hands covering his face, he looked so defenceless she began to gain confidence. He had said he was grateful to her, she reminded herself. Why should he harm her if she didn’t show fear or irritate him. She would have to be very careful how she behaved to him and she must somehow get him out of the room so she could lock the door.

  “I didn’t know you were so unhappy, Larry,” she said gently. “Will you tell me why?”

  He took his hands from his face. Tears had made his face puffy and his misery touched her.

  “I’ve been snowing you, ma’am… all this time. After what you’ve done for me, I wanted to keep your respect.” He hesitated, then lowered his head so he didn’t look at her. “You’d better know the truth now… I don’t go for girls…” He paused and mumbled something that Helga couldn’t hear. “What did you say?”

  He gripped his knees with his huge hands.

  “Larry… what did you say?”

  “I go for men.”

  Helga regarded him unbelievingly.

  “For men?”

  He nodded miserably, not looking at her.

  “But you said a girl took your money,” she said after a long pause. “Archer told me when ho first met you you were trying to pick up a tart.”

  He looked up then and she saw the shame and misery in his eyes.

  “It wasn’t a girl who took my money… it was a man.” He spoke so quietly she could scarcely hear him. “That other girl… I was trying to get her boy friend from her.”

  Helga suddenly understood. This was, of course the answer to his indifference to her. In a perverse way what he was telling her pleased her. It meant that she hadn’t lost her sex appeal, but she instantly dismissed this trivial thought. It would also explain why he had murdered five prostitutes. Certain homosexuals loathed prostitutes.

  “You see, ma’am, Ron and I were close.” Larry looked away from her. “He’s like me. He wanted me and I wanted him, but I guess I’m restless. I don’t like anything permanent… I don’t want to be tied down. A week with Ron was enough. I did desert from the Army, but what he told you were spiteful lies. I’ve never killed anyone.” He thumped his knees with his big fists. “I guess I’m stupid. When you said you would pay my fare to New York and give me five thousand bucks, I just had to tell Ron. He had sworn I would come crawling back to Hamburg because I wouldn’t be able to live without him. I wanted him to know I wasn’t coming back and why. I told him how kind you had been to me and is going back to the States and about the money.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “That was stupid of me, ma’am. Ron flipped his lid. You see, ma’am, he just hated the idea you were helping me and he couldn’t. He got in this terrible rage and he called me names. He was yelling and swearing at me. He said he would fix me. I couldn’t stand listening to what he said so I hung up on him.”

  “When did you call him?” Helga asked.

  “When you went to the village. I just had to tell him… I was stupid.” He stared miserably at her. “But I didn’t think he would do anything. He often got wild, but he never did anything. I never thought he would call you and tell you all those lies. I heard him tell you to call the cops. That’s what he wants. If they come here, they’ll find out I’m AWOL. Ron knows if they pick me up, I’ll be sent back to Hamburg and after I come out of the Stockade, he will be waiting for me. The fact is, ma’am, Ron likes me more than I like him. He can’t live without me… I know he can’t. That stuff about me being in the papers was all jealous lies… lies to make you call the cops.”

  Helga drew in a long, deep breath. She had had many dealings with homosexuals. Her hairdresser in Paradise City was one. The Captain of Waiters at her favourite New York nightclub was another. Her Couturier in Paris and the simpering little artist who had decorated this bedroom… dozens of them in every walk of life who she loathed and despised and who she knew could be viciously jealous, envious and unpredictably spiteful to each other and yet, at times, so marvellously gentle and kind.

  “Yes, she could believe this story. She relaxed back on her pillow. God! How terrified she had been! The Hamburg Strangler! How stupid to have believed such a malicious story, let alone allow it to have frightened her so!

  “You do believe me, ma’am? You won’t call the police?”

  So he was one of those! It was hard to believe as she looked at him, but where had she heard some all-in wrestler, wearing a cloak and a top hat, had been a pansy?

  She suddenly hated the sight of this big, hulking boy. She wanted to scream at him to leave the villa this very moment, but then she remembered those awful moments when Archer had escaped. Larry had to remain here to control Archer until the photos arrived. With a sinking heart, she thought of the long day and the long night ahead of her before the photos did arrive.

  “Yes, Larry, I believe you,” she said. “I didn’t understand… I do now.”

  “You don’t know what hell it is in the Army when you’re like me,” he said, half to himself. “I couldn’t stand any more of it.”

  She didn’t want to hear: he was a neuter thing to her now and he bored her. All right, Larry… now go to bed.”

  He got reluctantly to his feet.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t want you to know. You’ve been so good to me.”

  Yes… go to bed!” She could scarcely conceal her impatience to get rid of him.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He walked to the door, hesitated, looked hopefully at her, then went out, closing the door gently behind him.

  She lay still listening to his receding footfalls, then she put her hands to her face and began silently to laugh.

  What a joke against her!

  She had picked up this lump of maleness, longing to take him into her bed. She had spent money on him, fed him, dangled her charms before him, risked her reputation, risked sixty million dollars, had been blackmailed because of him and had had to listen to glib lies from another of his beastly breed who had terrified her as she had never been so terrified… and for what? For trying to inveigle a loutish, immature, brainless queer into her bed!

  What a goddamn joke!

  Finally, her bitter laughter ceased. She got out of bed and locked the door. Going into the bathroom, she swallowed three sleeping tablets, then she got back into bed.

  She thought of Nassau and its miles of golden beach.

  There would be lots of men there… real men. She would have to be careful, of course, but during the day, Herman would be fully occupied.

  There would be opportunities… there were always opportunity

  She reached up and turned off the light. She lay still in the darkness, willing herself not to think while she waited for the tablets to send her to sleep.

  It wasn’t until 10.25 the following morning when Helga emerged from her bedroom. She had slept heavily, but dreamlessly. She had a slight headache and she was in an irritable mood.

  While she had bathed and dressed, she had thought of Larry and the desire grew in her to get rid of him as quickly as was safe.

  “Coffee, ma’am?”

  Larry was standing in the kitchen door. His expression was downcast and he avoided meeting her eyes.

  “Thank you: that would be nice,” she said briskly and impersonally a
s if talking to a servant. She went to the front door and checked the mail box. There were several letters and she returned to the sitting-room, flicking through them. There were two letters for her from women friends back home and the rest were for Herman.

  She was reading her letters when Larry brought in a tray with toast, marmalade and coffee.

  “Nothing to eat,” she said without pausing in her reading. “Thank you. Just put it down.”

  He hung around like a child in disgrace, for some moments watching her reading, then as she paid no attention to him, he returned to the kitchen. She drank her coffee, completed reading the letters which were full of the latest ‘Who-is-now-sleeping-with-whom’ scandals and other gossipy items. After she had readdressed her husband’s letters to Nassau, she went into the kitchen.

  Larry was sitting on a kitchen chair, his big fists resting on his knees while he stared at the floor.

  “I’m going now to the American Express to get your ticket,” she said. “Also to the bank to get your money. I have other things to do in Lugano. I may be late back.”

  She had no intention of spending the day with him. The time would go much faster watching a movie.

  He looked up.

  “Okay, ma’am.”

  “How is he this morning?”

  He rubbed the side of his jaw. “He’s okay.”

  She was now utterly sick of Archer and utterly sick of Larry. “Don’t answer the telephone nor the front door.”

  “No ma’am.”

  She went into the hall and put on her coat. As she was struggling into her snow boots, he came to the kitchen door.

  “You - you won’t tell the cops, ma’am?”

  She looked around impatiently.

  “Oh step fretting! You will be flying to New York tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “You have plenty of food. I may have dinner out… if I do I won’t be back until ten-thirty tonight. You have the television to amuse you.” She opened the front door. “And don’t do anything stupid down there… like last time.”

  “No, ma’am.” His hangdog expression bored her.

  “Just be careful.”

  She went down the steps into the cold sunshine.

  What a relief to get out of the villa and away from this poor creature, she thought as she opened the garage doors. One more night and the nightmare would be over. She backed the car out of the garage and drove down to the main road.

  She had trouble finding parking in Lugano, but eventually, after circling patiently for twenty minutes, she saw a car pull out from a parking meter. By fast driving, she managed to foil an Alfa whose driver had also been circling for some time. He scowled at her as he drove on. She put a twenty centime piece into the meter, then walked to the American Express office. There, she booked a Tourist class ticket for Larry on the following day at 14.00 and for herself first class on the same day but at 22.05 for New York. She had no intention of flying to New York with Larry. She would drive him to Milan airport and make sure he left, then she would leave the car with a garage with instructions it was to be returned to Gastagnola and left in the garage at the villa. She would spend the time until the flight at the Principe e savoia hotel where she was known and where she would be pampered.

  She used her American Express Credit card to take care of the two fares, then she walked across the Reforma Square to the Credit Suisse Banque. Here, she asked for $5,000 in unsigned Travellers’ Cheques. While she was waiting, the manager of the bank came from his office to shake hands with her and to inquire after her husband. This kindness and deference she was receiving from the bank manager pleased and flattered her, but she wondered, a little cynically, if, without money, she would have received the same treatment.

  She then walked through the old shopping centre, shop window gazing. She wasn’t in the mood to buy, but the goods displayed interested her and helped to pass the time.

  She returned to the Mercedes and drove along the lake side to the Eden hotel. Leaving the car in the hotel garage, she went to the Grill room. A table was quickly found for her and the Maitre d’hotel came to shake hands. She broke the news to him that Herman would not be coming to Lugano this year and his face fell. She ordered devilled scampi with wild rice and lingered over the meal, being in no hurry. After coffee and paying her check, she walked slowly along the lake side to the Casino cinema. They were showing Katie Hepburn in The Lion In Winter. She adored this actress and she felt an anticipation of excitement as she bought her ticket. She sat in the darkness and the warmth of the cinema and concentrated on the film. Hepburn didn’t disappoint her: a wonderful, professional performance, she thought as she came out into the cold. She wandered back in the gathering gloom to the Eden hotel, analysing and remembering certain scenes of the film and r-enjoying it.

  Not once since she had left the villa did she think of Larry or Archer. She settled in the comfortable hotel bar with a copy of the Herald Tribune and a vodka martini. Having spent some time checking the Stock Market quotation read the news, had another cocktail and then decided it was time for dinner.

  Leaving the hotel, she drove back to the Reforma and was lucky to find a free parking meter. Then she walked to her favourite restaurant, Bianchi in via Pessina. Here she was given a warm welcome by Dino, one of the head waiters and who always looked after her. He was a good looking Italian with beautiful manners. As he conducted her to a table, he inquired after Mr. Rolfe and sighed when he learned he wasn’t coming this year.

  Seated, she asked him what she should eat. The partridges were very good, he told her, but she shook her head. Then venison. A little Puccini toast and a coeur de chevreuil. She agreed and he went away to place the order.

  It was early and the restaurant hadn’t begun to get busy so Dino returned to gossip. Then the Patron came over to have a word. Helga relaxed in this friendly, cosseted atmosphere. The Puccini toast was served and an excellent Merlot wine poured.

  She enjoyed the impeccable meal and finished regretfully at 21.40. She paid the check, shook hands with the Patron, had a word with Dino and returned to her car. It was only when she was starting the engine that she began to think of Larry.

  Immediately, she began to feel a little uneasy. Perhaps she shouldn’t have left him so long. He was such a hick he might have done something stupid. She herself would look stupid if on her return she found Archer waiting for her and Lam-imprisoned in the cellar. But she had warned Larry. Surely he must have learned his lesson? She couldn’t possibly have spent all those hours alone with him. The very sight of him now sickened her.

  Driving towards Castagnola, her uneasiness increased. Suppose Archer had got out? By now the photos would be in the post. If he had trapped Larry and was free, he would wait, guarding the cellar door until the postman arrived. The envelope would be addressed to him. Then she thought of the .22 automatic she had in her bedroom. She had everything to lose. She wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him in the leg if he refused when threatened by the gun to return to the cellar and to release Larry. She felt sure he wouldn’t have the guts to oppose her after she had fired one shot towards him, threatening the next shot would be in his leg.

  The Grandfather clock in the hall was chiming eleven as she unlocked the front door. She stood in the open doorway, her heart skipping a beat. The pole that had jammed the cellar door was lying on the floor and the cellar door stood open!

  What was happening?

  She moved into the hall and closed the front door. Was Larry downstairs with Archer? Perhaps he had gone down there with food, but surely that was unlikely at this hour.

  She went silently to the head of the stairs leading down to cellars and listened, but she could hear nothing. The light in the passage below was on.

  She hesitated, then called, “Larry? Are you down there?”

  A sound behind her made her spin around.

  Archer was standing in the sitting-room doorway, a whisky and soda in his hand. The bruise on his face ha
d deepened to an ugly purple-black.

  “Larry’s in here, Helga,” he said. “Take off your coat and come on in. We’ve been waiting for you. Did you have a pleasant day?”

  She kept control of herself as she took off her coat and hat. She paused to fluff up her hair with fingers that trembled.

  Archer turned and went back into the room, leaving the door open.

  Helga felt fury grip her: fury against herself. Her disgust, contempt and frustration had made staying with this hulking queer impossible. She should have controlled those feelings. Now she was going to pay for them.

  She entered the sitting-room. Archer was standing by a lounging chair, waiting for her. Across the room, Larry was sitting on an upright chair, his hands hanging between his knees, his head down so she couldn’t see his face.

  “Sit down, Helga,” Archer said.

  She was glad to sit down. Once again her legs felt weak and once again she was struggling to absorb a shock.

  “Excuse me.” He walked up to her and took her handbag from her before she realized what he was doing.

  “How dare you!” she exclaimed but without conviction.

  “Come off your high horse, Helga. You’re not in a position to get snooty.” Archer backed away, opened the bag and took from it one of the air tickets and the leather folder containing the Travellers’ Cheques. He carried them across the room and put them on an occasional table by Larry.

  “There you are, my boy,” he said. “Your ticket and your money… now you get off.”

  Helga watched.

  Larry didn’t look up. He just sat slumped in his chair, his head down.

  “Come along, Larry,” Archer said in his soothing, professional voice. “There’s no point in you hanging around here any longer. Take Helga’s car and leave it at the Lugano station. I’m sure she won’t mind and she can pick it up later. There’s a train to Milan you could catch if you hurry.”

  Slowly, Larry got to his feet. He picked up the ticket and the leather folder and stuffed them into his hip pocket. Then he looked directly at Archer.

  “I don’t want her car… I don’t want anything from you.”