1975 - The Joker in the Pack Page 17

  Jackson hammered on the door.

  “Open up, you stupid bitch!” he shouted. “Don’t use the phone!”

  She listened to the burr-burr on the line as Jackson stood away from the door, braced himself against the wall, then lifting his let, he drove his foot hard against the door lock. The door flew open and he stormed into the room.

  Helga heard a voice say, “Operator. What number do you want?”

  As Helga screamed wildly, “Police!” Jackson reached her, swung her away from the telephone and hit her on the side of the jaw with all the power within his panic-stricken body. As she fell forward, he snatched up the telephone and slammed it down on her defenseless head.

  * * *

  Slowly, Helga drifted into consciousness. The first thing she became aware of was a curious weightlessness of her body. It was as if she was lying on a cloud. She was also aware of having no feeling in her limbs. She wondered if this was death. If it was, she thought, she would have no complaint. To float like this forever in a painless vacuum would be wonderful.

  Then she became aware of distant voices: men’s voices, hushed but continuous. Then one of the men cleared his throat noisily. She frowned. Did the dead clear their throats? She opened her eyes.

  She saw that she was in the luxurious bedroom of the rented villa and she was lying in the king size bed. She saw too that the sun was trying hard to penetrate the blinds, making white lines across the bed. She also saw the familiar figure of Nurse Fairely who was sitting by the window, peering out between the slots of the blinds, and seeing her, Helga closed her eyes.

  Then in spite of the feeling of weightlessness (she was probably under heavy sedation, she told herself), her mind became active. She remembered screaming for the police and seeing Jackson rushing at her. She remembered seeing his fist flying towards her and seeing a flash of white, searing light.

  Lying in the comfortable bed, completely relaxed, she now realized her mistake in calling the police. How much better it would have been to have given Jackson all the money in the villa and to have got rid of him. Now, because she had panicked, here was a complete and utter mess. Had Jackson been caught? The telephone operator would have immediately alerted the police, but it would have taken at least ten minutes – probably longer – for a patrol car to have arrived. Had Jackson, who must have heard her scream for the police, got away in time?

  If they caught him, the whole sordid story would come out. She recalled the gruesome commotion when Herman had had his stroke. The newspapermen like jackals, the TV cameras, the photographers! She could imagine the headlines: Mrs. Herman Rolfe Attached in a Lonely Villa! If Jackson were caught, he would tell how he had been hired by Herman to watch her because Herman no longer trusted her. (Imagine the sensation that would cause!) He would also tell about Herman’s letter to Winborn (more and greater sensations!) and then how she had been trying to force Dick to go to Paradise City (sensational hints of seduction). The police would pick up Dick and he would talk. He might even say she was trying to get him into her bed!

  A mess! You play your cards, you take some tricks, it looks like a wining hand, then along comes the joker.

  She wondered what the time was. How long had she been unconscious? From the feel of the sun on the bed, she thought it could be early afternoon.

  She opened her eyes and through her long lashes, she regarded Nurse Fairely who was now looking at a glossy magazine, her fat face in repose. Her peaceful expression revealed inner contentment. Watching her, Helga felt a pang of envy. This woman was engaged in good and satisfying work. She probably never had any nagging problems and certainly no compulsive sex urge.

  Then Helga saw the door open and Dr. Levi came in. Nurse Fairely got heavily to her feet.

  “How is she?” Dr. Levi whispered.

  “Still sleeping, doctor.”

  “Hello,” Helga said and was irritated her voice came as a whisper. “So you have come to look after me?”

  Levi came silently to the bed.

  “Don’t talk, Mrs. Rolfe.” His deferential voice annoyed her. “Everything is all right. You are under sedation. Just sleep. There is nothing to worry about.”

  Perhaps there were some spineless women who would welcome this smooth, bedside manner, but it infuriated Helga. What did he imagine she was? One of those self-pitying, soft-centered, must-have-a-tranquilizer women without guts?

  “I will talk as much as I like,” she snapped and was delighted that her voice had come back and with its steel. “I’m not dying, am I?”

  Startled, Levi said, “Of course not, but you have a concussion and a very badly bruised jaw, Mrs. Rolfe. It is better for you to try to relax and sleep.”

  “What happened to that man . . . the man who attacked me?” she demanded. She had to know. “Did the police get him?”

  “Now please don’t worry.”

  “Did they get him?” Her voice became shrill.

  “Not yet, Mrs. Rolfe. Now do please calm yourself. You need rest.”

  She drew in a breath of relief. Had Jackson had time to find her bag and take the money? She hoped so for it would mean he was off the island by now. She wanted him well out of the reach of the law.

  “Yes,” She closed her eyes.

  “I’ll see you this evening, Mrs. Rolfe. The police are most anxious to question you, but I have told them you are not to be disturbed.”

  Helga flinched. She hadn’t thought that the police would ask probing questions.

  “I don’t want to see them just yet.”

  “Certainly not. You have a nice, little sleep.”

  She restrained herself from snapping at him. He was treating her like a moron!

  She heard him whispering to Nurse Fairely, then the door closed. Lying still, Helga’s mind became busy. What was she to tell the police? Suppose Jackson had got away? Could she lie herself out of this mess? She could tell the police it was some colored man who had attacked her. She thought about this. As the police hadn’t caught Jackson as he had left the villa, surely it meant they hadn’t seen him. If she could keep Jackson out of this, then the whole sordid story could be swept under the rug.

  She would have to be careful. A colored man! This could be the solution! They would want a description. Her mind worked busily: tall, thin, middle-aged with a colored handkerchief around his head, a dirty white shirt, dark trousers, bare feet. That description would match hundreds of the natives she had seen in the market and on the beach.

  The more she thought about this, the safer it seemed. No one had seen Jackson arrive. It wasn’t likely he would have told anyone he was coming to get money from her. The weakness was if the police had seen Jackson run off. She decided to play it off the cuff. She was confidant she could dominate a police officer.

  “Here is a nice cup of tea, Mrs. Rolfe,” Nurse Fairely said, breaking into her thoughts. “I’m sure you must feel like a comforting drink.”

  “I think I do.” She opened her eyes and managed a smile.

  “And here is something to help you sleep.”

  Obediently she swallowed the small capsule, then with the nurse’s help, she drank some of the tea.

  Some minutes later, she drifted into a sleep that was empty of dreams, of fear, and of coming problems she knew she would have to face.

  When she awoke, she was conscious that her head was aching and her mouth sore, but she no longer felt dopey nor weightless. The sedation was over, she told herself with relief. From now on, her mind must be razor sharp. She looked around, then lifter her head from the pillow, wincing a little.

  Nurse Fairely came to her.

  “How do you feel, Mrs. Rolfe?”

  “My head aches.” She touched the side of her face. It felt swollen and tender. “What time is it?”

  “Just after eight. You slept beautifully all night.”

  She stared at the nurse.

  “Is it another day? Have you been up all night?”

  Nurse Fairely smiled.

  “Oh no
, we have a night nurse. Do you fancy some breakfast? A lightly boiled egg? Tea?”

  “Tea, I think. Nothing to eat. My mouth’s is sore as hell.”

  “That’s not to be wondered at.” Nurse Fairely moved to the door. “I’ll get you tea and I’ll give you something for your headache.”

  “No more pills,” Helga said firmly.

  Nurse Fairely left the room and Helga made the effort to sit up. For a moment her head swam, then apart from the dull ache, she suddenly felt fine.

  Then the door opened and Hinkle, carrying a tea tray, came in.

  “Hinkle!” Helga exclaimed, delighted. “Why, bless you! When did you arrive?”

  “Yesterday afternoon, madame. As soon as I heard the distressing news.”

  “Thank you, Hinkle. I only wish now I hadn’t sent you away.”

  “It was most unfortunate, madame.”

  She looked sharply at him as he poured the tea. He looked more like a grieving father than a bishop this morning. Her heart warmed to him. I really believe he cares about me, she thought. He must be the only person in the world who does.

  “Prop me up, Hinkle,” she said. “I’m dying for a cup of tea.”

  “I trust madame, you are not suffering too badly,” he said as he gently arranged her pillows, then handed her the tea.

  “It’s all right.” She sipped the tea, then went on, “Tell me, what’s going on? I suppose the press have arrived?”

  “Indeed yes, madame. They are outside waiting for a statement. Mr. Winborn will be arriving this afternoon.”

  “Winborn?” She frowned. “What does he want for God’s sake?”

  “Dr. Levi thought he should be here to handle the press.”

  She asked the vitally important question.

  “Have they found the man who attacked me?”

  “Apparently not, madame. The Inspector is anxious to see you. He wants a description of the man. Dr. Levi had told him he must wait.”

  Helga felt a surge of triumph run through her.

  “Didn’t the police see him?”

  “No, madame. They arrived too late.”

  So once again the cards were falling her way! There would now no longer be a mess!

  “I’ll see the Inspector sometime this morning, Hinkle.”

  “Yes, madame.”

  Helga again looked sharply at him. She was surprised that he hadn’t asked questions. How it happened? Who was the man? Then she saw there was a distressed, shocked expression on Hinkle’s face, so distressed that she put down the cup of tea.

  “Is there something wrong, Hinkle?”

  He hesitated, then nodded.

  “I am afraid so, madame. Dr. Levi suggested that I should break the news to you.”

  An icy chill began to crawl up Helga’s spine.

  “News? What news?”

  “It’s Mr. Rolfe, madame. I very much regret to tell you he died the night before last. Apparently, madame, he came out of the coma for a few brief moments, then his heart gave out.”

  Into Helga’s mind came the scene of Jackson withdrawing the needle and then slowly pushing it into the doll’s chest. She was now so cold she began to shiver.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said hoarsely. “What time the night before last?”

  “It would be about the time you were attacked, madame. This will be a terrible shock to you as it is to me. I know how both of us, madame, will miss him.”

  Helga stared at the kind, distressed face and she put her hands to her eyes.

  “But you should think, madame, that it is really a happy release. He suffered so much and he was so very brave.”

  Then as she began to weep, Hinkle went silently from the room, stopping Nurse Fairely from entering.

  “Madame would like a few moments to herself, nurse,” he said in a whisper. “She has been so good, so worthy and so loyal to him. It is a most grievous loss to her.”

  Listening to his words, Helga shuddered.

  So good, so worthy, so loyal!

  She again saw Herman’s contorted face and his slack mouth forming the word whore.

  Burying her face in the pillow, she began to sob her heart out.

  * * *

  The next four hours were the worst Helga had ever lived through for they were hours of self-incrimination, remorse and self-disgust. She saw herself as she imagined others saw her. It was like looking into a three dimensional mirror and what she saw there sickened her.

  When Nurse Fairely had come in, hearing Helga sobbing, Helga screamed at her to get out and stay out.

  As soon as the startled nurse had withdrawn, Helga had staggered out of bed and had locked the door, then she had returned to the bed to continue her desperate sobbing.

  An hour of this left her drained and leaving the bed, she put on a wrap and had sat in a lounging chair.

  There came a gentle tap on the door and Hinkle’s voice asking, “May I bring something, madame? A little beef tea?”

  “Just leave me alone.” Helga had to control herself not to scream at him. “I’ll ring if I want anything.”

  Then began the long hours of self-incrimination. So Herman is dead, she thought. You wanted him to die. You longed for him to die because you wanted to own all his money. That was all you could think about . . . his money! Now finally he is dead and he died hating you. After the few years you have been married to him during which time he respected you, was proud of you, trusted you, he finally died hating you.

  The knowledge that he had died hating her crushed her.

  Because of her infernal sex urge she had been unfaithful, but she had always been scrupulously honest with his money, and yet he had died believing she had not only been unfaithful but was no longer to be trusted with the handling of his fortune.

  He had called her a whore. He had died thinking of her as a whore.

  Her mind switched to what Hinkle had said: Apparently, madame, he came out of the coma for a few moments, then his heart gave out.

  She saw Jackson pulling the needle out of the doll’s head and pushing it into the doll’s body. Could the needle have killed Herman? Hadn’t she stood by, doing nothing, while Jackson had murdered her husband? Why hadn’t she snatched the doll from him? Wasn’t it because she longed for Herman to die, and although she didn’t believe it could happen, had hoped it would happen?

  Stop this stupid, superstitious thinking! she told herself. You know a needle couldn’t kill anyone. It’s not possible. Herman’s death was a coincidence. It must have been! There could be no other explanation.

  Her mind switched back to Herman’s hatred. She thought of his letter to Winborn. Only a few days ago, she had told herself that when Herman died, she would destroy the letter.

  Because he no longer trusted her, Herman had written this letter which would strip her of her V.I.P. status since she would never accept the conditions he laid down.

  As I am satisfied that she has betrayed my trust … She remembered the words.

  True, she thought, I did betray your trust but you never considered my feelings. All you wanted was a good-looking secretary-servant. Although I was unfaithful to you I have always been honest with your money. Why couldn’t you have shown a spark of kindness, consideration and understanding and have turned a blind eye to my affairs?

  For many minutes, she sat still, staring out of the window, then she came to a decision.

  You may be a selfish, hard, unfaithful bitch, but you are not dishonest, she told herself.

  She would not destroy the letter. She would give it to Winborn when he arrived. Whatever else she was, she wasn’t dishonest nor a cheat. To destroy the wishes of a dead man would be a despicable and utterly dishonest act.

  Then into her mind came the small voice of temptation. Don’t do anything in haste, the voice said. Think what you will be giving up. Think of the power that will be yours when you control sixty million dollars. If you give that letter to Winborn, knowing you can’t live like a nun, you will have nothing and you
will be faced with the task of making a new life for yourself. Think of the gossip when it becomes known that Herman has disinherited you. They will say gleefully that there is no smoke without fire. The federal tax people will want to know what has happened to the two million dollars Archer stole. You will have to throw him to the wolves to save yourself and he will tell the world, to try to save himself, you were his mistress. Don’t give the letter to Winborn, the small voice urged. Destroy it as you were planning to do before you got this spineless feeling of guilt. No one will know except Hinkle and he is your friend. He admires you: so good, so worthy, so loyal.

  For more than three hours, Helga struggled with the small voice and then when she felt utterly exhausted, the steel in her asserted itself.

  “Whatever else you are, whatever else you become,” she said, half aloud, “you will not be a cheat!”

  Her mind made up, she got unsteadily to her feet, rang the service bell, then unlocked the door. She crossed to the wall mirror and regarded herself. God! She looked terrible! The right side of her face was puffy and bruised. Her eyes were swollen with weeping. Her hair looked like a bird’s nest.

  She crossed to the desk and sat down as a tap came at the door.

  “Come in.”

  Hinkle entered and closed the door gently.

  “I want you to do something for me, Hinkle,” she said and taking out a sheet of notepaper, she wrote: Please give Mr. Hinkle, the bearer of this note, the envelope you have in safekeeping for me.

  She signed and addressed an envelope to the manager of the Diamond Beach hotel.

  “Will you please go immediately to the Diamond Beach hotel and bring back an envelope they are keeping for me in their safe?”

  “Certainly, madame.” Hinkle took the note, hesitated, then said, “May I inquire if you are still in pain, madame? Nurse Fairely is extremely worried.”

  She looked at him, her eyes steely.

  “I am all right. Will you tell the police inspector I will see him when it is convenient for him?”