1975 - The Joker in the Pack Page 18

  “Are you sure that is wise, madame? Shouldn’t you . . .”

  “Please do as I say!”

  “Yes, madame.” Hinkle flushed at her sharp tone. “I have had a telephone call from Mr. Winborn. He will not be arriving this evening but sometime early tomorrow. It would seem there is an airport strike that has delayed him. He sends his regrets.”

  “All right. Now please go to the hotel.”

  When he left, looking upset by her curt manner, she went into the bathroom and began repairing her face. In twenty minutes she had painted out the bruise, reduced the swelling of her eyes and fixed her hair. She was lighting a cigarette when Chief Inspector Harrison arrived.

  Harrison was a tall, burly man who could have been Frank Gritten’s brother. He had the same steely blue eyes and the same gentle voice.

  He began by offering his sincere condolences but Helga cut him short.

  “Thank you, Inspector. I am anxious to rest. I understand you want a description of the man who attacked me. He was colored; tall, think, middle-aged and he wore a yellow and red handkerchief around his head, a dirty white shirt, dark trousers and was bare footed. Is there anything else you want to know?”

  Startled at being so hustled, Harrison stared blankly at her.

  “You haven’t seen this man before, madame?”

  “No.”

  “Is there anything missing?”

  Why hadn’t she thought to look to see if Jackson had taken the money? Helga was angry with herself for not checking.

  “I don’t think so. This is a hired villa. I have only my jewels and some money . . . nothing else of value.” She got to her feet and going to the closet, she checked her jewel box, then satisfied, she went to her bag lying on the dressing table. The eight thousand dollars was missing! With an effort, she kept her face expressionless. Snapping the bag shut, she said, “No, there’s nothing missing. It was fortunate I was up here. I heard movements, went to the head of the stairs and saw this man. He saw me and came bounding up the stairs. I locked myself in and I called the police. He broke in and tried to stop me from telephoning. I suppose he became frightened and ran away.”

  Harrison regarded her thoughtfully.

  “It would seem so, madame.”

  “Is that all?” she asked impatiently.

  “Not quite all. What can you tell me about a doll we found downstairs?”

  She had completely forgotten about the doll! Again her steel control served her well.

  “Doll? I know nothing about a doll. What do you mean?” She crushed out her cigarette.

  “Excuse me a moment.” Harrison went to the door. He spoke to someone outside, then returned, carrying Rolfe’s effigy.

  “This doll, madame.”

  Helga forced herself to look at the doll.

  “I’ve never seen it before.” She looked more closely, then shrank back, stifling a gasp, but she was careful not to overplay the scene. “It – it resembles my husband.”

  “Yes, madame. I am sorry to raise such a painful issue.”

  “This intruder must have brought it with him. Probably, he wanted to sell it to me,” Helga said quickly. “There can be no other explanation.”

  “Unfortunately there is, madame. You may have heard of this voodoo cult.”

  “At this moment, I am not interested in cults,” Helga broke in, steel in her voice. “If that is all, then I would be glad if you would go. My head is tormenting me.”

  Harrison hesitated. He was very conscious that he was facing a woman now worth at least sixty million dollars and that kind of money drew a lot of water. He was also aware that she had just lost her husband and had been attacked. If he continued to question her she could complain and his superiors cold come down on him like a ton of concrete. He decided to play it safe.

  “Certainly, madame. I will see you are not bothered again. As nothing has been stolen . . .” He began to move to the door. “You can be sure we will hunt for this man.”

  “I am sure you will,” Helga said and turned away.

  When he had gone, she sat down and drew in a deep breath. That had gone off better than she could have hoped. So Jackson had found and taken the money. That must mean he was miles away by now. The mess she had feared was now disappearing under the rug. The cards had begun to fall her way again!

  Twenty minutes later, Hinkle appeared with a large, sealed envelope.

  “Is this what you wanted, madame?”

  Helga slit open the envelope, glanced inside and saw the red folder.

  “Yes, thank you Hinkle.” She looked directly at him. “I suppose you have guessed what this is?”

  “I would rather not be told, madame,” Hinkle said, his face expressionless. “I hesitate to offer advice, but may I suggest the contents of this envelope should be destroyed.”

  She stared at him and again the small voice urged: go on, destroy it! Think what you have to lose! Even Hinkle is telling you to do it. Doesn’t that salve your stupid conscience?

  “Thank you, Hinkle. You are a good friend.”

  “I suggest a light meal would be sensible, madame. One thinks so much better when fortified. Perhaps a dozen oysters?”

  She shook her head.

  “I feel like a big steak. I haven’t eaten for two days!”

  His face lit up.

  “Certainly, madame. I will cook it myself. Also a little caviar with toast.”

  As soon as he had gone, Helga decided to dress. Looking at her watch, she saw the time was 14.45. She hated slopping around in a wrap.

  Half an hour later, when Hinkle pushed in the service trolley, she was wearing a white dress with a broad black leather belt around her slim waist and he regarded her with admiring approval.

  “If I may say so, madame, you are a remarkable woman.”

  She smiled at him.

  “Thank you, Hinkle. At times I believe that myself. You didn’t think . . .” Then she stopped, seeing the cocktail shaker. “Of course you did . . . bless you.”

  “I fear Dr. Levi wouldn’t approve, madame, but in times of stress, a little alcohol is beneficial.”

  After she had finished the meal and had drunk two vodka martinis, she found to her surprise that her head no longer ached.

  As she lit a cigarette, she asked, “What are the arrangements?” She couldn’t bring herself to say ‘funeral,’ but Hinkle knew what she meant.

  “I have attended to all that, madame. The service will be at the Church of Christ in Paradise City at three o’clock the day after tomorrow. Dr. Levi hopes you will be able to fly home in the executive plane tomorrow afternoon with Mr. Winborn.”

  “It is not going to be a big affair?” she asked suddenly anxious.

  “No, madame. Later, of course there will be a memorial service, but for the private service, just you, Mr. Winborn, the staff and Miss Sheila.”

  Helga stiffened.

  “Miss Sheila?”

  “Yes, madame. She has arrived. I saw her this morning. She would like to meet you. If it would be convenient she would come here at six o’clock.”

  Helga hesitated.

  She thought of the redheaded girl and she could hear again those cruel words: When a middle-aged woman gets hot pants for a boy young enough to be her son, cold water helps.

  Inwardly, she flinched.

  Then she remembered the sacrifice she was going to make by giving Winborn the letter. Because she refused to cheat, this girl, now living rough, would suddenly become a millionaires! Surely this girl would admire her for her sacrifice and regret what she had said.

  “Of course, Hinkle. I must see her.”

  “Very well, madame.” Hinkle positively beamed. “If you feel strong enough, it is quite safe for you to come downstairs and enjoy the sun. With the assistance of the police I have gotten rid of the press. The Inspector was good enough to leave a couple of men on guard to see you are not bothered. Dr. Levi will be coming in half an hour.”

  “All right, Hinkle. I am so grateful f
or what you have done and are doing.”

  With a happy expression on his fat face, Hinkle wheeled the trolley from the room.

  * * *

  Nervous and restless, Helga sat on the terrace under a sun umbrella. She kept looking at her watch. The time was 17.50. In ten more minutes the girl who called herself Terry Shields would arrive.

  Dr. Levi had come and gone. He had offered tranquilizers, had warned her not to exert herself, had offered condolences and as Helga didn’t encourage him, he finally bowed himself out.

  Nurse Fairely also took her leave. Kind as she was, Helga was glad to see her go.

  Now, she was alone except for Hinkle who she could hear pottering around in the kitchen, probably preparing something for dinner. She thought of Winborn. He would be arriving the following morning. Once he had read Herman’s letter, his claws would be unsheathed, but she was beyond caring.

  The sound of a discreet cough made her look around, Hinkle was standing in the doorway.

  “Miss Sheila, madame,” he said and stood aside to let Terry pass around him, then he moved out of sight.

  Helga watched the girl come across the patio with quick, purposeful strides. She was wearing a white T-shirt and dark blue jeans. Her red-gold hair glittered in the sun. She walked straight up to Helga and looked down at her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, and Helga was surprised at the concern in her voice.

  “I’ve gotten over it, thank you. Won’t you sit down?”

  Terry pulled up a chair and sat down, her knees together, her slim hands in her lap.

  “I owe you an apology and an explanation,” she said, looking directly at Helga. “My exit line when we last met was indefensible. All I can say is I regret saying it and hope you don’t hate me for it. You see, Dick means a lot to me and when my men are threatened, I behave like an ill-mannered bitch.”

  Taken aback, Helga said, “You should never regret telling the truth. So Dick means a lot to you?”

  “Yes. He intrigues me. I see a big future for him. I am reeducating him.”

  “Are you? Will he appreciate that?”

  “He needs to be reeducated. He realizes he is very mixed up. So many people are. I have explained that to him. It is not a matter of liking or appreciating. People don’t like changes, but he accepts he must be reeducated. I intend to take him back to Paris with me. He will make a tremendous impact once he gets there.”

  What the hell is all this? Helga asked herself, feeling bewildered.

  “Impact?” she asked. “In what way?”

  “By his powers. He is a genuine voodoo doctor.”

  Helga stiffened.

  “A voodoo doctor? Surely you don’t believe in that ridiculous cult?”

  “It is only those who know absolutely nothing about voodoo who talk like that,” Terry said quietly. “There is good and evil voodoo. Dick had an evil master. I’m going to teach him to do good with his powers.”

  “I suppose you know he made an obscene effigy of your father?”

  Terry nodded.

  “Yes, but it wasn’t obscene. He made it because you were forcing him to leave here. It was wrong, of course, but he was desperate and you mustn’t forget he is young and very immature.”

  “You really believe he put your father in a coma?”

  “Of course.”

  Helga suppressed a shudder.

  “And you know he began to make a doll resembling me?”

  “Yes, but I stopped that,” Terry said crisply. “That is what I mean about evil voodoo. I have got him over that now. In Paris he will have a large following. In time he may be like the guru with his Rolls-Royce. People will flock to him once he has been reeducated.”

  Helga felt bewildered. She shifted to more familiar ground.

  “All this will cost money, won’t it?”

  Terry shrugged.

  “Oh, money will come. Once Dick convinces people he is genuine, money will roll in.”

  “But won’t you need money to get him to Paris?”

  “That’s no problem. After I had talked to him, he sold his bike to some rich creep who couldn’t wait six months for the next delivery. He got seven thousand dollars for it. No, money isn’t important. The important thing is to keep him thinking on the right lines and to make sure he uses his powers in the right way.”

  “You do realize he has done an evil think and that he is also a thief?”

  Terry smiled.

  “But no longer.”

  “Are you quite sure people will need a boy like Dick?”

  “Of course, but why discuss it? I can see you don’t understand. I suppose I am an oddball but I like influencing people. I like putting ideas into their minds. Quite often those ideas grow rewardingly.”

  Again Helga shifted ground.

  “Why did you come to Nassau?”

  Terry looked directly at her.

  “I wanted a close-up of you. I was curious to see the woman my father married.”

  “I can understand that. I hope you are now satisfied.”

  “Yes I am. Frankly, I was sorry for you, but not now. I am pleased that after putting up with my father for what must have seemed an interminable time, you have finally won through.”

  Helga stared at her.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You love all the trappings that go with money, don’t you? There are very few women who could take on the role of Mrs. Herman Rolfe as well as you do. If anyone deserves my father’s money and who can handle it as it should be handled, it’s you. You’ve worked hard enough.”

  This was so unexpected that Helga had to look away. Finally, steadying her voice, she said, “Yes, I have worked for it, but I have also cheated. I have something here for you to read.”

  She drew the red folder from under her cushion and handed it to Terry.

  The girl looked sharply at her, then opened the folder and took out Rolfe’s letter.

  “You want me to read this?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Helga got to her feet and wandered down to the swimming pool. Well, this is it, she thought. I’ve done the correct think. I shall regret it, but at least I can wear a brass halo.

  After a while, she came back and sat down. Terry had put the red folder on the table.

  They looked at each other.

  “Congratulations,” Helga said. “You can now buy your guru a Rolls without the support of the people.”

  “This is old hat.” Terry flicked the red folder. “Dick read it and told me about it. That was when he was so uneducated he even suggested we married and he would get rid of you and share all my father’s money with me.” She laughed. “I put that right.”

  Helga stared at her.

  “So he was going to be a murderer as well as a thief and a blackmailer.”

  “That’s right. He is primitive.” Terry smiled, shaking her head. “That’s why I find him so intriguing. All that is in the past.”

  Helga gave up.

  “Well anyway, you are now a millionaires. How does it feel?”

  Terry again shook her head.

  “I am disappointed in you. I was under the impression you were highly intelligent. I wouldn’t touch a dime of my father’s money. If I could earn a million it just might give me a kick, but not otherwise.” She smiled. “It would be fun to try, but of course, it will never happen. No. I don’t want the million.”

  Regarding her, Helga realized with a sense of shock this girl meant what she was saying.

  “If you don’t want the money now, you may later. I will ask Winborn to put it in trust for you.”

  “You will do nothing of the kind! Now listen to me!” Terry’s eyes had turned angry. “You were only married to my father for a few years. I had to live with him for twenty years. I loathed him. He was a mean, narrow-minded, soulless machine with a sadistic streak in him that made him as ruthless as a dictator! He treated my mother shamefully. He hadn’t a spark of kindness nor understanding i
n him. He made me sick to my stomach and I walked out on him as soon as my mother died. She was one of the old-fashioned fools who stick to their men no matter how they are treated. I call myself Terry Shields because I can’t stand the sound of his name. I repeat: I would rather starve to death than take a dime of his rotten money!”

  Shocked, Helga stared at her.

  “But you can’t . . .”

  “Hear me out!” Terry’s voice rose. “I am only going to his funeral because I don’t want to hurt Hinkle. He imagines in his kind, out-of-this-world way that I was fond of my father. Without Hinkle I don’t think my mother nor I would have been able to endure the misery of living with Herman Rolfe. From what you have said, it seems you intend to give this letter to Winborn. If you do, then I am really and truly disappointed in you. This letter was written by a sadistic egomaniac! If you tell me you couldn’t live with your conscience if you didn’t obey his mean death wish, then I say you are trying to make a martyr of yourself and I assure you, you don’t fit the role of a martyr. Remember this: the dead don’t care. It is the living who matter.” She got to her feet. “I hope very soon to be reading about the fabulous Mrs. Herman Rolfe doing fabulous things and having the time of her life.” She smiled: a wide, friendly smile. “See you in church,” and turning, she walked across the patio and down to the beach.

  Motionless, Helga watched her until she was out of sight.

  “I overheard the last part of the conversation, madame,” Hinkle said as he came forward with a cocktail shaker and a glass on a tray. “As I have already observed: a remarkable young person with character.” He placed the tray on the table and then poured the drink.

  “Your suggestions are always sound, Hinkle.”

  “I like to think so, madame.” He paused. “Perhaps an omelet for dinner?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  She watched him walk away, carrying the red folder and she relaxed back in her chair.

  At last the magic key was hers!