Just Another Sucker (5 page)

‘I’m just warning you,’ I said. ‘You and your stepdaughter and I would feel pretty sick if we landed behind bars.’

‘How many more times do I have to tell you? There is no question of that.’ Her voice was stifled with irritated impatience. ‘Can I rely on you or can’t I?’

‘You’ve given me the bare outlines of your idea. Suppose you tell me exactly what you want me to do,’ I said, ‘then I’ll be able to decide.’

‘Odette will disappear; you will telephone my husband.’ Her voice was exasperated. ‘You will tell him she has been kidnapped, and she will be returned on payment of five hundred thousand dollars. You will make my husband believe that if he doesn’t pay the ransom, Odette won’t be returned. You will have to be convincing, but I am relying on you for that.’

‘Does your husband scare easily?’ I asked.

‘He is very fond of his daughter,’ she said quietly. ‘In these circumstances, he will scare easily.’

‘Then what do I do?’

‘You arrange how he is to pay the money. You collect it, you take your share and give the rest to me.’

‘And your stepdaughter, of course.’

She paused before she said, ‘Yes, of course.’

‘It sounds pretty simple,’ I said. ‘The one snag is you may not know your husband as well as you imagine you do. He may not scare easily. He may call in the police. A man who has made the fortune he has must have plenty of what it takes. Have you considered that?’

‘I told you: I can handle him.’ She drew on her cigarette so the glowing tip lit up her glistening red mouth. ‘He is ill. Two or three years ago, this wouldn’t have been possible. A very sick man, Mr.

Barber, hasn’t much resistance when someone he loves seems to be in danger.’

I had a slightly sick feeling to imagine that but for the grace of God this woman could have been my wife.

‘You probably know more about that than I do,’ I said.

Again there was a pause. I could feel her hostility as she stared towards me out of the darkness.

‘Well? Are you going to do it or aren’t you?’

Again I thought of the fifty thousand dollars. This wasn’t something to rush into, but given thought, given a detailed plan, it might possibly work.

‘I want to think about it,’ I said. ‘I’ll give you my decision tomorrow. Suppose you telephone me here at eleven?’

‘Can’t you say yes or no now?’

‘I want to think about it. I’ll give you a definite decision tomorrow.’

She got to her feet. Opening her bag, she took out a small roll of bills and dropped them on the table that stood between us.

‘This should cover the cost of the cabin and any other expenses you may have. I’ll telephone tomorrow.’

She went away as silently as she had come, disappearing into the darkness like a ghost.

I picked up the money she had left on the table. There were ten ten-dollar bills. I slid them through my fingers, multiplying them in my mind five hundred times.

The time was now ten minutes after ten. I had a couple of hours yet before I need return home. I sat there in the moonlight, staring at the sea and I considered her proposal. I considered it from every angle: particularly the risk involved.

A few minutes after midnight, I made my decision. It wasn’t an easy one to make, but I was influenced by the money she was offering me. With that sum I could make a new life for Nina and myself.

On my terms, and my terms only, I decided to do what she wanted me to do.

The following morning, I went down to the cabin early. I told Bill Holden I wanted to keep the cabin on for at least another day, possibly longer, and I paid him the rent for two days.

I sat in the sun outside the cabin until a few minutes to eleven, then I went in and sat by the telephone.

Exactly at eleven o’clock the telephone bell rang. I picked up the receiver.

‘Barber here,’ I said.

‘Is it yes or no?’

‘It’s yes,’ I said, ‘but there are conditions. I want to talk to you and the other party. Come here with her at nine o’clock tonight.’

I didn’t give her a chance to argue. I hung up. I wanted her to realise that the initiative had passed from her to me now, and it was going to stay that way.

The telephone bell rang, but I didn’t answer. I went out of the cabin, shut and locked the door.

The bell was still ringing as I walked away to where I had parked the Packard.

II

I returned to the cabin just after six. I had been home and had collected a number of articles. Nina had been out which was lucky for me as she would have wanted to know why I needed a long length of flex, my tool kit and the tape recorder I had bought when I was working for the
Herald
and which she had kept for me all this time.

The two hours I had spent the previous night examining Rhea Malroux’s plan hadn’t been wasted. I had quickly realised that it was essential for my safety to make absolutely certain neither Rhea nor her stepdaughter left me holding the baby if anything happened to go wrong. I had decided to make a record of our conversation this night: neither of them would know of the recording, but if Malroux did call in the police, and there was always that risk, then these two couldn’t deny knowing anything about the plan nor shunt the blame onto me.

When I reached the cabin, I took the recorder into the bedroom and put it in the closet. The machine ran pretty silently, but there was just a chance one of them on the alert might hear it if it was in the sitting-room. I bored a small hole in the back of the closet through which I passed the mains lead. This I took into the sitting-room and plugged into a two-way adaptor that was controlled by the switch at the door. I satisfied myself that when I entered the cabin and turned on the light, the recorder and the light in the sitting-room would be switched on simultaneously.

I spent some minutes trying to make up my mind where to conceal the microphone. I finally decided to fix it under a small occasional table that stood in a corner, out of the way, but with an uninterrupted field of sound.

All this took time. By seven o’clock, I had had a practice run and I was satisfied the recorder worked as I wanted it to work, and the microphone picked up the sound of my voice from any part of the room.

The only two snags I could think of were if the two women wouldn’t go into the cabin, and if they didn’t want the light on. I thought I would be able to persuade them to enter the cabin. I could point out someone might be out for an evening stroll and might spot us if we didn’t keep out of sight. If they wanted the light out, I could turn the lamp off by the switch on the lamp and not by the switch at the door.

There were still a number of people on the beach, but the crowd was thinning. In another hour, the beach would be deserted.

I was just gathering up my tools when there came a knock on the door. I had been so preoccupied with what I had been doing the sharp rap made me start. For a moment I stood staring at the door. Then I shoved my tool kit under a cushion and went to the door. I opened it.

Bill Holden stood there.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Barber,’ he said. ‘I wanted to know if you’re keeping the cabin on for tomorrow. I have had an inquiry for it.’

‘I want to keep it for a week, Bill,’ I said. ‘I’m writing a few articles and it is a good place for me to work. I’ll settle with you at the end of the week, if that’s okay with you.’

‘Sure thing, Mr. Barber. It’s yours until the end of the week.’

When he had gone, I collected my tool kit, locked up and went over to the Packard. I didn’t feel like going home so I drove to a sea food restaurant about half a mile down the road. By the time I had eaten, the hands of my watch showed twenty minutes to nine.

It was getting dark.

I drove back to the cabin. The beach was now deserted. I remembered not to turn on the light. I could just see my way to the air-conditioner which I put on. I wanted the cabin to be invitingly cool when they arrived. Out on the veranda it was hot: too hot for comfort, but I loosened my tie and sat out there in a lounging chair.

I was pretty tense, and I wondered if Rhea would be late again, and what the stepdaughter, Odette, would be like.

I wondered too, after they had listened to what I was going to say, if they would have the nerve to go ahead with this plan.

A few minutes after nine, I heard a sound and looking quickly to my left, I saw Rhea Malroux coming up the three steps to the veranda. She was alone.

I got to my feet.

‘Good evening, Mr. Barber,’ she said, moving towards one of the chairs.

‘Let’s go inside,’ I said. ‘Someone passed just now. We shouldn’t be seen together.’ I opened the cabin door and turned on the light. ‘Where’s your stepdaughter?’

She followed me into the cabin and I closed the door.

‘She’ll be along, I suppose,’ she said, indifferently. She sat down in one of the lounging chairs. She was wearing a pale blue, sleeveless dress. Her slim legs were bare and she had on flat-heeled sandals.

She took off the scarf that covered her head and shook free her sable-dyed hair with a quick jerk of her head. She still wore the green sun goggles and these she kept on.

‘I’m not touching this job until I’ve talked to her,’ I said. ‘I want to be sure, Mrs. Malroux, that she knows about this kidnapping idea, and she agrees to it.’

Rhea looked sharply at me.

‘Of course she agrees to it,’ she said curtly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I want to hear her say it herself,’ I said and sat down. Then speaking entirely for the benefit of the tape recorder, I went on, ‘It’s not an unreasonable request. You tell me you and your stepdaughter have concocted a plan where your stepdaughter pretends to be kidnapped. You two are urgently in need of four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The only way you can get this sum from your husband is to fake a kidnapping. If I help you, you will pay me fifty thousand dollars.’ I paused, then went on, ‘Kidnapping is a capital offence. I want to be absolutely sure your stepdaughter knows what she is doing.’

Rhea said impatiently, ‘Of course she knows what she is doing… she isn’t a child.’

‘And you are satisfied your husband won’t call in the police?’ I said.

She began to drum on the arm of her chair.

‘You seem to have a natural talent for wasting time,’ she said. ‘We’ve been all over this before, haven’t we?’

I was satisfied. With that short conversation on tape, she now couldn’t deny being implicated if we hit trouble.

I looked at my watch: the time was half past nine.

‘I’m not discussing this job nor am I touching it until I can talk to your stepdaughter,’ I said.

Rhea lit a cigarette.

‘I told her to come,’ she said, ‘but she seldom does what she is told. You don’t expect me to drag her here, do you?’

I heard the sound of someone moving about outside.

‘Maybe this is her now,’ I said. ‘I’ll see.’

I went to the door and opened it.

A girl stood on the bottom of the steps, looking up at me.

For a long moment, we stared at each other.

‘Hello,’ she said and she smiled at me.

Odette Malroux was small and finely made. She was wearing a feather-weight cashmere white sweater and a pair of leopard skin patterned jeans. Her outfit was calculated to show off the shape of her body. She had raven black hair, like Nina’s, which was parted in the centre and fell to her shoulders in a careless but effective way. Her face was heart shaped and her complexion pallid. She could be any age from sixteen to twenty-five. Her eyes were slate grey. Her nose was pinched and small. Her mouth was a careless crimson gash of lipstick. She gave out an over-all picture of corrupt youth. You can find girls exactly like her in any juvenile court: defiant, rebellious, frustrated, sexually blasé, heading nowhere: one of the legion of the young lost.

‘Miss Malroux?’

She giggled, then came up the steps, slowly.

‘You must be Ali Baba – how are all the thieves?’

‘Oh, come on in, Odette,’ Rhea called impatiently. ‘Save your wit for your moronic friends.’

The girl wrinkled her nose, making a grimace, then she winked at me. She moved past me into the cabin. She had a deliberately cultivated duck-tail walk. Her neat little behind moved as if on a swivel.

I closed the door.

I was thinking of the recorder. The tape had about forty minutes to run. I would have to hurry this up if I was to get the whole conversation recorded.

‘Hello, darling Rhea,’ Odette said, dropping into a lounging chair near the chair where I had been sitting. ‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’

‘Oh, shut up!’ Rhea snapped. ‘Be quiet and listen. Mr. Barber wants to talk to you.’

The girl looked at me and fluttered her eyelids. She drew up her legs under her, put one hand on her hip and the other to support her face and became mockingly grave.

‘Please do talk to me. Mr. Baba.’

I looked into the slate grey eyes. The juvenile pose didn’t kid me for a moment. Those eyes were a complete give away – something she couldn’t conceal. They were the unhappy, puzzled eyes of a girl who wasn’t sure of herself, knew she was going the wrong way, and not strong enough to do anything about it.

‘I want to hear this direct from you,’ I said. ‘Are you a party to this kidnapping idea?’

The girl looked swiftly at Rhea and then at me.

‘A party to it?’ She giggled. ‘Isn’t he a doll, darling Rhea? Yes, of course, I’m a party to it. Darling Rhea and me thought it up between us. It’s a great idea, isn’t it?’

‘Is it?’ I stared at her. ‘Your father mightn’t think so.’

‘That’s no concern of yours,’ Rhea snapped. ‘Now, if you are satisfied, perhaps we can discuss this thing.’

‘We can talk about it,’ I said. ‘When does it happen?’

‘As soon as it can be arranged – the day after tomorrow perhaps,’ Rhea said.

‘Miss Malroux disappears – where is she disappearing to?’

‘Call me Odette,’ the girl said, and she pushed her chest out at me. ‘All my friends do…’

Ignoring her, Rhea said, ‘There is a quiet, small hotel at Carmel. She can go there. It will only be for three or four days.’

‘How will she get there?’

Rhea moved impatiently.