‘All set, Misty? Mr. Gerastan and Marvin are down by the pool.’
He led me back the way I had come, and on the terrace he left me, disappearing back into the house. As I walked down towards the pool, two men who were standing on the far side turned towards me. One was Marvin, who looked even more beautiful undressed, and the other was Roger Gerastan.
I must confess to disappointment when I first saw him. The man with Marvin was short, barely five feet eight inches, with snow-white hair. His body was well kept and very brown, and he moved easily like a man who knew how to take care of himself. It wasn’t until he reached me that I realised one didn’t even notice his height anymore. He had the lightest blue eyes I had ever seen, like pieces of chipped ice. He had a long, straight nose and a mouth that looked as though it had been chopped into his face with a clean blow from a sharp machete. His eyebrows were white, as was the hair on his body; his hands were small and beautifully kept. But it was the eyes that both fascinated and repelled at the same time; they had a near-hypnotic quality which made one forget that the man behind them was only five feet eight inches tall, and not at all attractive.
Marvin introduced us and I had to strain to hear what Gerastan said. He spoke very softly and slowly, as though he were examining each word carefully before putting it into circulation.
‘It’s very nice of you to come all this way just to see an old recluse like me,’ he said. ‘You should have told me she was beautiful, Marvin.’
‘I did.’
‘You didn’t do her justice,’ he said. ‘I hope your room is comfortable.’
‘I love blue,’ I said, wishing that he would stop looking at me with those chips of ice. He hadn’t even stopped when he was talking to Marvin, continuing to regard me with a steady gaze which gave me absolutely no clue to what he was thinking.
‘We were just going to have a drink,’ he said. ‘Come.’ He took my elbow and led me towards a small bar set up at the edge of the pool. ‘Champagne, of course,’ he said.
‘Of course,’ I agreed. He opened a bottle deftly and poured three glasses. He handed me one and allowed Marvin to get his own. Then he raised his glass.
‘Welcome to Santhoma, Katherine,’ he said. ‘I don’t like abbreviated names. You don’t mind?’
‘I like it very much.’
‘Good. Come and sit with me.’ He led the way towards a couple of lounging chairs, ignoring Marvin, who stayed at the bar. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you, Katherine,’ he said.
‘From whom?’
‘From Marvin, of course.’
‘I’ve only met him a couple of times,’ I said. ‘And one of those he was away on a trip.’
‘Marvin’s like that,’ he said. ‘But he doesn’t do anyone any harm.’
‘Except himself, perhaps.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Gerastan. ‘But that’s his problem.’
There was silence for a moment, during which he continued to regard me steadily. I tried to fill it in.
‘This is a beautiful place, Mr. Gerastan.’
‘Roger, please.’
I smiled gratefully, with just sufficient demureness to fit the occasion.
‘Why did you want to meet me, Katherine?’ I should have had notice of this question, and I tried to make the answer sound as convincing as possible without going over the top.
‘What girl wouldn’t want to meet the mysterious Roger Gerastan,’ I said. ‘You’re quite a celebrity.’ If he thought I was flattering him, he didn’t acknowledge it.
‘Any other girl, perhaps. But not you, Katherine.’
‘What’s so different about me?’
‘Come, my dear. You’re too intelligent to ask me a question like that.’
‘I am?’
He didn’t bother to answer. ‘It may interest you to know that if you hadn’t asked Marvin to bring you out to see me, then I would have asked him.’
‘You would? Whatever for?’
‘I was interested. Very interested.’
‘In little old me?’
‘Stop that nonsense, Katherine. It doesn’t suit you and you’re not very good at it.’
‘At what?’
‘The “little old me” type of line belittles you.’
‘You seem to have a very clear idea of the sort of girl I am, Mr. Gerastan.’ If he noticed that I had used his surname, he didn’t say so.
‘Bring us some more champagne, Marvin,’ he called. Marvin fetched the bottle and refilled our glasses. He was looking more like a house servant every moment, and I didn’t like to see it.
’Why don’t you join us, Marvin?’ I said. I saw him flash a look at Gerastan, and although I’d swear Gerastan didn’t move a muscle, Marvin obviously saw some sort of message, because he smiled apologetically at me.
‘Not just now, Katy,’ he said. ‘I’m dying for a swim.’
He turned and dived into the pool and started to swim up and down vigorously, making plenty of noise to let us know where he was.
‘The picture I have of you is not as complete as I would like,’ said Gerastan, continuing the conversation as though we had not been interrupted. ‘You are something of an enigma.’
I started to say ‘little old me’ again, but thought better of it. ‘You flatter me,’ I said instead. ‘I’m just a working girl, plain and simple.’
‘You’re certainly not plain, and I doubt very much that you are simple. As to being a working girl, you may be telling the truth there, but working at what?’
I told him, although I was pretty sure by now that he wasn’t going to believe me. ‘I’m an air hostess.’
‘So you would have us all believe.’
‘It’s true,’ I said. ‘Whether you believe it or not.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ he said. ‘But is it the whole story?’
‘You mean, do I have a job on the side?’
‘Do you?’
‘I wish I had,’ I said. ‘We’re not paid all that much. It’s not the glamorous career that it’s painted.’
‘Why do you do it, then?’
‘It’s a living. Better than being a secretary or a shop assistant.’
‘Or a policewoman.’
‘Or a policewoman,’ I said.
He looked as though he were going to say something else; then he glanced towards the terrace. Angel was standing there and, as Gerastan looked at him, he made some well-concealed signal. Gerastan turned back to me.
’Enjoy yourself, Katherine,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I must leave you for a while. I shall see you at dinner.’ He got to his feet and headed towards Angel.
How much did he know about me? That ‘policewoman’ remark hit below the belt and it hurt. And, just as important as how much he knew was from whom he had learned it. I was still trying to sort this lot out when a dripping Marvin joined me, flopping down on the chair vacated by Gerastan.
‘What do you think of our man of mystery?’ he said. He seemed more at ease now that Gerastan was no longer with us.
‘Like you said, a man of mystery.’
‘What were you talking about?’
‘He seemed to doubt that I was an air hostess. He thinks I’ve got other interests. What did you tell him about me, Marvin?’
‘Nothing much. I said there was an attractive girlfriend of mine who was dying to meet him.’
‘Did you mention my name?’
‘Certainly.’
‘And that’s when he agreed to have you bring me up here?’
Marvin suddenly looked thoughtful. ‘That’s funny,’ he said.
‘What is?’
‘What you just said. It was exactly like that. He started to give me an argument and I said Katy would be disappointed. He asked me, “Katy who?” and I told him. Then he agreed that I could bring you over.’
‘Which presupposes he knew my name,’ I said.
‘I don’t see how.’
‘Nor do I at the moment,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you could find out?’
�
�Not if he doesn’t want to tell me.’
‘What’s with you and him, Marvin?’ I asked. ‘You’re a different person when he’s around.’ He looked away from me nervously. But I pressed on. ‘Are you frightened of him or something?’
He smiled ruefully. ‘It shows, does it? If you must know, my inquisitive little Katy, I’m mad about him—and he scares the living daylights out of me.’
‘What do you mean “mad about him”?’ I asked, a little naïvely.
‘Just exactly that,’ he said. I stared at him long and hard, and at least he had the grace to blush.
‘Does he know?’ I asked, finally.
‘Of course he knows. He gets a minor kick out of having me hang around like I do.’
‘So why do it?’
‘He throws me a crumb occasionally.’
‘You mean he’s bent?’ I was astonished.
‘Like a hickory stick,’ said Marvin.
‘You told me he was a dirty old man.’
‘So he is, but heterosexuals don’t have a monopoly of that condition.’
‘You said he liked pretty girls.’
‘Most of us do, darling.’ He had never looked so queer as he did at that moment. But this wasn’t what concerned me. If what he was saying was true, and there didn’t seem any reason to doubt him, then Mary had been feeding me a lot of rubbish. Queers just don’t go around raping their female houseguests.
We were asked whether we wanted lunch indoors or outdoors, and we opted to eat by the pool. The lunch was a cold buffet, but it was magnificent, served by two more Mexican house servants who might lave learned their business at the Tour d’Argent. After lunch Marvin asked me if I would like to see around the grounds. What I really wanted was to be on my own, where I could indulge in a little top-level thinking. But a conducted tour of the place couldn’t do any harm; one never knew when this sort of knowledge would turn out to be very useful indeed. So I returned to my room and changed into slacks, a shirt and a magnificent pair of Western boots that could have been made for me they were so comfortable. I topped this sartorial binge with a wide-brimmed Stetson and, feeling like Calamity Jane, I went to join Marvin.
Nobody looked at us as we walked out of the courtyard, but later I noticed that the two men who had been lounging against the front door when we came out seemed to be lounging whichever way we turned: against the tree over there, behind those shrubs. I mentioned this to Marvin after twenty minutes.
‘Doesn’t he trust us?’ I asked.
‘Who?’
‘Gerastan. We’re being followed by Wild Bill Hickok and Wyatt Earp over there.’
‘It’s their job,’ said Marvin.
‘I don’t like being followed.’
‘It happens all the time at Santhoma.’
‘Not to me. I’m going to do something about it.’
He tried to dissuade me, and when he couldn’t he opted out altogether and headed back towards the house. Wild Bill started to follow him but, when he realised where he was going, changed his mind and came back to join Wyatt, the two of them meaning to keep an eye on the wandering stranger. I realise now it was a stupid idea, but I was bored and a little annoyed, and more important, I thought it would serve as a dummy run and give me a good idea of the efficiency of their security precautions. I played it very cool, lulling Wild Bill and Wyatt into a sense of false security. I sniffed some flowers, admired the lake and picked a couple of rhododendron-like shrubs. Then, about ten minutes later, I disappeared.
It was very simple, actually. I shinned up a tree and waited in a lower branch. Wild Bill and Wyatt wandered into view, saw that I had gone missing and, still not over-concerned, split up and circled around the area where I might have gone. Five minutes later they realised that they were in trouble, but by then they were out of my sight.
From my position in the tree I was able to see a good portion of the grounds and of the house, enough to notice that the wall circled the entire property without a break except for the gate we had come through on our way from the airfield. All this was very interesting, and I was about to climb higher when all hell broke loose. A siren started up from the house, and a moment later the grounds seemed full of cowboys and bloody great dogs. Two helicopters appeared overhead and I could see men with binoculars leaning out, searching the ground beneath them.
Fortunately, I played it the correct way. I stayed up in the tree and whistled a couple of the dogs over. Then, when they were leaping and slavering around the base of the tree, I started to scream for help. Two minutes later the dogs had been leashed and Angel was helping me down from the tree.
‘What were you doing up there, Misty?’ he asked.
‘Getting away from those bloody great hounds,’ I answered. ‘And don’t try to tell me their bark is worse than their bite.’
He grinned. ‘No, it’s not,’ he said.
‘If I hadn’t been near that tree I’d be dogs’ meat by now,’ I said.
‘How come the fellows lost you?’ he asked.
‘You’d better ask the fellows,’ I said, full of righteous indignation. ‘All I know is that I was minding my own business, and the next thing the hounds of the Baskervilles were baying at my heels.’
I don’t know whether he believed me or not, but he wasn’t about to call one of the houseguests a liar.
‘Don’t wander around alone, Misty. It could be dangerous,’ he said, walking me back towards the house.
’Could be! It bloody well is! What’s the point? What’s it all about?’
‘Mr. Gerastan is a very big man,’ said Angel. ‘Lots of people would like to do him harm. We’re here to see that they don’t.’
‘You do it very well,’ I said.
I left him at the front door and went back to my room. There I stripped off for siesta. But sleep wasn’t part of the plan. It was thinking time again.
From whom had Roger Gerastan learned so much about me? It couldn’t have been Marvin, because he didn’t know anything. Don Scamper? But he’s never met Gerastan. Then, of course, it came to me, and once again I started to curse the sentimental impulse that had taken me on my pilgrimage to Cumming-on-Hardy. It had to have been Mr. Beamish of the sandy hair and nasty disposition. As security officer, he had no doubt put the details of my visit on the teletype to all branches of the Gerastan Corporation. My name and description would have been checked against files just to make sure I hadn’t turned up anywhere else with a different cover story. And from somewhere along the line an order must have come back to him to release me. But by that time I would have been labelled and docketed in every Gerastan security file throughout the world.
Obviously Roger Gerastan had come across my name, or perhaps he had been informed that the Katherine Touchfeather, who wanted to meet him via Marvin Torbay, was already on the security files. Whichever it was, he would know I wasn’t just a fan blinded by the glory of his name. This led me to my second problem. If he knew I wasn’t what I purported to be, why had he agreed to receive me at Santhoma? And what were his intentions? I was in the eye of the hurricane, and if I couldn’t find out, then I was in the wrong job.
In spite of my good intentions, I dozed off, waking up about five o’clock, a little hungover from the champagne and the wine we had drunk with lunch. I climbed off the bed and started to run myself a bath. Then, still naked, I padded into the dressing room to pick out what I was going to wear for dinner. I wanted something elegant, but very feminine; if there was going to be any rough stuff for dessert, I didn’t want anyone forgetting I was just a girl. I was poking through the wardrobe when suddenly I remembered that when Marvin had shown me to my room, he had said something about a small sitting room leading off from the dressing room. I’m not even sure why I was interested; I suppose it was just curiosity, or maybe I wanted to see how many more shades of blue had been dreamed up by the designer of the place.
Still naked, I opened the door and stepped through. The blue was all there, like the bedroom and the bathroom, a smal
l, comfortable-looking room with a bar against one wall. I was delighted to see the bar, because suddenly I needed a drink very badly. Because blue decor and bar notwithstanding, the first thing I saw when I opened the door from the dressing room was a man sitting in an armchair, obviously waiting for something. I shouldn’t have been surprised, I suppose. But I was, and I was delirious, too, and ecstatic and terrified and horrified and just plain dumbfounded. It was Bill.
FIFTEEN
‘Hello, Katy,’ he said.
Now, Katy girl, I thought, training to the fore, self-control; play it cool. No panic and no hysteria.
‘Excuse me,’ I said. I turned back into the dressing room, selected a robe and I pulled it on over my nakedness. Then I took a deep breath to stop myself from passing clear out, and walked back into the sitting room. He smiled at me as I came back in, that gentle, slightly crooked smile that I loved... Steady on, Katy! Forget the love bit for the moment. There’s sorting out to do first.
‘Modest, Katy?’ he said as I came back in. ‘That’s new.’
I sat down on a chair facing him, gently as though my backside were made of eggshells.
‘Well, well,’ I said. I couldn’t think of anything else.
‘How are you, Katy?’
‘I’m fine, thank you. How are you?’
‘Fine. You look well.’
‘So do you.’ And that seemed to exhaust the platitudes.
‘Don’t you want to know what I’ve been doing?’ he said.
‘Only if you want to tell me,’ I lied.
‘I thought you would have been a little more enthusiastic,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry, Bill.’ There, I’d said his name. ‘But no doubt when the numbness wears off, I’ll behave more to pattern.’
‘That’s more like the Katy I know,’ he said. He got to his feet and for one awful moment I thought he was going to cross the room and touch me. But then he turned and moved over to the bar.
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