by David Dodge
He badly wanted a swim. But he knew that even if he could find some little isolated cove down the coast where no one would notice that Mr. Burns in bathing trunks was oddly muscular through the chest and shoulders, he would still have to worry about his dyed hair and artificial eyebrows. He could not take any unnecessary risk, now that he had gone so far. His luck had been good. If it held for a few days, another week or two at the most, he could have the swim like a free man and go back to the Villa des Bijoux, to Germaine’s cooking and the garden, the good dog and the hunting trips, the scent of flowers in the evening, the boule games in the village, the sweating pleasure of a difficult climb across a cliff face, the long, lazy talks with Paul, all of it. If his luck held. If not—
He refused to think of the alternative. He made up his mind not to think at all until it was time for him to talk to Coco and Le Borgne. Seven o’clock would come soon enough.
He closed his eyes.
He was half asleep when he became aware that someone stood in front of his chair, and was looking at him. He came fully awake at once, still with his eyes closed. His first thought was, Paul? and then, Oriol? No other thought occurred to him, only the names of the two men who could recognize him.
He breathed twice, keeping his muscles slack, and opened his eyes.
It was Francie Stevens. Her brief bathing suit was wet from the sea. She wore the white bathing cap. Drops of water sparkled on her arms and shoulders and in her eyelashes. She stood there, dripping sea water, watching him. He held to the blank, empty expression of a man just awakened.
Francie nodded and smiled, suddenly.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Burns,” she said.
He had never seen her smile like that. He had wondered more than once what an expression of animation would do for her. Now he knew. She was alive, vital, sparkling. The change in her was so tangible that he found it hard to recognize her. She was Francie, but another Francie, a girl he had not seen before.
He did not wholly like the change. There was something about her, something in her expression, her very animation, that made him uneasy. He said, “Hello. Where did you spring from?”
“The diving raft. I saw you come down to the beach. I wanted to ask you a question.”
“You have good eyes, if you could see me from the raft.”
“I have very good eyes.”
“What did you want to ask me?”
“It’s rather personal.”
“That didn’t bother you the last time we talked.”
“This is different.” She laughed, breathlessly. “I’m kind of excited, I guess. You needn’t be, though, because I haven’t talked about it to anyone else yet. You’re Le Chat, aren’t you?”
3
Good muscular control had always been his most valuable asset. He kept his face blank and his muscles loose. He felt a strong urge to swallow, and fought it down. For one short, bad moment he could think of nothing but the need to keep her from seeing the involuntary movement of his throat muscles.
She watched him, the bright, expectant smile lighting her face.
He said, “I’m what?”
“You don’t want me to shout it out loud, do you?” She nodded to indicate the sunbathers lying on the beach near them. “Somebody might understand English.”
“I don’t think I heard you right. I thought you said—”
“I did. You are.” The bright smile faded slowly. “You don’t have to try to bluff me, Mr. Burns. I know. Do you me want me to tell you how I know?”
“I don’t see that it matters.” He put his hands behind his head, stretching. It gave him a chance to swallow, ease his tight throat. “If I’m the man you say I am, you’d better call the police. I might be dangerous.”
“I don’t think you’re so dangerous. And I’m not going to call the police. For awhile, anyway. I want you to hear how clever I was, first. Come on, stand up.” She held out her hand to him impatiently. “We can’t talk here.”
“Where do you want to talk?”
“We’ll walk down the beach.”
He was still marking time when he got up from the chair, going through Mr. Burns’s movements. He had no ideas, only a realization of pressing danger. An idea did not come to him until later, while they were walking. But it was instinctive with him to turn in the direction of the Hotel Napoleon and Bellini.
Francie was occupied for a moment with the strap of her bathing cap. It gave him a chance to make the first move, take his first steps in the right direction, and wait for her to follow when she had removed the cap and shaken out her hair.
They walked on the hard, wet sand at the edge of the sea. She swung the bathing cap by its strap.
“My, it’s a lovely day,” she said, breathing deeply. “Did you ever see any place in the world more beautiful than this? Look at the colors of the island off there, and the sky, and the water, and the pink and blue and green buildings on the hill. I wish I could paint.”
“I thought you didn’t like Cannes.” Mr. Burns still functioned, although only automatically.
“That was when it was dull. I don’t think it’s dull any more, since I found out about you. I never knew a jewel thief before. It’s stimulating.”
“You were going to tell me how you found out about me.”
He managed a chuckle. She said sharply, “Stop acting like Mr. Burns.”
“What shall I act like?”
“Yourself. John. That’s your real name, isn’t it?”
“I prefer Jack.”
“I prefer John. You can call me Francie.”
“All right, Francie.”
They were a third of the way to the Hotel Napoleon. He thought, I’m out of my depth. I’ll have to get her to Bellini, somehow. He’ll know what to do with her.
She said conversationally, “I wouldn’t have suspected you except that I always have to look out for Mother. People have tried to steal her jewelry before. When I read about the—you—in the papers, I was sure that Mother would catch your eye. She makes such a show wherever she goes that she couldn’t help it. Naturally I was expecting you to arrive in the neighborhood.”
“Naturally.”
“At first I was looking for somebody tall and athletic and muscular, the young man on the flying trapeze, or one of those over there, for example.” She pointed at a pair of beach tumblers doing flip-overs on the sand. “That was because of your newspaper publicity. But then I realized that nobody could really do all those tricks you were supposed to do, climbing up drainpipes and flying out of windows and the rest of it. Nobody who was really a human fly and an acrobat would leave so many signs around to prove he was a human fly and an acrobat. The answer had to be that you wanted everybody to be on watch for a kind of superman. So, of course, you wouldn’t really be a superman at all. Just someone ordinary, like Mr. Burns. And there was Mr. Burns, right under my nose.”
“Very logical. I wish you would tell me how I managed all those thefts, if I’m really not a superman. According to the papers—”
“I don’t think you’re really as stodgy as you try to look, but that’s aside from the point. You aren’t a superman, you’re a gang.”
“I am?”
“Certainly. One man couldn’t do all you are supposed to be able to do. I’m surprised the police don’t see that right away. You’re just the front man. And the brains, of course.”
“Thank you. Have you identified my helpers?”
“Only one, so far. The cute French girl. I don’t think you were very clever to let yourself be seen in public with her.”
“I suppose it was careless of me.”
He made deliberate footprints in the wet sand, toes out, heels deeply impressed, one after the other. He did not want to walk too fast. They were halfway to the Hotel Napoleon.
Francie’s footprints beside his own were small, neat, and high-arched. She said, “I suspected you first when you scraped up an acquaintance with Mother. I always suspect anyone who cultivates Mother. She�
��s a dear, but she’s kind of a rough diamond. The only reason anybody would deliberately cultivate her would be to borrow money or steal her jewelry. You didn’t try to borrow money, so you were after her jewelry.” Francie turned her head to ask him in a friendly way, “Am I impressing you with my cleverness?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll come to it. You were pretty good, everything considered, and it’s hard to put a finger on what I mean, but you’re not quite convincing, John. You’re like an American character in an English novel, if you ever read English novels. You don’t talk quite the way an American businessman ought to talk, nor act like one. Particularly an insurance man. I was engaged to an insurance man once. For a week.” She laughed. “All he ever talked about was insurance. And baseball. You never even mention your business, or baseball, or television, or Hopalong Cassidy, or politics, or wage freezes, or high prices, or anything that you ought to talk about. You’re just not American enough to carry it off.”
“What am I? Russian?”
“I don’t mean you aren’t an American. I said you weren’t American enough. You need a refresher course. I don’t think you have been in America for a long time. How long was it, John?”
“According to my passport—”
“Oh, passports!” She made a face. “I know all about passports. I’ll bet you haven’t seen the United States in five years. Ten years. How long was it?”
The beach had been narrowing while they walked. Now there were rocks ahead. They could go no farther without wading.
But they were not far from the Hotel Napoleon. He could see a curtain blowing idly in Bellini’s open window. It was the least popular end of the beach, and only a few bathers were near them. Still, traffic was heavy on the boulevard they had to cross to reach the hotel. She would have to be made to go voluntarily.
He said, “Six weeks.”
She shook her head. “Try again.”
He said tolerantly, “Francie, you’re a nice girl but you have too much imagination. You’re going to cause me unnecessary trouble if you go around telling people about the famous jewel thief you’ve discovered. I’m on a vacation. I want to relax, not explain my way out of a French jail. If I can prove to you that I left New York six weeks ago, will you forget this nonsense?”
“No.”
“What more do you want?”
“More than you can give me.” He knew from her triumphant tone that she was about to play her top card. “I cabled my ex-boyfriend in New York and had him check up on all the Burnses in the insurance business. They’re all present and accounted for. You don’t exist. So how could you have been in New York six weeks ago?”
“Your ex-boyfriend made a mistake.” He took her arm. “I’ll prove it, if you’ll walk a hundred feet with me. I’ve got a friend at the Hotel Napoleon—”
“I don’t doubt it. Let go of my wrist. You’re leaving fingerprints.”
There was a new note in her voice, not of pain. He realized that he had given something away by the unconscious force of his grip. He had to make a conscious effort to relax his fingers slightly. But he did not release her.
She said curiously, “Maybe there is something in the superman angle, after all. You’re strong, aren’t you?”
“Francie, please listen. Give me five minutes.”
“You’re still leaving fingerprints. Let go of me.”
It was flat, imperative. He released her.
She smiled again immediately. She said, “I don’t know exactly why you want to get me into the Hotel Napoleon, but I can make a pretty good guess. Please don’t be reckless. If I were to scream for help and accuse you of trying to drag me into a hotel room, you’d have a hard time enjoying your vacation afterward. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you realize it.”
They turned back from the rocks.
Their footprints had already disappeared in the wet sand. It was so hot in the open sun that most of the sun-bathers had gone under cover of the umbrellas or were in the water. He was sweating under the harness next to his skin, but he felt cold inside. He had no more ideas. He could only mark time, take a step, leave a footprint, take another step, stop when she did, go where she led. He was on a leash.
She said, “Are you going to rob Mother first, or Lady Kerry?”
“Lady Kerry, in the circumstances. Who is she?”
“Don’t be backward. I am not going to give you away, John. I told you I liked excitement, and you’re it, for the time being. Lady Kerry is the high-nosed English character your cute girl friend went to work for this afternoon.”
“Danielle?”
“If that’s her name. I’ve been expecting you to do something with her.”
“I don’t suppose I could convince you that I never saw Danielle in my life until a few days ago, or that I didn’t know she had gone to work for Lady Kerry until you told me.”
“Certainly not. I’m only surprised that you hope to get away with such an obvious plant. The Kerry jewels are famous.”
He laughed, and the laugh was not wholly an effort to keep Mr. Burns alive as long as possible. The Kerry jewels were as famous as she said, but every thief in Europe knew they were copies of the once valuable originals, which had long since gone to bolster the sagging Kerry fortunes. It was too bad he could not explain the joke.
Francie said, “If I were you, I’d leave Lady Kerry alone and rob Mother.”
“You would?”
“Even the French police are going to be smart enough to arrest your girlfriend after Lady Kerry’s jewelry disappears, and you wouldn’t want that to happen. Is Danielle your mistress?”
“No.”
“It wouldn’t be gentlemanly to say yes, would it? I’m sure you’re a gentleman. It’s one of the things I like about you. Gentleman thief has such a nice sound.” She patted his arm. “Aside from that, you can make a good thing out of Mother’s jewels. They’re insured for seventy-two thousand five hundred dollars, not counting the diamond and emerald dog you helped her win at roulette. But I suppose you already know what they are worth.”
“Yes. No. Whichever you prefer.”
“Now you sound beaten down. I’m only trying to help you, John. I think it would be a fine thing for everybody concerned if you would steal her jewels. You’d make a nice profit, she’d have the fun of spending the insurance money all over again, and the French national economy would be benefited to the extent of seventy-two thousand five hundred dollars.”
“How would you suggest that I go about it?”
She frowned. “It’s a problem, of course. She’s never had a personal maid, so it would be impossible to plant anyone on her, and she leaves the jewel case in the hotel safe all the time except when she’s asleep in the same room with it. She’s careful about bolting her door, too. Are you light on your feet?”
“When I don’t stumble over young women with silly ideas.”
“I could arrange to leave my door unlocked some night. You could get in that way. Or why couldn’t I steal them myself and smuggle them to you?”
They walked back to his deck chair. Francie Stopped there. Her eyes were bright. She said, “It would be foolproof. All you would have to do is send one of your men to get into her room sometime when she’s not there and leave marks at the window to show that The Cat had come down from the roof by rope ladder. You couldn’t have the diamond and emerald dog, of course, because it isn’t insured, but the rest of it is plenty. Another scoop for Le Chat, more publicity in the newspapers, and the police absolutely baffled. As the French say, voilà! What could be prettier?”
“Don’t talk so loud. Pretending for the moment that I’m really an honest insurance man, I wouldn’t want anybody to hear us planning to beat a London insurance company out of seventy-two thousand five hundred dollars.” His confidence was returning slowly. Even if Mr. Burns were to survive only on a leash, it was still survival. He said, “Besides, they wouldn’t pay the claim.”
“They’d have to.”
“Not if the diamond and emerald dog were left behind.”
“It has nothing to do with them. It’s not insured.”
“That’s why they’d fight the claim. They’re not stupid. A professional thief wouldn’t pass up the only piece of jewelry not covered by the policy, simply by accident.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She bit thoughtfully at her fingernail. “I could hide it, and give it back to her afterward.”
“You’d have a lot of explaining to do.”
“I’ll send it to her anonymously through the mail, then.”
“Your mother would have a lot more explaining to do, in that case. I’m sorry to be so discouraging just when you are launching your career as a thief, but the only way you could collect the insurance without answering awkward questions is to make a clean sweep.”
“I’m not going to let you have the dog. I’ll just have to think more about it, that’s all.”
She put on her bathing cap. While she was tucking her hair in and fastening the strap, she said, “I’d like you to join Mother and me for a drink this evening. We haven’t seen you at Le Petit Bar lately, and I may have some new ideas by then. Eight o’clock.”
“I’ll be glad to, some other time. I don’t think I can make it, tonight.”
“You’d better, if you know what’s good for you. Eight o’clock sharp, John.”
She smiled sweetly, turned her back, took a few running steps, and made a clean dive into the shallows. She came up on her back five yards farther out, lifted her hand to wave, then turned over and swam away, slim brown arms and white cap bobbing in the blue water.
The key was not in the lock of Bellini’s door when John got there. He went down to the promenade to wait on a bench across the boulevard from the hotel entrance.
It gave him time to think. The leash was still around his neck, but it was a long one, and it allowed him considerable freedom. When he saw Mr. Paige, the London insurance company’s agent, come out of the hotel and walk away, twisting at his fierce mustache, he went back up to Bellini’s office and found the key again in the door.
