by Colin Forbes
He had just gone when a distinguished-looking man in a cream linen suit entered. Newman grinned, stood up, called out, 'Good to see you again, Brigadier Grenville.'
Grenville was badly shaken. Hard as he tried he couldn't disguise his discomfort. Newman went over to him, hand outheld.
'It's a small world, to coin a phrase.' He grinned. 'Come and join us.'
'Well...'
Newman, still grinning, took him by the arm, guided him over to Tweed's table. He made introductions as Grenville sat down and smiled at everyone. He had made a quick recovery, Tweed thought.
'And, of course, you know Paula.' Newman concluded, sitting down. 'You danced with her the other side of the pond.'
'You're a long way from Forth Navas, Colonel -excuse me - Brigadier.' Paula teased him.
"The locals started calling me Brigadier, so I just let it go.' Grenville explained with a hint of embarrassment.
'And who are the locals?' Paula asked.
'Oh, quite a few Brits have emigrated to the Monterey Peninsula. The climate and all that. Someone had to take the initiative. he went on with growing confidence, 'so I have founded the Anglo-Pacific Club. You're all welcome to join in. No membership fee. Just have to be British. We have get-togethers in the evening, dancing, too. You'd adorn the company.' he said, looking directly at Paula.
"Thank you.'
'What do the Americans think of your club?' Tweed enquired.
'You're Tweed.'
"That's what they call me, so I suppose I must be.' he replied with a twinkle in his eyes.
'What do the Yanks think? That we're a bunch of snobs. I don't mind. Keeps out some pretty unpleasant people.'
'What sort of people?'
'You're a direct chap. More like an American.'
'What sort of people?'
Paula had the impression Tweed had decided he wasn't putting up with any nonsense from fake brigadiers. Grenville flushed.
"There you go again. Well, the area is floating with aggressive millionaires and their even more aggressive bejewelled wives. Not the sort of people you'd invite
to your club back home.'
'How did they make their money?'
'Oh, in all sorts of industries. They're a rough lot when it comes to business. Maybe they have to be.' He stared at Tweed. 'Now, sir, it's my turn. What do you do?'
'I'm Chief Claims Investigator for an insurance company.'
'Really?' Grenville seemed impressed. 'You must see a lot of the seamy side of life.'
'And the crooked side,' Tweed responded, staring back at Grenville.
'Imagine you do.'
Grenville had paused before he made this response. On the surface it seemed to Newman Grenville couldn't quite make out Tweed, who had a steely look.
Another man walked rapidly into the restaurant, wearing a beige linen suit. Then he stopped as though he'd walked into a wall. Newman jumped up, went over to him as he was turning to leave the restaurant.
'Well, well, if it isn't Maurice. The clan is gathering. I insist you join us.'
He used the same tactic as he had with Grenville, taking Maurice Prendergast by the arm, guiding him to the table. Again Newman was grinning.
'Brigadier, you must remember Maurice - he escorted Paula to your dance in Cornwall. And, Maurice, you had a brief acquaintance with Paula?'
'Nice to see you again, Paula.' Maurice said in a cold voice.
'And to see you,' she replied with a brief smile.
'Hello, Maurice,' said Tweed. 'Do sit down and join the happy party.'
He studied Prendergast. He appeared to have changed since he had met Maurice at his house, The Ark, in Forth Navas. Though he was six feet tall, his strong, clean-shaven face looked haggard. His fair hair was a mess, hadn't been brushed. The humorous smile was gone. His movements, previously slow and deliberate, were jerky.
'Hello, Tweed.' he replied dully.
'Do sit down. How about a drink?' Tweed suggested cheerfully.
'A large brandy.'
He sagged into the chair Newman had hauled over for him. As he put his elbows on the table for support, Paula contrasted him with Grenville. The so-called brigadier was his normal confident self. He pulled at his neat grey moustache as he glanced at Maurice, who was downing the drink Newman had ordered for him.
'Like another.' Maurice said, slurring his words.
Newman ordered another large brandy. The service at Rocky Point was first-rate. The second drink was served instantly. Maurice drank half of it, stared at Paula.
'What are you doing in this bloody lair of runaways?'
'Now, Maurice.' Grenville chided him in a stiff voice. 'No bad language in front of a lady.'
'If you say so.'
'I think we'd better have lunch.' said Tweed, still cheerful as he closed the menu. 'I know what I want.'
The rest of them ordered. Except for Maurice. Marler, who had not said a word since he sat down, was watching Maurice. Paula was also studying Maurice without appearing to do so.
The waiter stood by Maurice, waiting for his order. Maurice glanced up at him.
'I'm not hungry.'
'Better eat something.' Marler suggested.
'Who asked you?' Maurice demanded.
'No one did. Just a thought. People usually eat at lunch.'
'I'm not people.'
Maurice stared at Marler, who gazed back at him. Maurice was the first one to drop his eyes. He spoke to the waiter, who was leaving.
'Come back a moment.' He glanced at Newman. 'I could do with another large brandy.'
Newman looked across the table at Tweed, who nodded his agreement. Maurice glanced at Newman.
'You have to check with the boss?' he sneered.
'Frequently.' Newman smiled and ordered another brandy. 'I have the odd brandy myself. After lunch with coffee.'
'Maurice,' Grenville said grimly, 'I wouldn't if I were you.'
'But you're not me, are you? You're the flaming brigadier.'
'I'm just that.' Grenville laughed. 'A pretty good description. I'm sure the Americans would agree.'
The tension at the table was beginning to get to Paula. She gazed down through the large picture window at the scene immediately below. The view was vertiginous -staring down at the ocean, which had become rough. Great waves exploded against huge jagged rocks, erupted into geysers of surf flung high into the air. Water surged into narrow rocky channels, then submerged the defiles round them. She could see why this was called Rocky Point. There's another cauldron, she thought, recalling Tweed's words. The sight disturbed her. Maurice drank his third brandy.
'Gotta go, folks.' he announced, imitating American speech.
He stood up, rested his hands on the table. Newman was by his side immediately. He took hold of Maurice round the waist, guided him up two large steps, was taking him towards the exit when Maurice protested.
Take your hands off me. I can make it.'
'Certainly you can.' Newman assured him, not letting
At that moment Butler and Nield, who had tactfully slipped into the bar for a sandwich lunch, appeared. Newman nodded his head for them to come forward.
'See this gentleman to his car. He's not feeling well. Harry, drive him home, wherever that may be.'
'Got a dog kennel of an apartment in Carmel.' Maurice mumbled. 'I can drive...'
'So can I.' said the sturdy Butler. He took hold of Maurice, relieving Newman of his burden. 'I'll see him home. There are patrol cars along Highway One.'
Butler easily manoeuvred Maurice out of the restaurant. As they disappeared Pete Nield wandered over to Newman and splayed his hands in a gesture of resignation.
"That same chap was in the bar before he came in here. He downed a couple of large brandies one after the other.'
'Harry will get him safely home. Want to come and join us?'
'I'll wait outside in the BMW...'
Grenville was speaking to everyone as Newman resumed his seat. His manner was apologetic.
<
br /> 'Can't understand what's got into Maurice. Never seen him like that before. Would have thrown him out of the club if he'd behaved like that. Will do if it happens there.'
'You've never seen him drink too much?' Tweed queried. 'Is that what you're saying?'
'Up to a point.' He pulled at his moustache, glanced towards Paula, who was gazing down through the window. 'He knocks it back a bit, but who doesn't, eh?
By the by, we're having a bit of a shindig at the club HQ this evening. Why not come along, all of you? Here's a card giving the details. You'll be most welcome.' He looked at Marler. 'You don't say a lot, sir.'
'Sometimes I find it more interesting listening.' Marler drawled.
Paula took all this in automatically as she gazed down at the seething ocean. She was convinced Maurice had only pretended to be drunk. An immense wave crashed into the tip of the cape which was Rocky Point. It seemed to symbolize the heaving cauldron of California.
22
They were leaving the restaurant when Newman excused himself and went towards the entrance to the bar. Paula glanced in that direction and stiffened. A familiar and attractive woman was greeting him warmly. Dressed in a pale green trouser suit, Vanity Richmond looked her usual glamorous self.
'Look who we have here,' Newman said as he brought her over to them. 'Again it's a small world.'
'Hello, everyone.' Vanity had a roguish smile as Newman introduced her to Paula. 'I remember you,' she said. 'You had a table to yourself at Nansidwell back in Cornwall. We never got a chance to talk.'
'You both have now,' Newman commented cheerfully.
Tweed merely nodded when they shook hands, saying nothing. Paula was observing Vanity, her long, well-shaped nose, the greenish eyes which seemed to notice everything, the good figure. Her full red lips were smiling constantly and she seemed delighted at meeting them.
'Where are you off to?' Newman enquired.
'Spanish Bay. The hotel on the coast outside Monterey. I'm staying there, as I did during my last visit.' she said as she looked at Paula. 'Maybe this time we could get together? Last time you seemed abstracted.'
'Last time I had a somewhat grisly experience,' Paula said, looking directly at Vanity, who had thrown back her mane of blazing red hair from the side of her face. 'I dragged a dead woman out of the sea.'
'So it was you who found her? How horrible. I read about one of two twin sisters being found - and the other washed ashore in Cornwall. Must have shaken you up...'
'You two can chat in my car,' Newman suggested.
'I've got my Audi parked outside ...'
'Let me borrow your keys and I'll drive it back for you,' Marler suggested.
'I'm also staying again at Spanish Bay.' Paula told Vanity.
It seemed to Paula this was a good opportunity to get to know more about Vanity. She'd also noticed with amusement that Newman never stopped smiling. Vanity thanked Marler, gave him her keys and a warm smile as she gazed straight at him.
On their way back along the highway the dark clouds had disappeared and it was a glorious sunny afternoon. Paula sat in the back with Vanity and they chatted away animatedly. In the front, Tweed, sitting beside Newman, remained silent.
Behind Newman followed the Audi, driven by Marler - and a distance behind him Butler was driving the BMW with Maurice beside him and Pete Nield in the back. Tweed wondered what had caused their delay in departing.
* * * *
Maurice had felt ill before he climbed into the BMW back at Rocky Point. Butler had accompanied him to the toilet and looked after him. Now, as they drove along Highway One he was surprised by Maurice's swift recovery.
'Sorry to put you to this inconvenience, old chap,' Maurice said to Butler. 'But you were right. Don't often make a fool of myself like that, but I'm worried.'
'Worried?' Butler glanced at him. 'What's on your mind?'
"The situation here - in California and at the Anglo-Pacific Club.'
'Something odd about the situation?' Butler enquired.
'Very. Can't make it out. I've got a premonition of a terrible disaster.'
'What kind of disaster?' Butler asked casually.
'Don't know. There's tension among certain people I know. Can't give you any names.'
'Very informative,' Butler commented. 'Why not?'
'Because I want to be sure I've pinpointed the right people.'
Sounds like Tweed, Nield was thinking in the rear of the car. Gives us a glimpse and then drops the curtain.
'We're nearly at Carmel,' Maurice warned Butler. 'You turn off the highway in a minute. If I could guide you...'
'Do that.'
'I'm here - on Junipero,' Maurice said after a few minutes. 'If you could pull in here.'
'I'll come with you,' Butler said firmly. 'See you safely in your dog kennel.'
'No need ...'
Butler ignored the suggestion, got out with Maurice, walked alongside him into a small complex courtyard, cobbled and with hanging baskets. Maurice pointed to an iron staircase.
Tm living up there now.'
'Now?' queried Butler.
'Just moved in. Place became vacant suddenly. The rent is reasonable - a murder took place here and the police have just gone away. That's why the rent is cheap. Most people don't like the idea of staying somewhere where something like that has happened. The landlord wanted quick occupation.'
'I'll see you up the staircase. Who was murdered?'
'A private investigator called Linda Standish. I'm not at all worried about ghosts walking. And thank you for seeing me home.'
'All in a day's work ...'
Arriving at Spanish Bay, Paula was surprised to discover the hotel had given her the same spacious apartment she had occupied on her previous visit. The organization of top hotels in the States was quite something.
Tweed, whose luggage had been taken to another apartment, came in at her invitation and Paula beckoned to Vanity to join them and inspect her quarters. The two women were examining the complex while Tweed fiddled with the large picture window, slid it back and stepped out onto a terrace with a table and chairs. He sank into a chair.
"This apartment is swell - I mean super,' enthused Vanity as they went into the bathroom. 'I'm trying not to pick up Americanisms. Look at that Jacuzzi, and the shower stall. This is great.'
'Care for a drink?' Paula suggested.
She investigated the large minibar in the living room, brought out a bottle of Chardonnay, held it up to show Vanity.
'Any good?'
'Very good. One glass will do me.' She wandered out through the open window where Tweed was sitting. 'Fancy a glass of wine, Mr Tweed?'
'No, thank you.'
He resumed the brooding look Paula knew so well, staring at a line of pine trees. Then he got up, wandered along a path crossing the grass. He soon had a panoramic view of the Pacific beyond trim, rolling golf links. The flat roofs of golf carts moved along a lower level, looking as though they were floating by themselves. The calm Pacific was a startling blue. He could see why people would be hypnotized by the sheer beauty of the scene.
Tweed refused a drink.' Vanity announced merrily as she rejoined Paula. 'Doesn't seem very sociable.'
'He's probably working on an insurance problem.' Paula told her. 'He's got terrific powers of concentration.'
'And I thought it was me. Cheers!'
They sat down on a couch by a fireplace with a large gas-operated log fire which was unlit. Vanity looked round the living room.
"This place oozes comfort. It's so relaxing.'
'Not bad.' Paula agreed. 'You know what I do for a living, so give - how do you earn your daily crust of bread?'
'Like you, I'm a personal assistant. My boss is tough and very successful. You've heard of Vincent Bernard Moloch?'
"The quiet billionaire? You work for him?'
'Yes. And I earn my daily crust like you do, I imagine. Vincent is a workaholic. Makes the average American go-getter look like an idler. I'm at hi
s beck and call both day and night. Luckily I can get by with very little sleep.'
'Does sound a tough job. What does it involve?'
'Keeping his daily paperwork and appointments in order.' She laughed. 'Keeping him in order. I don't know much about what he does. Very secretive, VB is. Always working on some new project.'
'Got one on the go at the moment, has he?'
'Yes. Something which seems to take up a lot of his time. I haven't a clue what it is. There's a borderline I don't cross. The salary is enormous, so I'm careful not to put a foot wrong.' She finished her drink, checked her watch. 'Hope you don't mind. I must fly. Maybe we could have dinner together this evening? I'll call you.'
She looked up as Tweed returned, leaving the sliding window open. It was hot outside. He nodded to Vanity as she got up, held out her hand.
'Sorry that we couldn't talk together. I have to go.'
'Another time, perhaps,' Tweed replied.
'You weren't very amiable with her,' Paula chided him after Vanity had left. 'She's admitted to me she works for Moloch.'
'She's smart. Now we're here she'd know we'd find that out. I'm going along to my room to unpack.'
'You look tired. I'll come and help.'
They were walking along the wide carpeted corridor when a man came round the corner. Brigadier Arbuthnot Grenville stopped, surprised as he tweaked his moustache.
'You people staying here?'
'For a short time,' Tweed said quickly.
'Don't know whether you read my invitation card. We've taken over the Bay Club here for the dance tonight. Good that you are on the spot. See you 2000 hours. Sharp. Do you know whether Maurice got home safely?' he enquired as though not really interested.
'Yes, I gather he did,' Tweed assured him.
'Don't do anything I wouldn't,' Grenville said with a broad smile, looking at Paula. "That gives you all the latitude in the world c'
Tweed was sitting down in his own apartment, his brow furrowed in thought. Paula swiftly unpacked everything. Then she insisted on showing him where everything was.
