With her hands pressed to her ears, Helga blundered into her bedroom and threw herself face down on the bed.
The sound of the garage doors slamming shut startled her out of a sleep of exhaustion. Dazed, she scrambled off the bed. She was so unsteady she had to sit down abruptly on the bed or she would have fallen. She looked at her watch. The time was 03.10. Had Larry returned?
She forced herself to her feet and stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hall. She looked fearfully at the cellar door, and then she went to the front door and opened it
By the porch light, she saw it was snowing heavily and the cold struck at her. She saw Larry coming towards her, holding the envelope she had given him. It was only the steel in her that prevented her from bursting into tears of relief.
He came up the steps, chewing hard and smiling his warm smile. "I got it, ma'am! Get inside and ... you'll catch cold."
She stepped back, her knees trembling and she had to clutch hold of the door to prevent herself falling. He gave her a searching stare and then caught hold of her, pushing the front door shut. "Are you all right, ma'am?"
"I'm so glad you're back." Her voice broke and then the tears came and she leaned against him, shaking and sobbing.
"Hey, ma'am! What's the matter? Did you ..." He stopped as he saw the pole jamming the cellar door. "Did you have trouble?" "Oh, God ... yes!"
He lifted her off her feet and carried her into the sitting-room. Gently, he put her on the settee. "What happened, ma'am? He didn't get away?"
She fought to control herself and succeeded. As she dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, she said, "No ... but, Larry... I – I think he's dead."
Larry took a step back. His look of concern changed to wide-eyed fright.
"Dead?"
She nodded.
"I nearly went out of my mind!" She beat her fists together. "He said he was having a heart attack." She had to stop speaking to fight back her tears, then after a moment, she went on, "It was awful! He was moaning and calling to me! He wanted some tablets. I was too frightened to open the door to give them to him. Then he started knocking ... and now ... there's no sound ... nothing." She shuddered, her face working. "I'm so frightened. I didn't know if
he was bluffing. I couldn't let him out... could I?"
Larry stared at her. His face had turned chalk white and his eyes turned remote. After a long silence, he said huskily. "But you don't know he is really dead?"
"No. Please go and see."
He flinched and retreated further away from her.
"What will you do if he is dead?" he asked.
"I don't know. I haven't thought. For God's sake, Larry, go and see!" He retreated further away from her.
"I – I don't like anything to do with dead people. No ... I don't want to do that."
She understood and didn't blame him. After all, she told herself was only an immature boy.
"We must know! I'll go, but come with me, Larry. He may be bluffing and he might attack me. Will you come with me?"
Larry hesitated, then nodded. "Sure, ma'am. I'll come with you."
Shaking, Helga went into the hall.
"I can't move that." She indicated the pole. "Will you try?"
Larry took hold of the pole in his huge hands, twisted and gave it a jerk. It came free. He laid it down along the wall, then catching hold of the chest, he dragged it away from the door which swung open.
Helga saw the lights were on in the corridor below. She moved to the head of the stairs and stood listening. She could only hear the steady roar of the motor, driving the central heating. Gathering her courage, she began to descend the stairs. Halfway down, she paused and looked back. Larry was standing at the top of the stairs, his face shiny with sweat. They looked at each other. "Come with me," she whispered.
He nodded and came down the stairs, then stopped. She went on and paused when she was in the corridor.
"Jack?" Her voice was so husky it was almost soundless. "Jack! Are you there?"
The silence that greeted her gripped her with a paralysing terror. She couldn't bring herself to move forward. She remained motionless, staring down the long corridor at the shattered cellar door at the far end of the corridor and opposite, the games room: the door stood ajar. The other doors leading to the boiler room and to two more cellars were closed.
He must be dead, she thought hopelessly. He must be lying in the cellar. He must have crawled there. She fought off the terror that gripped her and the steel in her that never failed her stiffened her courage.
"Come with me!" she said, her voice hardening. "Larry! You're in this as much as I am!"
Hesitating, Larry came down three more of the stairs and then stopped.
She went along the corridor, paused, then forced herself to look into the cellar. Except for the splinters of wood on the concrete floor, the cellar was empty. She turned and looked at the door, standing ajar, leading to the games room. She could see the room was in darkness. She saw Larry hadn't moved. He was standing halfway down the stairs, sweat trickling down his face. She felt a sudden contempt for him. His fear increased her courage. She walked to the games room, threw the door open, groped for the light switch and turned it on.
With her heart hammering, she looked around the big room. There was no sign of Archer. He couldn't have escaped!
To convince herself she looked at the steel door at the far end of the corridor, leading to the garage. She could see from where she stood that the bolt of the lock was home.
There was another cellar and the boiler room in which Archer could be hiding or lying dead. She went to the boiler room and threw the door open. The door was near the bottom of the stairs, and as she turned on the light, Larry retreated up two stairs. She looked around. Again there was no sign of Archer. She was shaking again, and she turned to look at Larry.
Pointing to the second cellar door, she mouthed without speaking, "He's in there ... the other is locked."
Looking scared, Larry stared blankly at her. Her silent mouthing conveyed nothing to him. She motioned him to come down into the corridor and reluctantly he did so. The unlocked cellar door opened outwards. She put a shaking hand on the door handle, turned it and flung the door open. Archer came out like a charging bull. Helga was standing back, but Larry was directly in his path. Archer's fist, thrust forward like a battering ram, thudded into Larry's chest, with all Archer's heavy weight behind it, sending him reeling. Larry tried to regain his balance as Archer rushed by him, but he went sprawling. "Larry!" Helga screamed.
Archer stumbled on the stairs and fell on his knees. He was so heavy and cumbersome he took a long moment to get to his feet. By then Larry was up and he grabbed hold of Archer's left ankle. Archer kicked back wildly with his right foot which whistled by Larry's face. Larry hauled him back down the stairs.
Cursing, Archer broke free and rolled over. Lying on his back, panting, he glared helplessly up at Larry.
As Larry got set to kick him, Helga screamed, "Don't touch him!"
Scowling, Larry stepped back and wiped his sweating face with the back of his hand.
Lying still, Archer looked up at Helga, his face a blotchy white.
"So you've got your pimp back," he said huskily. "All right ... you win. Just leave me alone."
She felt a moment of pity. The bruise on the side of face had extended and was now blue and yellow. His lips swollen and dried blood caked on his chin. He looked old, frightened and defeated. I warned you, Jack," she said shakily. "I'm sorry."
"I imagine." His voice was bitter. Slowly he crawled to his feet and leaned against the wall. "Sorry? You wouldn't know the meaning of the word." She pointed to the panics room. "You'll be comfortable in there. I'll get you a drink."
He lurched by Larry who was tense, his huge hands on his hips, his jaw moving as he chewed. Then Archer passed Helga and went into the games room.
Helga went unsteadily up the stairs to the sitting-room. She mixed a double whisky and soda, added ice and carried the drink down
to the games room. Archer was sitting in one of the lounging chairs, his head in his hands. She put the drink on the covered billiard table. "Do you want something to eat?"
"Oh, go to hell!" He said wearily and without viciousness. "Leave me alone." She went out and closed the door. Motioning Larry to follow her, she climbed the stairs.
"Put the pole back, Larry," she said and went into the sitting-room. With shaking hands she opened the envelope Larry had brought back and took out the three sheets of paper, stripped off two and looked at the letter. The signature was a replica of Archer's scrawl. She found one of Archer's letters and compared the two signatures, then she drew in a shaky breath of relief.
She was sure the Bank would accept the forgery.
"Is it okay, ma'am?" Larry asked as he came into the room.
"Yes, I think so. Did he ask questions?"
Larry shook his head.
"He wanted five thousand but I beat him down to three five. I spent money on gas, but I have some change for you."
"Don't bother me with that!" she said impatiently. She went to her desk and typed an envelope. "I'm going down to Lugano to mail this. If you're hungry there's food on the table in the kitchen. It should be defrosted by now." "I'll mail it, ma'am. The roads are bad and it's snowing hard." "No! I won't stay here alone. I'm going." "Be careful, ma'am. The roads are real mean."
She went into the hall and put on her coat. He followed her and stood lolling against the wall, chewing, and watching her.
"Don't go to sleep until I get back," she said. "Eat something." She looked at the pole jammed against the cellar door. "He can't get out, can he?"
Larry grinned. "With me around, ma'am, he won't try."
She put on her hat and looked at herself in the hall mirror. God! she thought, how old I look!
She put the letter in her bag. She found a pair of fur-lined boots in the recess and put them on. "I won't be long."
"Okay, ma'am ... if you're sure you want to go."
She opened the front door and shivered as the cold bit at her. She cautiously made her way down the snow-covered steps. On the fourth step she nearly slipped but recovered.
"Watch it, ma'am!" Larry said from the opened doorway. She kept on and reached the garage. Once inside the warm car she relaxed a little. She knew the road down to Lugano well. She knew the three danger points. She set the in motion. The snow tyres bit into the snow and she drove cautiously. She met no other car nor any other person. Three times the car went into a skid, but she was an experienced driver and although she hated skids, she controlled the car.
Eventually, after some fifteen minutes of difficult driving, she reached the Central Post Office. She parked the car, got out and dropped the letter into the box.
With the snow falling heavily, making her coat into a white mantle, she stood for a moment, relaxing.
The first step in the operation was completed. Now it remained to be seen if the Bank would send the envelope. Shaking the snow off her coat, she went back to the car and got in. She lit a cigarette, staring through the windshield while she thought. The time by the lighted clock on the dashboard was 03.55. She realized how deadly tired she was. She thought with dread of the thirty odd hours ahead of her before she could expect a reply from the bank. If this snow continued, there would be no question of Herman surprising her. He took too good care of himself to fly when the weather was bad.
She shifted the lever to Drive and drove back towards Castagnola. Driving around the steep climbing bend into the village, the Mercedes got out of control. The back wheels skidded and the car turned broadside on across the road and then began to slide sideways down the hill. She spun the driving wheel, touched the gas pedal and got the bonnet of the car pointing up hill again, but the hill was too steep for a take-off and the wheels merely spun, moving the rear of the car until the wheels thudded against the kerb. She sat motionless for some moments wondering what to do. Finally she decided she must make a new attack on the hill. She went into reverse and backed slowly down the hill until she reached the entrance to Cassarate which was on the level. She paused, fighting her tiredness, then drawing on her reserve stamina, she again started up the hill. This time she kept her foot very lightly on the gas pedal, but just enough to keep the engine going. In this way, with the snow biting, the car crawled up the hill.
She realized there was no question of her getting the car up the private road to the villa. When the entrance was in sight, she pulled the car to the side of the road and got out.
Leaving the parking lights on, she slipped and slid up the drive, until she finally reached the front door of the villa. She was cold, stunned and exhausted as she pressed the doorbell.
After a brief delay, Larry opened the door. "You made it, ma'am."
Wearily, she took off her coat and thrust it into his hands. "Shake it. Don't bring all that snow into the house."
She sank on to the chest, closing her eyes. The warmth that seeped through her was comforting.
"It's mean out there, isn't it?" he said as he shut the door.
"Yes ... I had to leave the car in the road."
She took off her hat and let it drop on the floor.
"Food's ready, ma'am. Come on and eat."
She shook her head. "No. I couldn't. I'm going to bed. I must sleep." Her voice broke. "I'm so tired." She pressed her palms to her eyes. "Your room is at the end of the corridor, Larry." She could smell the fillet of pork and the onions cooking. The smell made her cringe.
She got wearily to her feet and walked towards her bedroom, then she paused and looked back.
"Is he all right?" She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. "Shouldn't you give him something to eat?"
"You go to bed, ma'am. There's nothing for you to worry about," Larry said gently. "I'll take care of him."
She was too tired to care. "Good night, Larry ... and thank you."
His warm smile gave her renewed confidence. "You sleep, ma'am ... you'll be fine tomorrow."
She nodded. "It's going to be all right, Larry."
"Sure."
She went along to her bedroom and closed the door. Slowly, she undressed. Her movements were listless. She put on her pyjamas, then too tired even to brush her teeth, she got into bed. She reached up and turned off the light. Then for the first time in many years, she began to pray, but she was asleep before the prayer was finished.
chapter seven
A gentle tapping on the door brought Helga awake with a start. Her mind flashed back to the events of the night and her heart began to hammer. She struggled up in bed. "Who is it?"
"Me, ma'am. Would you like some coffee?"
She relaxed back on her pillow. Sunlight was coming through the shutters and drapes. She turned on the bedside light and looked at her watch. It was 09.15. "I'd love some coffee, please." "Like something to eat, ma'am?"
She realized she hadn't eaten since lunch-time the previous day and she was hungry. "An egg, Larry."
"Okay, ma'am."
"Give me about fifteen minutes."
"Sure, ma'am." and she heard him walk away.
She got out of bed and went into the bathroom. It took her longer than fifteen minutes to fix her face and her hair, but when she bad finished and regarded herself in the mirror, she was satisfied. She dressed quickly, pulling on a heavy cable stitch sweater and cavalry twill slacks.
As she left her bedroom, Larry came from the kitchen, carrying a tray. "All ready, ma'am."
He followed her into the sitting-room and put the tray on the table. He had cooked her an omelette, browned to a turn and as light as any omelette Hinkle had ever cooked. Toast, marmalade and a big pot of coffee completed the meal.
"You're a real cook, Larry," she said as she sat down. "This looks wonderful." He grinned, pleased.
"Yeah, I reckon if there's one thing I can do, it's to cook."
As she flicked open the napkin, she asked. "Is he all right?"
Larry sat in a lounging chair. He took
out a packet of chewing gum.
"Sure. I let him use the bathroom. I gave him a steak for breakfast. He won't be any trouble now. He knows when he's licked. She relaxed and began to enjoy her breakfast.
"I was worried about you last night, Larry. The drive must have been horrible. You were wonderfully quick."
"It was okay, but I wouldn't say I was quick. Coming back was bad." He shrugged. "I made it."
She ate in silence for some minutes, then she asked, "You didn't leave the man alone with the letter?"
"No, ma'am ... don't worry. I never left him. He didn't like it, but Ron's right. Maxie would cut his own throat for money." The omelette finished, she began to butter toast.
"Did you call Ron?" she asked, her voice falsely casual.
"Yeah, I called him." He leaned forward, his huge hands resting on his knees. "You see, ma'am, Ron means a lot to me. I wanted him to know I was helping you. After the names he called me, I wanted him to know I was doing my best for you."
"What did he say?" "He was pleased."
Suddenly she didn't want to eat any more. She laid down the toast and pushed aside her plate. "Did you tell him Archer was here?"
He shook his head.
"No, ma'am ... nothing like that. I just told him I was helping you." She reached for a cigarette, relaxing a little.
"You must never speak to anyone about Archer being here, Larry."
"Sure, ma'am. You don't have to worry."
But still she wasn't satisfied.
"But didn't Ron want to know how you were helping me?"
He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand am could see he was uneasy.
"Yeah, he did ask. I told him we were getting the photos back."
Her hands turned into fists.
"Did you tell him how... about Max?"
He shifted about in his chair, then he said, "Well, ma'am, I had to. I did tell him Maxie was helping. But that's okay, ma'am, Maxie and Ron are good friends. Ron was pleased Maxie was helping."
Helga got stiffly to her feet and walked over to an occasional table. She picked up a lighter and lit her cigarette. "Didn't he ask how Max was helping."
1971 - An Ace Up My Sleeve Page 13
