The Surfside Caper

by Louis Trimble

He wasn’t the same surly man I had dealt with on the lanai. He was doing a good job of hiding any suspicions he might have about Ingrid. He was putting out in answer to her vivacity. And he was doing a softhanded, smooth job of it.

  For a moment I held the hope that he had believed me as far as Ingrid’s being here was concerned. I junked the idea as fast as I’d got it. He hadn’t lived fifty years by forgetting to be cautious. I was willing to give three to one that right now he was pumping everything she knew about me, about Global, about the Surfside, right out from under her tousle of blonde hair.

  My sandwich came. I bit into it. It was a very good club sandwich, but it tasted sour in my mouth. I was thinking of Ingrid in Paris. And Ingrid in San Francisco. She was good company, out for laughs and easy to get along with.

  We met in Paris. She was there for Global’s travel service. I was there on an investigation for them. She was two months away from a messy divorce. But she never tried to drown me in her life’s story as so many dames would have. She took me the same way I took her: strictly for kicks.

  The last night we were together, I made the usual move. She blocked it, but without much enthusiasm. I followed up and maneuvered her to my room. She came easily enough, but she didn’t even take off her coat.

  I saw her again every time I managed to get home to San Francisco. Her divorce had had time to cool. And my apartment was available. But I didn’t make the same mistake again. I kept our relationship on the old fun basis.

  She was the kind of girl you could do that with and still enjoy every minute of her.

  I thought now about the hundred a week or so she took home. That didn’t go very far on a forty a day hotel room. Not if she was paying her own bills.

  I watched Ingrid and Dolphin wind up their coffee and leave. I finished my sandwich but I didn’t enjoy it. My imagination was working. I pictured Ingrid and Dolphin in his cottage. He was getting out a bottle of mellow, old brandy. He was the kind who’d keep a bottle of fancy cognac on hand for just such opportunities.

  I felt a sudden urge to do some private thinking. I left the dining room and hiked across the lawn toward my cottage. A faint touch of silver in the eastern sky said that the moon was going to come up soon. It would be spectacular on the water.

  Dolphin and Ingrid would probably have a ball with it.

  I got as far as the dark edge of the forest. I stopped. I had to. Tibbetts was standing on the path, blocking it. I said, “Looking for me?”

  He said, “I know why you’re here, Flynn, and I don’t like it.”

  I said, “I’ll check out as soon as I digest my dinner.”

  He set his bulldog jaw and glowered at me. I looked him over thoughtfully. I realized that he must have known about my reservation. A good security officer always checks the reservation lists daily. It’s one way of helping him with the job of preventing trouble before it can happen.

  I said, “Maybe you tried to keep my being here from happening.”

  He had a baffled expression. I said, “I’m talking about a guy named Samuels. He was driving a Craybaugh truck. He used it to try to run me off the road. He ended up dead.”

  Tibbetts balled his fists childishly and took a step toward me. I said, “It looks like someone hired him to do the job on me.”

  He said, “If I wanted a job done on you, Flynn, I wouldn’t hire a punk like that to do it.”

  I said interestedly, “A punk like what? You knew him?”

  The first of a nearly full moon cleared the eastern horizon. The light touched Tibbetts’ face. His eyes were glittering with some kind of secret triumph. Then the glitter faded. He looked as if someone had just taken away his best badge.

  He said abruptly, “I saw him around Rio Pollo, that’s all.”

  He wasn’t telling the truth. I could feel it. But I wouldn’t get any place pointing that out to him. I said, “So you didn’t try to get me knocked off. And you don’t like me around here. Maybe you don’t like Dolphin being here either. Have you told him so?”

  He said, “I can handle him. I can handle you too.”

  I said, “Start handling anytime, friend.”

  He started past me. I moved aside so he wouldn’t ram me with a swinging shoulder. He said, “Just leave her alone, Flynn. Don’t give her any more of a hard time.”

  I said, “If you mean Mrs. Lofgren, I haven’t been. But Milo Craybaugh’s company isn’t making her very happy. Maybe you should go talk to him about it. A good security officer always keeps his boss happy.”

  He kept on walking. I let him go. I didn’t know whether to feel sorry for the guy or irritated with him. He hadn’t done much for himself or for Annette by pushing his jaw out at me. He hadn’t even added to the upset of my digestion. He wasn’t worth the effort.

  I went on to the cottage. I stopped short of the steps. The rooms were dark, as I had left them. But the porch was discreetly lighted. I was sure I hadn’t turned on any lights.

  I padded quietly up to the door. I stood a moment listening. There was nothing to hear but the soft night breeze in the trees and the distant murmur of the surf, like the sounds you capture in a seashell.

  I opened the door and found the light switch. The living room had no overheads. The switch activated two strategically placed floor lamps that gave a soft, pinkish glow. I stepped into the room and pulled the door shut.

  I said, “Hello, you.”

  Ingrid Calhoun said, “It’s about time you gave me a tumble, snob.”

  She was on my divan, stockinged feet curled under her. Evening slippers lay on the floor. She was a great one for kicking her shoes off anywhere, anytime. She was still in the dinner gown. Seen close up, it was even more startling than it had been from a distance.

  I said, “I didn’t want to break up your friendship with my neighbor.”

  She just looked at me with an expectant smile. I knew the routine. I was supposed to kiss her hello. I didn’t feel like it. I offered her a cigaret instead.

  She said, “What’s the matter, Larry? Remember me? Ingrid Calhoun. The girl who gave you all the laughs. The one who held your head after a roller coaster ride.”

  I wouldn’t get anywhere showing her my irritation. I walked to the divan and bent down to kiss her. It was a mistake. Ingrid wasn’t a girl you could slug and then soothe with a soft line. I didn’t get near her mouth. She put both hands on my chest and pushed. She had a lot of muscle for a woman. I backpedaled and ran into the chair across the room. I sat down.

  She swung her legs to the floor and stood up. She said, “Go to hell. You aren’t working for Global right now. You don’t have to put yourself out to make the hired help happy.”

  I let her get as far as putting on her shoes and picking up her evening bag. Then I said, “When did you make your reservation for this place—the day you knew I was coming or when you found out that Dolphin was going to be here?”

  She was heading for the door. She stopped in midstride. “Who?”

  I said, “Jacob Dolphin. The big man who bought you dinner. My neighbor. Lover boy.”

  She went back to the divan and sat down. She said in a clearly puzzled voice, “Are you talking about Mr. Dorffmann? And just what are you driving at, Larry Flynn?”

  I kept on the pressure. I said, “How many working girls do you know who can spend a vacation here?”

  She could have turned nasty on me. She had every right to. My voice made the implication clear enough. But she crossed me up. She started to laugh.

  It was genuine laughter. It rippled into her throat and burst from her lips in a gusty guffaw. It ended in a delighted squeal.

  “You think someone is paying my bill?” she gasped. “And you act as if you care!”

  I growled, “For God’s sake, it’s a joke?”

  “It’s a wonderful joke,” she said. She squealed again. “I didn’t think you’d get that idea about Mr. Dorffmann and me. When you snooted me this afternoon, I just thought your bachelor blood was running high again. I thou
ght you’d guessed why I was here.”

  She hadn’t said anything yet to make me happy. I said, “I don’t like to guess. Why are you here?”

  She said, “For heaven’s sake, Larry, you don’t have to bite every time you open your mouth. I came because I knew you’d be here. And why not? A girl has to do something constructive when a man she likes only lands in her territory once or twice a year.”

  I said, “Lay it out for me—when you decided to come; how you’re going to pay the hotel bill.”

  The last of her laughter drained away. She said with quick anger, “Damn it, I didn’t come to marry you. I came because I thought you’d like to see me again.”

  I said, “You still aren’t leveling with me.”

  “Just what do you want me to say?” she demanded.

  I said, “I want to know if Global sent you here.”

  She seemed genuinely puzzled. “Since when does any company stake its employees to a week at a resort like this one?”

  If she was dodging me, she was doing a neat job of it. I began to feel a little like a fool and a lot like a heel. But I made one more stab. I had to be sure where she stood.

  I said, “Since when can a company’s employee afford a resort like this one?”

  Color flooded her cheeks. She said, “Let’s get one thing straight, Larry. Dorffmann isn’t paying my bill. Nobody else is either, but me. I decided to come when I handled your reservation last week. I went to a lot of trouble to swap vacation time with another girl. I took the money out of my savings, if you have to know. I even went into hock for this dress. Because it was something like the one you wanted to buy me that time in Paris.”

  I didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

  Her words bit at me, “And I got here yesterday. Dorffmann was here already. I’d never seen him before. He started to move in. I ignored him until you showed up and looked right through me. What did you expect me to do after that? I can play games too, you know. I didn’t know it was going to make you this way.”

  I still didn’t say anything.

  She said, “A girl has to have some weapons. I used what few I’ve got. But when you ignored me in the dining room too, I decided you were really mad at me. So I came here to find out why.”

  I said, “Maybe I just didn’t want to foul up your job by making it obvious that we knew one another.”

  “My job? What job?”

  Gusty relief blew through me. I had never known Ingrid to fake an attitude for over a few minutes. She was puzzled and she was angry. I was convinced that both were genuine emotions.

  I said, “I had it figured that Global sent you here to keep an eye on Dolphin—Dorffmann.”

  “Why would they do that?” Her expression changed. She said, “Larry, I’m sorry. It never occurred to me that you come here to work. I just thought that because you knew Nils Lofgren and all …” She stopped. She was quick-minded. I waited for her to work out the rest of the problem by herself.

  She said, “But you aren’t working for Global or you wouldn’t have wondered about me. And it has something to do with Dorffmann or Dolphin or whatever his ridiculous name is. But how is Global involved?”

  I said, “You’ve got the general idea. Let’s leave it there. You aren’t involved. I know that now. I don’t want you involved. So drop Dolphin. Relax and enjoy your vacation.”

  She didn’t look happy. I said, “You came here tonight because you thought I was mad. I was, because you had me worried. But it’s all squared away now. So let’s start over again.”

  I got up and walked to the door. I said, “I came in. You’re curled up on the divan …” I was trying to put our relationship back on the light plane where we usually kept it.

  She said, “I’m sorry I acted childish and tried to make you jealous today.”

  I said, “That’s only part of the reason I shot my face off. I’ve had a rough day all round.”

  “I heard you saw a horrible accident,” she said.

  I knew that sooner or later I had to let her know where I stood. This seemed a good time to get the job done. I said, “It wasn’t an accident.” I told her about it, right through my visit from Colton and Milo Craybaugh.

  5

  INGRID WAS everything I remembered and a lot more. She had a way of breathing when she kissed me that hinted of wondrous things to come. It was the first time I hadn’t felt her holding back even a small bit of herself.

  Later, after we had straightened up and had a drink, I escorted her back to the main lodge. The lobby was empty except for a determined-looking clerk. All the night’s action seemed to be in the bar. I could hear the muted brass still making music. I was surprised to find that it wasn’t yet nine o’clock.

  I warned her to keep out of this whole business, and we kissed goodnight. It was too early to be doing that kind of thing, but I had some characters to deal with, none of which would be as fun to handle as Ingrid.

  I walked back downstairs. I went to the house phones and asked the operator to connect me with Annette. She answered promptly.

  I said, “This is Larry. I want to talk to you.”

  “About what?” Her voice was edged with irritation.

  I said, “About your friend, Milo, and a cop he sicced onto me today.”

  She said, “I haven’t time to discuss anything now. I have an engagement.”

  “With Milo again?”

  Frost formed on the telephone where her voice touched it. “I believe that is my business.” The phone went down firmly.

  I found a chair that gave me a view of the door to the hallway and sat down. Annette didn’t appear. No one showed up at all.

  I had an idea that I might be operating on the wrong assumption. I got up and walked to the drive-in entrance. There was no one outside under the colonnade. A single dim light marked the place. Another dim light marked the entrance to the parking area. I stood in shadow where I could watch them both.

  This time five minutes of waiting paid off. A man came around the corner of the building, following a path that led through the trees toward the cottages. He passed through the light over the entrance to the parking area. Jacob Dolphin.

  I stayed where I was. He took three minutes to appear again. Now he was behind the wheel of a cream-colored Caddy. It purred down the drive and braked a few yards beyond where I stood. The right-hand door swung open. A woman came out of a dark alleyway that led to the service area at the rear of the lodge building. She was wearing a short evening wrap with a hood. The hood was pulled up covering her hair and most of her profile.

  But I didn’t need to see her face. The Caddy’s domelight was on with the open door. The light showed me the skirt of her evening gown. It was the same gown I had admired on Annette Lofgren earlier.

  I stood and watched the Caddy slide smoothly off into the darkness. Then I walked back toward my cottage.

  I reached the junction of my path with Dolphin’s. I kept going, to the right. A dim glow from his cottage gave me light enough to pick my way along the edge of the forest to his lanai.

  I stopped there and listened. I could hear the soft sighing of the night breeze in the tops of the redwoods. I could hear the faint beat of the water twelve feet straight down and about fifteen feet out from the base of the cliff. And I could hear my own excitement beating at my eardrums.

  Breaking and entering wasn’t one of my talents. But I couldn’t imagine a better opportunity to make a check on Dolphin’s possessions. I pulled myself over the waist-high wall and dropped to the lanai floor. I padded across to the French doors and peered into the dimly lighted living room. It was as empty as I expected it to be.

  I put a hand on the door handle. Shadow moved, detaching itself from the wall to my left. I started to turn. A gun barrel nudged into my ribs, discouraging me.

  A gun barrel feels like nothing else. You recognize it whether you ever felt one before or not. And no matter how mnay times you have felt it, you never get over that initial jolt of fear.<
br />
  I swallowed dryness out of my throat. I said, “Great view from here at night.”

  Milo Craybaugh’s bullfrog voice answered me. It said, “I was going to visit you next, Flynn, but you saved me the trouble. We can talk here.” I said, “Talk about what?”

  Milo said, “How much did Dolphin pay you to cross up Global Hotels and work for him?”

  His voice was calm enough until he came to the word Dolphin. He spit that out like a bad taste in his mouth. And it was interesting that he knew Dolphin’s real name.

  I said, “Don’t tell me you’re the one who wrote those nasty little notes.” His startled grunt told me I had guessed right.

  He said, “I ask the questions. You answer them.”

  He gave the gun a push that nearly separated bone from cartilege. He should have known better. Any good book on commando tactics will tell you never to get your gun too close to your opponent. And especially never try to push he barrel through him. He’s liable to get mad. He also has an advantage. Your push requires muscular effort of a kind that momentarily leaves you a hairline off balance.

  I came around with my left arm stiff and out a few inches from my body. The bone just below my elbow caught his wrist. I kept coming, making a pivot on my toes. I lifted my left arm at the instant it touched him. His gunhand went up in the air. My right fist went in under his guard. It hit his stomach and bounced.

  He was hard. I wondered if he weeded his own flower beds. Hitting him was like belting an iron punching bag. But I had the advantage of about six inches and sixty pounds. Milo gave ground.

  I went after him. I hit him twice over the heart. He tried to bring the gun down on my head. I grabbed his wrist with both hands and squeezed. He was breathing the way a man does when he’s hurt. The gun dropped from his fingers. I pushed him out into the moonlight. I picked up the gun.

  The safety catch was on. Milo recovered his balance and started for me in a crouch. I snicked the safety catch off. The sound was loud and clear on the cool night air. Milo stopped coming for me and straightened up. He rubbed his chest where I had drummed on it.

  I said, “Now it’s my turn to ask the questions. Sit down in that chair behind you.”