wonderful son?”
He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, sweating, his face ashen.
She let him sweat, then after a long pause, she said, “You are going to leave her, Jones. You are going to work in my house in Paradise City. I want you away from Jackson. You will be paid, but you will do exactly as you’re told. My majordomo, Mr. Hinkle, will take charge of you. I don’t expect any trouble from you. Your mother has agreed that you should go. You will pack and be ready to leave tomorrow. Do you understand?”
His black eyes widened.
“But ma’am, I don’t want to leave here. I have my home here. I have a good job here. I don’t want to leave!”
“You should have thought of that before you turned thief,” Helga said ruthlessly. “You will do what I say or I will turn you over to Mr. Henessey who will have no mercy on you, understand?”
He wrung his hands.
“What’s to happen to my bike?” he said. “Ma’am.”
“Damn your bloody bike!” Helga said furiously. “Get out! You leave tomorrow!”
Staring at her, horrified, the boy backed to the door.
“Hinkle will send for you. Do exactly what he tells you and keep away from Jackson. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then get out!”
Like a whipped puppy, he slunk out of the room.
She crushed out her cigarette, aware her hand was shaking. Offense if better than defense . She hated herself for terrifying this half-caste boy, but she had to do it. She was fighting for her future.
Consulting the telephone book she found the only other inquiry agency was The British Agency: Mr. Frank Gritten. She asked the hotel operator to call the number.
A woman answered, her voice brisk and efficient: “British Agency, can I help you.”
Helga hesitated, then she said, “This is Mrs. Herman Rolfe. I would like to consult Mr. Gritten this afternoon at three o’clock.”
“Mrs. Herman Rolfe?”
Helga could imagine the startled expression on the woman’s face.
“Yes.”
“Certainly, Mrs. Rolfe. Mr. Gritten will be happy to see you at three o’clock.”
Helga hung up.
For a long moment, she sat motionless, thinking. She was taking a big risk, but she had everything to gain, also everything to lose.
She left the suite and rode down to the lobby. She told the hall porter she would have lunch in the grillroom and would he reserve a quiet table for her, then she went out on the terrace. There was no sign of Hinkle. She couldn’t imagine him in the sea, but nothing Hinkle might do would surprise her.
Driving the Mini, she went to the Nassau Bank and asked to speak to the manager. She was immediately shown into his office. The plaque on the his desk told her his name was David Freeman: a stout, red-faced breezy Englishman who rose to his feet.
“Happy to see you here, Mrs. Rolfe,” he said offering her a chair. “What may I do for you?”
As Helga sat down, she said, “Yesterday I arranged to be able to cash fifteen thousand dollars with you, Mr. Freeman.”
“That is quite right. It has now been arranged.”
“I want ten thousand dollars in one thousand dollar bills. I want you to make a note of the numbers. I will sign the receipt and I want the numbers of the bills on the receipt.”
Freeman looked sharply at her, but seeing her cold, hard expression decided not to be curious.
“Certainly, Mrs. Rolfe. I will arrange this immediately.” He picked up the telephone receiver, issued instructions, then went on, “I trust Mr. Rolfe is improving.”
“He is better, thank you.” Helga braced herself. “Mr. Freeman, can you tell me the standing of The British Agency: the inquiry agents? Are they reliable?”
“Yes, Mrs. Rolfe.” Freeman’s red face showed his surprise. “You can have every confidence in them. Mr. Gritten, who runs the agency is an ex-Chief Inspector of the Nassau police. He happens to be an old friend of mine. He is utterly reliable, honest and a man of integrity.”
“There is also the Discreet
He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, sweating, his face ashen.
She let him sweat, then after a long pause, she said, “You are going to leave her, Jones. You are going to work in my house in Paradise City. I want you away from Jackson. You will be paid, but you will do exactly as you’re told. My majordomo, Mr. Hinkle, will take charge of you. I don’t expect any trouble from you. Your mother has agreed that you should go. You will pack and be ready to leave tomorrow. Do you understand?”
His black eyes widened.
“But ma’am, I don’t want to leave here. I have my home here. I have a good job here. I don’t want to leave!”
“You should have thought of that before you turned thief,” Helga said ruthlessly. “You will do what I say or I will turn you over to Mr. Henessey who will have no mercy on you, understand?”
He wrung his hands.
“What’s to happen to my bike?” he said. “Ma’am.”
“Damn your bloody bike!” Helga said furiously. “Get out! You leave tomorrow!”
Staring at her, horrified, the boy backed to the door.
“Hinkle will send for you. Do exactly what he tells you and keep away from Jackson. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then get out!”
Like a whipped puppy, he slunk out of the room.
She crushed out her cigarette, aware her hand was shaking. Offense if better than defense . She hated herself for terrifying this half-caste boy, but she had to do it. She was fighting for her future.
Consulting the telephone book she found the only other inquiry agency was The British Agency: Mr. Frank Gritten. She asked the hotel operator to call the number.
A woman answered, her voice brisk and efficient: “British Agency, can I help you.”
Helga hesitated, then she said, “This is Mrs. Herman Rolfe. I would like to consult Mr. Gritten this afternoon at three o’clock.”
“Mrs. Herman Rolfe?”
Helga could imagine the startled expression on the woman’s face.
“Yes.”
“Certainly, Mrs. Rolfe. Mr. Gritten will be happy to see you at three o’clock.”
Helga hung up.
For a long moment, she sat motionless, thinking. She was taking a big risk, but she had everything to gain, also everything to lose.
She left the suite and rode down to the lobby. She told the hall porter she would have lunch in the grillroom and would he reserve a quiet table for her, then she went out on the terrace. There was no sign of Hinkle. She couldn’t imagine him in the sea, but nothing Hinkle might do would surprise her.
Driving the Mini, she went to the Nassau Bank and asked to speak to the manager. She was immediately shown into his office. The plaque on the his desk told her his name was David Freeman: a stout, red-faced breezy Englishman who rose to his feet.
“Happy to see you here, Mrs. Rolfe,” he said offering her a chair. “What may I do for you?”
As Helga sat down, she said, “Yesterday I arranged to be able to cash fifteen thousand dollars with you, Mr. Freeman.”
“That is quite right. It has now been arranged.”
“I want ten thousand dollars in one thousand dollar bills. I want you to make a note of the numbers. I will sign the receipt and I want the numbers of the bills on the receipt.”
Freeman looked sharply at her, but seeing her cold, hard expression decided not to be curious.
“Certainly, Mrs. Rolfe. I will arrange this immediately.” He picked up the telephone receiver, issued instructions, then went on, “I trust Mr. Rolfe is improving.”
“He is better, thank you.” Helga braced herself. “Mr. Freeman, can you tell me the standing of The British Agency: the inquiry agents? Are they reliable?”
“Yes, Mrs. Rolfe.” Freeman’s red face showed his surprise. “You can have every confidence in them. Mr. Gritten, who runs the agency is an ex-Chief Inspector of the Nassau police. He happens to be an old friend of mine. He is utterly reliable, honest and a man of integrity.”
“There is also the Discreet
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