Was that blackmail?
A business arrangement, yes. Blackmail, no.
I am pretty smart at kidding people, but I am in a class of my own when I begin to kid myself.
Chapter four
The following morning, around 09.00, I walked into Glenda’s office to find her sorting the mail.
“Hi, there,” I said, placing my hands on her desk and leaning over her. “How’s the busy bee this sunny day?”
She didn’t pause in her reading.
“What do you want? You should be on the job.”
“Never off it, gorgeous. Those poison pen letters. I need them. I’ve an idea I can trace the paper. Harry has given me a clue.”
“Help yourself.” She waved to a filing cabinet and went on reading.
“Business brisk? Lots of new suckers?” I asked as I found the two letters. Getting no reply, I put the letters in my wallet and breezed out of the office.
Taking the elevator down to the garage, I drove the Maser to the Country Club. I parked, then settled in a lounging chair, with a copy of Newsweek, to wait.
I had been up early and had made two reports, plus carbon copies. I now felt ready to have a confidential chat with Nancy Hamel. As I sat in the lounge, I thought about her. I recalled the impression she had made on me, both from her photograph and from seeing her. I was sure as I could be that I would have no trouble with her if I handled her right, and I intended to handle her right.
Around 10.30, she came into the lounge, carrying a tennis racket, and dressed for tennis. She went over to the Club’s porter, an ageing black with white, frizzy hair, who beamed at her.
“Has Mrs. Highbee come yet, Johnson?” she asked.
I was near enough to hear her.
“She’s down on the courts, Mrs. Hamel.”
Nancy smiled, nodded and walked across the lobby, heading for the tennis courts. I watched her go. Her hip movement was nice.
After waiting for some fifteen minutes, I went out onto the terrace and saw her playing with Penny Highbee. Lunchtime, I told myself, would be right to talk to her, so I went down to the swimming pool, changed and swam. The pool was crowded with the big, the fat, the slim and the dolly birds.
After an hour, I dried off, changed and wandered back to the tennis courts. Nancy and Penny were still playing.
I found a chair under a sun umbrella and sat down. A waiter slid up. I ordered a Scotch and coke. He brought the drink, I signed, tipped and he went away.
A voice said, “It’s Mr. Anderson, I believe?”
I looked up to find Mel Palmer, Hamel’s agent, wearing an immaculate off-white tropical suit, standing before me.
I gave him my wide, friendly smile, but I wasn’t smiling beneath the surface. He was the last person I needed to see.
“Hi, there, Mr. Palmer.” I got to my feet. “Have a drink?”
He lowered his bulk into a chair as a waiter came swiftly to his side. He ordered a pink gin, then sat back, his sunglasses aimed in my direction.
“I see you are working.” He looked in the direction of the tennis courts, then back to me.
“Pretty dull work,” I said.
The waiter put Palmer’s drink on the table and Palmer signed. When the waiter had gone, he took a sip, wiped his lips with a silk handkerchief and smiled at me.
“Dull work? This is, of course, good news. Have you anything to report so far?”
“The subject is giving no cause for worry, sir. I have been watching her for the past four days, and there is nothing to report.”
His smile broadened.
“Just as I thought. I have tried to convince Mr. Hamel he is wasting his money, but he has a stubborn nature.”
“We have checked on Waldo Carmichael, Mr. Palmer. He does not exist,” I said.
Palmer nodded.
“I am not surprised. We are, of course, dealing with a sick crank. I have told Mr. Hamel this again and again, but he refuses to be convinced. It is a very worrying situation.”
Worrying for you, Fatso, I thought. You’re seeing all that nice commission disappearing into smoke.
“At the end of the week, I will be writing a full report on Mrs. Hamel’s activities. This report will show that she is leading a blameless, rather dull, life. If my report doesn’t convince Mr. Hamel, then nothing will.”
“Excellent.” Palmer finished his drink, then got to his feet. “I must run along. I can expect your report then at the end of the week?”
“You can rely on it, sir.” I got to my feet and shook his hand. “I assure you there is nothing to worry about.”
I watched him bounce across the terrace and move out of sight. Then I looked over at the tennis courts. Nancy and Penny had finished playing and were putting on their sweaters. I waited. Talking together, the two women came towards me.
“Have a drink, Penny?” Nancy said as they were a few yards from me.
“Can’t stop, honey. I’m late as it is. See you tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Penny hurried away, and Nancy went over to a distant table and sat down. A waiter reached her, took her order and made for the bar.
This seemed to me to be the right time. I waited until the waiter had brought a Tom Collins which he set on the table, waited until Nancy had signed, and waited until the waiter moved away. Then I walked up to her and gave her my respectful smile.
“Mrs. Hamel. I am Bart Anderson. I have just been talking to Mel Palmer who is, as you know, your husband’s agent.”
She leaned back in her chair and regarded me. Her cool, dark eyes showed interest, mixed with surprise.
“You know Mr. Palmer?”
“Sure.” I gave her my tentative smile. “You play a fine game of tennis, Mrs. Hamel. I was watching.”
“Do you play?”
“Well, not in your class. That backhand of yours really rips them in.”
I could see from her slight change of expression, she had lost interest in me. I was sure I wouldn’t be invited to sit down, so I sat down. I believe positive action gets the business.
She was startled to find me sitting at her side, but, after a very brief moment, when she had stiffened, she relaxed, but her eyes were cool and her expression unfriendly.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Mrs. Hamel,” I said in my most gentle voice. “I am in a quandary.”
As she regarded me, she stiffened.
“I am sorry Mr.... Mr....”
“Bart Anderson.”
“Mr. Anderson, I don’t know you, and I am not interested in any quandary you may be in. I can’t imagine why you should want to talk to me. I have no inclination to talk to you.”
I pasted on my patient smile. Maybe she wasn’t going to be that easy to handle.
“You have a point, Mrs. Hamel. If I hadn’t your interests at heart, I would now fold my tent and creep away, but may I suggest you give me a hearing?”
“If you don’t leave me immediately, I will call a waiter!” The snap in her voice warned me she meant just what she was saying.
So I had to give it to her the hard way. I took out my business card and placed it on the table so she could read it.
“Your husband has hired me to watch you, Mrs. Hamel.”
Man! Did that hit her where she lived! The colour went out of her face, her eyes receded into her face, and she shrivelled. For a long moment, she remained motionless, staring at the card, then I saw a little shiver run through her.
I gave her time. I didn’t sit, gloating. I looked away at a dizzy dish who was crossing the terrace to the pool. She was long legged, high breasted and blonde: the kind of babe I like to bed with when my wallet is stuffed with the green. I watched her swing her tail, and I wasn’t the only one watching. The fat, old finks with white hair on their chests and knotted veins in their spindly legs were also watching.