“That would explain it. Only this morning, this woman telephoned me. She sounded hysterical. She told me she couldn’t attend her husband’s funeral and asked me to handle all the details. She asked me to leave her alone. She had to grieve by herself.”
“Sure, that figures. Lucia wouldn’t want to expose herself to a lot of mourners, and she’s not risking seeing you again.”
“Good God!” Palmer began to mop his face again.
“I’m going to make a suggestion to you, Mr. Palmer,” I said, putting on my sincere expression. “I’m going to suggest that you appoint me as Mrs. Hamel’s representative.”
He stopped mopping his face and regarded me suspiciously.
“Mrs. Hamel’s representative? What does that mean?”
“Someone, representing her, should be on the spot when the Pofferis are taken. Someone who can get Mrs. Hamel away before the press move in. Mrs. Hamel will be in shock. She must not be exposed to the press until she has recovered.” I leaned forward and stared hard at him. “You are Mrs. Hamel’s representative. Do you want to be there during the gun battle? The FBI expect to kill both Pofferi and his wife. It will be a battlefield. Do you want to be there or do you want me to be there, acting on your behalf and Mrs. Hamel’s behalf?”
He reacted as I knew he would react. The very thought of putting himself anywhere near a gun battle made his face turn a shiver.
“Yes, yes, I see what you mean. Would you do that, Mr. Anderson?”
I put on my modest expression.
“That’s my job. Leave this to me I guarantee Mrs. Hamel’s safety, and also guarantee the press won’t get near her.”
“How will you do that?” He frowned suspiciously. “How will you get her off the Largo without the press knowing about it?”
“I have a good friend who owns a chopper. As soon as the battle is over, he will land and we’ll whisk Mrs. Hamel away. I suggest you reserve a penthouse suite at the Spanish Bay. They have a chopper landing pad on the roof. Mrs. Hamel can stay there until she recovers. The hotel won’t let any unauthorised person near her.”
His fat face brightened.
“That is an excellent idea. The Spanish Bay Hotel have a resident doctor and nurse should Mrs. Hamel need medical care. I’ll leave the helicopter arrangement to you Anderson. I will take care of the reservation. I must go now.”
“There are two little things, Mr. Palmer,” I said, giving him my boyish smile. “I need written authority from you that I am acting as Mrs. Hamel’s representative. The FBI might be difficult unless they know I have official standing.”
“Yes, yes.” He called in his tail-wagging secretary and dictated to her the necessary authorization. “Get it typed right away.”
She eyed me as she left the room.
“And the second thing?”
“Expenses. I’ll need two thousand for the chopper and the pilot.”
He stiffened.
“That’s a lot of money.”
“Danger money, Mr. Palmer. There’s going to be a shoot-up. The money will come from Hamel’s estate, so why should you care?”
“Yes, of course.”
The secretary returned with the authorization, and Palmer signed it.
“Give Mr. Anderson two thousand dollars in cash, Miss Hills.” Palmer shook my hand and made for the door. “When will this operation take place?”
“Tonight.”
“I will be waiting at the hotel.” Nodding, he was gone.
Miss Hills regarded me.
“Two thousand in cash?”
“That’s what the man said.”
I followed her out of the office, waited until she produced the money, then stowed the money in my wallet.
“Did anyone tell you you have big, beautiful eyes?” I said.
“Frequently,” she returned coldly. “I’m busy. Bye, Mr. Anderson,” and she sat down and began to type.
I filed her away for future reference. She would need working on. Now wasn’t the time.
Bart, baby, I said to myself, as I climbed into the Maser, everything, so far, is going your way.
Zero hour was to be 03.00.
As Nancy Hamel’s representative, plus the fact that I had been inside the ranch house and knew its geography, I was given a seat at the round table in the conference room at the Mayor’s office.
Mayor Hedley, Chief of Police Terrell, Sergeant Hess, together with Coldwell, Stoneham and Jackson of the FBI, were present.
Coldwell explained that the information he had revealed to the other men had come from an informer. No questions were asked about the informer. Coldwell went on to say that I was present as I had been instructed to get Mrs. Hamel away from the press as soon as the Pofferis had been taken.
I drew a plan of the ranch house, explained the electronic controls at the gate, explained that, as a guard working for Mr. Herschenheimer, I had been keeping watch on the ranch house and I knew where Nancy Hamel was located. I put an X on the map of the house.
After more talk, it was decided to cut off the electricity on the Largo so a silent entry could be made through the gates. Police guards were already in place. When the time came, the three FBI agents, supported by ten armed police would storm the house.
I then went on to tell them that I had arranged for Nick Hardy in his chopper to be overhead at Zero hour, and when Nancy Hamel was freed, I would be on the spot to convey her by air to the Spanish Bay hotel where Mel Palmer would be waiting to take care of her.
There were no objections, and the meeting broke up.
I had paid Nick Hardy five hundred dollars for his services. That left me fifteen hundred dollars in hand. The time when the meeting broke up was 19.30. I had a lot of hours to kill before the action. I returned to my apartment, hesitated, then called Bertha.
When she came on the line, I said, “Is that Mrs. Fink?”
She giggled.
“Oh, you.”
“Who else? Baby, I’m lonely. Are you married yet?”
“Next week, and listen, Bart, I told you we were through. When I say a thing, I mean it!”
“Since when? Listen, baby, I have a wallet stuffed with the green. How about you and me sharing a gorgeous dinner at the Spanish Bay grill?”
“How did you get the money?” Bertha demanded.
“Don’t ask silly questions. Do you or don’t you want to share this meal with me?”
There was a long pause.
“I’m engaged to be married,” she said feebly.
“Since when did that stop any right minded doll accepting an invitation?”
“Well, okay, Bart, but this will be the last time.”
“Fine. We will eat at nine-thirty. Come over here right away, baby.”
“If we are eating at nine-thirty, why should I come over to you right away?”
“Guess,” I said, and hung up.
I drove Bertha back to her apartment around 01.30. It had been a very satisfactory evening. We had done our physical gymnastics together until it was time to eat. We had eaten a beautiful, sustaining meal, we had danced, then we had sat on the crowded terrace in the moonlight, holding hands.
“Bart, I wish this could go on forever,” Bertha sighed. “I know you are a heel, but you are a beautiful heel.”
I patted her hand.
“Get married, baby. Get some security. That’s what really counts. Once you get it, you can enjoy yourself. Your fink won’t know if you get something on the side. I’ll be around.” I gave her my boyish smile. “Next time, you’ll pick up the check. Imagine! It will give you a marvellous lift.”
She laughed.
“Bart! You’re hopeless!”
Leaving her, I drove to Paradise Largo. There were two cops standing at the barrier with O’Flagherty. He came over to me, his eyes popping with excitement.