At last he unpacked, gazing out as he did so at the cloudless sky and the people far below at the poolside, and then, beyond to the beach. Everything seemed bleached by the heat, so that the constantly tended and watered trees, lawns and shrubbery stood out starkly green. Charlie turned back into the room, looking down at his comfortably spread shoes and shifting his toes so he could see the movement. It was going to mean a lot of walking, the pavements were going to be hot and at the end his feet were going to hurt. Bugger it.
It took him longer than he had expected to reach South Lake Drive, and he was already sweating when he got to the Chamber of Commerce building backing on to the golf course. The blue-rinsed lady welcomed a respite from a view with which she was bored and, imbued with the proper civic pride, launched into her prepared address about the benefits of the community. Charlie let her speak, interposing the odd question only when it became absolutely necessary, and as he had with the procuring of the photograph in New York, clouded his enquiries with sufficient other questions to disguise any interest in Giuseppe Terrilli.
After an hour, in addition to what he had learned in New York about the man’s business activities, Charlie knew him to be an archetypal Palm Beach resident, respected benefactor, admired philanthropist, a member of all the right organisations and a stalwart pillar of local society.
He thought the air conditioning was better at the offices of the Palm Beach Daily News and they gave him a chair in the newspaper library, where he spent three hours going back through ten years of bound copies, discovering the death of Terrilli’s wife and studying intently the faded, grainy photographs of the mourners after the private funeral. In only two of the reports in all that time was there any reference to Terrilli’s interest in stamps, and even then it was so oblique that Charlie would have overlooked it had he not been searching for it.
Back in his suite, Charlie ran cold water into the bath, took off his shoes, socks and trousers and sat on the bath edge, soaking his feet and trying to assess what he had discovered. Nothing, he decided, after fifteen minutes. From the information he had been able to assemble, there was no reason why Giuseppe Terrilli shouldn’t run for President of the United States or found a religion to rival Christianity.
Was he trying too hard? Had he spent so much time during the last eight years jumping at his own shadow that he’d lost the touch? Or was he just looking the wrong way? He considered the question, answering it with another. What other way was there to look?
‘ There are different ways of reaching the end from the same beginning. ’
Another piece of advice from Sir Archibald. So what had been the beginning? An unease about Jack Pendlebury and then Pendlebury’s response to Terrilli. Since which time he had been mainly looking away from Pendlebury; which was perhaps the mistake.
Charlie dressed and, because he knew it would be expected, went downstairs, contacted the security division of the hotel and embarked upon a detailed tour of all the precautions that had been installed to protect the exhibition. Half way through, the ubiquitous Heppert arrived, falling into step beside Charlie and repeating much of what the Breakers official had already said. Once again, the video was duplicated.
As he had in New York, Charlie ended by telling both he thought their precautions were adequate, aware once again of Heppert’s disappointment. As an apparent afterthought, he invited the heavily bespectacled man into the coffee shop.
Charlie followed the American’s aimless conversation for fifteen minutes, before bringing the discussion to Pendlebury.
‘Sound man,’ judged Charlie, inviting the other man’s contradiction.
‘First class,’ agreed Heppert immediately. ‘Came up with one or two things none of the rest of us had thought of.’
‘Been with your company long?’
Heppert shrugged. ‘Never met him before.’
‘Never met him?’ Another piece of the puzzle, thought Charlie.
‘I gather he’s been attached to headquarters for some time, but I’ve never worked with him. He’s highly regarded.’
‘Really?’ Charlie encouraged him.
‘Seems to be allowed an awful lot of autonomy.’
‘Is that unusual?’
‘Kind of. Our people normally like to be kept well in the picture.’
Heppert put down his coffee cup so that he could consult his watch. It was a heavy, digital affair with a minuscule calculator built into one edge. It went with the executive spectacles.
‘Should be here soon,’ he said.
‘Didn’t he come down with everybody else?’
‘Had to make a call at the Washington office.’
Charlie estimated that he had directed the conversation almost to the point where Heppert might become suspicious, so he allowed the talk to meander again. Charlie ordered more coffee even though he wanted to leave, anxious that Heppert would never think back upon it and imagine some reason for the encounter.
It was late afternoon by the time Charlie got back to his suite. It took only minutes to get the telephone number of the Pinkerton Washington office, and Charlie was connected before he had had time to ease off his shoes. He had to identify himself and his business, and was finally connected to someone who confirmed Pendlebury’s visit but apologised that the man had already left on his way south to Florida. He enquired if he could be of any help, but Charlie declined, promising to await Pendlebury’s arrival.
Charlie replaced the receiver and lounged back in his chair. Everything checked, just as it should have done. So perhaps he was wrong; his instinct hadn’t always been right in the past. Just a very high proportion of the time.
Pendlebury’s call came within the hour, surprising him.
‘You wanted me,’ said the American with his customary curtness. ‘Washington office said you’d been on.’
‘They’re efficient.’
‘That’s the motto,’ said Pendlebury. ‘What do you want?’
‘I wondered if you’d made it clear to the organisers that there wasn’t to be any display case opening here, any more than there was in New York.’
‘And you called Washington, just for that!’
‘I wasn’t sure how long you’d be there,’ said Charlie, aware of the man’s suspicion. ‘If you’d intended staying over a couple of days, I was going to tell them myself.’
There was the barest hesitation from the American. Then Pendlebury said, ‘I told them.’
‘Good,’ said Charlie. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Unpacking.’
‘Shall we meet later on?’
‘Fine,’ agreed Pendlebury. ‘I’ll check the exhibition, then call you.’
Charlie bathed and changed, awaiting Pendlebury, carefully rehearsing an approach that he hoped would be productive. There had been curiosity in the man’s voice about the Washington call, Charlie decided. So he would have to be cautious about doing anything to increase the attitude; he would have to be friendly, not intrusive. They met in the lobby and Pendlebury led the way to the Alcazar bar overlooking the ocean. Senator Cosgrove was already at a table with some people Charlie recognised from New York. Charlie nodded and the politician allowed a vague inclination of his head in response.
‘Great view,’ said Charlie as they were seated.
Pendlebury grunted. ‘In most other bars at this time there’s a Happy Hour, with drinks at half price.’
‘You’re on expenses,’ Charlie reminded him. ‘Security as good as when you rehearsed it?’