‘May I order?’ Jean asked as we settled.
‘I’m not hungry.’ I felt so low the idea of food revolted me.
Luigi stood over her, his little black eyes like oily olives.
‘Oysters, Luigi, please: the big ones and Chablis.’
She was right. Oysters were the only food I could have swallowed.
He went away.
‘It’s about Gordy, isn’t it?’ she said, looking directly at me.
I hesitated, surprised, then nodded.
‘Blackmail?’
‘How did you guess?’
‘It’s not so difficult. Wally has been researching. I’ve been typing his notes. When Gordy asked to see you, it became obvious.’
‘Wally’s been researching?’ I stiffened. ‘Does he know about Linda?’
‘No. If he had he would have come to you. Wally admires you, Steve. He has a few names and he is still digging. Mostly maids: Cissy, your maid, is on his list.’
I took out my handkerchief and wiped off my damp hands.
‘Do you remember any names... not maids?’
‘Sally Latimer. Mabel Creeden. Lucilla Bower.’
The oysters arrived, bedded in crushed ice. The Chablis was poured. Luigi, officiating, beamed, then he and the waiter went away.
‘How did Wally find out? How did he get those names?’
‘I don’t know. I typed up his report. There were other names, but I don’t remember them.’
‘You’re sure Linda wasn’t on his list?’
‘Of course.’
‘He said something about doing an exposure on the store. How is it he didn’t tell me he had started?’
Jean speared an oyster and conveyed it to her mouth. ‘You know Wally: he loves to spring a surprise. I guess he wanted to have it all tied up to present to you.’
That I could accept. Wally was a loner. He had come up with facts and figures about Captain Schultz, all neatly tied up and I had had no idea he had been researching Schultz.
I found I could eat an oyster, so I ate three of them.
‘Linda stole a bottle of perfume. Gordy has her on film. He wants twenty thousand dollars.’
Jean drew in a quick, sharp breath.
‘Which you haven’t got.’ She was in the position to know as she handled my personal cheques.
‘Which I haven’t got. This could be my end and the end of the magazine. I’ve already told Webber to dig into Gordy’s background. He could come up with something. It’s my only hope. With luck, I could blackmail Gordy to stop blackmailing me.’
‘You’ll have to be careful about Webber. He is Mr. Chandler’s man.’
‘Yes. I must talk to Wally tonight.’
‘Why?’
‘I have to find out where he got those names from. This is important.’
‘But, Steve, you know Wally. He never divulges his sources of information. You won’t get anything from him.’
‘I’ve got to try.’
She nodded.
‘Finish your oysters. I’ll call his home. He could be in.’
She slid off her chair and walked over to a telephone booth. I looked at the oysters and decided I had had enough. I watched her slim back as she telephoned. Three minutes later, she joined me.
‘He’s just left. Shirley says he’ll be back in an hour or so. He’s gone over to Max’s place.’
‘You don’t think he’s told Max about this?’
‘I’m sure he hasn’t.’ She looked worried. ‘You know, Steve, I’m breaking a confidence by telling you about what Wally is doing. He told me to type up his notes in confidence.’
‘This is too important to me to worry about that,’ I said.
‘Well, don’t be surprised if Wally won’t talk.’
‘He’ll talk! He’s got to!’
‘You’re not eating.’
‘I guess I’ve had enough.’
‘Steve! Eat up! This isn’t the end of the world.’
I thought of Linda with her black eye alone and without food in the house. I shouldn’t have left her.
‘I want to make a call.’
I went into the booth and called my home number. There was a long delay, then a woman’s voice said, ‘Mrs. Manson is indisposed and Mr. Manson is out. Who is this?’
I recognised Lucilla Bower’s drawling voice. Without answering, I hung up. So Linda had quickly found comfort. I hoped she hadn’t been so stupid as to tell this woman what she had done, then I remembered that Wally had Lucilla’s name on his list as a thief. Well, thieves together!
I returned to the table.
‘Let’s have some more oysters,’ I said. ‘Nothing like oysters for sick people.’
‘Oh, shut up, Steve!’ Jean said sharply. ‘Don’t start pitying yourself. That’s something I just won’t take!’
I stared at her.
‘You’re quite a woman. Sorry: it’s been a tough evening. All the same I’d like some more oysters.’
She looked across at Luigi and raised her hand. The oysters arrived as if they had been waiting.
Forty minutes later, we left the restaurant and Jean drove mc back to the office block. I had decided I should talk to Wally on my own. Jean said why not leave it until tomorrow, but if I could catch Wally tonight I had to go.
‘Thanks for everything, Jean,’ I said. ‘You’re a life saver.’
She stared at me for a brief moment, smiled, got in her car and drove away.
I drove fast across the city to where Wally lived: a modest, nice bungalow, but in the smog belt and nothing very de luxe. All the same, I was pretty sure Wally had a bigger bank balance than I had.
I pulled up outside the bungalow and was surprised to find it in darkness. I looked at my watch. It was just after 21.00. I got out of the car, opened the gate and walked up the drive. I rang the bell and waited. Nothing happened. I rang again, then a voice said, ‘They’re not in.’
I turned around. There was an elderly man with a dog by the gate.
‘There’s been trouble,’ the man went on. ‘Are you a friend of Mr. Mitford? I’m his neighbour.’
I came down the path.
‘I’m Steve Manson. Trouble?’
‘I’ve read about you, Mr. Manson. Your magazine is just fine. Yes... trouble... poor Wally has been mugged. They’ve rushed him to hospital.’
I felt a chill run up my spine.
‘Is he bad?’
‘I guess so. The police took him with Mrs. Mitford in an ambulance.’
‘Which hospital?’
‘The Northern.’
‘Could I use your phone?’
‘Of course, Mr. Manson. I’m right next door.’ He whistled to his dog and then led me up a path to a bungalow just like Wally’s.
In two minutes, I was speaking to Jean.
‘Wally’s hurt, Jean. He’s at the Northern. Will you come over? Shirley will want help.’
‘I’ll be right over,’ she said and hung up.
We both reached the Northern hospital at the same time. Jean had a little more distance to cover and she must have come fast. We looked at each other as she got out of the Porsche.
‘Is he bad?’
‘I don’t know: let’s find out.’
I was lucky that Dr. Henry Stanstead was the doctor handling emergencies that night. Stanstead and I played golf together and we were friends.
‘What’s the verdict, Henry?’ I asked as he came into the waiting room.
‘Bad. The bastards really set about him. He has a broken jaw, four ribs fractured and concussion: at least three kicks in the head.’