The police would, of course, question Odette about the bashed wing of her car, and this I had warned her about. But with a man of Malroux’s influence behind her, the police couldn’t become too curious nor could they push her around.
I looked across at the bus terminal. There were a few people waiting for the bus. There were only about five other cars, besides mine, in the park. No one paid any attention to me. I was just another man, waiting for someone off the bus.
A few minutes after one o’clock, I saw the headlights of the bus as it came down the road. It swung to a standstill outside the terminus. There were about two dozen people in the bus. I leaned forward to stare anxiously through the wind-shield for the sight of Odette.
After a moment or so I spotted her. She was wearing the sun goggles, the red wig and the cheap blue and white dress. As she moved away from the bus, she looked anxiously around. She seemed pretty nervous.
I slid out of the Packard and went over to her.
There was a crowd of people milling around: some of them waiting for taxis: some greeting friends.
Odette saw me coming and started towards me. We met by the bus.
‘Hello there,’ I said. ‘The car…’
A heavy hand dropped on my shoulder: a hand that could belong to a cop. For a moment I was completely paralysed. Then I looked around, my heart skipping every other beat.
A broad-shouldered, suntanned man of around fifty stood grinning at me.
‘Harry! Well, what do you know! How’s the ex-jailbird!’
I recognised him immediately. His name was Tim Cowley. He was a reporter for the Pacific Herald: a first rate newspaper man who visited Palm City fairly regularly, and with whom I had worked and played golf whenever he came my way.
The unexpected sight of him threw me in such a panic I couldn’t utter a word.
I grabbed hold of his hand and shook it, slapping him on the shoulder while I made a frantic effort to gain control of myself.
Odette just stood there. I wanted to scream at her to go away.
‘Why… Tim!’
Somehow I managed to get my voice going.
‘I’ve just blown in. How are you, boy?’
‘I’m fine. Good to see you again.’
The shrewd, ever-curious eyes moved from me to Odette.
‘Hey… don’t keep a lovely like this to yourself. Introduce me, you dope.’
‘This is Ann Harcourt,’ I said. ‘Ann, this is Tim Cowley: a great newspaper man.’
Too late, Odette seemed to realise the danger. She backed away, looked at me and then at Cowley and seemed on the point of bolting. I reached out and caught hold of her wrist.
‘Ann’s a friend of Nina’s,’ I said to Cowley, ‘She’s passing through to Los Angeles and she’s staying the night with us.’ My fingers dug into her wrist. ‘What are you doing here, Tim?’
With his eyes still on Odette, ‘The usual grind. Have you a car here, Harry? Can you drop me off at the Plaza?’
‘I’m sorry… I’m going the other way. Nina’s waiting for us.’ I looked at Odette. ‘The car’s over in the park. Wait for me, will you?’ I gave her a shove, sending her on her way across the road towards the car park.
I saw Cowley looking after her, one eyebrow lifted.
‘That kid is so shy,’ I said, ‘she just freezes at the sight of any man.’
‘That’s a fact. She looked scared to death. What’s biting her?’
‘She’s just a sex-conscious kid. She and Nina get along fine, but she drives me nuts.’
It was the right thing to say for he suddenly grinned.
‘I know. Kids of her age get like that. What are you doing now, Harry?’
I told him I was working for the District Attorney.
‘We’ll get together and have a talk,’ I said. ‘I mustn’t keep this kid waiting or she’ll lay an egg.’
‘Okay. I’m at the Plaza. See you, Harry.’
I left him and crossed to the Packard. As I got in, I said, ‘What’s the matter with you? Why did you stand there like a dummy?’
She looked resentfully at me.
‘He had seen you speak to me. I thought it was better to stay.’
‘Well, at least he couldn’t recognise you. I’m sure of that. It was bad luck…’
‘What’s all this about the police? I’ve been going crazy after that telephone call of yours. How have the police come into it? Has father…?’
‘No and I don’t think he will call them in. It was another bit of bad luck.’
I told her the whole story. When I was through, I said, ‘You’ll have to have an explanation for the bust wing. You can say you did it when you came out of the garage. I don’t know how far Renick will press you. He might ask where you have been. If he does, tell him to mind his own business. This hit and run story is phoney. I don’t think he will press you, but you’ll have to be ready for him.’
‘You seem to have handled this pretty badly,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about the accident?’
‘Oh, forget it!’ I was getting fed up with criticism. ‘Nothing happened your end? You stayed in the hotel and kept off the streets?’
‘Yes.’
‘You haven’t forgotten all the dope I gave you, just in case your father calls in the police.’
‘I haven’t forgotten.’
It was twenty minutes to two when we reached the cabin. I pulled up and gave her the key.
‘Go in there and change and wait for me. I should be back around two-thirty.’
She took the key and got out of the car. I handed her the suitcase.
‘I’ll be waiting,’ she said. She suddenly smiled at me. ‘Take care of that money, Harry.’
‘I’ll take care of it.’
She leaned into the car.
‘Kiss me.’
I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her to me. Our lips touched. She drew away, her finger touching her mouth.
‘It’s a bore you’re married, Harry.’
‘That’s the way it is,’ I said, staring at her. ‘But don’t kid yourself… I wouldn’t swop.’
‘That’s what I mean... it’s a bore.’
I started the car.
‘I’ll be seeing you.’
She stood back and as I drove down East Beach Road, I saw her in my driving mirror, walking slowly back to the cabin.
I had already chosen the spot from where I would signal Malroux. There was a big thicket behind which I could hide the car. There was also plenty of cover for me, and I had a clear, uninterrupted view of the road.
I drove the car off the road, turned off the lights, walked back to the road to satisfy myself the car couldn’t be seen. I then squatted down behind a bush, my flashlight in my hand and waited.
It wouldn’t take Malroux more than ten minutes to reach this spot if he left his house punctually at two. I had just time for a cigarette.
As I squatted there, smoking, my nerves seemed to be crawling out of my skin. Suppose Malroux was planning a trap?
Suppose he had brought O’Reilly along with him and when they saw my light, O’Reilly, a tough ex-cop, jumped out of the car and went for me?
I tried to assure myself Malroux wouldn’t risk his daughter’s life, but suppose he had guessed this was a faked kidnapping? Suppose…?
Then I saw distant headlights and I hurriedly stubbed out my cigarette.
This was it, I thought, in another few seconds I’d know if I had walked into a trap.
In the moonlight, I could see the car. It was the Rolls. I let it come closer, then pushing my torch through the shrub, I began pressing the button on and off, sending a flicking beam into the road.
The Rolls was moving at about twenty miles an hour. I could see there was only the driver in sight.
But that didn’t mean anything. If O’Reilly was with him, he would be hidden at the back.