Then she called, “That’s all. Finished. Come on in for a quick dip, and we’ll quit.”
I jumped in and we swam together. Then she came close, treading water, and the smile was small, and intense. I put my arms around her and kissed her there in the water. I kissed her for the first time. She clung, all the way. Then she moved back and looked at me, our feet treading water together.
“I like you,” she said. “I like you very much. Maybe I’m in love with you. It happens.”
“That’s why you ran off last night.”
“Maybe. Maybe that’s why I did. But I came back, didn't I?”
“That the only reason you came back? Because ‘Maybe I'm in love with you.’ ”
She laughed, the tinkling laugh, and her eyes were gentle. “That,” she said, “and another reason.” She splashed away. “Let’s get out of here.”
Top-side, she took off the cap and shook out her hair. She wiped her face with the towel, and wiped mine. “Let’s sit in the sun for a while,” she said, “and talk.”
“Sure.”
Her body glistened. Her thighs were full, and sun-brown, and long, and glistening. She was a glistening girl, that was the sum of her, her lips, her hair, the flesh of her. I wondered whether that brown was her color, if she was brown all over.
“Let’s sit,” she said. “I think you can help me.”
“Now we come to it,” I said.
We lay out side by side in the lounging chairs. The sun warmed down. I was drowsy, but I was listening.
“It’s tough on a girl,” she said. “This racket.”
“But you’re good. You’re wonderful.”
“It’s peanuts, if you have to depend on it for your living.”
“Do you?”
“I didn’t. But I do now.”
“I don’t get that.”
She stretched, moving her arms up over her head. I was less drowsy at once. “I was married once, as a kid. My husband was much older than I, almost thirty years older. He left me a good deal of money. So it seemed, at least.”
“You mean he died?”
“Yes.”
“Natural causes?”
“Yes.”
“Then the money petered, that what you mean?”
“Yes.”
“But this diving deal...?”
“It’s nothing.”
“But you can move up from that. You’ve got talent, and you’re beautiful, really beautiful.”
“Thanks. Move? In what direction?”
“Motion pictures. TV. You know. Others have made that jump. Swimmers...”
“No good, my friend. You’ve got to learn to be an actress.”
“Others have.”
“They started when they were kids. Let’s face it, pal. I’m twenty-six, now. You don’t start a motion picture career, from scratch, at twenty-six.”
“Maybe so,” I said.
“Oh, I’ve had offers, from all kinds of promoters. Nothing could happen, and I know that. Nothing except trouble from a lot of men. That’s a hard little head on these shoulders.” She touched her hair.
“And what’s on the finger?”
“Pardon?”
“The ring.”
“That’s part of the story.”
“Three carats, isn’t it? At least that.”
“It’s six.”
“Shows you. I’m no judge. So let’s get to the story, huh?”
She wriggled to get comfortable. More and more I was getting less and less drowsy. She said, “I’ve been around. Let’s get that out of the way. I’ve distributed my favors, if that’s what it’s called. But judiciously. With people I’ve liked. And I’ve accepted favors. From people I like. But I’m no bum. Let’s get that out of the way too.”
“Fine. You’re all right.”
She held out the hand with the sparkling ring. “Four months ago, I became engaged. You know Ben Palance?”
Old Ben Palance was a friend of mine, a rugged leather-faced man with a full head of strong white hair. He was a man of seventy, a retired sea captain.
“Improving on the first husband?” I said. “But this one’s got no loot.”
I was sorry I had said it before I had gotten it out. Ice jumped into her eyes.
I said, “I’m the bum around here. I’m sorry. This just isn’t my day.”
“Remember I had said I’d heard of you,” she went on. “It came to me later last night. I had heard of you through Ben. He thinks the world of you.”
“And I of him. But what’s the connection?”
“I’m engaged to Ben’s son, Frank Palance. Do you know him?”
“No. I’ve heard about him, but I never met him.” I squirmed around in the chair. “Look, don’t get sore, and take this as it’s meant. You’re a girl who’s used to good things, who sees no future in her profession, who figures to marry well... so that the good things can keep coming. Am I all wrong?”
“No.”
“So what’s with Frank Palance?”
“I don’t understand.”
“From what I’ve heard, he’s a nice guy, and all that, but he’s a sailor, or something, first mate on a boat, something like that.”
“That’s wrong.”
“His circumstances must have improved.”
She lifted her left hand. “This ring was bought by Frank. The convertible was a gift from Frank. He has a fully staffed house up in Scarsdale, and a penthouse apartment in town. He’s not a first mate on a boat, he’s the master of his own freighter.”
“And how his circumstances must have improved.”
“I met him about four months ago. Whirlwind romance, one of those things. But it was a mistake. More and more did I realize it. Frank is bad. He’s mean and vicious. I’m frightened to death of him. I can’t possibly tell you how bad these four months have been. Luckily, he’s been at sea part of that time.”
“Where do I come in?”
“I want you to help me.”
“How?”
“I want you to protect me from Frank. And” — she hesitated a moment — “I want to keep the things he gave me. I’ve earned them.”
“What’s the status right now?”
“Status?”
“The romance.”
“I broke the engagement the day he left on his last trip.”
“When was that?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“When’s he due back?”
“Tonight.”
I squirmed some more in the chair. I was getting to an uncomfortable subject. I said, “What about the fee?”
“Fee?”
“A man’s got to cat.”
“There’s nothing I can offer you. I’m practically broke.”
“Nothing?”
Our eyes met for a quick moment, and then, suddenly embarrassed, we both looked toward the sun, blinkingly.
I closed my eyes. I said, “Was there a bust-up, an argument, something?”
“There was.”
“An immediate cause for same?”
“Yep. A voluptuous brunette named Rose Jonas. Sings at the Raven Club. In a way, to me, she was a Godsend. It gave me an excuse.”
“How long has he known her?”
“Couple of months.”
“How’d he meet her?”
“I don’t know.”
“When’d the bust-up take place, and where?”
“I told you. The day he left on his trip. At his town apartment. We went at it hot and heavy. He hit me, once. He told me to return the ring, and the car, and he told me he was changing his policy, at once, in her favor.”
I opened my eyes. I sat up and faced her. Policy. That had the smell of money. Money. Bloodhounds don’t have a better smell when it comes to Uncle Sam’s crinkling green. “Policy?” I said.