“Come on down, will you?” he said, then dropped the receiver back on its cradle and going into his bedroom, he stripped off his clothes and put on a dressing gown.
He heard Miss Kobbe come in.
“Get Sanson,” he called. “I’ll be out in a moment,” and he went into the bathroom and took a cold shower.
When Sophia came into the suite, she found Floyd talking on the telephone. He waved to her and she went over and kissed his forehead, then went into her bedroom.
Miss Kobbe, a tall willowy girl, began to mix a batch of martinis in a silver shaker. With a speed born of long practice, she poured two drinks, put one of them on the table where Delaney could reach it and then, carrying the other, she rapped on Sophia’s bedroom door and entered.
Sophia was sitting at her dressing table. She had taken off her frock and now, clad only in panties and brassiere, she was painting her lips with a fine-haired brush.
“Thank you,” she said as Miss Kobbe put the martini on the dressing-table. “Do you know if Jay is in his room?”
“I don’t think he is, Mrs. Delaney,” Miss Kobbe said. “I haven’t heard him. Do you want me to see?”
Sophia hesitated, then shook her head.
“No, it’s all right. Will Mr. Delaney be tied up for long?”
“He’s waiting a call from Hollywood. Mr. Cooper is coming up at six forty-five.”
“What’s happening to-night?”
“Mr. Delaney is meeting Miss Lucille Balu in the bar at nine. He then wants to catch the last part of the film showing to-night. You and he are having supper at half-past twelve with the van Asters at the Château de Madrid.”
Sophia sighed.
“When Mr. Delaney is off the phone, please tell him I want to speak to him.”
“I will, Mrs. Delaney.”
Miss Kobbe went out.
Sophia drank half the martini, then, lighting a cigarette, she slipped on a wrap and lay down on the chaise-lounge by the open window.
She had been uneasy and worried since she had left Jay. His explanation about the girl in his room hadn’t satisfied her. It had been too glib: too calculated. She was sure he had been lying and she had an instinctive feeling that something was seriously wrong. The scratches on his arm, the way he had held the curtain cord, the blue bead she had found on the floor and the atmosphere and tension that had been in the room had formed a sinister impression in her mind.
The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she had become. She felt that Floyd should be told and yet she was anxious that he shouldn’t go off the deep-end, as he so easily did. She knew he didn’t take much interest in his son and that he was inclined to be unfairly critical of him. She didn’t want to make the already big rift between the two any bigger, but she was now so uneasy in her mind that she felt compelled to shift the responsibility on to her husband.
She heard the telephone bell tinkle as Floyd hung up and then, after a pause, her bedroom door opened and he came in.
“Well, honey, did you have a nice swim?”
“Yes, it was nice. Sit down, darling. I want to talk to you.”
He moved over to the chaise-lounge, his half-finished martini in his hand and he sat down by her side. He put his glass on the side table and then rested his hand, under her wrap on her knee, smiling at her.
“What is it? You looked worried. I don’t like to see my baby doll worried. Is there anything wrong?”
For a moment she hesitated. Floyd was unpredictable. Was it her business to talk to him about his son? Would he be offended? Then she thought of the way Jay had moved across the room, the curtain cord in his hands and the sudden frightening feeling she had had that perhaps he meant her harm. This recollection decided her.
“Not exactly wrong, Floyd. It’s about Jay... ”
Delaney’s smile faded and two deep lines of disapproval appeared above the bridge of his nose.
“Jay? Why should you be worrying about him?”
“Floyd, this is in strict confidence. Please... ”
His hand slid over her knee and along her thigh and he smiled again.
“Of course. What is it?”
“He had a girl up here.”
Delaney stared at her, then took his hand away and rubbed his jaw, his eyes hardening.
“A girl? Up here?”
“Yes. When I left you, I came back here to pick up my swim-suit. I found the door locked. When I finally got in, there was a smell of perfume in the room. I knew at once someone had been in here. I asked him if he had brought a girl up here and he admitted it.”
“Well, for the love of mike!” Delaney said and got to his feet. He began to prowl around the room, his face set in a heavy frown. “Who was she?”
“I don’t know. She was in his bedroom. He said he was lonely. He met the girl in the lobby and thought she was attractive and brought her up here. Then he decided she wasn’t so attractive and was wondering how he could get rid of her when I arrived.”
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Delaney said, his voice suddenly harsh. “I’ll kick his tail for him! Where is he?”
“Floyd, please... I promised him I wouldn’t tell you. You mustn’t say anything to him, but I thought you should know about it.”
Delaney moved over to his drink, picked up the glass and finished the martini.
“There’s not much point in knowing if I can’t do anything about it,” he said impatiently. “I don’t object to him fooling around with a girl. At his age, that’s natural, but I’m damned if I’ll stand for him bringing some tart up here.”
“He won’t do it again, Floyd. We had an understanding about that,” Sophia said quietly.
Delaney ran his fingers through his hair.
“Well, then... ”
He glanced at his watch. His mind was already beginning to move away from the subject of his son, which never interested him for more than three or four minutes at a stretch. He had a lot to do this night. The Hollywood call bothered him. He had made an offer for the new Atlantic Book of the Month choice and he had just learned that M.G.M. were also interested in the book. If his agent, Brennon, didn’t hurry up, the book might cost him more than it was worth.
“Floyd... Jay is a little odd, isn’t he?” Sophia said. “Ever since I’ve known him I’ve thought he was — well, a little odd.”
Delaney looked sharply at her.
“Odd? I wouldn’t say that. Perhaps he’s a bit too quiet for his age and maybe he doesn’t mix enough, but I wouldn’t say he was odd. What exactly do you mean?”
What exactly did she mean? Sophia wondered. She really had nothing to go on except this instinctive feeling the boy wasn’t entirely normal.
“It’s a feeling I have.” She hesitated, then went on. “Sometimes I think he’s a little sinister. Why does he always wear those dark glasses? It’s as if he is hiding away his real thoughts from everyone. There’s an atmosphere about him... ”
Delaney was suddenly bored with all this. His mind was too absorbed in his own affairs to be bothered with abstract impressions.
“For heaven’s sake! Jay, sinister? You’re imagining things. There’s nothing sinister about the boy... nothing at all.”
Again Sophia hesitated, then, compelled to go further because of her genuine alarm, she said quietly, “His mother was a little queer, wasn’t she, Floyd?”
Delaney’s face hardened.
A little queer was an understatement.
Harriette would have been certified as insane had she not thrown herself out of a tenth-floor window of a hotel in Los Angeles. Although it was now twelve years since that fatal day, the thought of it still made Delaney flinch.
His mind shied away from the memory of the years he had spent with Harriette. Admittedly the first year had been enchanting. She had been breath-takingly beautiful, vivacious, wealthy and exciting. But from the very first, she had been eccentric, but amusingly so. To anyone with any insight the hint of mental instability was there but Delaney had no insight. Her fits of crying, her outbursts of violent temper and her sudden hysterical elation made her to him interesting and unpredictable. Her passion for dangerously fast driving, her long periods of sulky brooding and her restlessness were things that Delaney shrugged off as part of her personality.