“Caplin,” he said, and extended a large hairybacked hand to Charlie.
“Caplin?”
“Yes, Harry Caplin.” He laughed. “I’m from the United States — I live in the house two doors from you. Look, that’s it for me today. Say — I know we don’t know each other and I’m being really presumptuous in asking, but would you fellas like to join me for lunch? That’s if you’ve got nothing better to do.”
Look I’ll go back to the house and scramble into some clothes. Let’s say 12.45 at my place for drinks then eat around 1.00. It’ll sure be good to have new faces to talk with. Bring your friends and swim-suits if you like.” He laughed loudly and went off up the road.
Charlie was all for it, of course, he just wanted to break the monotony of sitting around waiting for further instructions from London. He said, “He’s a bulldozer, that man; he’s the American I mentioned.”
I said, “He’s seems friendly enough, but I’ve got a strange feeling that his offer of lunch was most definitely, not off the cuff. Something about him is not right and how did he know that we weren’t alone? I’ll get Rumple to check him out this afternoon.”
Fiona was already back at the house when we arrived to collect our shorts.
“Back so soon Fiona? I thought you’d be gone at least until late tonight?”
“Mr Dillon, you will find my report on the table over by the fax machine.”
She pointed across the room. “You should find it an interesting read. This Flackyard character is on the face of it whiter than white. But in reality he is into anything illegal, according to a young waitress with big ears and a loose tongue who I got talking to in one of his bars. He runs most of the working girls in the town, controlling them with what he calls his enforcers. These are basically paid thugs who collect the money and dish out any punishment as and when required, to keep the girls in line.”
“Funnily enough, one thing she did mention was that there is a rumour going around that three of these thugs have just disappeared. Apparently Flackyard is really pissed off and very twitchy about it. He thinks they’ve stolen certain items of value from him that he was transporting for one of his associates and that he was supposed to deliver yesterday. She thinks that it’s almost certain to be drugs. Unfortunately we were interrupted, so I left and came straight back here.”
“Sounds good Fiona. I look forward to reading it. But now, we have a lunch date with a bullish American two doors away. Would you like to come?”
“Another pair of eyes and ears might prove useful.”
“Sounds too good to miss. Have I got time to quickly change?”
I picked up the type written report. “Five minutes, and no more.” I said looking down at the white sheet of paper in my hand and thinking how I may have judged her a little to harshly at the outset, and how well written and detailed her report was. Perhaps she could be a valuable asset to the team after all.
The three of us arrived at Harry Caplin’s a little before 12.45. He lived in a magnificent mock Gothic house; the entrance hall was large and airy with a rich oak floor running throughout the ground level. The dark furniture did a heavy dance as we walked across the uneven plank flooring.
From the entrance hall one could see right through the house to where the green sea, dark clouds and stone balcony hung like a tricolour outside the back door. From the kitchen emerged the aroma of olive oil, onion, pimento, and fish. A wizened old woman of seventy something who ‘did’ for Harry was busy preparing salads. I could detect her feminine hand in the hydrangeas that filled the borders.
“Hi there, Sofia — this way, folks,” said Harry, “Did I tell you, that I’m the only American on this peninsula?” He had fixed the patio with green plants and a parasol. From his balcony one could see across the harbour towards one of the many scattered islands.
Harry swirled his drink and looked across to one of these islands regretfully. “This place is going to be way outside my tax bracket when they finish developing this area.”
“How long have you owned this house Harry?” I asked casually.
“Hell, I only rent this place, costs a fortune, but what the heck. I was lucky enough to be able to get off the treadmill, so I said to myself, Harry you’ll soon be nudging fifty, and what are you? A small-time publishing exec. making seventy thou. and not much chance of pushing it past seventy-five.”
“And what are you getting in return? Three weeks in Florida once a year and a ski trip to Colorado if, repeat if, you’re lucky. So what did I do?”
There was a knock at the door, and a minute later Sofia led a man in his fifties out on to the balcony. He was thin and neurotic looking. His face, although cleanly shaven was pitted with pockmarks from his adolescence, he had fine hair that was parted down the middle, and one of his long sideburns concealed a small but noticeable scar around his ear.
“Let me do the introductions,” said Harry. “This is George Ferdinand, he’s a good friend of mine, from hereabouts. Hope you’ll join us for lunch George? Sofia has cooked up the most wonderful dish using local fish just caught this morning.”
“Thank you Harry, I’d be absolutely delighted to join you — that is, as long as your other guests don’t mind?”
After we had all introduced ourselves, we sat down to eat. However, my appetite had been replaced with an overwhelming feeling of being fitted up.
This character George Ferdinand turning up out of the blue and on the off chance was just too convenient, as well as clumsy, to be believable.
My attention turned back to the meal, and Harry was quite right; Sofia had indeed cooked a magnificent feast for us. Charlie sat next to our late arrival who didn’t seem to talk very much, although at every possible opportunity he did light up a cigarette and consumed copious quantities of wine throughout the meal. As she came by I congratulated Sofia in Italian on a fine lunch.
George had heard me and said in clear and fluent Italian also, that he had never thought fish could taste so superb. Harry saw me look over.
“And he speaks German, Spanish and Russian just as well as you and I speak our mother tongue, don’t you, George?” He patted him affectionately on the shoulder. Charlie, Fiona and I all looked at each other. “How about one of my special cocktails to finish off this perfect afternoon” said Harry, looking over to Fiona. “Come and help me fix it up, Fiona.”
They disappeared into the kitchen. George came and sat with Charlie and me by the water edge. We soon discovered that he talked only in general terms about anything, steering well clear of anything personal about himself.
The tide was turning as I watched the waves moving down on to the private beach. Each shadow darkened until one, losing its balance, toppled forward.
It tore a white hole in the green ocean and in falling brought its fellow down, and that the next until the white stuffing of the sea burst out of the lengthening gash.
Fiona and Harry emerged from the kitchen with a big tray of glasses and a jug with frosted leaves around it. As they came through the door Harry was laughing and saying, “…it’s the only thing I really miss of the New York scene to be honest.”
Then Miss Price said in a loud clear voice, “Come and get it — Harry has just made us the most outrageous cocktail with…” Harry broke in, his voice taking on a reprimanding tone, “Now you promised that the ingredients would remain our little secret, Fiona.” His hand patted her bottom softly.