The bathroom was right next door and looked as if it had been built for a Cecil B. de Mille movie with a sunken bath and a shower cabinet in pale blue and black.
I returned to the lounge.
Margot was lying full length on the window-seat, her head supported by two cushions. She was staring out across the expanse of moonlit sea.
“Do you like it?” she asked, without looking at me.
“Yes. Are you quite sure you want me to have it?”
“Why not? I don’t use it now.”
“You have your things here still.”
“There’s nothing I want immediately. I’m a little bored with them. Later, I’ll use them again. I like giving clothes a rest. There’s plenty of room for your things.”
I sat in a lounging chair by her. Having her alone in this bungalow gave me a feeling of acute excitement. She turned her head and looked at me, then she said, “Are you making any progress with your murder?”
“I don’t think I am, but you can’t expect me to keep my mind on my job with this sort of thing happening to me, can you?”
“What is happening to you?”
“This — the bungalow. And, of course, you...”
“Am I so disturbing then?”
“You could be. You are.”
She looked at me.
“But then so are you.”
There was a long pause, then she swung her long legs off the window-seat.
“I’m going to have a swim. Coming?”
“Why sure.” I got up. “I’ll get my bag. It’s in the car.”
Leaving her, I went out into the darkness, got my bag out of the car and came back.
I carried the bag into the bedroom where I found her standing before the full-length mirror. She had taken off her dress and she had on now a white négligé. She was looking at herself, her hands lifting her hair off her shoulders.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, setting down the bag. “I’ll do it for you.”
She turned slowly. There was that look in her eyes I’ve seen from time to time in the eyes of a woman who is making a proposal.
“You think I’m beautiful?”
“More than that.”
I felt myself sliding over the edge. I made a poor attempt to stop this from developing into something I could be sorry about in the morning, by saying, “Maybe we’d better skip the swim and I’ll take you home.” I was aware of feeling suddenly short of breath. “We might be sorry...”
She shook her head.
“Don’t say that. I’m never sorry for anything I do.”
Still looking at me, she walked slowly towards me.
II
“Give me a cigarette,” Margot said from out of the darkness.
I reached for my pack on the bedside table, shook one out, gave it to her, then flicked my lighter alight.
In the tiny flame, I could see her with her golden head resting on the pillow. There was a relaxed, peaceful expression on her face and she looked at me, our eyes meeting above the flame and she smiled.
I snapped out the flame, and all I could see of her was the faint outline of her nose as she drew on the cigarette, making the spark burn redly.
“I wonder what you think of me?” she said out of the darkness. “I don’t want to make any excuses. I’m not all that free and easy, but sometimes it happens, and then it’s a must. The moment I saw you I felt something I haven’t felt for months, and this is the result. I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s true. One of those mad, uncontrolled impulses, and I am shamelessly glad.” She reached out her hand and took mine. “I want to say you are nicer than I hoped you would be, and a better lover than I dreamed you would be.”
I was still pretty confused and surprised at the sudden way this had happened. Her words pleased me, but at the same time I was aware that I had fallen for her too easily. I had imagined I had got beyond the point where I could be swept off my feet. It disturbed me to know I hadn’t.
I lifted myself on my arm and bent over and kissed her.
“And you were wonderful,” I said, letting my lips browse over her face, “and you are wonderful.”
She ran her fingers through my hair.
“So long as both of us are pleased with each other.”
Then she slid away from me and, getting off the bed, she went out of the room.
I reached for my dressing-gown, put it on and went after her.
I found her standing by the open french doors looking out at the silvery beach and the sea. She made a picture in the light of the moon: like a statue by the hand of a master.
“What now?” I said, coming up by her side. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
“Let’s swim now,” she said, taking my hand. “Then I must go. What is the time?”
I led her out on to the terrace so I could read my watch in the light of the moon.
“It’s after two.”
“A quick swim, and then I really must go.”
She ran ahead of me down to the sea and I went after her, throwing aside my dressing-gown. We swam out for two hundred yards or so, then turned and headed back to the beach. The water was warm and around us there was a complete stillness as if we were the only two people left on earth.
We walked across the sand towards the bungalow, hand in hand.
As we reached the bungalow steps, she stopped suddenly, turned and lifted her face. I slid my hands down her long, slender back, over the curve of her hips and pulled her to me. We stood like that for a long moment, then she pushed me away.
“It’s been lovely, Lew,” she said. “I’m coming again. Will you mind?”
“What a question! Can you imagine I’d mind?”
“I’ll get dressed. Will it bore you to take me back?”
“I’d rather you stayed the rest of the night. Why don’t you?”
She shook her head.
“I can’t. Don’t think I don’t want to, but I have a maid whom Daddy pays. If I stayed out all night, Daddy would hear about it.”
“You certainly seem to have your old man in your hair,” I said. “Well, all right. Let’s go in.”
It didn’t take me more than a few minutes to get dressed. While she was fixing her hair, sitting before the dressing-table mirror, I sat on the bed, waiting for her.
“You know I think I should pay you rent for this place,” I said, “I could rise to thirty dollars a week, and it’d give you some pin money.”
She shook her head and laughed.
“That’s very sweet of you, but I don’t want pin money: I want spending money. No. I’m glad for you to have it, and I’m not going to be paid for it.” She stood up, smoothed down her glittering dress over her hips, looked at herself and then turned. “Now, we must go.”
“Well, all right, if you’re absolutely sure.”
She came over to me and touched my face with her finger-tips.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
We went through the rooms, turning off the lights, then I locked the front door and dropped the key into my pocket. We walked down to the car.
As we drove back over the uneven road, my mind was busy. It seemed to me this was a good opportunity to ask questions. I felt she must be in a receptive mood, and there was one question that I really wanted answered.
So I said casually, “Can you think of any reason why your father would want to hire a private detective?”
She was sitting low down, her head resting against the top of the bench seat. She stiffened a little, turned to look at me.
“Now you have had your way with me,” she said, “you are hoping I will be compliant.”
“No. You don’t have to answer the question. I won’t hold it against you if you don’t.”
She was silent for a long moment, then she said, “I don’t know, but I could make a guess. If he did hire your partner, then it was because he wanted him to watch his wife.”