“And you did very well, my dear,” he said, good-hum-oredly. “I should get home around seven tonight.” He started toward the door at a fast pace.
“Hold it!” I got onto my feet. “I’ll walk down with you, Rutter.”
He hesitated for a moment, without turning his head to look at me. “No need to do that, Boyd.” His voice was immensely casual. “I brought you all the way out here in the first place—it doesn’t seem fair to hound you right back, somehow. Why don’t you stay for a while and eat some of that lunch Myra’s got all ready?” His laugh was fine, but a fraction off key, “You’re my private army, Boyd, and an army always marches on its stomach, right?” He’d reached the door by then and kept right on going, walking very quickly. A second later I heard the front door shut.
The room was suddenly very quiet. I sat down on the couch again, lit a cigarette, picked up my half-finished drink, and finally looked up to meet the steady gaze of those sloe eyes.
“So what’s for lunch?” I said awkwardly.
Myra smiled slowly, her eyes wryly amused at the embarrassed nervousness of my voice.
“Congratulations,” she said. “You just got promoted to be an executive of the company!”
“You mean you have an executive lunch waiting in the kitchen?”
“You know damn well exactly what I mean, Danny Boyd,” she said calmly, “and it has nothing to do with lunch.”
Her eyes were getting that transparent look again revealing the well-banked furnace that must bum unceasingly in back of them. She came across to the couch and sat down beside me, her hands folded in her lap. “I’ll wait,” she said in a demure voice.
“Huh?”
“Until you’ve finished your cigarette—and your drink.” “Then what?”
She thought about it for a moment then stood up again. “I’ll give you a little demonstration and maybe you won’t take so long about that drink.”
She folded one arm behind her back and unzipped the beach dress, shrugged her arms clear, then let the dress fall slowly to the floor. That left her wearing a white bra and nylon briefs that fit snug and were very brief.
“Now you get the idea?” she said, grinning at me satani-cally. “Don’t try to kid me you didn’t get the idea right from the start?”
“How could I miss?” I said. “It was handed to me on a large plate.”
“James isn’t exactly the subde type, is he?” She was genuinely amused. “Suddenly he has great faith in you —the thought of that big rough lieutenant is enough to make him turn green!—and right now you’ve got him convinced that you’re the only one who can save him. So for the moment anything you want is yours for the asking, or like now, you don’t have to ask, even!”
I finished the drink, mashed the cigarette, and got onto my feet. Myra swayed a little toward me, enough to throw her off balance so she had to lean her whole body hard against mine.
“Why don’t we go into the guest room?” she asked in a soft voice. “I guarantee this time there will be no interruptions!”
“It’s a wonderful thought, honey,” I said sincerely, “and I could only wish there had been no interruptions yesterday.”
A puzzled look showed on her face for a moment. “What are you talking about, Danny?”
I put my hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back into an upright position again. “I’m sorry about the lunch,” I said lightly, “but I have to go now.” She still didn’t get it. “What’s the matter with you?” Her voice was tolerant. “Didn’t you get all the signals loud and clear? James gave you the royal invitation along with the royal approval. This is official, Danny! You have the master’s consent.”
“I know,” I said regretfully. “That’s the trouble with it.” Myra frowned. “Trouble?”
“I’ve met some sons of bitches in my time,” I grated, “but I’ll be damned if I’ll take any favors from the biggest I ever met—one who figures he’ll make me a present of his wife without even consulting her first!”
She laughed with tolerant amusement. “Who the hell cares one way or the other, Danny? Never mind James— if I didn’t go along with the deal, it wouldn’t work whatever he said. So forget him!”
“It’s not that easy, honey,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
The smile slowly faded from her face. “You mean you’re not going to—you won’t?”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, “and I won’t.”
“I’ve met some strange ones in my time,” she said slowly, “But, brother! You top them all.”
I walked around her and kept on going toward the hall and had reached the front door when I heard the soft patter of feet coming along behind me. I had the door open when she called out, “Danny!”
I turned my head and looked at her. Her face was very pale under the tan, and there was nothing in her eyes but a sudden unsureness.
“Danny,” she said tautly, “it won’t make any difference—you know that? He’ll believe it happened, anyway.” “I know,” I said dully.
“Well, then?” She faltered for a moment. “Why are you running out on me?”
“I’m not sure I can explain it to make sense,” I said carefully. “I know he’ll believe it happened, anyway— and I want him to.”
“I just don’t understand you at all, Danny Boyd,” she said bleakly. “Maybe I don’t appeal to you any more, is that it?”
“I feel the same way about you as I did yesterday,” I said truthfully. “And my feelings toward you have nothing to do with it at all.”
“Then—why?”
“Can’t you understand?” I snarled. “I don’t want that son of a bitch doing me any favors!”
chapter nine
I finally got to eat lunch—with Patty Lamont in her hotel room—off a room service cart. Patty was wearing a soft and feminine dress, along with a soft and feminine outlook. There was an uneasy feeling growing in the back of my mind that maybe the previous night had been a mistake. She was showing all the unmistakable signs of being a firm adherent to that unnerving theory that having once given her all, it automatically made for a permanent and binding relationship. It shows first in a whole pattern of small things; by the time we had finished eating and she had ignored my request for black coffee, calmly explaining it was bad for my nerves while she poured cream into the cup, alarm signals were ringing all over.
“What kind of a morning did you have, darling?” she asked, all wide-eyed attention while I took a shuddering sip of coffee.
“Just a morning,” I said sourly. “Elmo figures the insurance company will have to pay up now his lawyer’s after them, so he doesn’t need me any more.”
“But he can’t do that!” she said indignantly. “It isn’t fair after all you’ve been through.” She batted her eyelashes modestly. “Of course, I know that a lot of what you did last night was for me, but even so!”
“Then I saw Rutter out at his home,” I said casually.
97
“He said something real interesting—that the beauty contest wasn’t really his idea in the first place.”
“I guess he told you it was mine?”
“Uh—yes,” I said sourly. “You never told me it was your idea, Patty.”
She bit her lower lip, looking down at her hands, studiously avoiding my gaze. “I was too ashamed, Danny,” she said in a low voice. “You see, it wasn’t my idea in the first place at all.”
“Oh, no!” I groaned. “It wasn’t Rutter’s idea in the first place—it was yours. Now it isn’t yours. How many goddamned people are involved in the idea? What did you have going for you—a chain letter or something?” “Please, Danny?” Her voice was gently reproving. “You mustn’t use bad language like that, darling! It was Louise’s idea. She mentioned it casually one night, and I got enthusiastic because it sounded so good. I said I’d tell Mr. Machin in the morning and see what he thought about it. Louise said why give it to him and let him have all the credit, why didn’t I wait until I had an opportunity to speak to Mr. Rutter on his own.”