Stop this stupid, superstitious thinking! she told herself. You know a needle couldn’t kill anyone. It’s not possible. Herman’s death was a coincidence. It must have been! There could be no other explanation.
Her mind switched back to Herman’s hatred. She thought of his letter to Winborn. Only a few days ago, she had told herself that when Herman died, she would destroy the letter.
Because he no longer trusted her, Herman had written this letter which would strip her of her V.I.P. status since she would never accept the conditions he laid down.
As I am satisfied that she has betrayed my trust... She remembered the words.
True, she thought, I did betray your trust but you never considered my feelings. All you wanted was a good looking secretary-servant. Although I was unfaithful to you I have always been honest with your money. Why couldn’t you have shown a spark of kindness, consideration and understanding and have turned a blind eye to my affairs?
For many minutes, she sat still, staring out of the window, then she came to a decision.
You may be a selfish, hard, unfaithful bitch, but you are not dishonest, she told herself.
She would not destroy the letter. She would give it to Winborn when he arrived. Whatever else she was, she wasn’t dishonest nor a cheat. To destroy the wishes of a dead man would be a despicable and utterly dishonest act.
Then into her mind came the small voice of temptation. Don’t do anything in haste, the voice said. Think what you will be giving up. Think of the power that will be yours when you control sixty million dollars. If you give that letter to Winborn, knowing you can’t live like a nun, you will have nothing and you will be faced with the task of making a new life for yourself. Think of the gossip when it becomes known that Herman has disinherited you. They will say gleefully that there is no smoke without fire. The Federal tax people will want to know what has happened to the two million dollars Archer stole. You will have to throw him to the wolves to save yourself and he will tell the world, to try to save himself, you were his mistress. Don’t give the letter to Winborn, the small voice urged. Destroy it as you were planning to do before you got this spineless feeling of guilt. No one will know except Hinkle and he is your friend. He admires you: so good, so worthy, so loyal.
For more than three hours, Helga struggled with the small voice and then when she felt utterly exhausted, the steel in her asserted itself.
‘Whatever else you are, whatever else you become,’ she said, half aloud, ‘you will not be a cheat!’
Her mind made up, she got unsteadily to her feet, rang the service bell, then unlocked the door. She crossed to the wall mirror and regarded herself. God! She looked terrible! The right side of her face was puffy and bruised. Her eyes were swollen with weeping. Her hair looked like a bird’s nest.
She crossed to the desk and sat down as a tap came on the door.
‘Come in.’
Hinkle entered and closed the door gently.
‘I want you to do something for me, Hinkle,’ she said and taking out a sheet of notepaper, she wrote:
Please give Mr. Hinkle, the bearer of this note, the envelope you have in safekeeping for me.
She signed and addressed an envelope to the Manager of the Diamond Beach hotel.
‘Will you please go immediately to the Diamond Beach hotel and bring back an envelope they are keeping for me in their safe?’
‘Certainly, madame.’ Hinkle took the note, hesitated, then said, ‘May I inquire if you are still in pain, madame? Nurse Fairely is extremely worried.’
She looked at him, her eyes steely.
‘I am all right. Will you tell the police inspector I will see him when it is convenient to him?’
‘Are you sure that is wise, madame? Shouldn’t you...’
‘Please do as I say!’
‘Yes, madame.’ Hinkle flushed at her sharp tone. ‘I have had a telephone call from Mr. Winborn. He will not be arriving this evening but sometime early tomorrow. It would seem there is an airport strike that has delayed him. He sends his regrets.’
‘All right. Now please go to the hotel.’
When he left, looking upset by her curt manner, she went into the bathroom and began repairing her face. In twenty minutes she had painted out the bruise, reduced the swelling of her eyes and fixed her hair. She was lighting a cigarette when Chief Inspector Harrison arrived.
Harrison was a tall burly man who could have been Frank Gritten’s brother. He had the same steely blue eyes and the same gentle voice.
He began by offering his sincere condolences but Helga cut him short.
‘Thank you, Inspector. I am anxious to rest. I understand you want a description of the man who attacked me. He was coloured: tall, thin, middle aged and he wore a yellow and red handkerchief around his head, a dirty white shirt, dark trousers and was bare footed. Is there anything else you want to know?’
Startled at being so hustled, Harrison stared blankly at her.
‘You haven’t seen this man before, madame?’
‘No.’
‘Is there anything missing?’
Why hadn’t she thought to look to see if Jackson had taken the money? Helga was angry with herself for not checking.
‘I don’t think so. This is a hired villa. I have only my jewels and some money... nothing else of value.’ She got to her feet and going to the closet, she checked her jewel box, then satisfied, she went to her bag lying on the dressing table. The eight thousand dollars was missing! With an effort, she kept her face expressionless. Snapping the bag shut, she said, ‘No, there’s nothing missing. It was fortunate I was up here. I heard movements, went to the head of the stairs and saw this man. He saw me and came bounding up the stairs. I locked myself in and I called the police. He broke in and tried to stop me telephoning. I suppose he became frightened and ran away.’
Harrison regarded her thoughtfully.
‘It would seem so, madame.’
‘Is that all?’ she asked impatiently.
‘Not quite all. What can you tell me about a doll we found downstairs?’
She had completely forgotten about the doll! Again her steel control served her well.
‘Doll? I know nothing about a doll. What do you mean?’ She crushed out her cigarette.
‘Excuse me a moment.’ Harrison went to the door. He spoke to someone outside, then returned, carrying Rolfe’s effigy.
‘This doll, madame.’
Helga forced herself to look at the doll.
‘I’ve never seen it before.’ She looked more closely, then shrank back, stifling a gasp, but she was careful not to overplay the scene. ‘It... it resembles my husband.’
‘Yes, madame. I am sorry to raise such a painful.’
‘This intruder must have brought it with him. Probably, he wanted to sell it to me,’ Helga said quickly. ‘There can be no other explanation.’
‘Unfortunately there is, madame. You may have heard of this Voodoo cult.’
‘At this moment, I am not interested in cults,’ Helga broke in, steel in her voice. ‘If that is all, then I would be glad if you would go. My head is tormenting me.’
Harrison hesitated. He was very conscious that he was facing a woman now worth at least sixty million dollars and that kind of money drew a lot of water. He was also aware that she had just lost her husband and had been attacked. If he continued to question her she could complain and his superiors could come down on him like a ton of concrete. He decided to play safe.
‘Certainly, madame. I will see you are not bothered again. As nothing has been stolen...’ He began to move to the door. ‘You can be sure we will hunt for this man.’