“I’m not in the mood to listen to this,” Perry said. “Did you or didn’t you like the outline I sent you?”
Hart reached for a cigar, stared at it, cut it and lit it. “Did you?”
“Okay,” Perry said. “So what? I tried, but it didn’t work. Get someone else to do it.”
“That’s not the solution, Boy. That’s backing out, and you’re not a quitter. Right?”
“I’d rather you got someone else. I have enough to handle without some goddam movie script—”
“That’s how the situation looks to you, but not to me. There’s always a solution to any problem if you look and think hard enough. I want you to cooperate. I know you can dream up the script I want. I know that, but you can’t do it if you are bothered by your wife.”
Perry got to his feet and walked the length of the big room, then he returned to Hart’s desk.
“I would rather you got someone else and leave me to handle Sheila.”
“You’re not going to handle her, Boy,” Hart said. “She’s going to be a pest — I have had a report on her. She has her hooks into you, and she’s not going to let go until you have no more money to spend on her, then she’ll walk out and find another sucker. I know her a lot better than you do. I’ve had reports on her background and reports of what she is doing while you try to write something worthwhile. She has two boyfriends. I have their names, but that doesn’t matter. She screws around, Boy. You think she plays tennis every afternoon? She doesn’t. She is shacked up with one of these men, having it off. All she’s bothered about is your money. These other two finks haven’t got money. If they had, she would have left you before now. My people bugged the motel room where she has it off. I have a tape, but you won’t want to listen to it. You’ve picked a real bad one, Boy. I’m sorry to tell you this, but I need you and you need me. Right?”
Perry sat down abruptly. “I don’t believe a word of this,” he muttered.
“You do believe it, Boy,” Hart said quietly, “but, naturally, you don’t want to believe it. I wouldn’t either, but I don’t make mistakes. You have to get rid of Sheila. You have to make up your mind that this is your only solution. My people can give you all the evidence for a divorce. Once you are rid of her, you’ll get back to your normal writing self.”
Perry stiffened. “I am not going to discuss Sheila with you nor anyone else,” he said, a snap in his voice. “This is my personal problem, and I’m not having anyone trying to solve it for me.”
Hart nodded. “Before I asked you to come to see me, I did some thinking. I felt sure you would say just what you’ve said. It’s your personal problem, and you don’t want interference. Okay. I would have been disappointed if you had said otherwise. Now, will you do me a favor?”
Perry looked suspiciously at this big man, resting in his executive chair. “A favor?”
“Yes. To both of us.”
“What’s the favor then?”
“You like fishing?”
“Sure, but what has fishing to do with this?”
“You have a fishing lodge in Florida some place?”
Perry stared. “How did you know that?”
“Never mind. You have, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Right. I want you to go down there today. I want you to fish and think. I want you to tell your wife that you have been sent by me on location to work on the script you have given me. As a favor to me and to yourself, do this. Get her out of your mind. Get off the bottle. Fish and think. I told you I want something with action, blood and sex. You sit by the river with a rod in your hand and you’ll produce what I want. Will you do this?”
Listening, Perry realized that this was what he wanted to do: to get away from NYC, away from Sheila and re-find himself in the solitude of the fishing lodge with no one to bother him, just himself, a rod and an idea for a script to think about.
He smiled.
“Okay. You have a deal,” he said.
He returned home in time to catch Sheila who was about to leave for a game of tennis. He told her he was flying that afternoon to Los Angeles with Silas S. Hart. He would be going on location, and maybe, he would be away a couple of months. He expected a scene, but Sheila merely shrugged. Looking at her, he saw excitement growing in her China-blue eyes, and he felt a sudden cold dislike for her.
“So what do I do?” she asked. “Sit around while you’re having it off with some tart?”
“You must please yourself what you do. This is a job, Sheila. I have to go.”
“I can imagine. What do I do about money?”
“I’ll leave you enough. He wrote out a check for seven thousand dollars and gave it to her.
“You call this enough for two months?” she had said.
“Everything is paid for by the bank, Sheila. That’s more than enough.” And leaving her, he went up the stairs to his bedroom. As he began to pack, he heard her car drive away.
“Once you are rid of her, you’ll get back to your normal writing self.”
And now, sitting in the Toyota listening to the rain hammering down on the roof of the car, he nodded to himself. Well, he was rid of her for two months. It remained to be seen if he got back to his normal writing self.
On the telephone, Sheriff Ross was talking to Carl Jenner.
“Look, Carl, what the hell’s happening?” he demanded. “I can’t raise Tom nor your men. What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. Hollis and Davis don’t reply. The telephone at the farm is dead—”
“For God’s sake! I know that! I’ve been trying that telephone for the past hour! What are you doing?”
“I’ve diverted two cars to the farm, Jeff. One of them slid off the road and into a ditch. The driver has a broken arm. The other car stopped to pull the ditched car free, but now the second car is on its way. This is a hell of a night. Lewis and Johnson, in the second car, don’t know the way to the farm. They keep reporting they are on farm tracks and the going is fierce.”
“I’m going to the farm to see for myself!” Ross snapped. “I’ve had enough of this balls-up. I know the road to the farm backwards. I’ll keep in contact with you on radio.”
“Don’t do that, Jeff!” Jenner said. “Wait. Lewis and Johnson can’t be that long. I’ve redirected them. With luck, they should reach the farm in twenty minutes or so.”
“That’s not good enough. I’m worried sick about Tom. I’m going!” Ross hung up.
Mary, who had been listening, came into the office with Ross’s slicker and hat.
“You’ll be careful, Jeff,” she said. “I’ll stand by the telephone.”
He smiled at her.
“Spoken like a true wife of a sheriff,” he said. He put on his slicker, checked his gun, then slapped on his hat. “Don’t worry. I know that road inside out.” He gave her a kiss. “Keep the radio on. I’ll be in touch,” and he plunged out into the rain.
The road up to Loss’s farm had deteriorated since Tom Mason had tackled the drive, and Ross had to struggle to keep the patrol car from sliding into the ditches either side of the road. Driving slowly, he finally reached the crest of the hill where he found Hollis’s car. He switched on full headlights, lighting up the front of the bungalow.
A moment later, he saw two men come to the front door and wave to him.
He pulled up outside the bungalow and got out.
“Hi, Sheriff,” Hollis said. “Glad you made it. So far, my lot haven’t shown up.”
Ross grunted and moved into the lobby, out of the rain.
“What’s going on? Why haven’t you been in contact with Jenner? Where’s Tom Mason?”