Джеймс Чейз - I Hold the Four Aces

Getting up, he took away their plates and served the noisette de veau .

‘This looks marvellous,’ he said, as he carried the plates to the table. ‘I love this serve-yourself idea of yours.’

But Helga’s mind was busy. She had only five more days in France, then she would be returning to Paradise City. She couldn’t bear the thought of Grenville going off to Saudi Arabia and leaving her on her own.

She forced a smile.

‘I thought it would please you. Tell me about this project, Chris.’

She’s biting, he thought, but waved his hand deprecatingly.

‘It just wouldn’t be interesting to you or to anyone,’ he said as he began to eat. ‘Hmm... this is really good!’

‘I want to know about it!’ The sudden snap in her voice startled him.

‘All right, but later. Actually, I have all the papers here.’ He nodded to the briefcase, lying on the chair, and that was his false move.

Archer had warned him to be very careful how he handled Helga, but seeing her determined interest, he had allowed himself to be just too confident.

Seeing his confident smile, Helga regarded him. A red light flashed up in her mind. Archer had told Grenville that she was shrewd and quick to smell a con and he knew Helga: this warning was meant to be taken seriously, but Grenville, so used to dealing with rich, stupid women, hadn’t taken the warning seriously enough.

Helga was now asking herself if this was an opening gambit for some swindle. Now, looking at Grenville, who was happily eating, she told herself not to be so suspicious, but the red light was up. She wanted this man. She wanted him in her bed. But suppose this was a setup?

Probing, she said casually, ‘Is this site in Nice?’

‘No. It is in Vallauris. It is quite an impressive piece of land with marvellous views.’

‘How many hectares?’

Grenville had no idea. He shrugged.

‘It’s all in the plan, but let’s enjoy this, Helga. I had no idea they could cook so well here. Wouldn’t you like a little more?’ He poured more champagne.

‘No more for me, thank you.’

He was aware that she was studying him, her blue eyes uncomfortably direct.

‘Don’t look so serious, Helga,’ he said. ‘I’ve told you this project couldn’t possibly interest you, and I am also certain that the new Arabian king wouldn’t part with a dollar.’

‘Who is this American you are working for? What is his name?’

Grenville hesitated.

‘His name? Joe Patterson. Actually, he is staying in this hotel.’

‘Short, fat and pockmarked?’

Grenville almost gaped at her.

‘That’s right, and the world’s worst bore.’

‘I have seen him. How much does he want to promote this holiday camp?’

Grenville had an uneasy feeling that the initiative was slipping away from him. This woman, looking directly at him, began to worry him.

‘Two million dollars.’ He laughed. ‘According to him, that takes care of buying the site and putting up the camp, but who in their right mind, these days, would put up two million?’ He grimaced. ‘Not that it wouldn’t be a marvellous deal for me. I get a two per cent cut, and that would be nice money.’

Again the red light flashed up in Helga’s mind.

‘Yes, I can understand why you are interested, Chris.’ She sipped her champagne.

‘Well, I’m sure it won’t come off, but it might be amusing to go to Saudi Arabia. I’ve never been there.’

‘Have you any introductions?’ The probing note in her voice again worried Grenville.

‘I believe Mr. Patterson is arranging that.’

Helga nodded, then laid down her knife and fork.

‘Do help yourself, Chris. I’m sure you must still be starving.’

‘Well, it’s so good...’

While he was helping himself at the trolley, Helga lit a cigarette.

‘A holiday camp?’ she said. ‘That might not be a bad investment. Two million? Vallauris? What would Mr. Patterson’s terms be if someone advanced the money?’

Grenville stared, then returned to the table, his plate loaded, and sat down.

‘He is offering twenty-five per cent on the money.’

‘That seems excessively generous. The banks would accept a lot less.’

Grenville shrugged. He wished she would stop talking. He was thoroughly enjoying the meal.

‘I wouldn’t know about that, Helga.’

‘And how about control?’

‘From what I understand, he wants to keep control, but why bother? Surely you wouldn’t be remotely interested?’

There was a long pause which made him uneasy. As he ate, he looked from time to time at her. She sat still, her blue eyes cloudy, her face expressionless.

‘Look, Helga...’

She lifted her hand in an impatient gesture.

‘Enjoy it Chris... I’m thinking,’ and the steely note in her voice made Grenville suddenly lose his appetite. He pushed aside his plate.

‘I’ve had more than enough.’

‘There is cheese and a sorbet,’ Helga said. ‘Do help yourself.’

‘What about you?’

‘Coffee, please.’

He got up, reluctantly deciding to pass up the cheese, and poured two cups of coffee and sat at the table again. He could sense a change had come over her, but he couldn’t define the change. She now seemed remote and her expression had hardened.

‘Let me see these papers, Chris.’

Some forty minutes ago, her body had been yearning to be taken. All day long, she had thought of this man, but now, with a growing conviction that she was being set up for a con, her desire for him faded.

As Archer, who knew her so well, had warned Grenville: ‘I believe that sex would take second place, if she suspected she was being taken for a ride.’

Sex was now taking second place.

‘Are you sure you want to be bothered?’ Grenville had an uneasy feeling that she was beginning to dominate him, and this worried him. Always, he had been able to control the women who had fallen for him.

‘I asked you to show me these papers, Chris!’ There was sudden steel in her voice.

A little flustered, and losing his cool, Grenville opened the briefcase and took out the coloured brochure and the plan of the site.

‘Give yourself a brandy... nothing for me,’ Helga said, and sitting back, studied the brochure, then the plan of the site, while Grenville, sure now he had lost control of the situation, wandered to the drinks table and poured himself a brandy.

‘You will see...’ he began, but she silenced him with an impatient wave of her hand.

‘Let me read this first!’

He cut himself a piece of cheese and ate it. Holding his brandy glass, he wandered over to the window, drew aside the drapes and stared down at the traffic. This woman, he warned himself, was going to be difficult, but he thought of the possibilities. Although his confidence in himself had been shaken, he was still sure, that once he could get her to bed, all would go well.

Finally, she put down the papers. Her sharp mind had absorbed the details. She realized this promotion would never get off the ground, but she did see how she could control this man who meant so much to her. It was ridiculously easy.

‘This could be interesting,’ she said. ‘Let us talk about it.’ She moved to the settee, and Grenville came over, and sat by her side. ‘I have so much money and I believe money should always be put to work. If Mr. Patterson is really prepared to pay twenty-five per cent on two million... yes, it is interesting.’

Grenville stared at her.

‘But, Helga, dear! Surely you...?’

She waved him to silence.

‘Two million is nothing to me, and it would be nice for you to get two per cent. Now, this is what we will do. You and I will look at this site at Vallauris. I love the south of France. It’ll be fun, and also business. We will stay at Cannes for a couple of days. The Carlton Hotel is always so kind to me. Don’t worry about expenses: leave all that to me. Tell your Mr. Patterson that I am interested, and that you have persuaded me to look at the site. Telling him that will ensure, if the deal goes through, that you will get your commission.’ She patted his hand. ‘Let us catch the 22.30 night flight tomorrow. What do you think?’