Джеймс Чейз - I Hold the Four Aces

Feeling more relaxed, she had a grilled steak at the Eden Hotel, then drove back to the villa.

As she was approaching the entrance to the villa, she was surprised to see a policeman in brown uniform on a motorcycle come down the drive. He swept by her, his white helmet glittering in the moonlight.

She garaged the car, and then walked up the steps as Hinkle opened the front door.

‘What was that policeman doing here?’ she asked sharply.

Hinkle’s face was expressionless as he said, ‘I forgot to register at the Commune, madame. It is now in order. Did you have a satisfactory day?’

‘All right.’ She walked into the living-room. ‘I have put the villa on the market. As soon as Mr. Grenville has returned, we will leave for Paradise City. I want you to stay on here, to get rid of the furniture, and to see the sale through. Will you do that?’

‘Certainly, madame.’

She smiled at him.

‘You are so reliable, Hinkle. Once this place is sold, I want you to come back and arrange everything for the wedding.’

‘I am at your service, madame.’ There was a sad look in Hinkle’s eyes that disturbed her.

‘It will be all right, won’t it, Hinkle?’

‘Let us hope so, madame. Is there anything I can get you?’

She looked at the clock on the over-mantel. It was now at 21.15. She had fourteen more hours to wait before Archer arrived.

‘No. I’ll go to bed.’ She looked at him. ‘Be patient with me, Hinkle. I keep thinking of him... what he is doing... how those awful people are treating him.’

‘I understand, madame.’

She put her hand on his arm.

‘I don’t know what I would do without you, Hinkle.’

Leaving him, she went into her bedroom and closed the door. Hinkle locked up, secured the shutters, and then went to his quarters. On his bed lay a bulky envelope that the policeman had delivered.

Putting on his glasses, and tearing open the envelope, Hinkle sat down to read what Jean Faucon had sent him.

Helga was awake when Hinkle wheeled in the coffee trolley. She had come awake soon after 07.30. The three sleeping pills had seen her through the night, and now awake, she was no longer apprehensive. Archer would arrive. She would telephone her bank, instructing them to pay two million dollars into Archer’s account. Presumably, sometime in the afternoon, he would check his bank to make certain the money had arrived, then she would have Chris back! She lay dreaming for an hour, thinking of Chris, feeling his hands on her body, thinking of the moment when they would fly off together to Paradise City and this horrible nightmare would be over.

As Hinkle poured the coffee, he said, ‘I trust you slept well, madame?’

She smiled.

‘Pills, Hinkle.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘Some time tonight he will be back! I want you to pack my things. Tomorrow, he and I will fly to Paradise City.’

‘It would be as well, madame, to await Mr. Archer’s arrival. I will pack this afternoon, after he has gone.’

She looked sharply at him.

‘Nothing can go wrong! The money is ready! Mr. Grenville will be back tonight!’

‘Shall I draw your bath, madame, or would you prefer to rest awhile?’

‘I’ll have my bath now.’

There was a clouded expression on Hinkle’s face that made her feel uneasy. She watched him go to the bathroom. Having started the mixer, he came from the bathroom and prepared to leave the room.

‘Hinkle! Is there something wrong? Something you haven’t told me about?’

‘There are things I have to attend to, madame,’ Hinkle said quietly. ‘Excuse me,’ and he left the room.

Helga frowned. There were moments like this when Hinkle exasperated her. Could something be wrong? She got out of bed and went into the bathroom. She remembered what Hinkle had said: a woman faced with a difficult problem is always at her best, when looking her best. She put on a peach-coloured trouser suit, regarded herself in the full-length mirror, nodded, then walked out onto the terrace.

The time was 09.45. Two more hours to wait!

As she sat down, feeling the morning sun on her face, Hinkle appeared. She was startled to see he was no longer wearing his white coat. He was dressed in a dark-blue suit with a sober blue tie. He came towards her, carrying a large orange-coloured envelope.

‘Madame Rolfe,’ he said quietly, ‘I wish to talk to you: not as your servant, but as someone who wishes you well and, if I may say so, as a friend.’

Helga stared at him.

‘What is it? Why are you dressed like this?’

‘If you find you can’t accept what I am about to tell you,’ Hinkle said, ‘it is my intention to leave immediately.’ Without asking her permission, he pulled up a chair and sat down. This was something he had never done before, and Helga could only stare at him.

‘Leave? I–I thought you understood, Hinkle.’

‘It is you who must understand,’ Hinkle said, regarding her. ‘For you to understand, I must ask you to listen to what I have to say without interruption, and then, of course, you are at liberty to accept or reject what I am about to tell you.’

Helga felt a sudden cold chill run up her spine. She had a presentiment of disaster.

‘I find all this most odd, Hinkle, but what have you to say?’

‘I have a niece, madame; the daughter of my sister. Some fifteen years ago, she married a young Frenchman, Jean Faucon, and they settled in Paris. Faucon was a police officer. Soon after they married, he transferred to Interpol. Over the years, he has had an excellent career, and at this moment, he is an assistant commissioner. I regret to tell you, madame, when I met Mr. Grenville, I had serious doubts about him. Yesterday, I telephoned my nephew-in-law and asked him if Mr. Grenville was known to Interpol.’

Helga’s face went white.

‘How dare you do such a thing!’ she rasped. ‘You are out of your mind with jealousy! I won’t listen to another word!’

Hinkle regarded her sadly.

‘You will listen to what I have to say, madame. I have all the proof you need to convince you that what I am about to tell you is fact. Last night, a police officer arrived with Mr. Grenville’s police dossier which, as a very special favour, my nephew-in-law had had flown to Geneva. It is a photocopy. Mr. Grenville is wanted by the German police on three charges of bigamy.’

Helga shrivelled. She put her hands to her face while she stared at Hinkle.

‘Bigamy?’ Her voice was husky.

‘Yes, madame. According to the dossier, Mr. Grenville appears to prey on elderly women. His method appears to be to find some rich, lonely woman, marry her, live on her until he becomes bored with her, and then leave her to repeat the operation with some other lonely woman.’

‘I can’t believe it!’ Helga cried, her voice shrill. ‘I won’t believe it! I won’t listen to you!’

Relentlessly, Hinkle continued, ‘The kidnapping was an obvious fake. The police have established that only two days ago, Mr. Grenville and Mr. Archer were seen together in your Rolls. There is no question about that. Mr. Archer gave the policeman his card, and Mr. Grenville showed the policeman his passport. I have listened to the tape recording I made of your interview with Mr. Archer, and Mr. Archer said he hadn’t met Mr. Grenville, yet the day before, he was in your car with Mr. Grenville.’

Helga closed her eyes and her hands turned into fists.

‘The details are here in this dossier.’

‘Bigamy!’ The word came from her in a wild cry. ‘The sonofabitch wanted me to marry him!’

Hinkle watched her sadly. Then he saw a sudden change in her. She stiffened, and her eyes snapped open. Her face became a mask of marble, and her eyes turned into blue points of steel.