James Chase - You Have Yourself a Deal

“Do you think so?” She was very calm and her eyes mocking.

“Let’s leave it for now. You have a few days to think it over. Here is a beautiful wig. I’ll get Ginny’s uniform. We leave here in half an hour.”

When he had left the room, Erica Olsen stared out of the window, her slim fingers tapping gently on her knee.

The apartment was spacious, luxuriously furnished and had a magnificent view of the harbour, Onassis’ yacht, the Palace and the Casino. There was a big terrace with sun umbrellas, furniture, tubs crammed with begonias and geraniums and an orange tree heavy with fruit.

Erica stood on the terrace, her hands on the balcony rail and looked down at the view.

Girland said, “You settle in. I’m going down to organise dinner. I don’t think it would be wise for you to go out just yet.”

She didn’t say anything, but continued to stare down at the view. Her face was thoughtful. Girland had the idea she was wrestling with a problem. Leaving the apartment, he found a nearby Traiteur and ordered smoked salmon, coq au vin, forest strawberries and a carton of ice cream to be sent up to the apartment in a couple of hours’ time. It gave him some pleasure to pay for the meal with Dorey’s money. He thought regretfully that he was going to miss this luxury when eventually he returned to Paris, but cheered himself up with the reminder that with any luck he might return a rich man. Deciding to give Erica plenty of time to think, he drove to the Casino. He spent an hour there and lost thirty francs, then he drove back, took the elevator to the top floor of the building and entered Yew’s apartment.

Erica was sitting in the sun, a cigarette smouldering between her fingers. She had changed out of the Nurse’s uniform and was now wearing a white and blue dress that fitted her full, sensual curves. She didn’t look towards him, and seeing she was still preoccupied with her thoughts, he went into his bedroom, stripped off and took a cold shower. By the time he had shaved and changed, he heard her moving around in her bedroom which was opposite his.

“Dinner will be along in ten minutes,” he called and began to set the table on the terrace.

A little after 19.30 p.m. a boy delivered the meal and Girland, humming under his breath, set the food out on Yew’s beautiful Chinese plates.

He was drawing the cork from a bottle of Margaux ‘45 when Erica came out onto the terrace. She now seemed much more relaxed.

“This looks good,” she said as Girland drew out her chair. She smiled up at him. “You are very well organised, aren’t you?”

“When I have other people’s money to spend,” Girland said, sitting opposite her, “I’m right on the ball.” He poured a shot of vodka into two crystal glasses to go with the smoked salmon. “I’m not so hot when it comes to looking after my own money. I am better handling other people’s headaches than my own.”

“I’m not good either about handling my affairs.” She ate some salmon. “This is delicious.”

“That’s why I thought you and I could get together.” Girland passed a plate of brown bread and butter. “Tell me how you managed to get hold of Kung’s black pearl.”

She cut a piece of salmon, regarded it, then put it m her mouth. Watching her, Girland saw her face was expressionless.

“Is this Scotch or Norwegian salmon?” she asked.

He laughed.

“Scotch.”

“It is the best.” She sipped her vodka, then looked straight into his eyes. “This friend of yours with rich contacts. If he had the pearl, could he sell it?”

“Yes. The sale would be arranged very discreetly. There are still a number of collectors with lots of money who can’t resist anything really unique and who are prepared to buy and not ask questions.”

“Is that right?” She ate in silence and Girland, patient, enjoyed the salmon while waiting for her next move. When they had finished, he removed the plates and served the coq au vin that was standing on the electric hot plate.

“I am sure my friend won’t mind us drinking his best wine on such an occasion,” he said as he poured the Margaux. “This is a beauty.”

“Did your friend mention a price?” she asked after sampling the coq au vin and praising it.

“He would try for three million dollars. That would be gross, of course. He would have to have a cut.” Girland gave her his charming smile. “I would have to have one too.”

“What would be the price net then?”

“Two million which, of course, is a nice, useful sum.”

She regarded him thoughtfully, then nodded.

“I suppose it is.”

“But you were hoping for more?”

“One always does.” She laid down her knife and fork. “That was really very good. The wine is wonderful.”

“One should always eat well when arranging a deal.”

“Is that what we are doing?”

“I was under that impression.”

As she said nothing, he cleared the plates and put the strawberries on the table and the ice cream in one of Yew’s precious egg shell Chinese bowls.

She said suddenly, “There is always the possibility that he wouldn’t get three million dollars.”

“He seems pretty confident that he will get it.”

“The transaction would be in cash?”

“That would be a lot of cash. He could arrange to pay in Swiss bearer bonds. These are as good as cash and much more convenient to handle. That’s the way I would take my share.”

“You seem very sure you are going to have a share,” she said as she helped herself to ice cream.

“I’m not only an opportunist,” Girland said. “I am also an optimist.”

“Just how would the deal be handled?”

“Yew would have to see the pearl. He would have to satisfy himself it was Kung’s pearl and not a clever fake. He would then contact the buyer. There would be a minor delay, then the bonds would be handed over and that would be that.”

“It sounds very simple, doesn’t it?”

“Where is the pearl, Erica?”

“I was wondering when you were going to ask that. It is quite safe.” She leaned back in her chair and gave him an amused smile. “So you see... I admit I have the pearl.”

Girland drew in a long breath of relief. His hunch had paid off, he thought, now for the deal. He and Yew would split the million dollars, and at long last he would be in the money.

“I had an idea you had it. Well, now, when can you show it to Yew?”

“His offer is absurd,” Erica said calmly. “The pearl is utterly unique. There is no other like it in the world. I have already been offered four million and I want six.”

Girland stared at her.

“But there’s not that amount of money in the hands of any collector,” he said. “Now, look, Erica...”

“I have a contact who says there could be. There is a certain oilman who is supposed to be worth two hundred million dollars and he is a collector. He could afford to pay six million for it.”

“Then why don’t you sell it to him?” Girland asked, sure she was lying.

“There are complications.”

“What complications?”

“That is not your affair.”

Girland finished his strawberries, then getting up, he poured coffee from the percolator.

“Let’s sit comfortably and enjoy the view,” he said and carried the two cups of coffee to a side table and dropped into one of the lounging chairs.

Erica joined him. They both looked down at the glittering lights round the harbour and the Palace.

“Tell me about the complications.”

“That is not your affair,” she repeated, lighting a cigarette. “Will your Mr. Yew go to six million?”

“I don’t think so.” Girland sipped his coffee, then said, “You’ve talked yourself into a tough spot, baby. You now can’t do without me. Two heads are better than one. I’m good at complications. Tell me about them.”