James Chase - Not My Thing

He gave her his most charming smile.

‘Tarnia, I am delighted. You deserve it! Of course you must seize this opportunity. I’ll wait! Don’t worry about me.’ He leaned forward, smiling at her. ‘But you won’t sign a contract with this man until the end of this month? That is understood, isn’t it?’

‘I promised to give you a month to get a divorce,’ Tarnia said quietly. ‘A promise is a promise.’

‘Let’s eat. We’ll talk later.’

Jamison watched her eat hungrily, merely picking at his own food. He made small talk without really knowing what he was saying. Tarnia responded. She seemed so happy, and he could see her mind often drifted from him to her future triumph in Rome.

The meal finished, they ordered coffee. Both of them lit cigarettes.

‘Now, I have news for you, my darling,’ Jamison said.

Tarnia looked up. ‘Good news?’

‘I think so. You did say you would give me a month to be free of Shannon, and we would marry. You did say that, didn’t you? You did say that you would give up this promising career of yours to raise my children and run my homes.’ He stared at her. ‘You did say that, didn’t you?’

Did he see hesitation in Tarnia’s deep blue eyes?

‘You did say that, didn’t you?’ he repeated.

She looked at him, smiled and nodded.

Was it an uneasy, forced smile? he asked himself uneasily.

‘Yes, I did say that, Sherry.’

‘Well, here’s the good news. Shannon and I have had a long, serious talk. I have finally convinced her of my need for a son. I have told her that I am in love with another woman. Naturally, I didn’t tell her who you are, and she didn’t ask.’ He paused, smiling at Tarnia who had stiffened, and was listening intently. ‘I said I understood how she felt about granting me a divorce, but couldn’t she see my problem?’ He paused to sip his coffee, not looking at Tarnia. ‘Then unexpectedly, she told me she would give me a divorce. I hadn’t much hope, but that was what she said. She said she might be able to arrange it after she had talked to her priest. In fact, she said, it would be all right. When you return from Rome, my darling, I am absolutely confident our problem will be solved. Be patient. In six months’ time, we will be married.’ Again he smiled at her. ‘But in the meantime go ahead with your work. All I ask you to do is not to sign a long-term contract with Guiseppe. What do you think?’

Tarnia stared down at her untouched coffee. She remained silent while she thought. She loved this man. She wanted to give him a son. Yet, she reminded herself, she was throwing away a remarkable talent if she did marry him. She was excited and elated at the thought of working with the best couturier in Rome. But, she wondered, for how long? With Sherry, her future would be secure.

‘Suppose we wait and see,’ she said, and smiled at him. ‘If and when the divorce comes through, then we can make plans.’

‘But, Tarnia, we already know our plans. As soon as I am free, we marry,’ Jamison said curtly.

Tarnia looked away from him, then stiffened.

‘Do you see who has just come in?’ she asked softly.

Jamison, frowning, looked across the restaurant to see Sydney Drysdale of the Paradise City Herald lumber in. He was greeted with bows from Mario and led to a table away from Jamison’s table.

Drysdale had completed his column and had left it on his desk. Apart from muck-raking, his only other interest was good food. He had decided to have a crab dinner, and what better choice than the Stone Crab restaurant?

‘Lots of crab, Mario,’ he said, ‘and beer.’

‘Certainly, Mr Drysdale.’ Mario bowed and went away.

Drysdale, his little eyes quizzing, peered at the half concealed tables, always on the look-out for that extra piece for his column.

He saw Tarnia and Jamison and, as he sat down, he thoughtfully picked his nose. Hey! Hey! he thought, well what do you know?

‘You don’t have to worry about that fat creep,’ Jamison said. ‘I have him where I want him. Once he printed a smart piece about me. One of his ‘a little bird tells me…’ I fixed him good. My attorney told him if he ever mentioned my name again in his rag, he would lose his job. Don’t worry about him.’

‘He could mention me,’ Tarnia said, agitated. She reached for her sling-bag, opened it and took a number of papers from it which she spread on the table. They were receipts and customs papers. ‘We are here on business, Sherry. I can’t afford any scandal.’

Irritated, Jamison nodded, he picked up some of the documents and pretended to study them, aware Drysdale was watching.

‘I’ll go,’ Tarnia said. ‘We shake hands. Stay here for a little while. This must appear to be a business dinner.’

Jamison folded the papers and handed them back to Tarnia.

‘Just relax. He won’t dare to print a thing about us. I’ll telephone you tomorrow. In six months’ time, we will be married.’

Tarnia stuffed the papers back into her bag. She didn’t seem to have heard what he had said. He could see her one thought was to get away from the restaurant. She stood up, offering her hand.

A quick, business-like hand-shake. The touch of her hand sent a tingle through Jamison, but he kept his face expressionless.

‘Tomorrow,’ he murmured, then she gave him a quick, impersonal smile and walked out of the restaurant. He sat down and signalled to Mario, who came hurriedly to the table.

‘A cognac, Mario,’ Jamison said, and lit a cigarette.

Drysdale watched this performance. He was too experienced a muck-raker to be conned.

Well, well, he thought. So S.J. is having it off with the Lawrence piece. Lucky guy! Business dinner! A joke!

Three beautifully dressed crabs were set before him. As he began to eat, he continued to think. Nothing here for me. This rich bastard is too dangerous to write about.

All the same, he told himself, there’ll come a time when I’ll fix him!

As he finished his first crab and sipped a cold beer, Jamison called for the check, paid, left a handsome tip and walked past Drysdale’s table without looking at him, and out to his parked Rolls.

Ernie Kling replaced the telephone receiver and hoisted himself out of the lounging-chair. He walked into the kitchen where Ng was standing over a saucepan which produced an aroma that made his nose twitch.

‘Smells great,’ he said, leaning up against the door frame of the kitchen. ‘What is it?’

Ng smiled at him.

‘I think you will like this, sir,’ he said. ‘It is a national dish which my mother taught me to cook. Saffron rice, tender beef, green peppers and many other herbs.’

‘If it tastes as good as it smells, it is okay with me,’ Kling said.

‘Thank you, sir. I am sure you won’t be disappointed.’

Relaxing against the door frame, Kling watched Ng as he stirred the contents of the saucepan. Man! he thought, was I lucky to find him!

‘A job’s just come up, kid,’ he said. ‘I’m taking you with me. You’ll have fun. We’re going to Paradise City, Florida. Loads of sun, sea, swimming. It’ll be a real vacation for you, and, maybe, you could help out. Like the idea?’

Ng began to serve the savoury-smelling food onto two plates.

‘I am always at your service, sir,’ he said.

‘Sure… sure. But I want you to have a vacation. I want you to enjoy yourself.’

‘When I am with you, sir,’ Ng said quietly, ‘I always enjoy myself. Are you ready to eat?’

Carrying the two loaded plates, Ng went into the living-room and set them on the table.

A real character, Kling thought. He shrugged, then joined Ng at the table.

A few minutes before 22.00, Detective 1st Grade Tom Lepski walked into the Detectives’ room to find Sergeant Joe Beigler, the doyen of the Paradise City police force, reading through the afternoon’s crime sheet, a carton of coffee at hand and cigarette dangling from his lips.