James Chase - An Ace up my Sleeve

She handed one of the letters to Larry who looked at it.

“A real mean signature, isn’t it, ma’am?”

“Yes, but his bank knows it. It is impossible to forge.”

“Maxie could do it with his eyes shut.”

She stiffened.

“Who?”

“Maxie Friedlander… the guy who fixed my passport. He could do it.”

The feeling of utter defeat and despair that was crushing her lifted.

“Would he?”

Larry smiled his warm, friendly smile.

“From what Ron tells me, ma’am, Maxie would cut his own throat if the money was right. Yeah… he’d do it.”

“He wouldn’t ask questions?”

“No, ma’am.”

“But he would have to see the letter, Larry. It gives my address. He could blackmail me.”

“He needn’t see the letter. You could cover it up. Anyway, Maxie wouldn’t 121

want trouble. You pay him enough and there’ll be no kick-back.”

“How much would he want?”

“I don’t know that, ma’am. Maybe what you paid him for my passport. I’ll get it as cheap as I can.”

She leaned forward, clasping her hands.

“Will you do it?”

“Why, sure, ma’am. Ron told me I was to help you and that’s what I’m going to do. Give me the money and I’ll go now if you’ll let me have your car. I reckon it’ll take me a little over five hours to get to Basle.” He looked at the ornate clock on the overmantel. “It’s now nearly two o’clock. I’ll be with Maxie around seven o’clock. Maybe he’ll take an hour for the job. I’ll be back here by two in the morning. How’s that?”

Again she had the feeling of pending disaster, but she could think of no other alternative.

“Thank you, Larry. Take the car. What about… him?”

“I’ll fix him up before I go. He’ll want something to eat and a bucket to pee in. You leave all this to me. I’ll be off in half an hour.”

He went briskly into the kitchen.

She sat mere for some moments, trying to convince herself that this new plan could save her, but she was too shaken and uneasy to think coherently. She got up and went into the kitchen to find Larry boiling four eggs and defrosting bread in the oven.

“This will keep him going, ma’am, until I get back. Keep away from him. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“Don’t take risks, Larry. For God’s sake, don’t have an accident.”

“I’ll watch it, ma’am. Will you get the letter ready?”

“Yes.”

She went back to the sitting-room, found two sheets of typing paper and put the letter between them, leaving room for the signature space to protrude. She taped the two sheets together, completely concealing the letter. She folded it carefully and put it in a large envelope.

It would mean another day’s delay, she thought. She had to see the letter before she posted it to the Bank. She had to be sure the signature would be acceptable.

Then she went into the room. Herman used as a study, pushed back one of the oak panels to reveal a small safe. She spun the dial, opened the safe and took from it a leather folder. From the folder, she counted our forty one hundred franc notes. Returning the folder and relocking the safe, she went back to the sitting-room.

“Larry?”

As he didn’t reply, she went to the kitchen, but he wasn’t there. She went to the top of the stairs leading to the cellar. She could hear him talking. Moving quietly, she went down a few of the stairs to hear better.

She heard him say, “Make yourself at home, Fatso. You’ve got food now and it won’t be long before we let you go. Just take it easy.”

She heard a door slam, then Larry came running along the passage, pausing when he saw her. He grinned.

“Nothing to worry about, ma’am. Just keep clear of him. He can’t get out. I’ll get going. You got the letter?”

They climbed the stairs together and went into the sitting-room.

“Here’s four thousand francs, Larry. Do you think it’ll be enough?”

“Yeah, ma’am. I’ll talk him into it. Sure, it’s more than enough.”

“And here’s the letter.”

She took the letter from the envelope and showed him how she had concealed the letter.

“Stay with him while he does it, Larry. Make sure he doesn’t see what’s written here.”

“You bet, ma’am.”

She put her hand on his arm.

“And thank you, Larry, for all you’re doing for me.”

He smiled.

“Thank you, ma’am for giving me the chance to put things right. Don’t you worry… I’ll fix it. See you around two tonight.”

“Don’t take risks.”

“I won’t. Well, so long, ma’am… be seeing you,” and he went out of the living-room, out into the hall, snatched up his baseball cap, then opening the front door, he ran down the steps to the garage.

Standing by the big window, Helga watched him drive down the grit strewn road until the car disappeared from sight.

She suddenly felt very alone.

For some moments, Helga stood thinking. There must be no loose strings, she told herself. Had Archer checked out of the Eden hotel? It would be awkward if the hotel began an inquiry. Then she remembered he had booked an air taxi to take him back to Lausanne.

She knew Toni Hoffman, the secretary of the Flying Club at Agno. Quickly she looked up the telephone number and in minutes, was speaking to Hoffman.

As soon as she introduced herself, he became friendly and attentive.

“A wonderful surprise, Madame Rolfe! Are you needing a plane?”

“No, but my husband will be arriving next week. Mr. Hoffman, I believe Mr. Archer has chartered an air taxi?”

“Mr. Archer? Yes… that’s right He’s due to take off in an hour.”

“Would you please cancel the flight? Mr. Archer has been detained. He will, of course, cover the cost. When he is ready to leave, he will make another reservation.”

“Certainly, Madame Rolfe. I’ll tell the pilot. How is Mr. Rolfe?”

They chatted for a few minutes, then Helga hung up.

Should she call the Eden hotel? She thought for a moment. If there was a suitcase in Archer’s car she would know he had checked out. Slipping on her coat, she left the villa and went to the garage. She found a suitcase lying on the back seat of the Fiat. So he had checked out, she thought as she closed the garage door.

Then she remembered it was possible that Herman might send her a Telex. He had a mania about sending messages by Telex. She had to be sure the Eden didn’t Telex back that she had checked out.

She returned to the villa and called the Eden. As soon as she was put through to the Reception Manager, she asked if there had been a Telex from her husband.

“No, Madame Rolfe. Are you expecting one?”

“It is possible. If one comes would you be kind enough to telephone me? I am at my villa.”

“Certainly, madame… a pleasure.”

Again she stood thinking. Knowing how busy Archer always was it was certain his secretary had set up appointments for him the following day. She must stop her making inquiries. She hesitated, then dialled Archer’s office number.

While she waited for a reply, she calculated how long Archer would have to remain under lock and key. When Larry returned, she would drive to Lugano’s Central Post Office and post the letter to catch the first mail out. The letter wouldn’t reach the Bank until the following morning. The Bank would post the envelope to the villa the same day and it would arrive the following morning. Say three days. Today was Tuesday. To be on the safe side, she would say Archer wouldn’t be back in Lausanne until Sunday evening.

A moment later he was speaking to Betty Brownlow who had worked under her when she had been Archer’s personal assistant and who had taken over from her when she had married Herman.