James Chase - An Ace up my Sleeve

Now she had to persuade Herman to cancel his flight. It wouldn’t do to telephone him. He would only argue. If she couldn’t persuade him to cancel his flight he would be arriving at Geneva the following evening and at Agno airport the morning of the next day. This was too dangerous. She had to keep him away from the villa for at least another three days.

She listened, but heard no sound from the cellars, then she went to her desk and sat down. After thinking, she decided to ask the Eden to send a telex. Herman had a secretary at his New York apartment who would accept the message if Herman was out.

She wrote the message out on a sheet of paper. 135

Central heating now working, but villa still like ice box. Will take at least a day to warm up. Cleaners have been unable to work, due to cold. They arrive Thursday morning. Suggest you fly to Geneva Friday. I will meet you at Agno Saturday usual time. Think all will be ready by then. Snowing heavily here, Helga.

She re-read the message, decided Hinkle would be consulted and would veto flying tomorrow, then she rang the Eden and dictated the message to the clerk in charge of the telex. He promised to send the message immediately.

As she replaced the receiver, she suddenly felt utterly drained and exhausted. She realized she hadn’t had any food since lunch time, but the thought of preparing something was too much of an effort. She hesitated about having more brandy and decided against it. Getting to her feet, she walked slowly into the kitchen and put on the coffee percolator. She sat on a kitchen chair, her head in her hands, her eyes closed and remained like that until the coffee was ready. She sipped the strong black coffee which revived her a little, then as she was putting down the empty cup, she heard a sound that brought her alert.

She sprang to her feet and went to the kitchen door and looked across the hall to the cellar door. As she stood listening, her heart beginning to thump, the sound came again: a low moaning sigh. It was such an uncanny sound that it turned her cold.

Shakily, she crossed the hall and stood close to the cellar door, holding her breath, so tense, her muscles began to ache. The sound came again.

Was Archer having an attack? He had been behaving like an infuriated bull and if he did have a bad heart as he said he had he might have brought on an attack. She cringed at the thought. Suppose he died?

Then very faintly through the door panel as if he were crouched against the other side of the door, she heard him murmur, “Helga? Helga?”

“What is it?” Her voice quavering and husky.

“It’s my heart’ He made a low whimpering sound. “There are tablets in my overcoat pocket. Get them… quickly.”

She looked at the black overcoat lying on the hall chair. With shaking hands she searched the pocket and her fingers closed around a glass phial. She took it out and stared at it. It contained about eight oval shaped tablets. There was no label attached to the phial.

The moan came again.

Without thinking, now in a blind panic, she caught hold of the pole to jerk it free, but it was jammed so tight, she couldn’t move it.

“For God’s sake, Helga… I’m dying,” Archer called. “Give me those tablets!”

The harsh note in his voice tinged with angry impatience her pause. Was he bluffing? She looked at the phial. These could be anything: digestive tablets, sleeping pills… anything.

“Helga? Are you there?” His voice was stronger as if he was afraid she might have moved away and wouldn’t hear him.

If he was bluffing and she opened the door, she would be at his mercy, she thought. But suppose he wasn’t? Suppose he really was having a heart attack?

She moved to the door.

“They’re not there. Would they be in the car?”

“They’re there!” There was now a snarl in his voice. “You haven’t looked! A phial with white tablets in it. Look again! Open the door… I can’t breathe! For God’s sake, Helga, don’t let me die!”

The snarl in his voice stiffened her resolve not to open the door. Moving unsteadily, she went into the sitting-room and closed the door. She crossed to the bar and poured brandy into a glass and swallowed it in one shuddering gulp. Then she dropped on to the settee.

If he died… he died! She dare not risk opening the cellar door. He had shown no mercy to her. Why should she show mercy to him? A blackmailer is the dirtiest thing on earth. Let him die! She would be free of him then forever! But she knew she was desperately trying to justify her action. She knew that it was only because she was exerting tremendous control over herself she wasn’t rushing to his aid.

He’s bluffing, she tried to assure herself. He’s unscrupulous, ruthless and an expert bluffer. She held her head in her hands. But was he bluffing?

Suppose, when Larry returned, they found Archer dead? The thought sickened her. What would they do? How would Larry react? She touched her dry lips with her tongue. If he died she would have to call a doctor. Would the news of his death travel fast? Would the Bank hear of it before they posted the letter? In the event of my death! They certainly wouldn’t post the letter to a dead man. They would act on his instructions and get a messenger to hand the envelope to Herman when he arrived at Geneva.

She struck her clenched fists together in an agony of indecision and despair. Getting to her feet, she opened the sitting-room door to listen.

Faintly, she could hear a sound on the lower panel of the cellar door. Irregular sounds, as if feeble fingernails were tapping on the panel.

“Helga… the tablets…” Archer’s voice was now so faint she could scarcely hear it. “The tablets.”

With her hands pressed to her ears, Helga blundered into her bedroom and threw herself face down on the bed.

The sound of the garage doors slamming shut startled her out of a sleep of exhaustion. Dazed, she scrambled off the bed. She was so unsteady she had to sit down abruptly on the bed or she would have fallen. She looked at her watch. The time was 03.10.

Had Larry returned?

She forced herself to her feet and stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hall. She looked fearfully at the cellar door, and then she went to the front door and opened it

By the porch light, she saw it was snowing heavily and the cold struck at her. She saw Larry coming towards her, holding the envelope she had given him.

It was only the steel in her that prevented her from bursting into tears of relief.

He came up the steps, chewing hard and smiling his warm smile.

“I got it, ma’am! Get inside and… you’ll catch cold.”

She stepped back, her knees trembling and she had to clutch hold of the door to prevent herself falling. He gave her a searching stare and then caught hold of her, pushing the front door shut.

“Are you all right, ma’am?”

“I’m so glad you’re back.” Her voice broke and then the tears came and she leaned against him, shaking and sobbing.

“Hey, ma’am! What’s the matter? Did you…” He stopped as he saw the pole jamming the cellar door. “Did you have trouble?”

“Oh, God… yes!”

He lifted her off her feet and carried her into the sitting-room. Gently, he put her on the settee.

“What happened, ma’am? He didn’t get away?”

She fought to control herself and succeeded. As she dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, she said, “No… but, Larry… I - I think he’s dead.”

Larry took a step back. His look of concern changed to wide-eyed fright.

“Dead?”

She nodded.

“I nearly went out of my mind!” She beat her fists together. “He said he was having a heart attack.” She had to stop speaking to fight back her tears, then after a moment, she went on, “It was awful! He was moaning and calling to me! He wanted some tablets. I was too frightened to open the door to give them to him. Then he started knocking… and now… there’s no sound… nothing.” She shuddered, her face working. “I’m so frightened. I didn’t know if he was bluffing. I couldn’t let him out… could I?”