James Chase - An Ace up my Sleeve

Larry grinned.

“With me around, ma’am, he won’t try.”

She put on her hat and looked at herself in the hall mirror. God! she thought, how old I look!

She put the letter in her bag. She found a pair of fur-lined boots in the recess and put them on.

“I won’t be long.”

“Okay, ma’am… if you’re sure you want to go.”

She opened the front door and shivered as the cold bit at her. She cautiously made her way down the snow-covered steps. On the fourth step she nearly slipped but recovered.

“Watch it, ma’am!” Larry said from the opened doorway. She kept on and reached the garage. Once inside the warm car she relaxed a little. She knew the road down to Lugano well. She knew the three danger points. She set the in motion. The snow tyres bit into the snow and she drove cautiously.

She met no other car nor any other person. Three times the car went into a skid, but she was an experienced driver and although she hated skids, she controlled the car.

Eventually, after some fifteen minutes of difficult driving, she reached the Central Post Office. She parked the car, got out and dropped the letter into the box.

With the snow falling heavily, making her coat into a white mantle, she stood for a moment, relaxing.

The first step in the operation was completed. Now it remained to be seen if the Bank would send the envelope. Shaking the snow off her coat, she went back to the car and got in. She lit a cigarette, staring through the windshield while she thought. The time by the lighted clock on the dashboard was 03.55. She realized how deadly tired she was. She thought with dread of the thirty odd hours ahead of her before she could expect a reply from the bank. If this snow continued, there would be no question of Herman surprising her. He took too good care of himself to fly when the weather was bad.

She shifted the lever to Drive and drove back towards Castagnola. Driving around the steep climbing bend into the village, the Mercedes got out of control. The back wheels skidded and the car turned broadside on across the road and then began to slide sideways down the hill. She spun the driving wheel, touched the gas pedal and got the bonnet of the car pointing up hill again, but the hill was too steep for a take-off and the wheels merely spun, moving the rear of the car until the wheels thudded against the kerb. She sat motionless for some moments wondering what to do. Finally she decided she must make a new attack on the hill. She went into reverse and backed slowly down the hill until she reached the entrance to Cassarate which was on the level. She paused, fighting her tiredness, then drawing on her reserve stamina, she again started up the hill. This time she kept her foot very lightly on the gas pedal, but just enough to keep the engine going. In this way, with the snow biting, the car crawled up the hill.

She realized there was no question of her getting the car up the private road to the villa. When the entrance was in sight, she pulled the car to the side of the road and got out.

Leaving the parking lights on, she slipped and slid up the drive, until she finally reached the front door of the villa. She was cold, stunned and exhausted as she pressed the door bell.

After a brief delay, Larry opened the door.

“You made it, ma’am.”

Wearily, she took off her coat and thrust it into his hands.

“Shake it. Don’t bring all that snow into the house.”

She sank on to the chest, closing her eyes. The warmth that seeped through her was comforting.

“It’s mean out there, isn’t it?” he said as he shut the door.

“Yes… I had to leave the car in the road.”

She took off her hat and let it drop on the floor.

“Food’s ready, ma’am. Come on and eat.”

She shook her head.

“No. I couldn’t. I’m going to bed. I must sleep.” Her voice broke. “I’m so tired.” She pressed her palms to her eyes. “Your room is at the end of the corridor, Larry.” She could smell the fillet of pork and the onions cooking. The smell made her cringe.

She got wearily to her feet and walked towards her bedroom, then she paused and looked back.

“Is he all right?” She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. “Shouldn’t you give him something to eat?”

“You go to bed, ma’am. There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Larry said gently. “I’ll take care of him.”

She was too tired to care.

“Good night, Larry… and thank you.”

His warm smile gave her renewed confidence.

“You sleep, ma’am… you’ll be fine tomorrow.”

She nodded.

“It’s going to be all right, Larry.”

“Sure.”

She went along to her bedroom and closed the door. Slowly, she undressed. Her movements were listless. She put on her pyjamas, then too tired even to brush her teeth, she got into bed. She reached up and turned off the light.

Then for the first time in many years, she began to pray, but she was asleep before the prayer was finished.

A GENTLE tapping on the door brought Helga awake with a start. Her mind flashed back to the events of the night and her heart began to hammer. She struggled up in bed.

“Who is it?”

“Me, ma’am. Would you like some coffee?”

She relaxed back on her pillow. Sunlight was coming through the shutters and drapes. She turned on the bedside light and looked at her watch. It was 09.15.

“I’d love some coffee, please.”

“Like something to eat, ma’am?”

She realized she hadn’t eaten since lunch-time the previous day and she was hungry.

“An egg, Larry.”

“Okay, ma’am.”

“Give me about fifteen minutes.”

“Sure, ma’am.” and she heard him walk away.

She got out of bed and went into the bathroom. It took her longer than fifteen minutes to fix her face and her hair, but when she bad finished and regarded herself in the mirror, she was satisfied. She dressed quickly, pulling on a heavy cable stitch sweater and cavalry twill slacks.

As she left her bedroom, Larry came from the kitchen, carrying a tray.

“All ready, ma’am.”

He followed her into the sitting-room and put the tray on the table. He had cooked her an omelette, browned to a turn and as light as any omelette Hinkle had ever cooked. Toast, marmalade and a big pot of coffee completed the meal.

“You’re a real cook, Larry,” she said as she sat down. “This looks wonderful.”

He grinned, pleased.

“Yeah, I reckon if there’s one thing I can do, it’s to cook.”

As she flicked open the napkin, she asked. “Is he all right?”

Larry sat in a lounging chair. He took out a packet of chewing gum.

“Sure. I let him use the bathroom. I gave him a steak for breakfast. He won’t be any trouble now. He knows when he’s licked.

She relaxed and began to enjoy her breakfast.

“I was worried about you last night, Larry. The drive must have been horrible. You were wonderfully quick.”

“It was okay, but I wouldn’t say I was quick. Coming back was bad.” He shrugged. “I made it.”

She ate in silence for some minutes, then she asked, “You didn’t leave the man alone with the letter?”

“No, ma’am… don’t worry. I never left him. He didn’t like it, but Ron’s right. Maxie would cut his own throat for money.”

The omelette finished, she began to butter toast.

“Did you call Ron?” she asked, her voice falsely casual.

“Yeah, I called him.” He leaned forward, his huge hands resting on his knees. “You see, ma’am, Ron means a lot to me. I wanted him to know I was helping you. After the names he called me, I wanted him to know I was doing my best for you.”