Brian Freemantle - Charlie Muffin U.S.A.

She grinned. ‘You have a better idea?’

There was a noise at the door leading into the sitting room and Charlie admitted the waiter. She’d ordered champagne, he saw, shaking his head at the artificiality of it all. He tipped the man and when he turned, saw that she had got out of bed. Her nightdress was completely diaphanous and she didn’t bother with a wrap.

‘Embarrassed?’

‘No,’ he said.

‘Shall I tell you a secret?’

‘What?’

‘I’m an exhibitionist.’

‘I would never have thought so,’ said Charlie. He uncorked the wine and poured it for her.

‘Aren’t you having any?’

‘No.’

He sipped his apple juice, watching her; she would have regaled her friends with what they had done together, Charlie guessed.

‘Could you come to Palm Beach briefly?’ he asked

‘Of course.’

‘Would you?’

‘Are you propositioning me?’ She was smiling, holding her wineglass between her hands and staring at him over the top. It was a very staged pose.

‘I want you to do something for me.’

‘You make it sound very mysterious.’

‘It might be important. To Rupert, as well as me.’

She moved the ice bucket so that he would have an uninterrupted view of her body.

‘Do you think I’m spoilt?’ she demanded unexpectedly.

Charlie hesitated, wondering what reply she wanted and not wanting to annoy her until she’d done what he wanted.

‘Utterly,’ he said at last.

‘Do I irritate you?’

‘Quite a lot.’

She pulled a face, but Charlie knew he’d got it right. She wasn’t offended.

‘Yet you come to me for help.’

‘There isn’t anyone else,’ said Charlie.

She laughed in genuine amusement. ‘Christ, you’re odd,’ she said. ‘You really fascinate me.’

She put her champagne glass down, pouring coffee instead.

‘I went a bit over the top with that, didn’t I?’ she said.

‘Just a bit,’ agreed Charlie.

‘Now I’ve got indigestion.’ She belched, very slightly.

‘It’s the bubbles,’ said Charlie.

The woman crumpled a croissant into crumbs without bothering to eat any of it.

‘I’m supposed to be going out tonight,’ she said. ‘Same crowd, same places.’

Charlie was curious at the boredom she injected into her voice.

She stared at him. ‘You know what I’d really like to do instead?’

‘What?’

‘Go back to bed. With you. And spend the rest of the day there watching television when we feel like it and not watching it when we don’t.’

He had expected to pay a price, remembered Charlie. And his feet were painful after all the walking he’d done to identify the people in the photographs.

‘Will you come to Palm Beach?’ he demanded, wanting the bargain agreed.

‘Yes,’ she promised.

‘Do you want to call them, to say you won’t be coming?’

She shook her head. ‘They won’t really miss me.’

‘Not even Sally Cosgrove?’

‘She’ll manage. She doesn’t like you very much.’

‘I know.’

‘Says you weren’t very respectful to her husband.’

‘He wasn’t very respectful to me.’

‘You’re an inverted snob,’ she accused.

‘Yes,’ agreed Charlie, readily. ‘I probably am.’

It had been an occasional complaint from Edith, remembered Charlie. Particularly after Sir Archibald had been removed and the new regime had taken over, demoting him from his special position within the Department. He suspected she had regarded it as the jealousy of a grammar school boy for university graduates, but it really hadn’t been. They had been bloody fools, all of them.

‘I told her she was wrong,’ said Clarissa.

‘Thanks a lot,’ said Charlie.

‘Don’t be flip,’ she said. ‘I don’t want either of us to be flip.’

Was it a performance to fit the circumstances, wondered Charlie, or genuine?

‘I don’t like being a cow to Rupert,’ she said, suddenly. ‘I really don’t.’

‘Why are you then?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t seem able to help it. It’s despicable, I know. But I really can’t help it.’

He’d known another woman just like Clarissa. She’d been secretary to the ex-army general who had replaced Sir Archibald. Like Clarissa, she had screwed him for the novelty, and he had screwed her to find out what was going on behind his back. Then, like now, it had seemed a perfect equation. He hoped it worked as well with Clarissa as it had with the other girl.

‘We could be missing a good programme,’ she said, rising. She was already in bed, the television page of the Daily News in her hands, when he entered the adjoining room.

She cradled into his arms the moment he got into bed. He sat against the bedhead, supporting her.

‘Tell me what you want me to do in Palm Beach.’

‘Later,’ said Charlie. He wondered how Pendlebury would react when Clarissa let drop that Charlie expected a robbery in Florida. If he were wrong about the American and Pendlebury panicked to the local police, he would look a complete idiot.

He took the newspaper from the woman.

‘A Western, a quiz programme or a Clark Gable nostalgia film?’ he asked.

‘Clark Gable nostalgia,’ she said immediately.

‘That doesn’t start for another hour.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m not convinced that we’re doing the right thing about this damned insurance man,’ said Warburger.

‘Neither am I,’ added Bowler loyally.

‘He’s not done anything we can’t handle so far,’ said Pendlebury defensively.

‘He’s got a freeze frame of Terrilli,’ Warburger reminded him.

‘And four other sets of photographs of different people,’ said Pendlebury. ‘The Terrilli photograph is no more important to him at the moment than those twelve other people.’

‘So why did he have them made?’ demanded the Director. ‘Why Terrilli? Why any of them?’

‘Because he’s good, like I said,’ insisted Pendlebury. He was aware of the looks which passed between the Director and his deputy.

‘You’re not seeing this as some sort of personal challenge, are you?’ demanded the Director.

‘I would have hoped you would have known me better than that,’ said Pendlebury.

‘You’ve had a watch kept on him?’ Bowler asked.

‘Constantly,’ said Pendlebury.

‘What’s he done?’

‘Gone around trying to get the pictures identified.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘Screwed the boss’s wife.’

‘So do half the men in America,’ said Warburger. ‘It’s the other thing I’m worried about.’

‘Trust me,’ pleaded Pendlebury. ‘I know it’s going to turn out all right.’

‘For a little longer,’ conceded Warburger. ‘But I still might pull the rug from under him, despite what you say.’

Bowler was escorting Pendlebury from the building when he suddenly stopped, reminded of something.

‘Practice,’ he said.

‘What?’ asked Pendlebury.

‘There was a memo on my desk yesterday. Apparently you’re overdue for pistol practice.’

‘Surely you don’t expect me to break away from what I’m doing just to keep within the rules?’ said Pendlebury, whose ears always ached from the explosions, even though he wore ear mufflers.

‘I suppose not,’ admitted Bowler, to whom regulations were important.

‘You could grant me exemption,’ prompted Pendlebury.

‘Just this once,’ agreed Bowler, ‘but there’s no way you can be excused again. It’s clearly stated.’

‘I know,’ said Pendlebury, relieved. ‘I know.’

‘Another thing,’ continued Bowler. ‘Your expenses are very high.’

‘It’s a very important job,’ said Pendlebury. ‘And there are a lot of receipts.’