I took it, looking up at her.
'Sit down here,' I said, patting the settee.
She sat down, folding her hands in her lap. Her expression was puzzled and worried.
I examined the ring.
It wasn't bad, but there was nothing about it that would excite any jeweller to fall over himself to buy it.
'I'd say you might hock it for five hundred,' I said, 'providing you told the guy your mother was starving, and you were dying of consumption, and if, of course, he believed you.' I dropped the ring into her lap. 'Well, we're making progress. We now have only to find twenty-nine thousand and five hundred dollars.'
'Ches! Why are you talking like this to me?' she demanded angrily. 'What have I done? I warned you we would be blackmailed and you didn't believe me and now you turn against me. It's not my fault.'
'I've had a very trying night,' I said patiently. 'Your problems, Lucille, don't interest me immediately. I have other things to think about.'
'But they are your problems as well!' she flared. 'How are we going to raise the money?'
'That, as Hamlet once said, is the question. Have you any suggestions to make?'
'Well, you – you can find most of it, can't you? You told me you had twenty thousand dollars.'
I looked at her.
She was sitting forward, her eyes frightened and anxious, and she looked very young and lovely.
'I have to give that to your husband. He might be annoyed if I gave it to Oscar instead.'
'Ches! You're not taking this seriously! What is the matter with you? This man says he will tell Roger we were making love on the beach together and he will tell the police I killed the policeman! He says he has a photograph of you changing the number plates of your car!' She began to beat her fist on my knee. 'You're in tins as much as I am! What are we going to do?'
I pushed her hand away.
'We're not going to let this situation stampede us,' I said. That's the first thing. The second thing is we're not going to pay Mr. Oscar Ross, and the third thing is you're going to get dressed and go home before someone comes here and finds us together in an obviously compromising situation.'
She became rigid, her clenched fists between her knees.
'You're not going to pay him?' she said, her eyes growing round. 'But you must! He'll go to the police! He'll tell Roger ... you must pay him!'
'There's no must about it. We have until the end of the week: that's six days. I'll be surprised if I don't find something in that time about Ross that will discourage him from pressing his claim. A man like him must have a past. He's anxious to leave town. I'm going to dig into his past, and I'm going to find out why he wants to leave town. I may turn up something. I'm certainly not going to pay him a dime until I'm convinced I must pay him and I'm far from convinced at this moment.'
She stared at me, aghast.
'But if he finds out you are investigating him, he may not like it. He may go to the police ...'
'He won't. Now will you be a nice girl and get dressed and go home? I have lots of things to do and you're in the way.'
'But you're not really serious? You'll only antagonize him. He – he may raise the price.'
'He won't,' I said. 'He's no fool. He knows thirty thousand is as much as he can hope for. Now will you please go home?'
Slowly and reluctantly she got to her feet.
'Don't you think we'd better give him the money, Ches? We – we may go to jail if you try to be clever.'
I smiled at her.
'Will you relax and leave this to me? We have time and we may be lucky.'
'I don't like it,' she said, staring down at me. 'I think it would be better to pay him and get rid of him.'
'Naturally you would think that because it's not your money. If you're so anxious for him to be paid why don't you ask your husband if he will lend you thirty thousand dollars? There's a slight chance that he might.'
She made an angry movement with her hands, then turned and went quickly out of the room.
I reached for the telephone book, turned the pages until I came to the R's. I found Oscar Ross had a place called Belle Vue on Beach Boulevard: not perhaps the best district in town, but at least as good as mine.
Out of curiosity, I checked to see if Art Galgano was in the book. I wasn't disappointed nor surprised
to find he wasn't.
I put the book down, got to my feet and poured another cup of coffee. My head was beginning to ache again, and I went into the bathroom, found some aspirin and washed down the three tablets with the luke-warm coffee.
I went back to the settee and sat on it while I did a little thinking. After ten minutes or so, Lucille came out of my bed-room. She made an attractive picture in her lemon-yellow slacks and white shirt. In her right hand she carried a white wrap-over handbag.
She stood in the doorway, obviously showing herself off, with the lost-little-girl look on her face that made her look cute enough to eat.
I regarded her and wished she wasn't Aitken's wife, that she wasn't such a barefaced liar and that she wasn't so completely untrustworthy.
'Ches,' she said in her small, little girl's voice, 'we really must be sensible about this. I've been thinking ...'
'Save your breath,' I said. 'I know exactly what you have been thinking. You have decided, for both our sakes, I should hand over every nickel I own, but there is one point you have overlooked. Once you pay blackmail, the blackmailer always comes back for more. Ross will gladly accept the money and perhaps we won't hear from him for a year or so, then one day when we think all is well, he'll turn up with a hard-luck story and put on the bite. This is my money, Lucille. I may eventually be forced to part with it, but I'm going to be quite sure there is no other way out of this mess before I do part with it.'
She began to move restlessly around the room.
Finally she paused and said without looking at me: 'Then perhaps I should tell Roger. I am sure he would pay this man rather than let me go to prison.'
'We've played this scene before and it's still corny,' I said, smiling at her. 'Go home before I get annoyed with you.'
She gripped her handbag until her knuckles turned white and she marched over to me, her eyes stormy.
'We've got to pay this money! If you won't, then I'll tell Roger! I mean it!'
'The last time you acted out this little scene you said finally you didn't want to tell him and you wouldn't throw him in my face again. It seems you have a short memory. Well, all right, if you are so anxious to tell him, we'll both go and tell him, and I'll make sure he gets the facts right.'
She went white with anger.
'I hate you!' she screamed at me and took a swipe at my face with her handbag.
I got my hand up in time and took the blow on my wrist. The contact was so violent that the handbag shot out of her hand, flew across the room, hit the wall and burst open, its contents scattering on the floor.
An object from the bag caught my eyes.
'Well, what do you know!' I exclaimed.
She darted across the room and snatched up the object and thrust it inside her shirt, then she backed away, her eyes wide with fear and dismay.
For perhaps a second or so I stood rooted, staring at her, then as she turned and bolted for the door, I shot after her.
I grabbed her as she reached the hall. She broke free, dodged around me and tried to open the front door. I grabbed her arm and swung her around. She closed with me, kicking, punching and trying to bite. She was surprisingly strong, and before I could smother her arms, I had collected three or four punches in the face that hurt and made me pretty mad.
She squealed as I forced her around so her back was to me and I brought her down on her knees.
She squirmed away from me, got to her feet and dived towards the front door. I grabbed her again. Panting, she twisted around and aimed a kick at me, but this time I was ready for her and I got out of the way.
She tried to butt my face with the top of her head, then wrenching one wrist free, she managed to rake her nails down the side of my neck.
This was turning into quite a scrap and I was fast losing my temper.
It was like trying to hold on to a wild cat. Somehow she managed to get her knee up and slam it into my chest, breaking my grip on her wrists. She squirmed away from me, but as she did an object fell to the ground.
I picked it up.
It was a driving permit.
I examined it.
It was made out in her name and dated two years back.
I turned to look at her.
She didn't move. She crouched there in the corner, her face hidden in her hands.
Then she began to weep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I
PUTTING the driving permit in my pocket, I turned my back on the weeping girl and made my way into the bathroom. I ran the water into the toilet basin and bathed the scratches on my neck. They were pretty deep and painful. I stopped the bleeding. Staring at myself in the mirror, I saw it was pretty obvious that I had been in a fight.
I went into my bedroom and changed my pyjamas for an open-neck shirt and slacks, then I went into die lounge and sat down and looked across the sands at the sea and the distant palm trees.
I was thinking and smoking when I heard a movement behind me and I looked around. Lucille stood in the doorway.
We stared at each other.
'Ches ...' Her voice was a thin quaver. 'I can explain … really I can …'
'Well, come on in and explain,' I said. 'This should be worth hearing. You've proved to me you are a pretty fluent liar, but now this is where you can win an Oscar if you take the trouble.'
She moved towards me and sat down in a chair near mine.
'Please, Ches ... I know how angry you must be, but I haven't ever lied to you. I really haven't.' There was now a saintly expression on her face that made me itch to haul her over my knee and belabour her with the nearest weapon I could lay my hands on. 'If you had asked me for the permit, I would have given it to you. There was no need for you to have behaved like that.'
'Look, don't try me too far.'
She touched her lips with her tongue and the saintly expression gave way to alarmed weariness.
'I'm sorry, Ches. I didn't mean to annoy you,' she said meekly. 'If you don't believe me when I say I have never lied to you ...'
'Oh, skip it,' I said impatiently. 'Let's have your explanation. This business about wanting to learn to drive was just a gag?'
She began to walk the first and second finger of her left hand along her thigh to her knee. This was to convey a little girl's embarrassment, but it cut no ice with me.
'You see, Ches, I fell in love with you the moment I saw you,' she said in a low voice and she looked up, her eyes large and starry.
That cut no ice with me either.
'And when was this moment?'
'When I saw you watching me that night – the night you first came to the house.'
I thought back on that moment: it seemed a long, tong way back into the past.
'When you were admiring yourself in the mirror? Was that the time?'
'Yes.' She walked her fingers back from her knee along her thigh, then examined them carefully to see if they had suffered damage during the walk. 'I was lonely, Ches. You can't imagine what it is like to be married to an old man. Roger is so dull. I wanted to get to know you. I was sure you would be fun. So I thought it would be a good idea if I pretended I couldn't drive and asked you to teach me. I only did it so I had the excuse to get to know you.'
I flicked my cigarette butt out into the garden.
'Well, that's really something,' I said admiringly. 'So you just wanted an excuse to get to know me?'
She looked at me, then modestly looked away.
'I would never have told you this, Ches, only I feel you should have an explanation. It's something a girl doesn't like to admit.'
'I can understand that. So you fell in love with me the moment you saw me?'
She bit her lip, looking away from me.
'Yes.'
'But I remember when we were on the beach together and I asked you if you loved me, you not only seemed surprised at the idea, but you even seemed angry.'
She moved uneasily.
'I –I thought it might be dangerous to admit I loved you. I –I didn't want to ...' Her voice died away.
'Well, I won't embarrass you, Lucille. But I must get this straight. You pretended you couldn't drive only because you wanted to have some fun with me. Is that right?'
Again she moved uneasily.
'Well, not exactly. I wanted to get to know you. I thought you would be interesting to know.'
'Well, now you know me, do you find me interesting?'
She flushed a little.
'Of course. It's nice to know a man is in love with you. Love is an important thing in a girl's life. Roger doesn't love me.'
'Did you discover that before or after he married you?'
She looked up, and for a brief moment, her eyes glittered, then she remembered the role she was playing and her expression changed to hurt bewilderment.
'It was after I married him. He just isn't interested in me any more.'
'I wonder why?'
She shifted in her chair, frowning.
'He's old. We don't have the same interests,' she said, looking away from me.
'That I can understand. So naturally you looked around to find someone who would be interested in you and you picked on me.'
She flushed angrily.
'I know how you must be feeling, Ches,' she said, trying to speak gently. 'I would probably feel the same if I were in your place. I don't blame you for feeling bitter. I'm sorry. A lot of this is my fault. I was so lonely. You made my life come alive.'