He caught his breath and looked slyly at Mrs. Harrison, who was watching him thoughtfully. She had risen to the bait, after all. “Well, yes,” he replied, “I have been thinking of it. Too much rushing about down south. This seems like better country to settle down and take a rest for a year or so. I might come up here one of these days.”
There was a pregnant silence that lasted long moments while Mrs. Nyland chewed her meat and digested another idea in her mind. She at last put her utensils down, took a deep breath, and said, “Then you may be interested in a proposition, Mr. Holt. I can’t leave this house empty, I refuse to rent it, and I don’t dare trust it to maintenance people. You may not know it, but this country is very damp. Winter rains, summer fogs, heavy dew, that sort of thing. A house here simply must be kept heated at all times or it goes to pieces and everything in it gets moldy. Someone has to live here and take charge. Perhaps — well, Beth and I were thinking — a responsible person — ” She came to a lame halt and looked at him with a question in her little eyes.
It was all settled after dinner. Clark would move into the house at once and pay no rent for a year. He would, however, pay all the utilities and the gardener who came three times a week and retain the maid, Elsie, who, he learned, was a “priceless jewel.” The rest of the staff had already been let go. He would keep the house heated properly, see to it that any needed repairs were made promptly, and on and on for a number of hours.
He was given the first guest room in the bedroom wing adjoining the living quarters. He laughed softly to himself while he undressed for bed. It was very funny to him that the whole deal hinged upon his being such a responsible person. It was true that at one time, immediately after the war, he had been connected with an outfit selling aviation surplus to Brazil and other nations and that he was still legally a part of the company, but in name only. He had tried to double-cross his partners on a sale of C-47’s and had been lucky to clear out with his skin intact. His partners had been more rugged than he realized. It was also true that he was president of aviation surplus companies in Rome and Casablanca, but they existed on paper only, though very glossy and official-looking paper, simply to give him the proper background for plying his trade of plucking pigeons. His responsibilities began and ended with finding a wealthy character who thought he could play golf, leading him on as gently as possible, and then taking him to the cleaners.
He switched off the lights and started to the bed, still laughing softly at his fantastic stroke of luck. Fingernails tapped lightly at the door and brought him to a halt. What the hell? he wondered. He crossed the room and opened the door. He could dimly make out Mrs. Harrison standing in the dark corridor in nightgown and negligee.
“Sorry,” she whispered huskily, “but I ran out of cigarettes and I simply must have one before retiring. Cora doesn’t smoke.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Harrison. Neither do I.”
Then he realized that she must have noticed he never smoked and looked at her with more interest as his eyes became accustomed to the dark. The negligee was open and the neckline V of the nightgown plunged deeply. He put his hands on her waist and gently pulled her into the room.
Why not? he thought. She did me a favor.
Chapter Two
CLARK FLEW the women up to San Francisco the following day and saw them off on a Constellation bound for New York. Mrs. Nyland chattered constantly about hundreds of details concerning the house, utilities, the neighbors, the gardens, and whatever else she thought Clark should know. He paid little attention. Only one fact interested him, that Elsie would know all the answers. Mrs. Harrison pressed his hand secretly and smiled at him mistily as she left. Clark was happy to get them off his hands.
He flew the V-tailed Beach Bonanza back to Monterey that afternoon and had it put away in a hangar. Mrs. Nyland’s Buick station wagon was in the parking area where they had left it that morning. She had told Clark to store the car in a Monterey garage, where her other cars had already been put in storage. Clark slid behind the wheel and decided that as long as the owner was going to be gone for a year he could make good use of the car himself.
He drove directly to his new home, went into the library, and closed the door. He called long-distance and gave his apartment number in Beverly Hills. Joey Malloy answered the phone:
“Yeah?”
“Clark, Joey.”
“Oh. Hi, kid. Where the hell you callin’ from?”
“Pebble Beach.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, sure. You was takin’ that Harrison doll up there. Hey, listen, kid. I got somethin’ — ”
“Let it wait. We’ve hit the jackpot, Joey. I’ve taken over a house here at Pebble Beach for a year. Wait’ll you see it. Like something you see in the movies. I want you to get started packing up all our stuff. I’ll be down with a station wagon tomorrow.”
Joey interrupted. “Hey, that’s just it. You ain’t comin’ back here. That’s what I wanted to tell you. Thompson’s got the word out and the cops are all set to pick you up on a vag charge.”
Clark looked at the telephone as if it had bitten him. “Are you nuts?” he shouted. “Vag charge! That’s the silliest thing I ever heard.”
“Yeah, I know it. So, O.K., they can’t make it stick. So maybe you can prove you make a livin’ with that crate. How do I know? All I know is Thompson’s got the word out and you’ll get picked up and they’ll keep pickin’ you up and roughin’ you around until you get to be a mighty sick little boy. Know what I mean?”
Clark was thoughtfully silent for a moment, then said, “You don’t have to spell it out. I had a hunch, anyway, that Thompson would be pulling something pretty soon. It’s all right. There’s no real reason for me to go down there. Clean out the apartment, get as much of our stuff in the car as you can and send the rest up with the trunks by Railway Express. Got that?”
“You think I’m stupid? Don’t answer that.”
“Another thing. Give Jeri a call and tell her I’ve taken off for that old setup down in Rio. By the time she finds out I’m not there she should be cooled off. Pay off whatever bills might be around, cancel my membership at the club — ”
“Before they do it for you?”
“O.K. Pick up those new woods, get my stuff out of the cleaners, and — well, I guess that’s about it. Anything else you can think of?”
Joey was silent for some time, then said brightly, “Hey, this is all right, kid. Pebble Beach, huh? Classy joint. I been there twicet. Plenty moola. O.K. I’m on my way. So where do I put on the brakes?”
“Try to get out by tomorrow, or the next day at the latest. I don’t have a damned thing with me except one change of clothes. Just come on up to Pebble Beach and call the J. P. Nyland home from the Lodge. I’ll meet you there.”
“The show’s on the road, sweetheart.”
Clark smiled and replaced the phone in its cradle. Joey would be all right. Joey would know how to take care of everything. He sat at the desk for a moment looking about at the tasteful surroundings of the library. He thought of the vagrancy charge and burst into laughter. That was really one for the books. If only Thompson and the cops could see where he was sitting at that moment! If this is vagrancy, he thought, let’s have more.
He went out through the butler’s pantry and into a huge kitchen containing two ranges, a walk-in freezer, and all the necessary appointments for entertaining on a large scale. Elsie was nowhere to be seen. He went on back into a large service hallway with mangles and washing machines and large storage closets. There seemed to be doors everywhere. One obviously led out to the rear service entrance. He opened another and looked into a white-tiled bathroom. The door opposite opened into a rather dark servant’s room, furnished but otherwise empty. The servant’s room next to that was also empty. •He opened the last door and peered into another servant’s room on the southwest corner of the building, cheerfully furnished with Sears, Roebuck Monterey and sun-flooded.
Elsie was lying on top of the bed, the w
hite coverlet offering startling contrast to her café-au-lait skin. Her body was rigid with tension, her arms stiff at her sides and her hands balled into tight fists. Her eyes were closed and tears were heavy on her cheeks. Clark doubted that she was asleep, but he was also sure that she was not aware of his presence. He had a hunch that her thoughts were so far away it would have taken a shout to bring her back to reality. He stared at the trim lines of her body and felt a prickling sensation behind his eyelids. He turned about, closed the door softly, and tiptoed away. Let’s not change our luck now, he thought. It’s going too well.
He went into the living room to pace back and forth before the fireplace, then realized that the house must have a bell system for calling the servants. He found a small white button in the wall, pushed it, and heard it ring faintly in the kitchen. Elsie appeared a few moments later, much sooner than he had expected her. She was wearing her uniform and all signs of the tears had been washed away. She faced him just within the room and inquired, “Sir?”
Lena Horne in the kitchen, he thought. Aloud he said, “I was just thinking, Elsie, it might not be a bad idea to look the house over. I’d like to know my way around.”
She stood there without expression, staring directly into his eyes and through him, and he had a sudden, cold feeling that she knew him for exactly what he was, a phony. Perhaps a quick-witted phony, nimble on his feet in tight spots, but nevertheless a phony. It was strong in the air between them and he could feel it and hated it and for a moment was tempted to slap some expression into her face, but she must have sensed what he was feeling, for she forced a smile that was meant to be friendly and his sudden rage was brought under control.
She nodded and said, “Of course.”
She showed him about the living wing, with which he was already familiar, then took him through the servants’ quarters, out the back door into a service patio, and under the house to look at the basement. They went around that corner of the house, up to the tiled terrace, and into the glassed-in corridor. Three bedrooms were in a row along the corridor, at right angles to the living quarters, all of them opening upon the patio, each with bath decorated with tiles imported from Italy.
At the far end of the corridor was the master bedroom, cutting off the east side of the patio. It was a good deal like the living room, with tiled floor, a high pointed ceiling supported by heavy beams, and a fireplace raised on stone above the floor. Except for the bed, the furnishings were all in keeping with the Mediterranean style of the house. The bed was low and deep and eight feet square. Clark shook his head with perplexity, as he thought of Mrs. Nyland lost in such a colossal bed. The bathroom was of Italian tiles and wrought iron. All the closets of the large dressing room were filled with clothing.
Clark frowned at the laden closets, then turned to Elsie. “I want all this stuff out of here.”
“But sir, this was to be left this way. Mrs. Nyland said you would probably be using one of the guest rooms. This way I can keep everything in order.”
“I’ve changed our minds, Elsie. I want all this stuff moved back to one of the empty servants’ rooms.”
Her eyes slid darkly away from his. “Yes, sir.”
He leaned back against the wall, his cold eyes slowly appraising her. “How long have you been paid for, Elsie?”
“For two more weeks, until the end of the month.”
“Your salary?”
“One-fifty a month.”
“I see. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to let you go when your time is up.”
Her body stiffened, her mouth opened, and her eyes went wide with absolute terror. Clark was so amazed by her reaction that he simply stared at her.
It was a long moment before she was finally able to control her emotions and speak. “Oh, no, Mr. Holt! No! Mrs. Nyland said — ”
“Sorry, Elsie. I have my own man coming to stay with me. You know yourself it wouldn’t do for you to be here with two men.”
She stepped toward him and placed an urgent hand on his arm. “Please, Mr. Holt. If it’s my salary — ”
“No, no. That isn’t it.”
“I’ll cut it in half. It isn’t important.”
“Now, look — ”
“You won’t regret having me here. I know every inch of this house and I’ll keep it spic and span and do all the cooking and cleaning.” She gasped and cried, almost like a wounded animal, “Please!”
Clark was thoroughly bewildered, but he was also intrigued. She had an unusually powerful reason for wanting to stay in that house. He wondered what it could be. Joey was the boy to find out. Joey was clever at things like that.
“Well,” he said, scratching his chin, “tell you what I’ll do, Elsie: I’ll think it over. There’s no rush, is there?”
“Oh, no, sir. Thank you, sir. And, like I say, you won’t regret it.” She looked wildly about at the closets and began opening doors. “I’ll get right at moving this stuff right away, Mr. Holt. Just the way you want it. And anything else you want moved, Mr. Holt, you just let me know.”
She loaded her arms with dresses and hurried out of the room toward the other end of the house. Odd, he thought. Damned odd.
He changed to the other suit he had brought along, a lightweight gabardine, complete with hand-stitched tie, off-white shirt, saddle shoes, and a snap-brim hat. He left the car parked in front of the house and walked down the lane in the direction of the Lodge. There were only two other estates on that particular lane and four more on toward the Lodge. They were not uniform in architecture, but they were all set in spacious grounds, with broad lawns, deeply rich gardens, adobe or chalk-rock walls for privacy, four-car garages, and crushed granite driveways. He threw out his chest as he walked along, feeling himself now a part of all he was seeing.
He spent an hour looking over part of the Pebble Beach Golf Course, and then, as it got dusk, he walked into the lobby of the Lodge. His first move in any new place was to establish credit as quickly as possible and to keep it good by promptly paying all bills. He approached the manager behind the counter, introduced himself, and explained, “I’ve just taken over the Nyland home. Renting it for a year.”
The manager was affable and interested. “Well, I’m happy to know you, sir. Mrs. Nyland got off all right?”
“Yes.”
“Lovely woman.”
“Yes, she certainly is. As you realize, I’m a stranger and it’s going to take a little time to know my way around. About your golf course here — ”
“Oh, that’s open to the public, sir, for a green fee. But you can also take out a year-round membership. Would you care to have me arrange it for you?”
“I would appreciate that. Any country clubs in the area?”
“Well, Cypress Point, which is just beyond where you are living, a private ownership club, and up the road here a ways there’s the Monterey Peninsula Country Club. They have a B membership for non-property owners. Do you belong to a club down south?”
“Yes.”
“Then they will undoubtedly grant you a guest card. I can arrange that, too, if you like.”
“You’re being very kind.” He gave him the name of the club where he was resigning his membership, then asked, “Now, about your credit system here. I’ll probably be using the Lodge and other facilities here a great deal. If you want me to put a thousand or so on credit to draw against — ”
The manager was thinking quickly of the Nyland house and about what it would rent for and said quickly, “That isn’t at all necessary. We’ll be glad to extend all the credit you wish. Simply sign the chits and you’ll be billed once a month. I’ll let the staff know tonight and inform the office tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I think that will take care of things for the moment.”
He wandered down the hallway and into the barroom. A few men stood at the bar, and four groups of people were drinking at the tables. It was a quiet evening and the atmosphere was subdued.
Clark took a seat against the wall, where he could wat
ch the room, and ordered a tall Scotch and soda. When he signed the chit the waiter frowned, but made no remark. He simply disappeared in the hallway toward the clerk’s desk. A moment later he was back and whispering to the other waiters. When he caught Clark’s eye he smiled warmly. Clark decided to leave him a dollar tip. That, too, was always good policy. Waiters and bartenders were inveterate gossips. He had yet to hear of one berating the character of a man who tipped well and caused no trouble. Investing in their good will usually paid off. In his business he needed all the good will he could buy.
He was just finishing his drink when a couple, coming into the room, aroused his curiosity. The man was of medium height, slender and gaunt, with hollow cheeks and deeply sunken eyes. His hair was thin and graying and combed across to cover a large bald spot. He dressed well in expensively tailored clothes, but they hung loosely on his cadaverous frame, indicating that he had recently lost weight. He looked thirstily and shiftily toward the bar and Clark pegged him at once as an alcoholic. He had seen too many of his kind about the better watering places to be wrong.
The woman was the man’s direct opposite. She wore the happy expression of a contented cow and resembled that animal in many other ways. Like a cow, she had a large, bony frame, with squarely gaunt shoulders, wide, bony hips, long, slender arms and legs, and a huge bosom. She was a honey-colored bottle blonde, but expertly so. The effect of the color, however, was ruined with a close poodle cut that made her head appear too small on the large body. She was expensively, even extravagantly gowned in a design that would have done justice only to a small woman. Her arms were covered with bracelets of odd designs and she wore four rings, also of odd designs. It was apparent to Clark, who was not a bad judge of human nature, that everything about her ensemble was designed to capture attention.
That characteristic became all too obvious as she swept into the room carrying some sort of large leather case in her hand. She greeted all the waiters by name, smiled cheerily at everyone, even Clark, while holding a rapid-fire conversation with the man about something that was “simply too, too precious to pass by” and which “really, darling, I wish you would attend to first thing in the morning.” They took the table next to Clark’s and ordered two double bourbons over ice. The man gulped his down immediately and ordered two more, but the woman was a fraction slower with her drinking. She was one behind at the third round.
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