by Pauline Ash
She felt cold. As if it was not bad enough with Jacky thieving, Ellard had to be in something unsavory, too! But in all honesty, she had to admit to herself that she had always suspected he didn’t make his money in any orthodox manner.
“It’s out of the question, Ellard,” she told him quietly. “You go, by all means, if you must, but I can’t, even if I wanted to. Jacky’s in a mess again.”
“Jacky! I could have told you that!”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes widening.
He shrugged. “Was she ever out of a mess? All those three years she went around with me, I kept that girl out of trouble by sheer force of personality. If I hadn’t made her afraid of me, goodness knows what would have happened. I don’t know whether you realize it, but she can lift things under your very nose. You just don’t see her hands move! She’s a menace!”
“Don’t I know it!” Lisa said feelingly. “Ellard, I just don’t know what to do. Those people I told you about, related to the little boy who was run over—she knows who they are, and she won’t give me the information, although the child will die if his parents don’t come forward soon.”
“Oh? What’s her price for the information?” he asked in a cynical voice that struck chill to Lisa’s heart.
“To get rid of a diamond brooch. The man had tried to give it to the little boy’s mother, and she didn’t want it.”
Ellard laughed shortly. “How like Jacky! Get me out of trouble and never mind who else is hurt in the process! What are you going to do about it?”
“What can I do?” Lisa whispered.
“What happened about that clip she took?”
Lisa blanched. “I asked a friend of mine to put it back for me, and he did.”
Ellard’s face hardened. Like Randall Carson, he did not like to hear that Lisa had other men friends.
“For a girl with such an innocent face, you certainly manage to get men to run around and do things for you,” he commented. “Well, I suggest you get the same man to get rid of this for you, and then leave the country with me. The kindest thing in the world you can do for that sister of yours, as I’ve told you before, is to leave her high and dry to face the music. Now, Lisa, you haven’t much time to get ready. I shall be leaving this weekend.”
She stared uncomprehendingly at him and then rose slowly. “You just don’t understand, do you?” she said, in a low voice. “You think you can make people do just as you like, just because you’ve got the whip hand. In a way, you’re just like Jacky.”
He got up, too, and stood smiling at her. “In a rather different way, shall we say, Lisa, because you see, I have got the whip hand, and you know it.”
She shook her head slowly. “No. No, you haven’t. What if you do have some letters of Jacky’s? Do you know, I believe I’m beyond caring what you do about them. I think the time has come when I have to do the right and proper thing, regardless of whether it’s going to make things uncomfortable for any one person.”
Just for a moment he looked startled, and then he recovered and laughed easily, and patted her arm.
“You’re just tired and overwrought. You’ll feel differently tomorrow. Oh, by the way, is your passport in order, Lisa?”
“Yes! Why?”
“Bring it with you, and the very minimum of luggage. I’ll be outside in my car waiting for you—don’t keep me hanging about, there’s a good girl. We’ve got a private plane chartered from an airfield near here, but we don’t want to keep the chap on tenterhooks.”
She looked in amazement at him, and then gave up. It was of no use to repeat that she was not going with him. He was like Jacky in that respect: he simply didn’t listen to anything he didn’t want to hear.
She said goodbye in a flat little voice and went out, hardly conscious that he had strolled to the door of the hotel with her to see her off.
Her mind was full of what she had just made up her mind to do. Sister’s words were ringing in her head, and Mary’s comment, too. Undoubtedly she would have to go to the police. Her duty as a nurse was to consider that child, not her sister, Jacky.
Once outside the police station, however, she stopped dead in her tracks, appalled, as a new thought struck her. She was carrying valuable stolen property on her person.
She walked away to think and then went back again. After hesitating two or three times, and walking away again, more uncertain than she had ever been in her life before about something she had to do, Lisa heard Randall Carson’s voice hailing her. He was the one person in all the world who, she knew, would never falter, in what he had to do. He would advise her.
“Whatever’s wrong, Lisa?” he demanded. “I’ve been watching you. Here, come back to the car. It’s just over there. Actually I’ve been trying to find you.”
She walked beside him, and sank into the seat, feeling tired out with anxiety and doubt.
“I was going to the police about some information I have about little Christopher, but I’m not sure that I would be doing the right thing,” she began.
“Why?” he asked bluntly. “Tell me what you know.”
She thought for a moment, then summed it up in these brief words. “Someone I know well sat near the parents as they were discussing their situation. They are frightened of the results of the publicity they’ll get if they come forward. The person heard names and addresses, but won’t give them until I promise not to give away her secret. She’s a kleptomaniac.”
His face went haggard. “The boy’s dying,” he said.
“I know. Oh, Randall. I know, but tell me what I must do! Condone a theft, to coax the information out of her, for his life or—refuse to do as she wants, and let him die? It’s for you to tell me—what must I do?”
CHAPTER TEN
Lisa dared not look at him, and her heart beat a frightened tattoo as she waited to hear what he would say.
“You know what to do, Lisa,” he said at last, but his face was drawn, and in his eyes was a look that she knew she would never forget. “First, the child must be considered. We owe our duty to a young life.”
“Yes,” she whispered, through dry lips.
“But there must be no bargaining.”
Her heart sank. “You don’t understand. The person—she won’t give the information if I don’t promise—”
“You were going to the police, weren’t you?” he reminded her. “You got as far as the door of the police station. It isn’t like you to hesitate. The police must be told. They can and will make her talk.”
She shook her head fiercely. “She won’t. She’ll scream and cry and faint and have hysterics—anything, but wild horses won’t make her talk if she doesn’t want to. And she won’t, without my bargain.”
“Who is this person that you appear to know so well?” he asked sternly.
Appalled at how nearly she had betrayed her sister, Lisa stared hopelessly at him. “Don’t make me tell you,” she whispered. “Please, Randall, don’t make me tell you. Not yet. Let me get the information first.”
He sighed. “Very well. That is the all-important thing. But can you be sure of getting it? You know you can’t trust a kleptomaniac.”
She nodded fiercely. “I know, Randall. Don’t worry, I’ll get the information.”
“I ought to take you to the police station and make you bring this person in for questioning,” she heard him say in a low tone. “If I let you do it your way, Lisa, you must agree to do something for me.” She nodded dumbly. She had half-anticipated something of the sort, and she was not surprised at his proposition.
“You must present this person for treatment.”
She sat staring ahead, silent.
“You know it’s essential, Lisa,” he urged. “Sir Hugh Angrove is the man, and I’ll arrange it all for you.”
“Why would you do that, Randall?”
He smiled twistedly. “You haven’t given me your full confidence, but I know it must be someone near and dear to you, for you to run such risks. Where is t
he person to be found?”
“In Barnwell Bay,” she admitted reluctantly.
“I’ll drive you there. Time is of the utmost importance.”
“No, no, please, Randall, don’t go with me!”
His smile faded. “Don’t you trust me, Lisa?”
“If I’m not to tell you yet who the person is, then obviously you can’t come with me,” she cried.
Tears spilled over and ran down her face. She was aware that she wanted to fling herself into his arms, sob out her troubles on his shoulder, leave him to deal with everything, as she was certain only Randall could. Then the memory of that last time they had talked, on the balcony outside the children’s ward, came back to her. She loved him, but he didn’t love her. He was filled with the haunting memory of the dead Catherine Varnell.
She pulled herself together and got out of the car. “I’ll go now, sir,” she said formally, “and get the information, and after it’s all over, I’ll bring ... her to see Sir Hugh.”
“Lisa!” he said sharply. “I wanted to see you about—” he began, and she recalled that he had said at first that he had been looking for her everywhere. “Oh, never mind now,” he said impatiently, and shutting the car door, he drove off with a noisy clanging of gears, and the old grim expression back on his face.
Jacky would be on stage, Lisa realized, looking at her watch. There was no sense in hanging about the theater. She decided to go to Jim Gosling’s, a quiet little cafe in a back street, and have a coffee and a sandwich.
“How do, Nurse?” Jim said, with a cheery grin. “What, all alone tonight? Where’s that girlfriend of yours? Fair caution, she is!”
“Oh, she’s busy,” Lisa said, with a brief smile, and gave him her order.
“You look tired out, Nurse,” Jim reproved, as he put a plate of egg and tomato sandwiches and a cup of coffee in front of her. “Here, how’s that little coppernob that got run over? Fair took over him, this town is! Not a day passes without customers come in and ask after him.”
“Christopher’s pretty bad, Jim,” Lisa said soberly. “In fact, if we don’t find the parents, he’ll die.”
“Cor, fair makes you sick, don’t it!” Jim exploded, nodding to a smartly dressed woman who had come to sit on the counter stool at Lisa’s side. “What did a little kid like that want to get run over for? Don’t seem right.”
The woman looked from one to the other of them. “Is it true, Nurse?” she asked breathlessly. “Will he really die? Do you know, or is it just what you’ve heard?”
“Why yes, it’s true, I’m afraid,” Lisa said quietly. “I'm in the children’s ward, so I know. We're trying so hard to find his parents—he’s calling for them, you see—and if we could only contact even one of them, we think it would save his life.”
“What I can’t understand,” Jim said, as he wiped the counter down, “is what happened to the poor little kid’s mother. You can understand the father. See, how I figure it out, there might be something funny about ’em—But you’d think the mother’d step forward, no matter what was what.”
“Perhaps she was afraid that her child would lose more by her coming forward,” the woman suggested, turning back to the counter and sipping her coffee.
“Was there more for him to lose than his life?” Lisa countered swiftly, her heart beating faster, for some reason. Why was this woman so interested in the child?
The woman did not answer. She appeared to be thinking deeply. Suddenly she said to Jim, “Where’s the telephone?”
Jim pointed to the booth in the corner of the cafe, but she shook her head. “No, an outside telephone,” she said.
He directed her down the road, and watched her go. “Smart turnout, that, I reckon,” he said to Lisa, beaming approval on the woman’s chic dress and jacket, and the high-crowned hat with the brim pulled well down over her head and eyes. It completely hid her hair, and Lisa found herself wondering what color the hair was. Surely it wouldn’t be red?
The thought took hold of her, and furious to think it had not occurred to her before, Lisa hastily put some money on the counter and fled out of the cafe after the woman. But there was no sign of her anywhere.
It was time to go to the theater, so Lisa hurried down to the promenade. Jacky was already offstage, in her dressing room removing her makeup. She looked surprised to see her sister. “Hello, you’re not going to be long, are you, Lisa?”
“No, I’ve just come to say I’ve decided to agree to the bargain we made, Jacky. If you’ll just give me those addresses, I’ll be off right away. I haven’t much time, either.”
Jacky stared at her in the glass. “Which addresses?”
“The addresses of the parents of the little boy who was run over. You remember, you listened in to their conversation,” Lisa said. “You can’t have forgotten, Jacky.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lisa looked at her sister’s innocent face in the glass, and her heart sank. “Look, Jacky, you promised to do this, if I got rid of the diamond brooch for you, no questions asked. Now don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the brooch, too?”
“What brooch?” Jacky asked, smoothing on fresh makeup. Lisa removed it from her handbag and opened the case. Jacky’s eyes slid away from it, but she said quickly, “I don’t know anything about it. And I have a date. I wish you’d go, Lisa.”
“Do you mean to tell me you’re going back on your word, Jacky?” Lisa breathed, keeping her exasperation down with difficulty. “But you promised, because it’s to save the child’s life! He’ll die if we don’t find his parents, and you’re the only one who knows where they live.”
“I don’t know anything about it,” Jacky persisted. “Don’t believe people if they say he’ll die. People always exaggerate. Children get over things quickly. He’ll be all right,” she finished easily.
Lisa got up. “You don’t seem to understand,” she said, in a low voice. “You’re trying to wriggle out of this the same as you’ve tried to wriggle out of everything else, but this time the issue is too important. I’m going to save this child’s life, if I can. You’re going to give me those addresses. If you don’t, I’ll go to the police—”
“What for?” Jacky returned coolly, setting glittering studs in her ears. “The brooch is in your possession, not mine. No one can identify me, you said so yourself. But if the police get information that this isn’t the first piece of valuable property you’ve had—after all, Derek had to get rid of the other for you, didn’t he, and he doesn’t know I had anything to do with it. I’ve only got to say—”
“You wouldn’t do that!” Lisa gasped, horrified.
“Wouldn’t I?” Jacky cried, jumping up, all pretense of bland indifference gone, anger sparking from her kitten eyes. “I’m tired of your preaching to me, Lisa Bryant, and I’m fed up with hearing about that hospital of yours. Don’t try to force information out of me, because it won’t work. It’ll only be the worse for you, I promise you!”
“And what will happen the next time you get into trouble?” Lisa drove herself to say.
For a second, Jacky looked frightened. Then she summoned up everything she had, and managed to laugh light-heartedly, saying, “You’re only trying to scare me, because you can’t get your own way for once.”
“Jacky, I warn you, if it happens again, I’m going to have to get medical help for you. I can’t go on. Meantime, I want those addresses!”
Someone knocked on the door. “Your escort’s here, Jacky!” they called.
Jacky gave a last look at herself in the glass, and snatched up her fur cape and her purse. “That’s my boyfriend for tonight, until Master Derek gets over the sulks,” she said gaily to Lisa as she whisked out of the room.
Limp and dispirited, Lisa sat down again. She was back where she started, just because she had trusted Jacky.
She looked around the littered dressing room, and at the still-open velvet case. A little voice whispered to her ... a way out, a
way to get Jacky under proper medical treatment and care and perhaps force her to give that vital information. All Lisa had to do was hide the brooch in its case, in this dressing room and inform the police. They would come for a search and take care of the rest.
But Lisa could not do it. Jacky was her sister, and she was as loyal to her as she had ever been, and she guessed that Jacky knew it. Jacky was confident that she had nothing to fear from Lisa; not even though the outcome might be in her best interests.
Lisa stood up tiredly and left the theater. She did not know what she could do now. There was nothing left, no one to whom she could turn for help and advice, no way of tracing the child’s parents, no way out at all.
She was just about to turn into the hospital gates when someone emerged from the shadows and spoke to her. It was the smartly dressed woman who had been sitting beside her in the cafe.
“ ‘Christopher’ is my little son—Michael Holland,” she said, her voice breaking. “Would—would you take me to him, please? I’ve decided to come forward on my own. I can’t stand it any longer—”
“Oh, Mrs. Holland, I’m so glad,” Lisa said, joy in her voice, as she took the woman’s hands in hers for an instant.
“I just tried to get his father on the telephone, but ... he wasn’t there, so they said.”
“Well, come up to the ward and see Sister.”
Lisa’s step was light, and she felt that half of her troubles had rolled away in one instant. Now she could face Randall Carson and not feel she had let him down.
At the door of the children’s ward, Lisa saw Sister sailing toward her, apron flying.
“Sister,” she said, finding it hard to keep her voice down in her excitement, “this is—‘Christopher’s’ mother, Mrs. Holland. His real name is Michael Holland.”