I froze while something unpleasant twisted in the pit of my stomach. I swear I knew then, immediately, instinctively, in that split second, that something was wrong. Even now I can see Bob's face, his eyes blinking as if focussing was difficult, before his expression changed to one of concern as he saw the look on my face.
'You all right, old boy? Tied one on tonight, eh? Dunno about you but I'm inches off being pissed.'
'Hallsworth?' I was sober as I would have been with a bucket of water thrown over me. 'What's this about his son? Bob - it's terribly important.'
'Can see that - from the look on your face. Quite a scandal apparently. Feller I know says the son should have gone to jail. In Italy of all places.'
'Are you sure? When was this?'
'End of the sixties I think. Buggered if I remember now. Certainly happened though. Awfully sorry old boy, but I really am pie-eyed. That last bottle I shouldn't be surprised. Oh, I say, doesn't that rhyme? Pie-eyed and -'
'Hallsworth, Bob-Hallsworth!'
'What? Oh yes. Big fraud job. All I know. Find out if y'like. Come round Sunday and I'll have all the gen. Suit you?'
It had to, the girls were returning with wraps over their shoulders and the commissionaire was signalling news of the cabs he had waiting at the kerbside. I kissed Amy goodnight, said we'd be round for Sunday supper, and Jean and I left for Fulham.
'Darling are you all right? You look awfully white and a bit green round the gills.'
I never answered. Just held her hand - and felt sick. Not booze sick. Thankfully she neither asked questions or chatted the way some women might have done, but sat perfectly still with my hand in hers until we were home.
In the flat she made coffee while my mind played tricks with my memory. Wild guesses like it being a different Hallsworth or another son? But Poignton's account of Hallsworth's background made him an only child and confirmed his father's death by suicide. Then my brain exploded with memories of Sue Ballantyne. Sue's whole story - how she'd met Hallsworth, fell in love and left him. Nine years ago, she had said. Nine years? Which meant that Hallsworth would have been about twenty-six. And he inherited when? When he was twenty-five, twenty-six? Old Poignton had been vague about it. Odd for him, that lack of precision when he was so pedantic about everything else. And Poignton himself? Must have known of a scandal and hadn't said a word.
'Something's wrong, Jean. Bloody wrong.'
She lit cigarettes for both of us and passed one to me.
'Hallsworth was mixed up in a fraud case. In Italy. Apparently he nearly went to prison - or should have.'
She sat there in shocked silence for a moment before answering. 'I don't believe it.' She laughed nervously. 'Oh Mike - it's nonsense. Where on earth did you get this?'
'Bob. Tonight.'
'Now I know it's nonsense.' I could hear the relief in her voice. Then she added, 'After all, he was three parts gone wasn't he?'
'Not gone enough to have made it up.'
'Well when then? I mean, when was this supposed to have happened?'
'I'm not sure. Nine or ten years ago I think.'
'You think ? Darling, shouldn't you be certain? Getting in a state - jumping to conclusions -' ,
'Christ, Jean, it's more than that! His father committed suicide and it was his fault - Rupert's. And he never said a word about it to me.'
'Oh, be fair, Darling; Why should he? A thing that personal. After all there are things you wouldn't tell him.'
'What for instance?'
'Well-things. Us for instance.'
'Oh, come on! It's hardly the same sort of thing is it?'
'It's exactly the same. Your personal life - nothing whatever to do with business. I should think that's how he feels about his father - only more so.'
I squirmed, recognising truth when I heard it, but plagued by a gut feeling that something was wrong. We sat facing each other, me almost angry, her seeming to be defensive where Hallsworth was concerned. She reached for my hand. 'Mike it's got to be nonsense. Have you ever known him do anything even remotely dishonest?'
I groaned, remembering the Pepalasis kickback. 'No more than I have.'
'Oh Mike - no?' She slid to the floor at my knees, her grip tightening on my hand and her face turned up to mine. 'I can't believe it.'
I told her everything - well almost. The meetings I had had with Poignton were easy enough, but I was more cautious in telling Sue's story. Not what she had said as much as where she had said it - instinct preventing me from describing to one woman the implied intimacies, of a bedroom scene with another. The Barmouth telephone call was omitted for the same reason, but at least I told her about the side deal with Pepalasis.
'I can't understand why you're so worked up,' she said. 'After all you gave him his money back.'
'It's not that,' I shook my head. 'It's Hallsworth. There's something about his background. The story doesn't fit. When we first me he told me some of his history - made a point of telling me. But there was nothing in it about Italy. And Sue told me that she went to Italy to get away from him - nine years ago. Nine years ago, don't you see? According to Bob that's exactly when Hallsworth was there - nearly being sent to prison.'
Her doubting expression slowly dissolved to one of bewilderment. 'Darling, we're too tired to make sense of it tonight.' She stifled a yawn, brown hair lifting from her shoulders as she shook her head. 'Let's leave it till the morning, please.'
'No - there's more.' I had to make her see. 'Bob did some snooping for me about a year ago. About Sue's story - her being born in India and growing up with this other girl Pamela whatshernname. Army families and all that stuff. But when Bob dug through the records there was nothing to show a Ballantyne having ever served in India. Or Singapore for that matter.'
She stood up and took the cups to the kitchen for a refill. I sensed her impatience, even shared it in a way, after all nothing I said seemed to make sense. So when she came back looking every bit as puzzled and worried as I felt, I was surprised as much as anything.
She put the cups on the carpet and sat at my feet again, her hand finding its way to mine. 'As you've brought it up, there is perhaps something you ought to know.' She hesitated, fumbling with her cigarettes and avoiding my eye. 'Except ought to know is probably the wrong expression. It happened last summer. I spent a week of my holidays in Malta with my parents, and on the last night we had dinner at an hotel they use - the Dragon's Lair it's called. Well, it's probably nothing at all - ' she paused, drew a deep breath, and then said: 'But Hallsworth was there. Having dinner. With Sue Ballantyne.'
I was so surprised that I slopped half the coffee in the saucer.
'It's probably nothing at all,' she repeated, as if regretting having told me.
'Nothing at all ? When she was supposed to have spent all summer in Greece? Christ, Jean - why didn't you tell me this before?'
'Oh, Mike! What was I supposed to do? Come running to tell you that I saw your girlfriend out with another man?'
'Another man? Hallsworth ? The man she never wanted to see again - ever!'
'Well, I didn't know that did I? For all I knew you might have known about it - about them I mean. She could have been a sort of shared perk - strictly partners for the use of.'
'Oh, don't be so damn ridiculous! I'm amazed. Amazed, that's all. You knowing something like that - and not telling me.'
'Mike, that's unfair.' She pulled away angrily, her cheeks flushed, temper flashing in her eyes. 'Remember last summer? I was someone you took out occasionally and returned to her cubbyhole afterwards. No ties - no strings - no obligations. Whereas she -'
'You should have told me.' I was practically shouting now.
'How could I tell you? She was number one girl and I was someone who worked for you. Someone to be given a treat when the rules allowed - your rules, Mike, not mine.'
'They're not written down.'
'They damn well don't need it! They're that obvious!' Tears flickered at the back of her eyes as she shoute
d back at me. She changed her position on the floor, kneeling now so as to give her more height. 'Mike, there are times when I don't know what to think. I mean if I hadn't stayed at Hill Street that night? Dammit, I almost threw myself at you. Suppose I hadn't? Would we be here now? Would any of this have happened? Between us I mean?'
At least I had sense enough to know an important question when I heard one. For an instant we were like figures frozen in a photograph, me leaning forward from the edge of my chair, Jean kneeling but straight backed, so that her head was almost level with mine. And then I reached for her. 'Perhaps not when it did - but it would have happened. Even I'm not blind stupid all the time.'
Her body was still tensed under my hands as she pulled away. 'But all this fuss?' She said warily. 'About Sue Ballantyne and Hallsworth?'
'Not fuss about, fuss about why. She's not important really she's not - but her lies are, especially when they involve Hallsworth.'
'But she told you they knew each other. Perhaps they met again? By chance? And, well, didn't tell you in case you'd be upset or something?'
It didn't ring true and we both knew it. I could even hear the lack of conviction in her voice. But the hurt gradually faded from her eyes and she gave the tiniest grin before resting her head in my lap, our hands clasping in reconciliation.
A few minutes passed before I risked re-opening the subject. 'Last summer? You'd only met Sue once - and Hallsworth was away so often that you'd not got to know him. You might have been mistaken?'
She snuggled into a more comfortable position. 'I might have been, about him. But I don't think so. And I certainly wasn't about her. Women don't make mistakes like that, my darling.' She was quiet for a moment, and then she added, 'No - it was them all right.'
'Did they see you?'
'No. We'd finished our meal as they arrived. I'd have missed them altogether but for my father running into some people he knew. We all went off for a drink and you can see the restaurant quite clearly from the bar. But they were staying there. At the hotel I mean.'
'How do you know?'
'It's a sort of local for us - I know the layout of the place quite well. They walked into the restaurant from the direction of the lifts.'
She yawned and stretched, so I took the hint and we went to bed. But as soon as she fell asleep I returned to the kitchen for some fresh coffee and cigarettes. I'm not sure which alarmed me most, Bob's unfinished story about fraud or Jean's revelations about Hallsworth and Sue in Malta. One was enough to shock - both together stunned me as effectively as a blow on the head. Hallsworth and Sue? It didn't make sense. Them seeing each other. Not when only a few days ago the prospect of a chance encounter had been enough to stop her from visiting Hill Street. And Bob's story? What if they were both right? Jean and Bob. I felt threatened and vulnerable, as if a disaster I couldn't define was looming over me. After the feeling grew to mammoth proportions an hour later, when I traced Jean's holiday back to the time of one of Hallsworth's trips to the States. Lies from Sue was one thing. Deceit from Hallsworth another.
It was past six when I finally fell asleep in the chair, Saturday the seventeenth of September, and when Jean woke me three hours later I did the only thing I could think of. Within an hour we had packed our bags and left.
Four
'We could have booked into the Dragon's Lair,' I grumbled, flicking the steering wheel to move into the fast lane. Staying with her parents meant separate bedrooms, and the loss of pleasures to which I had happily become accustomed.
'Don't be silly, darling. I'm going home. We couldn't possibly. Anyway, after last night I was beginning to think my physical charms had lost their appeal.'
'I had something on my mind.'
'So did I, and it's not a good place for it.' She giggled at her little joke, then said, 'Anyway, you still haven't told me. Why this sudden dash to Malta?'
'The Dragon's Lair. To find out if you were right. About last summer.'
'But why? I mean I know perfectly well what I saw. Why is it so red hot important?'
'If I knew that I wouldn't need to go,' I snapped. The words were out before I had time to check them. I got my nerves under control again and threw her a quick glance of apology. 'This hotel, how well does your father know the people who run it?'
'Mr Tonelli? He's the manager. Oh, he's a great friend. You'll like him.'
I hoped so. The whole trip depended on him.
There are three flights to Malta from Heathrow on a Saturday. The first was bursting with holidaymakers, but we got stand-by for the second and struck lucky - helped by Jean ogling a ticket clerk and a twenty pound note changing hands at the right time. And Luqa three hours later seemed as hot as Noumea had been a month earlier, but fanned by a salt breeze which swept the tarmac as we crossed to the Customs Hall. Jean's father was waiting for us, a tall silver-haired man dressed in fawn lightweights; about sixty, keen-eyed and bronzed by the sun. We sized each other up as we walked to the car, his look curious and mildly suspicious, the sort of look that fathers everywhere reserve for the escorts of only daughters. But for all that he had a straightforward, no-nonsense manner which appealed to me, and I found myself liking him as I got to know him. Altogether an interesting man, with a distinguished naval career behind him and a half share in the biggest marine business on the island. Successful, shrewd, and nobody's fool.
They lived a few miles beyond Sliema in a big white house surrounded by bougainvillea, full of gracious archways and Italian marble; set high on the cliffs and only a mile or so from the Dragon's Lair itself.
'Yes, I know it well,' he said when I asked him about it. 'Too well I think sometimes.' He patted the barely discernible bulge about his waistline. 'I eat there three or four times a week.'
'And the manager?'
'Alberto?' his eyes flickered with curiosity. 'Yes - he's something of a friend.'
'Friend enough to open his records to us?'
He hesitated. 'Do you mind telling me what you're looking for, Mr Townsend?'
Jean and her mother were off supervising the domestic arrangements and the two of us were alone on the terrace, sipping iced drinks and soaking up sunshine. Late afternoon, a perfect sea under an empty sky, and all so tranquil that I wondered if I wasn't being stupidly melodramatic about the whole thing.
'I'd be pleased if you'd call me Mike,' I answered clumsily. 'After all, Jean and I are practically engaged.'
He raised an eyebrow and waited, making me feel a perfect bloody fool, as if I should be expounding on my future prospects and asking for his daughter's hand in marriage.
I drew a deep breath and plunged into the story. 'Jean thinks she saw my partner here last summer. Having dinner at the Dragon's Lair. With a girl. Well - the odd thing is I know the girl too, and according to her she hasn't seen my partner for years. If Jean's right - and the two were together last summer - well, someone's been telling me a pack of lies.'
It sounded thinner than strained soup. He waited for me to continue but there was nothing to add which didn't make me sound like a hysterical schoolgirl, so I sipped my drink and hoped he'd settle for what he'd been given.
'And that’s important enough for you to catch the first plane out here?' Some of the warmth went out of his eyes in a look which told me all about his opinion of his daughter's choice in men.
'You've a partner, haven't you? In your business.' I groped for another angle. 'Suppose you found out, quite by chance, that he'd consistently misled you about something? Wouldn't you be anxious to find out why?'
Hostility was replaced by a look of concern. 'Any man with a dodgy partner has got trouble. Big trouble.' His grey eyebrows straightened and dropped until they almost hid his eyes. 'I should know,' he growled. 'Did Jean tell you?'
I shook my head, relieved to have struck a vein of understanding.
'It happened when I first started out here. Bastard cleared the bank account and vanished. Clean off the island. Took me five years to straighten out.
'I vowe
d then I'd never have another partner for as long as I lived.' He looked thoughtful for a moment, then he shrugged: 'But a chance came up to buy someone out and I needed a spot more cash, so I took another fellow in with me.' He grinned suddenly, making the eyebrows lift again so that he looked ten years younger. 'Best move I ever made. Never looked back. But picking a partner is tricky - reckon I've had the worst and the best of them - so I should know, eh?' I nodded and he said, 'And yours is up to no good, is that it? What can Alberto do for you?'
I wished I knew. 'Confirm Jean's story I suppose. Or refute it. She thinks they were staying at the hotel. A look at the register might help.'
He nodded.'Got photos of them?'.
I cursed my stupidity and felt myself drop another notch in his estimation.
He shrugged. 'Their names are probably enough. The hotel collects all passports on arrival, so at least they couldn't have registered under false names.' Jean and her mother were coming to join us and he threw me a quick glance as he stood up to greet them. 'Unless they're travelling under false passports of course. In which case you've got more trouble than you bargained for.'
I winced at the thought and felt a moment's panic as I remembered Bob's abortive search of another set of records.
We lazed away what was left of the early evening, enjoying the salt air and the sunshine, and each other's company. Jean's mother was as tanned as her husband, a tall, graceful woman who'd once been an actress. It showed occasionally, in a graceful movement or a lively expression. They were an interesting couple and I liked them, she with her fund of stories about playing the Palace during the blitz while husband Jack hunted U-boats from the bridge of a destroyer in the North Sea. Malta must have seemed an oasis of calm after the lives they had led and they seemed as happy with it as they were with each other.
At about eight-thirty we summoned up enough energy to go to our rooms to change for the evening, and an hour later we were at our table in the dining room at the Dragon's Lair.
'Alberto's going to join us for a drink after dinner,' Jack told me. 'You'll be able to get what you want then without being interrupted every five minutes.'
The Money Stones Page 17