‘Where do I find her place?’
Again the sly little smile.
‘If I were you, I wouldn’t go there right now. She’s got her fat friend with her. He’s old and horrid looking, but her real boyfriend is super. When Sheila doesn’t want to swim, he comes swimming with me. When my mum’s not around,’ and she giggled.
Still fishing, I asked, ‘How do you know he is her real boyfriend? Her fat friend could be her real boyfriend, couldn’t he?’
‘That’s a load of crap. The fat one comes only once a month, but Harry lives with her.’
‘Harry?’
I felt a cold chill run over me. Then I told myself Harry was a common name, but instinct warned me to probe, ‘Harry — tall, thin with a beard?’
Her eyes opened wide.
‘Sure, do you know him?’ Holding the gate with one hand as she swung backwards and forwards, she tossed her long fair hair off her shoulders. ‘What’s your name? How did you meet Harry?’
‘You haven’t told me where I can find Sheila.’
‘Right at the end of the road. It’s the only bungalow with a number. When did you meet Harry?’
A raucous voice bawled from somewhere: ‘Jenny! Come in at once!’
The girl grimaced.
‘That’s my mum. See you,’ and climbing off the gate, she ran away towards the bungalow.
As I started down the sandy road, I was asking myself what was going on. I told myself I mustn’t jump to conclusions. There could be hundreds of bearded men called Harry.
My mind in a turmoil, I hurried on. At the end of the road was a high laurel hedge, screening a bungalow. On the gate was the number 14. I pushed open the gate and looked into the big garden. Ahead of me, up a crazy path was a low-lying, biggish bungalow. I walked quickly up the path until I reached the front door.
What kind of reception would I receive when Brannigan found I had tracked him down to his love nest? I hesitated for a brief moment, then thumbed the bell push.
Somewhere inside the bungalow, I heard the bell ring. Then, after a brief moment, the door jerked open.
Standing in the doorway, wearing white pyjamas, her red hair tousled, her big, green eyes wide, was Glenda.
A bunch of kids, dressed in cowboy outfits, burst into the garden. The toy guns they carried were perfect replicas of the real thing. As they shot at each other, the snapping bark of their guns was horribly realistic.
Two of the kids fell down, clutching at their chests, their legs jerking as they simulated violent death. One of the other kids, his face snarling, rah over to them and shot at them, screaming: ‘You’re dead... you’re dead!’
Then leaving the two, now lying still, the rest of them charged back on to the road, and went, yelling, towards the sea.
The sight of Glenda, and this sudden invasion of noise, paralysed me. I could only stand motionless, staring at her, seeing the two kids get to their feet.
One pointed his gun at me and fired.
‘You’re dead!’ he yelled, fired again, then he and his companion charged after the others.
‘Glenda!’ I managed to say.
Her face was the colour of tallow. Her eyes were terror-stricken. Slowly, she backed away as if she were seeing a ghost, her hand to her mouth. She half moaned to herself: ‘Oh, my God! My God!’
‘Glenda!’
I took a step forward.
With a stifled scream, she turned and stumbled down the long passage, threw open a door on her right, stumbled inside the room and slammed the door.
My mind wouldn’t work. I stood in the doorway, unable to move. I had been so sure Klaus had had her murdered.
The shock of finding her alive, and even worse, the realization that the sight of me had reduced her to terrifying panic, crushed me.
I stood there, looking down the passage at the closed door behind which she was. Somewhere in the bungalow a clock began to chime. Standing there, feeling the sun on my back, I counted the chimes. It was now 11.00. The clock chimes brought my mind into focus. I moved into the passage, and closed the front door. I walked down the passage, reached the door to the room, where Glenda was, turned the handle, but found the door locked.
‘Glenda!’ I shouted. ‘Let me in! You have nothing to be frightened about. Glenda... please!’
A gravelly voice said, behind me, ‘Leave her alone, Larry. She’s had a shock.’
I spun around.
Farrell Brannigan stood in the passage. He was wearing a white open-neck shirt and blue slacks. Although casually dressed, he still exuded all the authority of the President of the largest banking syndicate in California.
‘Come on, son,’ he said. ‘We have things to talk about. Just let her alone for a while. Women need to get over a shock like this.’
Bewildered, and off balance, I hesitated, then followed him into the big living-room, comfortably furnished with lounging chairs, settees and a big desk.
‘Now, Larry,’ Brannigan said quietly as he moved behind the desk, ‘just so you don’t get wrong ideas about Glenda and myself, I will tell you in confidence that she is my illegitimate daughter.’
I stared at him, feeling a wave of relief go through me. His daughter! My reaction, when I had seen her standing in the doorway, had been that she was Sheila Vance, Brannigan’s mistress.
‘Your daughter?’ I said, continuing to stare at him.
He dropped into the big chair behind the desk, then took a cigar from a box as he waved me to a chair, ‘Come on, Larry, sit down. I’ve some history to tell you.’
Even more bewildered, I sat down. He was as calm as if he were presiding at a board meeting.
‘I’m going to tell you something in strict confidence, Larry,’ he went on, ‘Not a word to anyone else. I know I can trust you. Right?’
‘Glenda is your daughter?’
He nodded.
‘That’s it. Glenda’s mother was a secretary of mine. This was twenty-six years ago.’ He puffed smoke. ‘I had been married for a few months. Merle, as you know is occupied with her health. She never gave me any bed satisfaction.’ He pointed his cigar at me. ‘A man wants bed satisfaction. That’s what marriage is all about. That, and companionship.’ He drew on his cigar, then went on, ‘What no one knows, Larry, is that it is Merle’s money that gave me my start. I’m putting the cards on the table. If she wasn’t so rich, I wouldn’t have married her. I wanted money, so I married her. Merle was difficult. She is one of these women who is above sex. I got nothing from her, so, after a while, I began to screw around. What man wouldn’t? Let’s look at it, Larry. There are two things in a man’s life: money and screwing.’
As I didn’t say anything, he went on, ‘Stupidly I screwed my secretary, Anne, Glenda’s mother. Anne was a nice girl... a decent girl. She died giving birth to Glenda.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘I found I had a baby daughter on my hands. I knew if Merle heard about it, she would divorce me, and I would lose her financial backing. I wanted my daughter. Merle would never give me children. I found two worthy people to take care of Glenda, and from time to time, I saw her.’ He puffed more smoke. ‘You probably won’t realize how a man feels when he has a daughter, but never mind. You could learn. I saw Glenda once a month as she grew up. She lacked for nothing. I gave her the best education. I even taught her to play golf. I bought her this place so we could meet from time to time. We met at some out-of-the-way golf course, and played. Then something went wrong. Maybe, she didn’t see enough of me. There were times when I was so goddamn busy, I didn’t see her more than three times a year. I don’t know, but something went wrong. This man Harry Brett came into her life. I knew sooner or later, some man would come, but I hoped that whoever it was, he would be better than Brett. Whenever I can, I come here, and spend a weekend with her, as I’m doing now. I alert her, and she gets rid of Brett.’ He moved back his chair and crossed one heavy leg over the other. ‘Now, there’s a change, Larry.’ He looked at me soberly, the relaxed President at the board table, his cigar between his thick fingers, expensive Havana smoke in the air, ‘A big change,’ he went on. ‘She is now in love with you. She doesn’t want Brett anymore. She wants you.’ He leaned forward to touch off the ash from his cigar into the ash bowl. ‘At the moment, son, the situation is difficult, but I feel sure you and I can sort it out. What you must keep in mind is that my daughter loves you, needs you, and relies on you to help her and help me.’