After dinner, however, when Madam suggested we all take coffee and liqueurs on the terrace and watch the youngsters dance, Rafe homed in on Urscoll like a magnet. Dinner had evidently revived Marchmount, because he was quite smiling and talkative.
"You and Lou are planning to make the bloodstock sales at Ballsbridge this fall?" Rafe asked as we all watched Lou and Madam trying to rock and roll.
Urscoll hesitated before answering. "That's the plan, but, ah… Louis isn't at all well."
"Oh, the quiet pace in Dublin might be therapeutic," Rafe said. "Give Lou a chance to really get away from it all."
Urscoll instantly tensed, then smiled. "Yes, he needs a complete change of scene."
"And not just for his health."
"What do you mean?"
We had moved somewhat into the shadows, away from the dancing area. Bobby Wellesley was dancing with Sara, while Pres partnered Faith, She knew how to dance, too.
"Would the name 'Galvano' mean anything to you?" Rafe asked casually. I thought the man would drop his glass.
"Should it?" he asked with a commendable recovery.
"Come off it, Urscoll. I'm family," Rafe replied. "Lou Marchmount has been many things, but not a paranoid. And don't give me that nonsense about a bad heart. That man is running scared. From what?"
Urscoll wet his lips, glanced at Marchmount and Wendy Madison giving a bad example of the frug, and then began to talk.
"I am not, Mr. Clery, a sportsman." And Urscoll smiled wryly. "I'm a private investigator for a West Coast firm. I was chosen because of… family connections and my background… to act as companion to Mr. Marchmount. He is being threatened by an extortionist. He has already paid substantial sums."
"Paid? Why in hell did you permit it?"
Urscoll looked unhappy too. "I realize that seems odd, Mr. Clery, but I assure you my firm has urgently recommended on several occasions that this be taken to the proper authorities. Mr. Marchmount is adamant that the police may not be involved. Frankly, Mr. Clery, he is such a sick man that anything might result in a fatal heart attack. I wish he wouldn't dance so violently, but my wishes are seldom consulted." Urscoll looked more ill at ease than ever. "My instructions are to avoid any contact with the extortionist."
"It is Caps Galvano, isn't it?"
Urscoll gave Rafe a long look. "I… think so."
"You think so?"
"When my firm checked the police records about Galvano-very discreetly-he was listed as dead. Naturally, we told Mr. Marchmount. He insisted that the man was very much alive. As Mr. Marchmount had just suffered his first heart attack, we discounted his insistence. Then Mr. Marchmount experienced a series of odd mishaps, and I was assigned to… to protect him from any more. On three separate occasions I have intercepted phone calls from a person whom Mr. Marchmount insists must be this Galvano. In spite of my precautions, Mr. March-mount has paid the demands. And he absolutely refuses to let me consult with the police. I am in the difficult position of seeing-to be blunt-fear kill my client and being unable to prevent his death." Urscoll sighed. "Believe me, we usually do not operate in such a… an inefficient and ineffective way. But"-Urscoll gestured his hopelessness-"he is living on borrowed time right now, and if I can just keep that… that blackmailing Galvano away from Marchmount, I will be at least guarding the body."
"So you've been traveling?"
"Yes, by slow stages and with no advance plans and leaving no forwarding address. My suggestion. It would be harder for the extortionist to track us. Until just recently that worked. The man caught up with us two weeks ago."
"You've had another extortion demand?"
Urscoll grimaced. "For twenty thousand dollars."
"From Galvano?"
"I assume so. It was the one time I wasn't with Mr. Marchmount"-and Urscoll's regret seemed sincere-"and he took the phone call. You can see what it did to him. If it weren't for Mrs. Madison, I think the man might have died."
"Does Madam know he's being blackmailed?"
"No!" The denial was explosive, and Urscoll glanced quickly around to see if anyone had noticed his exclamation. "She thinks he's being pestered by an ex-wife for alimony. I wanted to confide in her, in anyone, because frankly, Mr. Clery, I'm exceedingly worried about him." "Good thing you didn't tell Mother," Rafe said. "But she seems to know that you're an employee."
"Oh, yes." And if I thought I'd suffered at Wendy Madison's hands, I ought to compare notes with Stephen Urscoll. "I realize what an imposition it is, but…" He shrugged. "I must protect my client."
"More from himself, I'd say, than the blackmailer." "If he'd only let me approach the police," Urscoll said gloomily.
"Don't worry, Urscoll. The decision has been taken out of your hands."
"How so?"
Louis Marchmount's whinny of a laugh cut across the music, and we all looked over as he began the most insane contortions, totally unrelated to any dance step ever conceived.
"Lou, stop that! Remember your heart! Lou! Oh, Christ!" Wendy Madison was trying to pin his arms down, but he flailed wildly around. Urscoll ran to her aid, and just as he got to Louis, the man gave a wild scream and collapsed.
"He must have got something. He must have. My God, what did he take now?" Wendy Madison screamed. "Turn off that goddamned racket."
Someone did, as Urscoll, Rafe, and John Milanesi carried a white-faced Louis Marchmount and laid him carefully on the long couch in the living room. He was breathing stertorously, his complexion turning a green-gray.
"His heart. His heart," Wendy was moaning, clutching his hand and stroking his forehead.
"Sam's calling the doctor. Urscoll, go get a blanket." Rafe had taken command.
"That won't do any good." His mother was weeping. "He's taken something. How could he have got any drugs? I threw everything I had out. He knows it's bad for his heart. He knows…" Her glance fell on Bobby
Wellesley, who had been, I realized now, exhibiting the same unnatural exuberance. "What did you give him, you little turd?"
"Give him? Give him?" Bobby's voice rose to a shriek. "I didn't give him anything. He took it. He came into the bathroom and took it. I only had two tabs left. Just two, and no chance of getting more before Monday. He took it. Serves him right."
"Took what?" Rafe asked in a mild voice.
Bobby's expression turned cunning and suspicious. "No. I won't tell you. Think you can treat me like scum all evening. Turn Faith against me. Then you want me to help you. Well, man, flake off. I won't…"
Rafe moved toward Bobby, his hands clenched into fists.
"You little creep, you can't scare me," Bobby said, drawing himself up to his full inches. But suddenly Paddy Skerrit and Ted McCormack closed in on him from behind.
"You're all against me. Coming at me. Don't! Don't!" He had turned in a frenzied, caged-creature way that was horrifying.
"Don't, you fools!" The words were low but urgent. It was Sara who had spoken. She used the stunned silence to run closer to Bobby, her voice soothing and soft. "Bobby, Bobby, they won't crowd you any more. You need your freedom, don't you?" She cajoled him, and he watched her, almost as if she were hypnotizing him with her slow, easy advance. "You need space, don't you, man; space and air and sympathy, or everything will fall in, right?"
Rafe waved Paddy and Ted back, his eyes on Sara. She reached up and took Bobby's hand, stroking his arm, patting his face, murmuring reassurance all the time.
"If he doesn't tell us…" Wendy Madison began to wail.
"If you don't shut up and let Sara handle him…" Rafe left his threat hanging, but his harsh tone cowed his mother into silence.
"I can't think of anything meaner, Bobby, than losing your last tab like that. It's one thing to offer it to a friend, but no one should take it from you," she said as she pulled Bobby over to a chair and got him seated, all the time soothing his forehead and patting him. "Now, I'm right here with you, and nothing and nobody is going to bother you. You can have a safe trip. When'd you start, so I'll know when you'll be coming down? There's nothing to worry about, because I'll be right here all the time. When'd you start?"