there had been anything to find they would have found it. I didn’t expect to find anything. I
hoped if I returned to the scene of the smash something there might jog my memory to life,
but it didn’t.
During those sixteen days at the hotel I had groped into the past, trying to push aside the
blanket of fog that hid the happenings of those forty-five days. Every now and then I felt I
was getting somewhere. I remembered a few things, but they were so disjointed they didn’t
make sense.
An enormous fat woman with blonde hair floated into my mind, and then before I could
concentrate on her she turned into a sleek, ferocious lion that came rushing towards me with a
coughing, snarling roar. That mind picture brought me out of an uneasy doze, sweating and
scared. Had I been dreaming or had this fat woman and the lion actually played a part in those
missing days?
Then later I had a very clear mind picture of myself on the verandah of a beach cabin. I was
sitting in an armchair listening to the radio. I could hear the music distinctly, and although I
never listened to classical music, I somehow knew this was a symphony concert, and it was
by Beethoven. There was a blonde girl in a yellow swimsuit in the room. She kept coming
on to the verandah, wanting me to turn off the radio, but I wouldn’t let her. She said if the
music stopped she would take off her swimsuit. Wouldn’t I like that better than the music,
and I said no. She got angry and slapped my face. This picture appeared again and again in
my mind, but it didn’t mean anything to me.
I sat down on the uprooted tree and lit a cigarette. I tried to concentrate while I absorbed the
atmosphere of the thicket-I remembered the other car coming at us like a bat out of hell. I
remembered Della’s scream and the smash. I remembered grabbing hold of the dashboard as
the Bentley began to turn over. I closed my eyes. There had been a blinding white light, and
then darkness.
After a while I remembered a small wooden cabin, facing the sea. I could see it clearly in
my mind. It had a tin roof, and the front window was cracked. There was a split panel in the
front door.
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This was new. This had happened after the smash II was sure of that. Excited by this
discovery, I jumped to my feet and looked around. There was a path through the palmettos,
leading to the beach. I set off, walking quickly, aware that the path seemed vaguely familiar. I
was pretty sure I had been this way before.
I came out of the thicket on to the sand dunes. The sea was in front of me. I stood looking
to right and left. There was no sign of any cabin. I was turning to walk to the right when I
changed my mind and walked instead to the left. I was like a blind man in a familiar room.
All I had to do was to obey my instincts, and I knew I should arrive at the cabin.
I walked for ten minutes along the beach before I saw it. It was exactly as I had pictured it
in my mind, with its tin roof and cracked window-pane.
There was an elderly man in the doorway, smoking. He had on a pair of dirty dungarees and
he was looking in my direction. There was a stiff alertness about him that told me I had
startled him.
“Morning,” I said as I drew near. “A lonely spot you’ve got here.”
He stared at me, his lined, weather-beaten face uneasy.
“Where did you spring from, mister?”
“I’ve been driving all night. I wanted to stretch my legs. Could I buy a cup of coffee off
you?”
“You can have a cup of coffee. I’ve just made some. I’ll bring it to you.” I sat down on a
wooden box and waited, I had an idea I had seen him before. He came out with two pint mugs
of steaming coffee. He kept staring at me while I drank.
“It’s a funny thing,” he said slowly, “but I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
“You’ve seen my brother,” I said, deciding this might be the best way to get the information
out of him. “He had a car smash not far from here on July 29th. Remember?”
He hurriedly shifted his eyes.
“I don’t know anything about a car smash.”
I knew at once he was lying.
“My brother was hurt,” I said, watching him. “He lost his memory. We don’t know what
78
happened. I’m trying to find out.”
“I tell you I don’t know anything about it,” he said curtly. “If you’ve finished your coffee, I
gotta get on.”
I took out a roll of bills; peeled off a hundred in twenties and spread them out on my knee.
“I don’t want to waste your time. I pay for information,” I said.
“She said I wasn’t to talk about it,” he said, his eyes lighting up, “but as you’re his brother .
. .”
I gave him the money. My heart was beginning to pound, and my hand was unsteady.
“What happened?”
“She and your brother came here. She said he had been hit on the head and the car stolen,
but I found out later she was lying. There had been a smash and the car caught fire. They
found a body in it.”
“That’s right. What was this woman like?”
“Dark and pretty, but as hard as nails. She wore a green dress. From the look of her she had
plenty of money.”
Della!
“Go on,” I said.
“Your brother made out he was pretty bad, but he wasn’t. He was trying to fool me. She
wanted me to call some fella, and she gave me a phone number. The phone’s about half a mile
down the road. I called this guy. He said he’d come over. When I got back to the cabin I
looked through the window. Your brother was talking to the girl, but when I went in he made
out he was still unconscious.”
I didn’t know what to make of all this.
“Do you remember the phone number?”
“Lincoln Beach 4444. It’s an easy one to remember.”
“Who was this fella you called?”
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“Nick Reisner. That’s what she said his name was.”
I felt spider’s legs run up my spine.
“What exactly did she say?”
He thought for a long moment, scratching his head, his eyebrows drawn down in a frown.
“She said Ricca had met with an accident, and this Reisner fella was to come and pick them
up.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah,”
“Did you see him?”
He shook his head.
“No. I was asleep when he arrived.”
I went on asking him questions, but there was nothing else of importance he could tell me.
But I hadn’t wasted my time. I bad established that after the car crash Della and I had gone to
the cabin. That meant her husband, Paul, and not me, as Riskin had thought, had been left in
the burning car. Who Reisner was was something I had to find out. At least I had his telephone
number. Why had Della called me Ricca? Had she been the girl who had died in the second car
smash or was it someone else?
Before I could make sense of any of this, I had to get a bit more information. I thanked the
old man for his help, and went back to where I had parked the car.
Around eight o’clock I drove into Lincoln Beach. At that hour in the morning the streets
were almost deserted. I could tell at a glance this town was a millionaire’s playground. The
shops, buildings, the flowers growing along the sidewalks and the neat-ness all pointed to
money. I found an hotel in one of the side streets.
Two bell-hops and the head porter who looked like an Admiral of the Fleet helped me out
of the car and carried the black pigskin case and two other cases into the reception lobby.
They gave me a room big enough to garage three four-ton trucks, and a bathroom that was so
luxurious I was scared to use it.
I lay on the bed and slept for three hours. After that all-night run I was dead beat. Around