She sat still, thinking, gathering her strength and her confidence in herself. This was going to be a lonely battle, she told herself. She had said to Jackson, ‘The best of generals lose battles.’ But now she was determined this was the one battle she would not lose.
She returned to the living room and asked the telephone operator to connect her with the Sonesta Beach hotel.
‘I want to speak to Mr. Stanley Winborn.’
There was a delay. Calm, she smoked and stared out at the moonlit sea. She told herself: ‘I have so much to lose. I can afford to take risks. If I do lose, I’ll make sure no one gains.’
When Winborn came on the line, she said, ‘This is Mrs. Rolfe.’
‘I’m sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Rolfe.’ The cold voice came clearly over the line. She could imagine the steely grey eyes and the aloof, unfriendly expression. ‘Could I ask you to do something for me?’
Surprised, she said, ‘Of course.’
‘While flying to Miami, I got thinking about what your husband was trying to say. That odd phrase: “Sin on. Better law.” After repeating it several times, it occurred to me he was trying to say, “Winborn. Letter. Drawer.”’
You smart sonofabitch, Helga thought.
Forcing her voice to sound casual, she said, ‘I would never have thought of that, Mr. Winborn.’
‘I called Nurse Fairely. She asked Mr. Rolfe if that was what he was trying to say. By his reaction, it was. Nurse Fairely is sure that there is a letter for me in one of Mr. Rolfe’s drawers.’ A pause. ‘May I ask you to check, Mrs. Rolfe?’
Not so smart, Helga thought. What you should do is to come back here and check yourself.
‘We looked through all the drawers together, Mr. Winborn,’ she said. ‘There was no letter.’
‘But there could be. We were looking for the Japanese contract.’ A sharp note crept into Winborn’s voice. ‘Would you look more thoroughly?’
‘Of course. If I find a letter for you, I will call you back.’
‘I am sorry to bother you with this, but Nurse Fairely tells me Mr. Rolfe keeps on about this letter.’
‘If I don’t call back within an hour, you will know I haven’t found it,’ Helga said.
‘Thank you, Mrs. Rolfe.’
‘How is he?’
‘There is no change.’
She hung up and sat still for some moments. Winborn was no fool, but the immediate present was more important. She had sensed the suspicion in his voice. If he really became suspicious, he could make inquiries. The hotel manager, innocently, would tell him that she had taken the red folder from Mr. Rolfe’s desk.
She hunched her shoulders. In spite of the hot, humid air, she felt cold. But this was no time to worry about Winborn. First, she had to deal with Jackson... but how?
Suddenly, she felt exhausted. She remembered her father had often said to her, ‘When you have a serious problem, don’t make a quick decision... always sleep on it.’
She got to her feet and walked into the bedroom.
‘Sleep alone,’ Jackson had said with a jeering grin.
If only there was a man here, she thought: a muscular, tall and virile man who would take her and send her on a sensational trip of relief, who would wash away the memory of Jackson’s confident, jeering smile, her half-dead husband and this threat to her freedom.
She went into the bathroom, opened the mirror cabinet, took out a bottle of sleeping pills and shook two into her palm. She tossed the pills into her mouth and swallowed them. Stripping off her clothes, she took a shower, then went into the bedroom and dropped on to the bed.
The sounds of people enjoying themselves floated up through the open window. She could hear the roar of the passing traffic. Faintly, came the sound of the restaurant orchestra. It was playing I Follow My Secret Heart.
Secret heart?
Yes, her heart was secret but also lonely.
She fought back tears. She despised self-pity. Impatient with herself, she reached out and turned off the light.
For some minutes, she lay in the dim light of the moon coming through the slots of the sunblinds, then the two pills mercifully took hold of her and she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
It was when the effect of the pills was wearing off that she began to dream. She dreamed that she was in her father’s office in Lausanne. He was sitting behind his big desk, tall, thin, upright, his face sternly handsome while she stood before him and told him about Jackson.
Although a brilliantly clever international lawyer, her father was given to old-fashioned clichés. In this dream he talked to her but his words didn’t register. All she could hear were the clichés: ‘What you put in, you take out.’ ‘What you lose on the swings, you gain on the roundabouts.’ Then leaning forward, he said distinctly, ‘Offence is better than defence.’ She was waking as she heard his voice saying, ‘Always know your enemy.’
She came awake with a start. The dream had been very real and she looked around the luxurious bedroom, not knowing where she was, then remembering. The sun was coming through the slots of the blinds. She looked at the clock on the bedside table: the time was 08.13.
She lay still, thinking about her dream. Know your enemy. The drugged sleep had restored her energy. Her mind was clear. She lay thinking until 09.00, then she ordered coffee.
She was in the bathroom, finishing a quick toilet when she heard a tap on her door.
‘Come in.’
She slipped on a wrap and came into the living room as Hinkle wheeled in a service trolley.
‘Good morning, Hinkle,’ she said. ‘What is new?’
‘Mr. Rolfe has passed a fair night,’ Hinkle said as he poured the coffee. ‘Dr. Bellamy will be seeing him this morning.’
She took the cup of coffee he handed to her.
‘Could you find out two things for me, Hinkle?’ she asked.
‘Certainly, madame.’
‘I want the name of the hotel detective and the name of the man who cleans this suite.’
Hinkle lifted his eyebrows: his way of expressing astonishment, but he said impassively, ‘The hotel detective is Tom Henessey, madame. The cleaner is a young half-caste whom they call Dick.’
‘What a mine of information you are, Hinkle.’
He regarded her.
‘Is there something wrong, madame?’
‘Not at all. I believe in knowing the people who look after me.’ She smiled at him.
‘Yes, madame.’ She could see she hadn’t convinced him, but she was beyond caring. ‘Will you be in for lunch?’
‘No, I don’t think I will. I’ll either lunch in the grill-room or out.’
‘Is there anything I can do for you, madame?’
How she longed to tell this solid, kindly man about Jackson. She shook her head.
‘Give me one of your beautiful cocktails at six this evening,’ she said. ‘Nothing more. Do go out and enjoy yourself, Hinkle.’
‘Thank you, madame. If there is nothing then I will take advantage of the sun.’
When he had gone, she finished her coffee, completed her toilet and then went along to Herman’s suite.
Nurse Fairely, smiling, let her into the big living room.
‘I’ve come to see if I can find this letter that is worrying my husband,’ Helga said. ‘How is he?’
‘He is gaining strength, Mrs. Rolfe. He had a good night.’
‘Can I see him?’
‘I am sure he would be pleased to see you.’
Helga felt a little chill crawl up her spine. She braced herself as she crossed to the bedroom. Nurse Fairely tactfully went into the kitchenette.
Helga stood in the bedroom doorway, looking at her husband as he lay in the bed. She felt her heart contract. Could this ruin of a man be the mighty Herman Rolfe with all his millions, who with a flick of his fingers commanded attention, who held the magic key that unlocked the doors of the world? The skull-like face was now like a face modelled in wax and that had been exposed to a flame and had melted. The right side of the mouth was flaccid and hung open, showing his teeth and saliva dripped on to a towel on his white silk pyjamas. The useless right hand and arm lay on a pillow. The eyes that had always been cold, hard and forbidding were now like liquid pools of stagnant water without life.