‘I will pay him a hundred dollars and all found,’ Helga said. ‘He will, of course, have to work for it, but it will give him an opportunity to save.’ She smiled. ‘I would like to know if you have any objections to his working for me, Mrs. Jones.’
‘Me?’ The big woman shook her head. ‘Ma’am, I come from Haiti. I worked on a sugar plantation. That’s where I met Henry Jones. When my boy got to twelve years of age, I told myself I had to get out. I’ve saved and I came here. It was hard, but I wanted Dick to have a chance and he got this chance at the hotel. I live for my son, ma’am. You take him. I’ll miss him, but to be able to go to New York, to Europe, to work for such fine people as the Rolfes... this is something I couldn’t even dream about.’
Helga got to her feet.
‘Then I will arrange it. It is possible my husband and I will return to Paradise City tomorrow. Dick will come with us.’
Mrs. Jones put her big, work worn hands against her floppy bosom.
‘So soon, ma’am?’
‘Yes, but don’t worry. He’ll be all right.’ Helga saw tears in the big, black eyes. ‘You are an understanding and wonderful mother.’
Mrs. Jones drew herself up.
‘I’ve got a wonderful son, ma’am. Nothing is too good for him, and thank you, ma’am and may the good Lord bless you.’
Returning to her hotel suite, Helga called the housekeeper.
‘I want to speak to the man who cleans my suite,’ she said. ‘Dick, I believe his name is. Please send him to me.’
‘Is there something wrong, madame?’ the housekeeper asked, alarm in her voice.
‘Nothing is wrong. I wish to speak to him,’ Helga said coldly.
‘Certainly, madame. I will bring him to you immediately.’
‘Send him to me. Your presence is not required,’ and Helga hung up.
That will give them something to gossip about, she thought wryly, but she was beyond caring. She lit a cigarette and glanced at her watch. The time was 12.45. She felt in need of a drink, but decided to wait until she went down to the grill-room.
She waited three long minutes, then a soft tap came on the door.
‘Come in,’ she snapped.
Dick Jones entered slowly. His large dark eyes showed fear. In the hard sunlight flooding the big room his smooth skin sparkled with sweat.
‘You wanted me, ma’am?’ He could scarcely get the words out.
‘Come in and shut the door.’
He moved further into the room, shut the door, then faced her.
‘Now, listen to me, Jones. You are in trouble. I have been talking to your mother.’ She saw him flinch. ‘She believes you saved for your motorcycle. She believes what you told her: that it cost a thousand dollars. I know it cost more than four thousand dollars. I can prove this to her. What do you imagine she will say to you when she knows?’
He raised his hands imploringly.
‘You wouldn’t tell her, ma’am,’ he said huskily. ‘Please don’t tell her.’
She took the recorder from her bag and set it on the table.
‘Listen to this,’ she said and switched on the play-back.
They remained still as their voices from the tape came distinctly to them both. When the tape finished, she switched off and looked at him.
‘That is a confession, Jones, that you stole a valuable document.’ She paused, then went on, ‘The police would act on it. You and your friend Jackson could go to jail for at least fourteen years.’
He shivered.
‘I just wanted the bike, ma’am.’
‘To get your bike, you became a thief. Your mother told me you are a wonderful son. Would she call a thief a wonderful son?’
He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, sweating, his face ashen.
She let him sweat, then after a long pause, she said, ‘You are going to leave here, Jones. You are going to work in my house in Paradise City. I want you away from Jackson. You will be paid, but you will do exactly as you’re told. My major-domo, Mr. Hinkle, will take charge of you. I don’t expect any trouble from you. Your mother has agreed that you should go. You will pack and be ready to leave tomorrow. Do you understand?’
His big black eyes widened.
‘But, ma’am, I don’t want to leave here. I have my home here. I have a good job here. I don’t want to leave!’
‘You should have thought of that before you turned thief,’ Helga said ruthlessly. ‘You will do what I say or I will turn you over to Mr. Henessey who will have no mercy on you, understand?’
He wrung his hands.
‘What’s to happen to my bike?’ he said. ‘Ma’am.’
‘Damn your bloody bike!’ Helga said furiously. ‘Get out! You leave tomorrow!’
Staring at her, horrified, the boy backed to the door.
‘Hinkle will send for you. Do exactly what he tells you and keep away from Jackson. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Then get out!’
Like a whipped puppy, he slunk out of the room.
She crushed out her cigarette, aware her hand was shaking. Offence is better than defence. She hated herself for terrifying this half-caste boy, but she had to do it. She was fighting for her future.
Consulting the telephone book she found the only other inquiry agency was The British Agency: Mr. Frank Gritten. She asked the hotel operator to call the number.
A woman answered, her voice brisk and efficient. ‘British Agency. Can I help you.’
Helga hesitated, then she said, ‘This is Mrs. Herman Rolfe. I would like to consult Mr. Gritten this afternoon at three o’clock.’
‘Mrs. Herman Rolfe?’
Helga could imagine the startled expression on the woman’s face.
‘Yes.’
‘Certainly, Mrs. Rolfe. Mr. Gritten will be happy to see you at three o’clock.’
Helga hung up.
For a long moment, she sat motionless, thinking. She was taking a big risk, but she had everything to gain also everything to lose.
She left the suite and rode down to the lobby. She told the Hall porter she would have lunch in the grill-room and would he reserve a quiet table for her, then she went out on to the terrace. There was no sign of Hinkle. She couldn’t imagine him in the sea, but nothing Hinkle might do would surprise her.
Driving the Mini, she went to the Nassau Bank and asked to speak to the manager. She was immediately shown into his office. The plaque on his desk told her his name was David Freeman: a stout, red-faced breezy Englishman who rose to his feet.
‘Happy to see you here, Mrs. Rolfe,’ he said offering her a chair. ‘What may I do for you?’
As Helga sat down, she said, ‘Yesterday I arranged to be able to cash fifteen thousand dollars with you, Mr. Freeman.’
‘That is quite right. It has now been arranged.’
‘I want ten thousand dollars in one thousand dollars bills. I want you to make a note of the numbers. I will sign the receipt and I want the numbers of the bills on the receipt.’
Freeman looked sharply at her, but seeing her cold, hard expression decided not to be curious.
‘Certainly, Mrs. Rolfe. I will arrange this immediately.’ He picked up the telephone receiver, issued instructions, then went on, ‘I trust Mr. Rolfe is improving.’
‘He is better, thank you.’ Helga braced herself, ‘Mr. Freeman, can you tell me the standing of The British Agency: the inquiry agents? Are they reliable?’
‘Yes, Mrs. Rolfe.’ Freeman’s red face showed his surprise. ‘You can have every confidence in them. Mr. Gritten, who runs the agency is an ex-Chief Inspector of the Nassau police. He happens to be an old friend of mine. He is utterly reliable, honest and a man of integrity.’
‘There is also the Discreet Agency,’ Helga said.
Freeman frowned.