She held all the tricks except one, and he held that: the winning trick. He would silence her. She had asked for it and it served her right.
For five minutes or so he lay still, his mind busy, then abruptly he swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He crushed out his cigarette, walked to the door, turned off the light and went out into the hot night.
Across the way was the brightly lit restaurant. He could see Glorie sitting at one of the tables in the bay windows. A waiter was serving her and she was speaking to him.
Harry walked down the path that led to the office, pushed open the door and made his way to a row of pay booths. He found Howard Graynor's number in the book, shut himself in a booth and dialled the number.
A man's voice said, “Graynor residence.”
“Will you tell Miss Graynor, Mr. Griffin is calling?”
“If you will hold on a moment, sir.”
Harry held on. He stared through the glass panel of the door at the tall, willowy redhead who leaned over the counter, making an entry in a ledger. From where he stood he could see down the front of her dress. He wasn't in the mood to appreciate What he saw.
“Hello, Harry. . .”
He straightened, turning his back on the redhead.
“Hello, Joan.” He tried to make his voice sound animated, but it didn't come off. “You were right. I've got trouble here. She isn't playing ball for the moment.”
“Oh, darling, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“No. I can handle it, but I won't be able to rush it. She's after more money. Look, don't talk to your father just yet. I may have to give her more than I had planned and I may be short by the time I get rid of her. She's on to us, Joan. We'd better not meet until she's gone. I don't want to antagonize her. You understand, don't you?”
“I knew it, Harry. Look, couldn't I talk to her? I knew she would make trouble.”
“No. You must keep out of it,” Harry said. “I can take care of her. It's just a matter of money. She'll give me up if I pay her enough.”
“All right, darling. I won't say anything to Father until you're ready. When are we going to meet?”
“I’ll call you the moment she has gone. It may take a day or so, but I'm thinking of you and loving you. You know that.”
“Yes, Harry. I know it, and you know I'm thinking of you too. You're sure there's nothing I can do?”
“Nothing. I'll fix it. Give me a couple of days. I'll call you the moment I've got rid of her. I love you, Joan.”
“Oh, darling, I'm sorry about this. Don't do anything reckless, will you?”
He grinned mirthlessly.
“Of course not. It's just a matter of shelling out. I’ll get rid of her even if it costs me all I've got.”
“You mustn't do that, Harry. You'll want your money.”
“I’ll fix it: don't worry. I'll call you, sweetheart.”
He left the pay booth, walked down the path, across the road and on to the sands. He sat down under a palm tree, lit a cigarette and folded his hands on top of his knees.
Borg, who was sitting in his car twenty yards away, took his gun from its holster and laid the sight at Harry's head. It was a tempting target and he had to make a conscious effort not to squeeze the trigger.
Unaware that he was but a heartbeat away from death, Harry told himself that he now had to think of a foolproof plan to get rid of Glorie. The circumstances favoured him. They had only just arrived in Miami and no one knew them. Joan would be under the impression that Glorie had left town. Glorie had no relations nor friends who would want to know what had happened to her. That was important. It was usually an inquisitive relative who started a police enquiry. Glorie was alone. There was no one to care if she were alive or dead.
But he would have to be careful. He had beaten one murder rap. He must be sure not to make a mistake with this one. How was he to get rid of the body? That presented the greatest problem. He sat smoking for more than an hour while he considered what he had to do. At the end of the hour, he stood up, slapped the sand off his clothes and walked back to the motel. He went to the quick-snack bar, ordered a sandwich and a double whisky, and while he ate the sandwich, he went over in his mind the plan he had decided upon. There was an element of risk in it, but that was to be expected. At least it was simple and uncomplicated. But would she be on her guard? Would it occur to her that he might try to silence her? He would have to be careful how he handled her for the next twenty-four hours. His first move would be to lull any suspicions she might have. If he could do that, the rest was easy.
He asked the barman if he could lend him a large-scale map of the district. The barman found him one, and for twenty minutes or so, Harry studied the map. Then he finished his drink, returned the map, tipped the barman and walked over to the cabin.
There was a light showing in the window and he could see Glorie's shadow against the blind. As he walked in, closing the door behind him, Borg heaved himself out of his car and moved silently back to his post by the cabin window.
Glorie was slipping into her nightdress as Harry came in. For a brief moment he saw her white, well-made body before the silk garment covered it.
She didn't look at him, but walked over to the dressing table and began to brush her hair.
He took off his coat, undid the top button of his shirt and pulled off his tie.
“Glorie . . .”
“Yes?”
She didn't look around, but went on brushing her hair.
“I want to apologize,” Harry said. “I've acted like a heel. I'm sorry: I'm really sorry.”
She paused, the hairbrush stranded in midair, while she looked at him. Her big, dark eyes stared steadily at him. He had to make the effort to meet her gaze without flinching, but he did it.
“What exactly does that mean?” she asked, her voice low and cold.
“I've been sitting out there thinking,” he said and lit a cigarette. “I don't know what got into me to talk to you the way I talked to you, nor do I know what got into me to treat you as I have treated you. You are right, Glorie. I do owe everything to you. I've treated you damned badly and I'm sorry. I guess I've always been a fool about women. This kid knocked me off balance. There's been no other woman but you until she turned up. You know that. Now I've had time to think about her I realize what a fool I've been. You're right: she's only a kid. I was dazzled by her money, but I know now her old man would never let me get near her nor the money even if I wanted to, which I don't now.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, frowning. “You gave me a jolt, Glorie. It was what I wanted. I know now we two will be much better off working on this thing together without any outsider to help us. I might even teach you to fly. I've been making plans out there for us, Glorie. I want you to forgive me. I can't say how sorry I am to have treated you like this. It won't happen again.”
There, you smart bitch, he thought, swallow that lot, and if that's not enough to convince you, I've still got some more soft soap to feed you with.
“All right, Harry,” she said, still not looking at him. I’m glad you feel that way about it. You gave me a jolt too. Perhaps that's what we both needed.”
“Yeah.” He had to stifle the spark of anger that threatened to flare up. It had cost him a lot to make this speech; the effect on her was disappointing. He had expected to see her melt, but her face remained as set and as cold as before. “Well, what are we going to do? You're not going to keep me in the doghouse forever, are you? I'm sorry, and I mean it. It won't happen again: I promise you that.”
She put down the hair brush and stared at herself in the mirror.
“And I'm sorry and ashamed I had to threaten you,” she said. “I love you. You mean more to me than any other man can ever mean. I hate myself for holding this thing over your head, but for both our sakes, Harry, I've got to do it. You have had the chance to be the boss of this partnership. You haven't done very well, have you? Now it's my turn to see what I can do.”