‘Spy on you? Spy on you?’ She stared at him, the expression on her face one of lack of understanding rather than incredulity. ‘What on earth can you mean?’
Harlow remained implacable. ‘Surely you know what the word ‘spy’ means?’
‘Oh, Johnny!’ The hurt in the big brown eyes was as unmistakable as that in the voice. ‘You know I’d never spy on you.’
Harlow relented, but only marginally. then why are you here?’
‘Aren’t you pleased just to see me?’
That’s neither here nor there. What are you doing in this cafe?’
‘I was — I was just passing by and —’
‘And you saw me and came in.’ Abruptly he pushed back his chain and rose. ‘Wait here.’
Harlow went to the front door, glanced at it briefly and opened it, stepping just outside. He turned and looked for several seconds back up the way he had come, then turned round and looked down the street. But his interest lay in neither direction, but in a doorway directly across the street. A figure stood there, pushed back deeply into the recess. Without appearing to have noticed him, Harlow re-entered the cafe, closed the door behind him and returned to his seat.
He said: ‘Aren’t you lucky to have -those X-ray eyes. Frosted glass all the way and yet you see me sitting here.’
‘All right, Johnny.’ She sounded very weary. ‘I followed you. I’m worried. I’m dreadfully worried.’
‘Aren’t we all now and again. You should see me out on those race-tracks at times.’ He paused, then added with apparent inconsequence: ‘Was Rory still in the hotel when you left?’
She blinked her puzzlement. ‘Yes. Yes he was. I saw him. Just as I was leaving.’
‘Could he have seen you?’
‘That’s a funny question.’
‘I’m a funny fellow. Ask anyone around the racetracks. Could he have seen you?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose he could. Why-why all this concern about Rory?’
T wouldn’t like the poor little lad to be abroad in the streets at night and maybe catch a chill. Or maybe even get mugged.’ Harlow paused consideringly. there’s a thought, now.’
‘Oh, stop it, Johnny! Stop it! I know, Well I know he can’t stand the sight of you, won’t even speak to you ever since — ever since —’
‘Ever since I crippled you.’
‘Oh, dear God!’ The distress in the face was very real. ‘He’s my brother, Johnny, but he’s not me. Can I help it if — look, whatever his grudge, can’t you forget it? You’re the kindest man in die world, Johnny Harlow —’
‘Kindness doesn’t pay, Mary.’
‘You still are. I know you are. Can’t you forget it? Can’t you forgive him? You’re big enough, much more than big enough. Besides, he’s only a boy. You’re a man. What danger is he to you? What harm can he do you?’
‘You should see what harm a dangerous nine-year-old can do in Vietnam when he has a rifle in his hands.’
She pushed her chair back. The tonelessness in her voice belied the tears in her eyes. She said: ‘Please forgive me. I shouldn’t have bothered you. Good night, Johnny.’
He laid a gentle hand on her wrist and she made no move to withdraw it, merely sat waiting there with a numbed despair on her face. He said : ‘Don’t go. I just wanted to make sure of something.’
‘What?’
‘Oddly, it doesn’t matter any more. Let’s forget about Rory. Let’s talk of you.’ He called to the waitress. ‘Same again, please.’
Mary looked at the freshly filled glass. She said: ‘What’s that? Gin? Vodka?’
‘Tonic and water.’
‘Oh, Johnny!’
Will you kindly stop ‘Oh, Johnnying me’.’ It was impossible to tell whether the irritation in his voice was genuine or not. Wow then. You say you are worried as if you have to tell anyone that, far less me. Let me guess at your worries, Mary. I would say that there are five of them, Rory, yourself, your father, your mother and me.’ She made as if to speak but he waved her to silence. ‘You can forget about Rory and his antagonism to me. A month from now and he’ll think it was all a bad dream. Then yourself — and don’t deny you are worried about our, shall we say, relationship : those things tend to mend but they take time. Then there’s your father and mother and, well, me again. I’m. about right?’
‘You haven’t talked to me like this for a long long time.’
Does that mean I’m about right?’
She nodded without speaking.
‘Your father. I know he’s not looking well, that he’s lost weight. I suggest that he’s worried about your mother and me, very much in that order.’
‘My mother,’ she whispered. ‘How did you know about that? Nobody knows about that except Daddy and me.’
‘I suspect Alexis Dunnet may know about it, they’re very close friends, but I can’t be sure. But your father told me, over two months ago. He trusted me, I know, in the days when we were still on speaking terms.’
‘Please, Johnny.’
‘Well, I suppose that’s better than ‘Oh, Johnny’. In spite of all that’s passed, I believe he still does. Please don’t tell him that I told you because I said I’d tell no one. Promise?’
‘Promise.’
‘Your father hasn’t been very communicative in the past two months. Understandably. And I hardly felt I was in a position to ask him questions. No progress, no trace of her, no message since she left your Marseilles home three months ago?’
‘Nothing, nothing.’ If she’d been the type to wring her hands she’d have done just that. ‘And she used to phone every day she wasn’t with us, write every week and now we —’
‘And your father has tried everything?’
‘Daddy’s a millionaire. Don’t you think he would have tried everything?’
‘I should have thought so. So. You’re worried. What can I do?’
Mary briefly drummed her fingers on the table and looked up at him. Her eyes were masked in tears. She said: ‘You could remove his other main worry.’
‘Me?’
Mary nodded.
At that precise moment MacAlpine was very actively concerned in investigating his other main worry. He and Dunnet were standing outside a hotel bedroom door, with MacAlpine inserting a key in the lock. Dunnet looked around him apprehensively and said: ‘I don’t think the receptionist believed a word you said.’
‘Who cares?’ MacAlpine turned the key in the lock. ‘I got Johnny’s key, didn’t I?’
‘And if you hadn’t?’
‘I’d have kicked his damned door in. I’ve done it before, haven’t I?’
The two men entered, closed and locked the door behind them. Wordlessly and methodically, they began to search Harlow’s room, looking equally in the most likely as unlikely places – and in a hotel room the number of places available for concealment to even the most imaginative is very limited. Three minutes and their search was over, a search that had been as rewarding as it was deeply dismaying. The two men gazed down in a brief and almost stunned silence at the haul on Harlow’s bed — four full bottles of scotch and a fifth half full. They looked at each other and Dunnet summed up their feelings in a most succinct fashion indeed.
He said, ‘Jesus!’
MacAlpine nodded. Unusually for him, he seemed at a total loss for words. He didn’t have to say anything for Dunnet to understand and sympathize with his feelings for the vastly unpleasant dilemma in which MacAlpine now found himself. He had committed himself to giving Harlow his last chance ever and now before him he had all the evidence he would ever require to justify Harlow’s instant dismissal.
‘Dunnet said: ‘So what do we do?’
‘We take that damn poison with us, that’s what we do.’ MacAlpine’s eyes were sick, his low voice harsh with strain.
‘But he’s bound to notice. And at once. From what we know of him now the first thing he’ll do on return is head straight for the nearest bottle.’
‘Who the hell cares what he does or notices? What can he do about it? More importantly, what can he say about it? He’s not going to rush down to the desk and shout: ‘I’m Johnny Harlow. Someone’s just stolen five bottles of scotch from my room.’ He won’t be able to do or say a thing.’
‘Of course he can’t But he’ll still know the bottles are gone. What’s he going to think about that?’
‘Again, who cares what that young dipsomaniac thinks? Besides, why should it have been us. If we had been responsible, he’d expect the heavens to fall in on him the moment he returns. But they won’t. We won’t say a word —yet. Could have been any thief posing as a member of the staff. Come to -that, it wouldn’t have been the first genuine staff member with a leaning towards petty larceny.’