Again there was that pause. Again I listened to the hurried breathing. It was an eerie sound, and conveyed his fear to me as plainly as if I could seethe fear on his face.
'I happen to be Serena Marshland's husband,' he said curtly. 'I'd be glad if you wouldn't waste time asking pointless questions. There'll be time enough to satisfy your curiosity when we meet.'
I didn't like his tone, but I knew he was scared. I didn't want to go out on this job. I had been working all day, and would much rather have spent the rest of the evening swopping drinks with Kerman, But that wasn't the way to build up a successful business. Besides, Serena Marshland was the fourth richest woman in the world.
'Where are you, Mr. Dedrick?'
'The house is called Ocean End. You probably know it. It's rather isolated and lonely. I'd be glad if you would come quickly.'
I know it. I'll be over in less than ten minutes.'
'There is a private road from Ocean View. You'll find the gates open. As a matter of fact, I have only just moved in here and...' He suddenly stopped talking.
I waited, then as nothing happened, I said, 'Hello?'
I could still hear his quick, uneven breathing, but he didn't answer.
'Hello? Mr. Dcdrick?'
His breathing went off the line. There was a long, silent pause, then a gentle click, and the line went dead.
IV
Ocean End is situated in the sand dunes, about three miles from my cabin. It was built in the late 'twenties for a millionaire who never lived there. Before he could take possession, be was caught in a financial smash and shot himself. For some years the place stood empty, then a syndicate bought it and made a pot of money out of it by renting it to visiting fleshpots and foreign nobility who considered themselves too grand to stay at the Orchid Hotel.
The Estate is quite a show place, and has been advertised as the millionaire's dream home. It has a hundred acres of terraced gardens and a swimming pool half outside the house and half under it. The house itself is Italian Baroque in style, and built of concrete and coraline stone. The interior is famous for wine magnificent murals and works of art.
As I sent the Buick racing along the two miles of private road that leads to the Estate, a fine, wide road, lined on either side by Royal Palms, Kerman said, 'I've always wanted to see this joint.' He leaned forward to peer into the circles of light that fled before us. 'I've been kidding myself I'll rent it for a week myself one of these days. What do you think it'd cost me?'
'About ten years' pay.'
'Yeah, maybe you're right. Well, I guess I'd better just go on kidding myself. Pity, though. With a background like this, I'd have that redhead eating out of my hand.'
'Should have thought you'd have preferred her to eat off a plate. You know, I'm worried about this guy, Jack. What made him hang up like that in the middle of a sentence?'
'You know what these punks are like. They're so damn lazy it's an effort for them to breathe.'
'I have an idea someone came into the room, and he didn't want them to hear what he was saying.'
'But then you always try to make a mystery out of anything. My bet is he got bored talking to you and just hung up. All these rich jerks are alike. They don't have to watch their manners the way we do.'
Ahead of me were the main gates of the Estate. They were wide open. I didn't reduce speed. We flashed past them, and went storming up the road drive-way, banked on either side enormous rhododendron shrubs.
'Must you drive as if we're going to a fire?' Kerman asked plaintively.
'He sounded scared, and I have a hunch he may be in trouble.'
I swung the Buick around a long, curving bend. The house seemed to leap at us in the light of the headlamps. Kerman gave a gasp of alarm as I slammed on the brakes. With a squeal of tortured tyres, I managed to bring the Buick to a skidding standstill a couple of inches from the balustrade that surrounded the courtyard.
'Why stop?' Kerman said, mopping his face. 'Why not drive slap into the house? You know I hate walking.'
'Your nerves are bad,' I said, a little pop-eyed myself. 'The trouble with you is you drink too much.'
I got out of the car and he followed me.
Parked to the left of the front entrance was a big, glittering battleship of a car with the parkers on.
Except for a light that spilled through an open casement doorway on to the far end of the terrace, the house was in darkness.
'Do we ring or go in that way?' Kerman asked, jerking his thumb towards the lighted window.
'We'll take a look in there first. If no one's around, we'll ring. Got your gun handy?'
'Here. You have it,' Kerman said generously, and thrust the .45 into my hand. 'It spoils the set of my suit.'
'What you really mean is if I have the gun I naturally go first.'
'What a sweet, charitable mind you've got. I honestly don't know why I work for you.'
'Probably for the money, and who but you calls it work?'
