Dark Bahama

Chapter 2-2

"I see what you mean." He lighted a fresh cigarette. He asked: "Where are you staying, Thelma?"

She said: "I'm at the Hyde Park Hotel. I shan't be there for long. I shall be leaving to-morrow evening. I'm going to France."

Vallon said: "I'll think this over. I'll telephone you to-morrow morning. How will that do?"

"It'll have to do, won't it, Johnny?" She made a little moue. "Do you know, I think you're being just a tiny bit brusque with me, aren't you?"

He shook his head. "If I'm being brusque with anybody, baby, I'm being brusque with myself." He looked at his strap-watch.

She got up. She said: "Well, I suppose you must go to the theatre and meet your wife? I think she's very lucky. I've never met her, but I imagine you're much too good for her."

Vallon said nothing.

She adjusted her cloak. "Well, au revoir, Johnny. I hope it is au revoir...."

He walked past her; opened the door that led into the main corridor.

He said amiably: "So long, Thelma."

She stopped abreast of him. He said: "That's a very nice perfume. It's called Visa, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Yes. You're an extraordinary man, Johnny. Still the same old memory for perfumes. One sniff and it's never forgotten!"

He stood smiling at her.

She asked: "Aren't you going to kiss me, Johnny?"

He shook his head. "Why start something, my dear? Run off home. I'll telephone you in the morning."

She moved out into the corridor. She flashed a quick smile. She said: "Good night, Johnny... and damn you!"

He watched her walk down the passage-way.

MARVIN, who was the staff manager of Chennault Investigations, went into the Blue Point Bar in Jermyn Street just after ten.

Marvin was of middle height, thin. His greying hair was brushed meticulously. His overcoat was of good cloth, well fitting. He wore tan cape gloves; carried an umbrella. Marvin, who was in charge of the operatives, on both the day and night staffs, who worked for Chennault Investigations, was a man with a quiet, orderly mind. Vallon had once told him that his job was that of a very efficient sergeant-major—a business which required tact and quite a lot of brains. Anybody who has ever had the handling of twenty-five operatives in a detective agency will know exactly what I mean.

Marvin's one vice was the Blue Point Bar. It attracted him for reasons which even to him were vague. His small villa was at Walton, where he grew tulips, and lived a quiet and orderly life with a plump, quiet and orderly wife. But every time he went into the Blue Point Bar, which was on two or three occasions each week, and usually late in the evening, he had a vague feeling that one night he might find something—something amusing. On this particular occasion he found it. He found Isles.

Isles was leaning up against the mahogany bar at the far end of the room. He was talking to a girl. Marvin thought she was a neat little trick. She was sitting on a high stool, leaning forward. She wore a coat and skirt and the skirt looked as if it had been pasted on to her. She was talking to Isles and smiling up at him. From where he was standing Marvin could see the peculiar, pale-blue eyes, which often seemed to change colour and which were Isles's most distinguishing feature, looking down at the girl almost benignly.

Isles was tall, slim. He had one of those figures that tailors love to hang clothes on. And his clothes were good—or had been. Marvin, with his eagle eye, thought he could detect the signs of a little too much brushing; that the elbows of the well-cut grey sleeves were possibly a little shiny. He saw also that one of the well-polished semi-brogue shoes—the one nearest to him—merited a little attention from the shoemaker. He wondered why Isles would be like that.

Marvin walked farther into the room; found a place at the bar; ordered a White Lady. As the barman put the drink in front of him, he heard Isles's voice behind him.

It said: "Hallo, Papa Marvin. You're just the man I wanted to see."

Marvin turned; smiled. "Hallo, Isles. I didn't think to see you here so soon."

Isles moved behind him. He looked down at Marvin with a good-natured smile. "Why not?"

Marvin said: "We heard you'd got into a little trouble in South America. We heard you were in gaol; that it would be a long time before you would be coming out. That's what we heard. I'd have spoken to you, but"—he looked towards the girl at the end of the bar—"I thought you were with a lady."

Isles said softly: "I very seldom have the opportunity to talk for long with ladies, and about that South American thing, you were only half-right. It's perfectly true they did sling me into gaol. Ever been in a South American gaol, Papa? Not very amusing, I promise you." His face hardened. "However, I had a good friend, so they decided to let me out."

Marvin said, with a smile: "I bet the good friend was a woman."

Isles shrugged his shoulders. "That doesn't matter now. The point is I'm here."

Marvin said: "And I'm glad to see you. By the way, you said just now you wanted to see me. What about?"

Isles said casually: "I want to see you about a double Bacardi, quickly."

"My God!" said Marvin. "Is it as bad as that?"

"It's worse than that, Papa."

Marvin ordered the drink. He asked: "Are you in London?"

"For a few days," said Isles. "I've a bed-sitting-room—I think they call it—No. 14 Planters Road, Streatham." His thin face broke into a whimsical smile. "If you ever live in a bed-sitting-room, don't take one at No. 14 Planters Road. But it's only for a few days more," he went on. "Then I think I'm going back to South America."

Marvin said in a quiet voice: "Things must be pretty bad if you have to go back there. We thought after that last thing that you wouldn't be awfully popular."

"Needs must when the devil drives," said Isles. He picked up the Bacardi; sipped it; looked at Marvin. He said: "Here's to our next meeting." He took the drink at one gulp. "Good night, Papa. I'll be seeing you... one day...!" He went out of the bar.

Marvin ordered another White Lady. When the drink was brought he thoughtfully regarded it. Then he walked into the telephone box at the end of the bar. He called Chennault Investigations. He said to the girl on the switchboard:

"This is Mr. Marvin. Is Mr. Vallon there?"

"Yes, sir. I'll put you through."

Vallon's voice came on the line. "What is it, Marvin?"

Marvin said: "I'm in the Blue Point in Jermyn Street. Who do you think was here?"

Vallon said: "You tell me...."

"Isles.... He looks almost as well dressed as he used to be but only almost as well... understand? He told me he was going back to South America, so things can't be very good. I wondered..."

Vallon interrupted. "You were quite right, Marvin. You wondered if I could use him for anything. You think it's a waste that a man like Isles should be going back to South America just because he can't find anything better to do. You didn't ask him his address of course?"

Marvin said: "He's living in a bed-sitting-room at 14 Planters Road, Streatham. He's just gone home. I think he's broke."

Vallon said: "I see. Finish your drink and get a cab. Go to No. 14 Planters Road and bring him back here. I want to talk to him. Don't come back without him."

"Very well, Mr. Vallon."

Marvin came out of the box. Although it was his habit to drink only two White Ladies, on this occasion he stood himself a third. He liked Julian Isles. Then he went outside; looked for a taxicab.

VALLON LOOKED at his watch. It was nearly eleven o'clock. He thought that in a minute he would have to go to the theatre. Then he thought maybe he would not have time to get to the theatre. He called through to the switchboard.

He said: "I'm going to be busy for a little while. Send one of the night men round to the St. Martin's theatre. Tell him to meet Mrs. Vallon and see her home. Ask him to tell her that I'm busy. I'll be back in an hour. Understand, Mavis?"

She said: "Very good, Mr. Vallon."

Vallon walked round the large office twice; then he had another swig at the whisky flask. Then he picked up the telephone.

He said: "Mavis, get through to the Hyde Park Hotel and if Mrs. Thelma Lyon has arrived put me through to her."

"Very good," said the switchboard girl. "I'll ring you back, Mr. Vallon."

Vallon walked round the office twice more. He lighted a cigarette. He was thinking about Thelma Lyon.

The telephone bell rang. Her voice came, almost soothingly, over the wire.

"Hallo, Johnny. So you've decided."

Vallon said: "But not what you think. Listen, honey... don't go to bed. Stay up for a little while. I'm sending a man to see you. You can have the most complete trust in him. You'll find he'll handle the business you spoke of very well. His name's Julian Isles. He ought to be with you at a quarter to twelve."

"Well, I'm damned, Johnny." Her voice was cool. "How do you know that this man is going to be right?"

Vallon said: "I've never made a mistake about a man yet, and I know this one very well. You'll find if anything he'll be better than I should be. If you've got any brains you'll use him. See what I mean?"

"I understand, Johnny. All right... I'll see him. But, anyhow, I think you're a heel."

Vallon grinned. He said: "I know that. Treat him right, and you'll find he'll be very good."

She said: "Have you ever known me not treat anyone right?"

"Like hell I have," said Vallon. "So long, honey!"

He hung up.

THE LIFT MAN, who had shown Isles to Suite 126 on the first floor at the Hyde Park Hotel, rang the bell once again; waited; shrugged his shoulders.

Then he said: "Well, it's very funny. The lady's in, sir, but she doesn't answer."

Isles said casually: "That's all right. Don't you bother."

The lift man went away.

Isles put his finger on the bell-push and kept it there. He could hear the bell ringing inside the apartment. Then, suddenly the door opened.

Isles said: "Good evening. I'm Julian Isles. Mrs. Lyon?"

She stood in the hallway of the suite, holding the door wide open. She wore a garnet-coloured, silk velvet house-gown with gold mules. The sleeves of the house-gown were long, edged with chinchilla fur.

She said coldly: "You seem to be in a hurry, Mr. Isles."

He smiled. When he smiled his face became very attractive. She noted the good-humour lines at the corners of his eyes, his good teeth.

"I'm not if you're not," he said. "Mr. Vallon asked me to come round and see you. He said he thought it might be urgent."

She said: "I was changing. Will you come in?"

He followed her across the hallway into the well-furnished sitting-room. A fire was burning. She walked over to the fireplace; turned; stood with her back to the fire looking at him.

She said: "Perhaps you'd like to leave your hat in the hallway. And would you like a drink?"

"I'd like that very much, thank you." Isles went back into the hallway; hung up his hat; came back into the room.