Free 1979 - A Can of Worms by James Hadley Chase Page B

dangerous terrorists. Had she met them in Rome? That seemed likely. Had they some hold on her?
    I stubbed out my cigarette impatiently. So what should I do? I knew what I ought to do. I ought to call the police and tell them where Pofferi and his wife were hiding, but if I did that, what was in it for me? Nothing that I could see except trouble. Lepski would want to know how I had found out that the Pofferis were at the Alameda. Even if I dreamed up a convincing lie, I would still be left with nothing. No one was going to give me a reward.
    It suddenly occurred to me the time was ripe to talk to Nancy Hamel. Would she be prepared to buy my silence?
    I grimaced. This would have to be handled carefully.
    The last thing I needed was to be charged with blackmail.
    Blackmail?
    I had dealt with a number of blackmailers since I had joined the Agency. I had been the means of sending them to jail. Up to this moment, I had considered blackmail to be the lowest form of crime.
    But was this blackmail? All I was going to do was to have a confidential talk with Nancy Hamel. I would tell her I knew of her connection with Pofferi and I knew where he and his wife were hiding. I would explain that a shamus didn’t make much of a living. I would give her my sincere smile. Of course if we could come to some financial arrangement, then I would forget the whole thing and everyone would be happy. It was, of course, up to her to decide.
    Was that blackmail?
    A business arrangement, yes. Blackmail, no.
    I am pretty smart at kidding people, but I am in a class of my own when I begin to kid myself.
     
     

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    T he following morning, around 09.00, I walked into Glenda’s office to find her sorting the mail.
    “Hi, there,” I said, placing my hands on her desk and leaning over her. “How’s the busy bee this sunny day?”
    She didn’t pause in her reading.
    “What do you want? You should be on the job.”
    “Never off it, gorgeous. Those poison pen letters. I need them. I’ve an idea I can trace the paper. Harry has given me a clue.”
    “Help yourself.” She waved to a filing cabinet and went on reading.
    “Business brisk? Lots of new suckers?” I asked as I found the two letters. Getting no reply, I put the letters in my wallet and breezed out of the office.
    Taking the elevator down to the garage, I drove the Maser to the Country Club. I parked, then settled in a lounging chair, with a copy of Newsweek, to wait.
    I had been up early and had made two reports, plus carbon copies. I now felt ready to have a confidential chat with Nancy Hamel. As I sat in the lounge, I thought about her. I recalled the impression she had made on me, both from her photograph and from seeing her. I was sure as I could be that I would have no trouble with her if I handled her right, and I intended to handle her right.
    Around 10.30, she came into the lounge, carrying a tennis racket, and dressed for tennis. She went over to the Club’s porter, an ageing black with white, frizzy hair, who beamed at her.
    “Has Mrs. Highbee come yet, Johnson?” she asked.
    I was near enough to hear her.
    “She’s down on the courts, Mrs. Hamel.”
    Nancy smiled, nodded and walked across the lobby, heading for the tennis courts. I watched her go. Her hip movement was nice.
    After waiting for some fifteen minutes, I went out onto the terrace and saw her playing with Penny Highbee.
    Lunchtime, I told myself, would be right to talk to her, so I went down to the swimming pool, changed and swam.
    The pool was crowded with the big, the fat, the slim and the dolly birds.
    After an hour, I dried off, changed and wandered back to the tennis courts. Nancy and Penny were still playing.
    I found a chair under a sun umbrella and sat down. A waiter slid up. I ordered a Scotch and coke. He brought the drink, I signed, tipped and he went away.
    A voice said, “It’s Mr. Anderson, I believe?”
    I looked up to find Mel Palmer, Hamel’s agent, wearing an immaculate off-white