Free Sleeping Beauty by Ross MacDonald

hold of his raised right arm. He flung her away from him, and she almost fell.
    “For God’s sake, Jack,” Elizabeth said, “calm down.”
    “Then take this spying bastard out of here.”
    She moved past him to the door and opened it. “Out, Mr. Archer, please.”
    The heavy door clicked shut behind me. The air was cool on my face. The moon soared above the sea. In the middle distance, a screech owl made small weird grouchy noises like nature talking back to the world of men.
    But I wasn’t interested. I wanted to be inside the house, in the cell with the prisoners, waiting for the second telephone call.
    I waited for nearly an hour. It seemed to stretch out like time on the planet Neptune. The screech owl spoke occasionally. I had nothing to say in return.
    Then the telephone rang in the house, once. It required an effort of will to stay in the car. I felt partly responsible for the danger Laurel was in, and I didn’t trust her father to get her out of it.
    I reached for a cigarette. I hadn’t smoked a cigarette in several years, but I felt defrauded when I couldn’t find one. I sat and bit my lips and listened to the slow ponderous clock of the waves at the foot of the cliff.
    Elizabeth came out alone. She walked very slowly toward my car, as if the house behind her exerted a magnetic influence. I got out and opened the car door for her. In the light of the moon, she looked pale and subdued.
    “Did the kidnappers phone again?”
    “Yes. Jack talked to one of them. A man.”
    “What did the man say?”
    “Jack asked me not to discuss it with you. He wants to handle it alone. That’s his way, especially where Laurel is concerned.”
    “He’s making a mistake.”
    “I told him that. But I might as well have been talking to that wall.” She pointed toward the stone wall that enclosed the house. “I’m afraid he doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust anyone, not even me.”
    “Has he always been like that?”
    “Not really. I think he’s breaking down under the strain.” She was silent for a moment; then she shook her head in denial. “That’s really unfair to Jack. He’s terribly eager to do the right thing and do it all by himself. He hasn’t been the best and most understanding father in the world, and there’s been a lot of trouble between him and Laurel. I’m sure he feels that if he can save her now, and show her how much he loves her—” Her voice dropped again, as if she couldn’t imagine the sequel to this.
    “It’s a poor time for grandstanding. Her life is in danger. She may be dead now. What assurance has he been given that she isn’t?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Did he ask to talk to her?”
    “I don’t know,” she repeated. “He took the call in his study, and kept the door closed. He promised to deliver the hundred thousand tomorrow. That was all he told me about the conversation.”
    “When tomorrow?”
    “Early in the afternoon, I gather. Jack said he’d need the money around noon.”
    “Would there be any point in trying to talk to him now?”
    “For you to try?”
    “Either of us. Or both.”
    She considered the idea. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Archer. It’s better not to press Jack when he’s feeling like this. Perhaps tomorrow—”
    I turned the key and started the car. As I was backing away from the wall, the front door opened. Marian Lennox came toward us, stumbling on the flagstone walk and waving. She looked like a disoriented bird blundering into the headlights.
    We both got out to meet her. Elizabeth said in a slightly bedside manner:
    “What is it, Marian?”
    “Jack had a dizzy spell. I got him to lie down.”
    “He hasn’t had a heart attack?”
    “No. He’ll be all right.”
    “Do you think we should call a doctor?”
    “I’m afraid that would only upset him.”
    Elizabeth put her arm around the other woman’s shoulders. “I’ll stay with you if you like.”
    “No. You’re awfully kind. But Jack and I have to do this by ourselves.