Free Shot on Location by Helen Nielsen

fight.”
    “I’ve got an I.O.U. for three thousand dollars.”
    “I was smarter than you were. I gave Harry money, too. I gave him the proceeds from the sale of my apartments—that’s what he used to launch
The Bandits
. But I didn’t take an I.O.U. I took this—”
    She held up her left hand and let the window light sparkle on a small diamond and a wedding band. They weren’t in the same category as the diamond bracelet. They were a cut rate jeweller’s item that only widened the five year gulf between them. And then Brad remembered Mikos Pallas’ story of Harry’s philandering and put his question into words.
    “Has your deal worked out better than mine?”
    She smoked in silence for a few minutes. “I live well,” she said at last. “I have a house on the Italian Riviera, a Rolls and a chauffeur, and Valentino does my lingerie. All I have to do in exchange for these niceties is be charming to Harry’s friends.”
    “Both sexes?”
    She laughed nervously. “It’s not the way it was with Charley, if that’s what you mean. I know Harry has fun on the side but he’s discreet about it. He never brings his women home to meet his wife. I’ve learned how Harry’s mind works. He thinks fast, makes decisions and never looks back. He once said that if all the psychiatrists in Hollywood were laid end to end they would have a jolly time. He works hard and has made a lot of money. There’s only one time around in life and he can afford the fringe benefits.”
    “And it doesn’t matter who gets hurt?”
    “Everybody hurts somebody. The world’s nothing but a big ladder, Harry says, and everybody’s climbing. One day you’re a rung for somebody else; the next day they’re a rung for you. There’s always room at the top if you never stop climbing. Harry, for instance, used me by taking my apartment money and I used him by getting this wedding ring. At least I did tell Harry that we couldn’t have children. He wasn’t cheated that way. And it’s not so bad being rich, Brad. It’s really quite nice—if you can keep it.”
    She finished the cigarette and leaned across him to stub it out in the ashtray. There was perfume in her hair, and she hadn’t gone to all that trouble for Harry.
    “They’re all frightened now,” she added, as if there had been no break in the discussion of Draper and Peter Lange. “I don’t like Peter’s domineering but I’m glad he’s here. Others are trying to reach me on that telephone all the time. A lot of footage has been shot on
Aphrodite
and the delay’s costing money. If the production’s cancelled it will be a total loss. That’s what the calls are about. Nobody seems concerned about Harry’s fate, except Brooks Martins.”
    “Why Brooks Martins?”
    “I’m not sure. I’ve heard that he’s C.I.A. or something similar like the State Department. Anyway, he’s awfully worried about the crash. I’ve been sworn to silence but I have to tell you about it. I mean, I have to trust somebody.” Suddenly, as if needing reassurance for the confidence she was about to give, she turned her face and stared into Brad’s eyes. “It was always good with us, wasn’t it? I mean for both of us. You weren’t just being kind.”
    “It was good,” Brad admitted.
    “That’s what I mean. A man and a woman can’t fake a thing like that. Everything else, maybe, but not intimacy. It’s never been that good with Harry.”
    “Or anyone else?” Brad asked.
    “I don’t sleep around,” Rhona said flatly. “When I’m married, that’s it.”
    “Fidelity is good insurance,” Brad admitted.
    “I keep my bargains,” Rhona said. “I’ll keep my bargain with you, if you’re interested.”
    “What kind of bargain?”
    “Money,” she said. “But first I have to tell you what David didn’t tell the press conference, because it’s been hushed up by the powers that be. The plane has been found and identified—that much is true. What Martins told us in private was that