Not My Thing

At that moment, Smyth, furious, was about to face Jamison and give his notice. He had had enough of this selfish, inconsiderate man, then he thought of Shannon. As long as she remained, then he would remain. He suppressed his feelings and returned to the kitchen.

Changing quickly, Jamison came down the stairs to the lobby.

‘I want the Rolls!’ he shouted. ‘Hurry up!’

Smyth appeared.

‘In two minutes, sir,’ he said. ‘Will you be requiring me tonight?’

Jamison glared at him.

‘What the hell is this?’ he demanded. ‘You’re paid to give service. I may need you. Busy yourself!’

‘Very good, sir,’ Smyth said, realizing his last hope of rushing to the concert had faded.

A few minutes later, Jamison drove away in the Rolls.

At 20.50, he left the Rolls in a dark place near the Stone Crab, then entered the restaurant to be greeted by Mario, the Maītre d’hotel: a short, fat man with a constant smile. Mario immediately recognized Jamison, who had been before.

‘My great pleasure, Mr Jamison,’ he said.

Jamison nodded coldly. He didn’t believe in being familiar with maītre d’s nor waiters.

‘A quiet table for two,’ he said.

‘Certainly, sir.’

The restaurant only catered for forty people. Each table was so arranged that other diners could not observe their fellow diners.

Mario led the way to a table at the far end of the room, by the big open window, overlooking the sea.

As Jamison sat down, he said, ‘As soon as my guest arrives, serve two very dry vodka martinis.’

‘Certainly, sir.’ With a little flourish Mario went away.

From experience, Jamison knew Tarnia was always late, and that was the reason why he had also arrived late.

At 21.15, Tarnia came to the table. Jamison, seeing her coming, was standing. Their greeting was careful: just smiles and a quick handshake. If there was anyone to report their meeting, it would seem like two people on a business deal.

A waiter appeared and set the martinis before them.

‘You arrange everything so beautifully,’ Tarnia said. ‘It’s wonderful to see you again.’

Jamison regarded her. What a woman! he thought. Her white trouser suit with a touch of scarlet at the throat was so chic. Her glossy hair and her beauty seemed to light up the dimly lit restaurant.

‘And I can tell you how marvellous it is for me to see you again. I suppose you are very, very busy?’

‘As always.’ She paused as Mario presented the menus. She scarcely glanced at hers. ‘You choose, Sherry.’

‘Hungry?’

‘Hmm. I’ve been so busy. I didn’t have lunch.’

‘Then let’s start with crab and go on to the paella. It’s good here.’

‘Lovely.’

They waited until Mario had gone away, then Jamison said gently, ‘You look marvellous, Tarnia. Every time I see you, you pull at my heart-strings.’

She smiled.

‘Thank you. And you? You have a marvellous tan.’

‘Oh, golf. That’s all I seem to do, except business, and think of you.’

The dressed crab was served.

‘This looks wonderful,’ Tarnia said and began to eat.

Jamison had no appetite. He picked at the food. His mind was concentrating on the moment when he would have to talk seriously to Tarnia.

For several minutes, they ate in silence. Every now and then, Jamison glanced at her, aware that she was a little tense. He waited until the waiter had cleared the dishes, then he said, ‘Something up, Tarnia?’

‘You always know, don’t you?’ She leaned back in her chair. ‘Yes. I had a telephone call this afternoon from Rome. Guiseppi has invited me to show my collection at his show. It is a marvellous opportunity. He wants me to fly there the day after tomorrow. It’s an opportunity too good to miss.’

Before Jamison could reply, the paella was served, he was grateful for the delay. His mind worked quickly. This could be the solution to the problem that had been worrying him.

‘Will you be away long?’ he asked.

‘At least two weeks. I hope you don’t mind, Sherry, but you must see I can’t miss such an opportunity. To show my designs to Guiseppi… well!’

‘It could be longer than two weeks?’ He was probing now.

‘I suppose it could. I’ll fly out with my designs. The actual show isn’t until the end of next week. There will be all kinds of things to discuss.’

‘Three weeks?’

‘Sherry, don’t try to tie me down.’ She smiled at him. ‘Yes, it could even be three weeks.’

Here was the solution! To have Tarnia in Rome when Shannon was murdered was the solution! He had been worrying that Tarnia would be in Paradise City when Shannon died.

He gave her his most charming smile.

‘Tarnia, I am delighted. You deserve it! Of course you must seize this opportunity. I’ll wait! Don’t worry about me.’ He leaned forward, smiling at her. ‘But you won’t sign a contract with this man until the end of this month? That is understood, isn’t it?’

‘I promised to give you a month to get a divorce,’ Tarnia said quietly. ‘A promise is a promise.’

‘Let’s eat. We’ll talk later.’