Not My Thing

‘When you say you are absolutely sure, I believe you,’ Tarnia said. ‘I’ll telephone you as soon as I arrive in Rome. I must go. I have so much yet to do. ‘Bye, darling,’ and she hung up.

Jamison had replaced the telephone receiver thoughtfully. He was offering to make Tarnia one of the most important, richest women in the world, who would share his life, who would give him a son, who he loved. Yet, her voice had no happy lilt, no enthusiasm. All she was now thinking of was this gaddamn dress show!

So he was in a sour mood when Lucan slid into the car by his side. He said nothing, staring ahead, driving fast, until they reached the beach. Then he stopped the car and turned to face Lucan.

‘Tell me!’ he barked.

Lucan found he was terrified of this man who was staring at him with hard, ice-cold, probing eyes. God! he thought, how I wish I hadn’t got into this thing!

‘I’ve talked to Kling,’ he said, his voice unsteady. ‘He tells me there is no problem. First, he needs information about your wife, sir.’

‘What information?’ Jamison demanded.

‘He is a perfectionist, sir. When he does this kind of job, there are no blow-backs, but he needs a week at least to study the situation before deciding the best and safest way to do the job.’

Jamison grunted.

‘Understood. So…?’

‘He needs to know if your wife has any boyfriends.’

‘She has not!’ Jamison snarled, wishing she had.

‘Has she friends she meets regularly?’

‘Not regularly, but she has a number of friends, like her, interested in music, who she meets from time to time.’

‘Does she have any set routine?’

‘What does that mean?’

‘People often do the same thing regularly every day: like walking a dog, going to the club…’

Jamison nodded.

‘She goes to Mass every morning at eight o’clock. She returns for breakfast, swims an hour, then returns to play her cello. Usually, she lunches at home. She is fond of riding. She takes her horse out onto the beach for an hour or so where friends join her. In the evening, she attends concerts or plays herself at concerts. That seems to be her life.’

Jesus! Lucan thought as he scribbled the answers. What a dreary life!

‘Is she a good swimmer, sir?’

‘Excellent.’

‘Rides well?’

‘Very well.’

Lucan thought, then he said, ‘The hit could be when she came out of church. Would you object to that?’

Jamison stared at him.

‘Why should I? She is near to God then, but I can’t see…’ He shrugged.

What a man! Lucan thought. What a savage! What some men will contemplate to get their own way!

‘I want a decisive answer by tomorrow, Lucan. If I am not satisfied, then I will drop the project. Tomorrow, at your motel at eleven o’clock. Understand?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Lucan said, flinching away from this man whom he now regarded as a monster.

Jamison grunted, started the engine and drove in silence back to the Star Motel. He pulled up, nodded, then, when Lucan got out of the car, he drove away.

Kling, still lolling in the sun-lounge chair, got up and walked into his cabin. Lucan followed him.

When the door was shut, Kling asked, ‘How did it go?’

Lucan sat down and mopped his face.

‘What a swine that man is!’ he exclaimed. ‘Ernie, I could use a drink.’

Ng appeared out of the kitchen, poured two big Scotches, handed one to Lucan and the other to Kling, then disappeared.

‘Take it easy, Lucan. Any creep who plans to have his wife murdered is a swine.’ Kling sat on the settee. ‘Don’t get worked up. Have you the facts I want?’

‘Yes.’ Lucan handed over his notes, then drank the Scotch greedily. ‘I’ll be glad to be shot of this! This is just not my thing.’

‘Shut your mouth!’ Kling said curtly. He studied what Lucan had written, then nodded to himself. ‘You know, Lucky, when people keep to a routine, it is dead easy. No problem here. When do you meet Mr Big again?’

‘He’s coming at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.’

‘Okay. You take it easy, Lucky. When I need you, I’ll call you. From now on, for the next day or so, you’re out of the photo. Understand?’

‘If you say so.’ Lucan got to his feet. ‘I leave it to you, Ernie, but don’t forget this sonofabitch is dangerous.’

Kling smiled.

‘So am I,’ he said, and smiled again.

***

Smyth had seen Shannon return from morning Mass, and he quickly prepared her simple breakfast.

As he entered her living-room, to find her standing before the open French windows, he said, ‘Your breakfast is served, madam.’

She turned and smiled at him.

‘Thank you, Smyth,’ and she came to the table.

‘I trust the concert was a great success, madam.’

‘I think it was or else people were very kind.’ She smiled again. ‘Playing before friends is very different from playing before a critical audience.’

‘Yes, madam. I understand that. I would have liked to have attended.’

‘I know.’ She waited until he had poured the coffee, then she went on, ‘There was a tape, Smyth. I got a copy for you.’ She waved to her desk. ‘Take it, and, when you have time, do listen. I value your opinion.’

His face lit up.

‘You couldn’t be kinder, madam. Thank you.’

He found the tape, bowed and withdrew.