1968-An Ear to the Ground by James Hadley Chase

Author:James Hadley Chase
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Four

Harry had a depressing day in the office. Nothing had gone right. He knew that if he had been a more forceful salesman he would have got a rich client from Texas on the dotted line, but at the last moment, the tall, leathery-looking man had shaken his head and said he wanted more time to think before he committed himself. The deal that slipped through Harry’s fingers was worth three hundred thousand dollars.

Feeling deflated, he drove home and walked out on to the terrace where Lisa was sitting in her wheelchair. She was staring across the magnificent garden where three Chinese gardeners were looking busy and doing nothing. One glance at her sullen expression made Harry’s heart sink. She was obviously in one of her bad moods.

As he came over to kiss her, she waved him away.

‘Don’t touch me!’

Harry sighed and sat down near her.

‘Had a bad day, darling?’

‘When don’t I? That woman Selby is a fool! I’m thinking of getting rid of her!’

Remembering Miss Selby’s glacial smile this news was no skin off Harry’s nose.

‘You know best. . . I’ve never thought much of her.’

This was quite the wrong thing to have said.

‘She has more brains in her little finger than you have in your head!’ Lisa snapped viciously.

ToTo, a small, sharp-eyed Japanese, came out on to the terrace with a dry Martini which he placed on the table by Harry, bowed and withdrew.

‘And you drink too much!’ Lisa looked enviously at the ice-beaded glass. Dr. Gourley wouldn’t allow her to drink any alcohol and Lisa liked a drink.

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry said. ‘This happens to be my first drink of the day. Would you rather I didn’t have it?’

‘Oh, have it!’ Lisa bit her thin underlip. ‘I want to be taken out tonight.’

‘Why, sure. Where shall we go? The Yacht Club? Bernini? Alfredo?’

‘I’m sick of those places. We’ll go to the Saigon Restaurant.’

Harry was surprised.

Along the waterfront there was a number of small, somewhat crummy restaurants and bars.

When he worked at the store, he often went to them. He knew the Saigon Restaurant, but had never eaten there. He didn’t fancy Vietnamese food. This restaurant was shabby, and usually full of tourists after a cheap meal, and the idea of Lisa dining there seemed to him to be a mistake.

‘Do you think you’ll like it? It’s always crammed with tourists.’

‘That’s where we are going!’

‘Well, fine . . . I’ll call them to book a table.’

So they went. It was always a commotion to get Lisa from her wheelchair into the Aston Martin. Harry had to lift her out of the chair and into the bucket seat. She always complained that he was hurting her. Then he had to collapse the chair and stow it in the back of the car.

They drove down to the crowded waterfront, arriving at the restaurant around nine o’clock. He wheeled her into the big, rather dingy main dining hall.

Dong Tho, the owner of the restaurant, came scurrying forward. Harry had alerted him on the telephone who Lisa was.

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