1979 - A Can of Worms by James Hadley Chase

tropical suit, standing before me.
    I gave him my wide, friendly smile, but I wasn’t smiling beneath the surface. He was the last person I needed to see.
    “Hi, there, Mr. Palmer.” I got to my feet. “Have a drink?”
    He lowered his bulk into a chair as a waiter came swiftly to his side. He ordered a pink gin, then sat back, his sunglasses aimed in my direction.
    “I see you are working.” He looked in the direction of the tennis courts, then back to me.
    “Pretty dull work,” I said.
    The waiter put Palmer’s drink on the table and Palmer signed. When the waiter had gone, he took a sip, wiped his lips with a silk handkerchief and smiled at me.
    “Dull work? This is, of course, good news. Have you anything to report so far?”
    “The subject is giving no cause for worry, sir. I have been watching her for the past four days, and there is nothing to report.”
    His smile broadened.
    “Just as I thought. I have tried to convince Mr. Hamel he is wasting his money, but he has a stubborn nature.”
    “We have checked on Waldo Carmichael, Mr. Palmer. He does not exist,” I said.
    Palmer nodded.
    “I am not surprised. We are, of course, dealing with a sick crank. I have told Mr. Hamel this again and again, but he refuses to be convinced. It is a very worrying situation.”
    Worrying for you, Fatso, I thought. You’re seeing all that nice commission disappearing into smoke.
    “At the end of the week, I will be writing a full report on Mrs. Hamel’s activities. This report will show that she is leading a blameless, rather dull, life. If my report doesn’t convince Mr. Hamel, then nothing will.”
    “Excellent.” Palmer finished his drink, then got to his feet. “I must run along. I can expect your report then at the end of the week?”
    “You can rely on it, sir.” I got to my feet and shook his hand. “I assure you there is nothing to worry about.”
    I watched him bounce across the terrace and move out of sight. Then I looked over at the tennis courts. Nancy and Penny had finished playing and were putting on their sweaters. I waited. Talking together, the two women came towards me.
    “Have a drink, Penny?” Nancy said as they were a few yards from me.
    “Can’t stop, honey. I’m late as it is. See you tomorrow?”
    “Yes.”
    Penny hurried away, and Nancy went over to a distant table and sat down. A waiter reached her, took her order and made for the bar.
    This seemed to me to be the right time. I waited until the waiter had brought a Tom Collins which he set on the table, waited until Nancy had signed, and waited until the waiter moved away. Then I walked up to her and gave her my respectful smile.
    “Mrs. Hamel. I am Bart Anderson. I have just been talking to Mel Palmer who is, as you know, your husband’s agent.”
    She leaned back in her chair and regarded me. Her cool, dark eyes showed interest, mixed with surprise.
    “You know Mr. Palmer?”
    “Sure.” I gave her my tentative smile. “You play a fine game of tennis, Mrs. Hamel. I was watching.”
    “Do you play?”
    “Well, not in your class. That backhand of yours really rips them in.”
    I could see from her slight change of expression, she had lost interest in me. I was sure I wouldn’t be invited to sit down, so I sat down. I believe positive action gets the business. , She was startled to find me sitting at her side, but, after a very brief moment, when she had stiffened, she relaxed, but her eyes were cool and her expression unfriendly.
    “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Mrs. Hamel, I said in my most gentle voice. “I am in a quandary.”
    As she regarded me, she stiffened.
    “I am sorry Mr. . . . Mr. . . .”
    “Bart Anderson.”
    “Mr. Anderson, I don’t know you, and I am not interested in any quandary you may be in. I can’t imagine why you should want to talk to me. I have no inclination to talk to you.” I pasted on my patient smile. Maybe she wasn't going to be that easy to handle.
    “You have a point, Mrs.