Read Online Cover-Up Story by Marian Babson - Free Book Online Page A

hospitable. I settled back and waited for him to make the next move. After all this time, I could hardly believe he had come here of his own free will. I still half expected him to vanish in a puff of smoke.
    â€˜Nice little place you’ve got here,’ he lied half-heartedly.
    â€˜It isn’t much, but it’s home.’
    He nodded glumly, still glancing around the room. Perhaps he’d had orders from Nate to come and inspect the place, but he looked more like a nervous man trying to spot the Fire Exit in case of an emergency. If there was a point to his visit, it didn’t seem that he was going to let me in on it.
    â€˜Sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea?’ I pressed.
    He shook his head again, and that was the last indication I had from him that he was aware of my presence in the room. After that, he just slumped in the chair, staring into space.
    â€˜Try a cigar – they’re improving with age.’ I used it as an excuse to lean across the desk, holding the box out to him, so that I could look at his eyes. The pupils appeared to be normal. I hadn’t really thought he was on drugs, but you never can be too sure these days.
    But no, the trouble wasn’t drugs. The trouble might just possibly be Trouble. Sam, the more I studied him, looked like a man with the Giant Economy-Size package of Trouble on his shelf.
    He was still ignoring me, so I gave it up for a bad job and went back to telephoning. I sent out half a dozen more photo calls to newspapers and agencies before I looked up again to find him staring at me.
    This time he knew I was there. And he seemed to wish I wasn’t. Well, that was easy enough to remedy – all he had to do was get up and go away. It was my office, after all.
    â€˜What’s this about Fan Club kids?’ he demanded.
    â€˜You heard the call I was putting out. The Black Bart Fan Club of London will present Bart with a silver guitar tomorrow at 2.00 p.m., in honour of his first English tour.’
    â€˜These kids –’ there was a peculiar urgency in his manner – ‘how kiddish are they?’
    I saw his point. I wouldn’t like a bunch of impressionable kids to trip over Black Bart in one of his black moods. ‘Relax,’ I said, ‘they’re all in on it. My secretary is the President – she’ll be presenting the Award. It would be nice, though, if you could keep the Great Man civil for the occasion. For the sake of the Press, of course.’
    â€˜Oh, he’ll be okay.’ Sam did relax. He slumped again, but managed not to go back into his former trance. I felt we were making progress. It emboldened me to ask a direct question.
    â€˜What the hell is going on, Sam? What the bloody hell is really going on with your bunch?’
    He leaped a mile, then pulled himself together. He even managed a smile, but his eyes had resumed their restless inventory of the room. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said doggedly.
    â€˜Cut it out, Sam. You’re not that dumb – and neither am I.’
    â€˜Okay, Doug.’ He faced me squarely. ‘I’ll be honest with you.’
    Automatically, I braced myself for a lie.
    â€˜We’ve had our little problems. I mean, it’s not just one big happy family – the way the act plays. Most of them aren’t even related – you can’t expect it. But they’re good boys and girls, they’ll settle down. They’re a little out of their depth, being in a foreign country, too.’ He laughed falsely. ‘To tell you the truth, so am I. That’s why I’m so glad we’ve got you, Douggie boy, we’re depending on you to see us through.’
    Well, I could see through him. Perhaps that was a start. ‘Try it again,’ I said. ‘I’m not buying that one. It’s hollow when you thump it.’
    That laugh of his was beginning to grate on my nerves. ‘Ah, you’re too clever