Goodbye, Mr Hollywood (V)by John Escott

林雪

Nick looked through the doors of the tea room in the Empress Hotel.

Meg Hutson sat at a table with a man. The man was about thirty， or maybe a year or two younger. He was tall， and brown from the sun. He wore a white shirt， white trousers， and white shoes. He said something to Meg， and she laughed. She looked very happy.

A waiter came up to Nick. “Can I get you some tea？” he asked.

“No，  thanks，” said Nick. “I'm with the two people over there.” and he walked across to Meg's table.

“Hello， Mystery Girl，” said Nick.

“Remember me？ We met at Whistler. Your name was Jan then， but maybe today it's Meg Hutson.”

Meg Hutson looked up at him.  “Oh， ” she said， and her face went red.

“Who is this，  Meg？” asked the man.

“This is Nick，” said Meg. “He's a writer. Nick， this is Craig Winters.

“Sometimes called Mr Hollywood？” said Nick.

“Maybe. But how did you know that？” asked Craig Winters.

“I guessed，” said Nick. “And I think I'm beginning to understand. Can I ask you a question， Mr Winters？ Does  somebody want to kill you？”

Craig Winters' face went white. “Kill me？”

“What are you talking about？” asked Meg.

“Before I tell you， answer this question， please，” said Nick. “You called me Mr Holly-wood in Whistler， and you wanted the man at the next table， the man with white hair， to hear you. Is that right？”

Meg Hutson did not answer at first. Then she said quietly， “Yes”.

“Why？” asked Nick.

“I wanted him to follow you， and not me.”

“Why？” Nick asked again.

“I think he's a detective，” said Meg. “And I think he's working for my father. I saw him soon after I left Toronto. He followed me.” Meg put her hand on Craig Winters' arm. “My father doesn't like Craig.  A month ago， he told me not to see Craig again. I'm not happy， and he knows that. I think he guessed that I'm meeting Craig. Now he wants to find Craig and stop him seeing me.”

“Stop him？” said Nick.  “Or kill him？”

“No！”   Meg   Huston  said.  “Daddy does-

n't—”

“The man with white hair pushed me in front of a car in Vancouver，” Nick told her. “And he shot at me in Stanley Park.”

“What！” said Meg.

“Tell me about this man with white hair，” Winters said suddenly.

Nick looked at him. “He's about sixty， and he's tall and thin，” he said.

“Do you know his name？ ”asked Winters.

“Vickers，” said Nick.

Craig Winters suddenly looked ill. “Did he follow you to Victoria？ Did he follow you here？”

“I don't know，” said Nick. He watched Winters. “You're afraid of him. Why？ Why does this man Vickers want to kill you， Winters？”

Before Craig Winters could answer， Meg's face went white.  “Oh， no！” she said. “Look over there， by the door！

Nick and Craig Winters turned to look. At the door of the tearoom stood the man with white hair. He looked up and down the room， and then he saw them， and began to walk across to their table. His hand was in his pocket.

For a second or two the three people at the table did not move. There Craig Winters jumped to his feet. “That's Mr Hollywood！” he screamed. “That man there！” He pointed at Nick.

The man's hand came out of his picket—with a gun. “This is for Anna！” he shouted.

Nick moved very fast. The tea table went over， and Nick was down on the floor in a second. The shot went over his head， and Meg screamed. At the same time Craig Winters shouted out and put a hand on his arm. There was blood on his white shirt. Then more people began to scream， and two waiters pulled the man with white hair down onto the floor.

“Get the police！” somebody shouted.