James Chase: No Orchids for Miss Blandish

Once the word got around about the necklace, he was thinking, every little gangster in the district would sit up and wonder. Would Riley have the nerve to grab it?

He nudged Old Sam awake.

“Come on!” he said roughly. “What the hell’s the matter with you? Don’t you do anything but sleep these days?”

Old Sam, tall, wiry and pushing sixty, blinked as he slowly straightened up.

“Are we going to eat?” he asked hopefully.

“I’ve eaten,” Bailey said and set the car moving.

“How about me?”

“Go ahead if you’ve got any dough. I’m not paying,” Bailey snarled.

Old Sam sighed. He tightened his belt and pushed his greasy, battered hat over his long, red nose.

“What’s gone wrong with this outfit, Bailey?” he asked mournfully. “We never have any money now. One time we were doing all right; now nothing. Know what I think? I think Riley spends too much time in the sack with that broad of his. He isn’t concentrating on business.”

Bailey slowed the car and pulled up outside a drugstore.

“Give your mouth a rest,” he said and getting out of the car, he walked into the drugstore. He shut himself in a telephone booth. He dialed, and after a long wait, Riley came on the line.

Bailey could hear the radio blaring and Anna singing at the top of her voice. He started to tell Riley what he had learned from Heinie, but gave up.

“You can’t hear what I’m saying, can you?” he bawled. “Can’t you stop that goddamn noise?”

Riley seemed half dead. Bailey had left him in bed with Anna. He was surprised he even bothered to answer the telephone.

“Hang on,” Riley said.

The music stopped, then Anna began to shout angrily. Bailey heard Riley bellow something and then the sound of a loud smack, Bailey shook his head, breathing hard down his nose. Riley and Anna fought all day. They drove him nuts when he was with them.

Riley came back to the telephone.

“Listen, Frankie,” Bailey pleaded. “I’m roasting alive in this goddamn booth. Will you listen? This is important”

Riley began to beef about the heat at his end.

“I know: I know.” Bailey snarled. “Will you listen? We’ve got the chance of grabbing a necklace worth fifty grand. The Blandish girl will be wearing the necklace tonight. She’s going to the Golden Slipper with her boyfriend, just the two of them. I got the word from Heinie. It’s the McCoy. What do you say?”

“How much?”

“Fifty grand. Blandish — the millionaire. How about it?”

Riley seemed to come alive all of a sudden.

“What are you waiting there for? Come on back!” he said excitedly. “This is something we got to talk about. Come on back!”

“I’m on my way,” Bailey said and hung up. He paused to light a cigarette. His hands were shaking with excitement Riley wasn’t as yellow as he thought, he said to himself. If we handle this right, we’re in the money!

He walked with quick strides back to the Lincoln.

Old Sam looked at him sleepily.

“Wake up, stupid,” Bailey said. “Things are cooking.”

Bailey moved self-consciously around the outer fringe of the tables in the main restaurant of the Golden Slipper. He was glad the lights were dim. Although Anna had washed his shirt and cleaned up his suit, he knew he still looked like a bum and he was worried someone would spot him and throw him out.

The roadhouse was crowded and doing a roaring business. The staff was too busy to notice him. He got in a dark corner where he had a general view of the big room and leaned against the wall.

The noise of voices struggling to get above the sound of the band deafened him. He kept looking at his watch. The time was ten minutes to twelve. He looked around the room. Over by the main entrance, three or four photographers stood waiting with flash cameras. He guessed they were waiting for the Blandish girl. He had never seen her and knew he wouldn’t be able to recognize her so he watched the photographers.

It was like Riley to play the big shot and make him go into the club while Riley sat outside with Old Sam in the Lincoln, Bailey thought. He was always getting the dirty end of the stick. Well, when they split the money, he would quit the gang. He had had about enough of Riley and Anna. With the money he’d get from the diamonds, he would buy himself a chicken farm. He had come from a farming family and if he hadn’t got into trouble and had to serve a three year stretch he wouldn’t have ever teamed up with Riley.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the band breaking off and going into their hot version of “Happy Birthday to You.”

Here she comes, Bailey thought and raised himself on his toes to look over the heads of the crowd. Everyone had stopped dancing and were looking towards the entrance. The photographers were shoving each other, maneuvering for better positions.

A bright spotlight suddenly went on as Miss Blandish made her appearance, followed by a tall, handsome man in a tuxedo.

Bailey had only eyes for Miss Blandish. He sucked in his bream sharply at the sight of her. The hard light caught her red-gold hair and reflected back on her white skin. He thought he had never seen such a beautiful girl. She wasn’t like any of the girls he knew. She had everything they had and then a lot more. He watched her wave gaily to the crowd who stamped and shouted around her. He stood tense, staring at her, and he didn’t relax until the row had died down and she had seated herself with MacGowan at a distant table.

He had been so impressed with the girl’s beauty that he had forgotten the necklace, but now, as he got over the first impact of her loveliness, he saw the necklace and again his breath sucked in between his clenched teeth.

This splendid collar of flashing diamonds brought him out in an excited sweat. Looking at them, he suddenly realised what a commotion there would be when they were stolen. This was going to be the big take, he thought. Every cop in the country would be after them. Maybe he had been crazy to have encouraged Riley to grab it, he thought, wiping his sweating hands. Blandish had millions and he would raise hell. Once they had that necklace, the heat would be fierce.

Bailey looked across at Miss Blandish’s table. He noticed that MacGowan was flushed. He seemed to be drinking steadily, and once when he refilled his glass, Miss Blandish put her hand on his as if trying to persuade him to stop drinking. MacGowan just grinned at her, emptied his glass, then getting up took her out onto the dance floor.

That bird’s getting stiff, Bailey thought. If he goes on drinking like that, he’ll be out on his feet.

The crowd was getting rowdy. Everyone seemed half drunk. Bailey sneered at them. Have enough money, he thought, bitterly, and you behave like hogs.

He caught sight of Miss Blandish being jostled in the crowd. She suddenly broke away from MacGowan and made her way back to the table. MacGowan followed, protesting. They sat down. MacGowan began to drink again.

At a table near where Bailey stood, a blonde girl was quarreling with her escort, a fat, elderly man who looked pretty drunk. The blonde suddenly got to her feet, lifted a bottle of champagne out of its bucket and poured the contents of the bottle over her escort’s head. He sat there, gaping at her, the champagne soaking his white tuxedo and plastering down his hair.

The blonde put the bottle back into the bucket and sat down again. She blew a kiss to the fat man. The people near them had all turned to stare. Some of the men were laughing. The fat man got slowly to his feet. His red face was tight with rage. He threw the contents of his soup plate in the girl’s face. She began to scream frantically. A youngish man jumped to his feet and punched the fat man who staggered back and cannoned into the table behind him, upsetting it with a crash of glass and china. The two women at the table jumped up, screaming.