James Chase: No Orchids for Miss Blandish

Hogs! Bailey thought. He looked across the room at Miss Blandish. She was standing, shaking MacGowan’s arm impatiently. MacGowan got unsteadily to his feet. He followed her to the exit.

The girl who had had the soup thrown in her face was still screaming. A fight had developed between two drunks and the youngish man. The struggling men surged up to Bailey and hindered him from following Miss Blandish. He punched his way clear, sending the men staggering, then walked quickly to the exit.

He passed MacGowan leaning against the wall in the lobby, waiting for Miss Blandish. He ran down the drive to the waiting Lincoln. Old Sam was at the wheel and Riley sat by his side.

“They’ll be out in a minute,” Bailey said, getting in behind Riley. “She’ll be driving. Her boyfriend is stewed to the gills.”

“Get going,” Riley said to Old Sam. “We’ll stop at that farm we passed coming. We’ll overtake her after she has passed us and crowd her off the road.”

Old Sam put it into gear and the Lincoln slid away. Bailey lit a cigarette and took his gun from his shoulder-holster. He laid the gun on the seat beside him.

“She got the diamonds?” Riley asked.

“Yeah.”

Riley was taller and thinner than Bailey. He was five or six years younger. But for the cast in his right eye, he wouldn’t have been bad looking, but the cast gave him a shifty, sly look.

Old Sam drove fast for half a mile, then coming to the farm, he slowed down, ran the car onto the grass and pulled up.

Riley said, “Get out and watch for her.”

Bailey took his gun, tossed his cigarette away and got out of the car. He stood by the side of the road. In the distance, he could see the lights of the roadhouse and he could hear the faint sound of the band playing. He waited for several minutes, then he saw the headlights of an approaching car.

He ran back to the Lincoln.

“Here they come.”

As he got into the car, Old Sam started the engine. A two-seater Jaguar swept past. Miss Blandish was driving. MacGowan seemed to have passed out.

“Get going,” Riley said. “That’s a fast job. Don’t let them get away.”

The Lincoln stormed after the Jaguar.

It was a dark, moonless night. Old Sam turned on hi? headlights. The beams lit up the Jaguar. They could see MacGowan’s head rolling with the motion of the car.

“He wont start trouble,” Bailey said. “He’s had a real skinful.”

Riley grunted.

The next bend in the road brought them to wooded country. At this hour the road was completely deserted.

“Okay,” Riley said. “Now crowd her!”

The needle of the speedometer moved to eighty-five and then to eighty-eight. The Lincoln held the road without any roll. The wind began to whistle and the trees took on a smudged look. The distance between the two cars remained the same.

“What are you playing at?” Riley said, staring at Old Sam. “I said crowd her!”

Old Sam shoved the gas pedal to the boards. The Lincoln crept up a few yards, but the Jaguar surged forward and the distance widened.

“She’s too fast for this crate,” Old Sam said. “We’re not going to catch her.”

The cars were now traveling at over eighty miles an hour. The Jaguar was steadily pulling away.

Suddenly Old Sam saw his chance as they approached a fork in the road.

“Hang on!” he yelled, slammed on his brakes and flung the wheel over. The tires screamed on the tar and the Lincoln spun around, skidding into the rough. Bailey was thrown off the rear seat. He felt the Lincoln lurch, then the off-wheels rise and slam back on the road. The car shuddered as Old Sam released the brakes and stepped down hard on the gas. He crashed over the grass verge, bumped and banged crazily across the rough ground and shot onto the road again.

By cutting off the corner, he was now in front of the Jaguar.

Bailey scrambled back on the seat, swearing and groping for his gun.

“Nice work,” Riley said, leaning out of the car to look back.

Old Sam, watching the Jaguar in his driving mirror, began to zigzag about the road, slowing down and forcing the Jaguar to slow down. Finally the two cars stopped. As Bailey jumped out of the Lincoln, Miss Blandish began to turn the Jaguar. He reached her just in time. He leaned into the car, snapped off the ignition, then threatened her with the gun.

“Get out!” he shouted. “This is a stick-up.”

Miss Blandish stared up at him. Her large eyes were wide with shock. MacGowan opened his eyes, and slowly sat up.

Riley, watching, remained in the Lincoln. He leaned out of the window, his sweating hand on his gun. Old Sam nervously opened the car door, ready to get out.

“Come on! Come on!” Bailey snarled. “Get out!”

Miss Blandish got out of the car. She didn’t look frightened, but she was startled.

“What is all this?” MacGowan mumbled. He got out of the car, wincing and holding his head.

“Take it easy,” Bailey said, threatening MacGowan with the gun. “This is a stick-up.”

MacGowan sobered. He moved closer to Miss Blandish.

“Hand over the necklace, sister,” Bailey said. “Quick!”

Miss Blandish’s hands flew to her throat. She began to back away.

Bailey cursed. He was beginning to lose his nerve. A car might pass any moment, and then they would be in trouble.

“Hand it over or you’ll get hurt,” he snarled.

As she still backed away, he strode up to her with three quick strides. He had to pass close to MacGowan who suddenly came alive and slammed a punch at Bailey’s head.

Bailey staggered, lost his balance and fell heavily. His gun slipped from his hand.

Miss Blandish stifled a scream. Riley didn’t move. He thought Bailey could handle it. He didn’t want either Miss Blandish or MacGowan to be able to identify him if the thing turned sour. He told Old Sam to watch the girl.

Old Sam shuffled over to Miss Blandish. She didn’t seem to notice him. She was staring at Bailey who was up on one knee, cursing and shaking his head. Old Sam stood by her sheepishly, but he was ready to grab her if she tried to get away.

Bailey looked at MacGowan who came forward unsteadily, still drunk, but full of fight.

Bailey was up to meet him. He hit MacGowan on the side of his neck. It wasn’t a good punch and it scarcely stopped MacGowan who slammed in a right to Bailey’s stomach. Bailey grunted and went down on his knees. This punk certainly could punch. Why didn’t Riley come? Before he could get up MacGowan had hit him on the side of the head and Bailey rolled on the grass.

Cursing, Riley got out of the car.

Bailey’s hand touched his gun. He grabbed it, then as MacGowan moved towards him, he lifted the gun and pulled the trigger.

The bang of the gun made Miss Blandish scream. She covered her eyes.

MacGowan clutched at his chest, then he fell in the road. Blood showed on his white shirt.

Bailey got to his feet as Riley ran up.

“You crazy sonofabitch!” Riley snarled. He bent over MacGowan, then he looked up at Bailey who had come closer and was staring down at MacGowan, his face slack with fright. “He’s dead! You jackass! What did you kill him for? Now you have started something.”

Bailey hooked his finger in his collar and jerked at it savagely.

“Why didn’t you help me?” he mumbled. “What else could I have done? It wasn’t my fault.”

“Tell that to the judge,” Riley snarled. He was badly scared. This is a murder rap now, he was thinking. We’ll all burn. If they catch us...

Bailey looked at Miss Blandish who was staring at MacGowan’s body. He said to Riley, “We’ll have to knock her off. She knows too much.”

“Shut up!” Riley said. He was staring at Miss Blandish. An idea had suddenly dropped into his mind. Here was a chance of getting into the real money. This girl’s father was worth millions. He would pay anything to get her back safe. “She’s coming with us.”