James Chase - I'll Get You for This

The room was, big and untidy. There were shutters up at the windows to keep out the sun.

An old woman was holding the telephone receiver to her ear. When she saw me, she gave a gasp, and dropped the receiver. It fell with a little crash on the table. Then she sat down heavily in a rocking-chair and threw her apron over her face. I thought she looked pretty dumb sitting like that, but it seemed to give her some comfort.

I took hold of the telephone and jerked. The cord came away from the wall, and I tossed the instrument on the floor.

“Now you won’t be able to talk to anyone about anything,” I said, winking at the man. “That’ll be a nice change for you.”

He jerked and shook and sweated plenty. I seemed to scare him.

I left them huddled and silent, and collected Miss Wonderly. She seemed scared too. Hell! I

was scared myself.

We ran down the steps, and I slung her bag into the car. We bundled in, and I shot out of Essex Street like a cat off a hot stove.

“Have you thought of a place, honey?” I asked, as we bolted along Ocean Drive.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Well, concentrate or else we’ll be in a jam.”

She banged her clenched fists together and started to cry. She was scared all right.

I looked across the Bay. The opalescent waters of the Atlantic and the Gulf were changing hues as clouds moved overhead. Scattered green islands gleamed like emeralds on an azure field. On the distant horizon the Gulf Stream pencilled a line of indigo, with here and there above it a smudge of grey smoke from the funnels of a passing steamer.

“How about those islands?” I said, slowing up. “Know any of them?”

She sat up, and her tears dried like magic. “Of course, the very place,” she said. “Cudco Key. It lies to the left of the islands, and it’s small. I know a shack there. I found it when I was out there once.”

“Fine,” I said. “If we can get there, that’s where we’ll go.”

I didn’t know where we were, but as we were heading in the same direction as the islands, I didn’t worry. We passed Dayden Beach, and I looked at the moored raft. It seemed a long time since we sat on it together. We kept on, and after a while I saw a wharf ahead. That gave me an idea.

“We’ll trade this car for a boat,” I said.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” she said. It came from the bottom of her heart.

I patted her knee. It was a nice knee, and she didn’t take it away, so I left my hand on it.

We stopped by the wharf and got out. I made sure my gun was handy, and I kept a firm grip on my cigar box. That was one thing I wasn’t losing. We looked around. There were a number of U Drive pleasure boats moored along the wharf, but they weren’t fast enough for me. I

wanted something that’d shake a police boat if it came to shaking police boats.

I found what I was looking for after a while. She was a trim thirty-foot craft; mahogany and steel and glistening brass. She looked very fast.

“That’s her,” I said to Miss Wonderly.

While we were looking at the boat, a fat little man came out of a house on the water-front, and hustled down to the boat. He gave us a hard look, then stepped on board.

“Hey!” I said.

He looked up, and climbed off the boat again. His face was burned nearly black by the sun, and his hair was bleached yellow-He didn’t look a bad guy in a tough, hard way.

“Want me?” he said, eyeing us over, then he grinned. “By Golly!”

I hunched my shoulders and grinned back.

“Not you—your boat,” I said.

“Chester Cain, by Jeese!” he said. He took elaborate precautions to keep his hands still and not to make any move, but he wasn’t scared.

“Sure,” I said.

“That’s okay with me,” he said. “The radio hasn’t let up for the past half-hour. The whole town knows you’re on the mn.” He eyed Miss Wonderly. She apparently made a hit, because he pursed his mouth in a soundless whistle. “So you want my boat?”

“That’s the idea,” I said. “I’m in a hurry, but I’m not going to rob you. Take my Buick and a grand?”

His eyes opened.

“Do I get the boat back?” •

“Sure, if they don’t sink her.”

“Sink her? They’ll never see her.”

His optimism made me feel good.

“She that fast?”

“Fastest boat on the coast. Fate was kind to you, sending you to me.”

“I guess so. So you’ll trade?”

He grinned. “I don’t want to, but I’ll trade. I never did like that buzzard Herrick anyway.”

“Sure this is your boat?” I asked.

“You bet. Tim Duval’s the name. I use her for Tunny fishing and other things. When you’re out of this jam, you come on a trip with me. You’ll like it.” He winked. “I’ll be glad to have her back, but keep her as long as you like. She’s gassed up and ready to go. She’ll take you to Cuba if you’re figuring on going that far.”

Miss Wonderly came staggering back with the two suit-cases. She wasn’t scared to make herself useful. She looked kind of cute in her blue crepe—like she was in a fancy dress, and it showed off her figure. Duval had trouble keeping his eyes off her. I had trouble too.

We dumped the grips on board, and then she ducked down into the cockpit.

“Get into the cabin, sweetheart,” I called. “It’ll be safer there.” I didn’t want anyone to see her as I pulled out along the long wharf.

She went into the cabin and shut the door.

“Want me to come along?” Duval asked hopefully.

I shook my head. “No.”

He shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “I’d sooner travel alone— with her. Nice, eh?”

“Huh uh,” I said, and gave him the keys of the Buick.

“You won’t have any trouble with that boat. She’s sweet to handle;” he said, taking the keys. “I’ll look after the heep for you.”

“Yeah, look after her,” I said.

“Sure will.”

I went aboard and started the engines.

Duval cast off the lines.

“I think Flaggerty’s a buzzard too,” he said.

That told me he wasn’t going to sell us out as soon as we were out of sight.

“So do I,” I said.

I spun the wheel and edged the boat through the narrows to the cut that led to the outer bay.

The swell was long, fairly easy. After a while I rounded the breakwater and we were in the bay.

I looked back.

Duval was waving. I waved back. Then I gunned the engine and the boat leapt forward with a roar, throwing water and cream-white foam.

Cudco Key was a tiny island five miles from the chain of islands skirting Palm Bay. It had a dazzling white beach bordered with coconut palms, white orchid trees, covered with pale white flowers delicately veined with green, and the woman’s tongue trees with their long slender pods in which seeds rattle monotonously at the slightest breeze. Further along the coast, and inland were mangrove and buttonwood thickets. Spires of smoke hung in the air where mangroves were being burnt for charcoal.

I ran the boat into the heart of the mangrove thickets, and I was fairly sure that no one would spot it from the sea.

We left our grips on board and we struck inland to find the shack.

Miss Wonderly had changed into bottle-green linen slacks, a halter and an orange wrap around to keep her curls in place. She looked cool and cute.

It was hot on the island, and I had stripped down to a singlet and gaberdine slacks, but I sweated plenty.

We kept to the thickets. Miss Wonderly said there were only a couple of dozen Conch fishermen living on the island, but we didn’t see any of them.

I got the surprise of my life when we found the shack. It not only commanded a fine view of Palm Bay and Paradise Palms in the distance, but it wasn’t a shack at all. It was a hurricaneproof house that had been built as an experiment by the Red Cross some years back in their drive to counteract storm damage.