James Chase - He Won't Need It Now

They left the Buick at the kerb and walked up the stairs together. Duffy said, “It seems a mighty long time since I had my last drink.”

“How about putting on the glad rags and taking me out?” she asked.

He put his hand on her back and pushed her a little. “These stairs are hell, ain’t they? Sure, we’ll go places, but I want Gleason first.”

He opened the door of the apartment and they walked in together. Then Duffy said, “Well…”

The room was a complete shambles. The furniture was overturned, drawers had been jerked out and left piled on the floor, the contents strewn over the carpet. The overstuffed furniture had been ripped to pieces and the stuffing dumped in piles. Pictures had been taken down from the walls and were lying with their backs cut. A tornado had certainly hit that room.

Duffy said gently, “Gleason trying to save himself some dough.”

Olga wandered round the room, stepping carefully. “That was a swell idea of yours about the bank.”

Duffy nodded. His face was hard and cold. “I’ll fix that smart bastard,” he said.

She said, “There’s time for that. You’d better move over to my place.”

He looked round the wreckage. “I guess it don’t really matter. We’re due to pull out tomorrow, so what the hell.” He wandered into his bedroom and looked round with a grimace. The room had been searched as thoroughly as the sitting-room. There was a lot more mess, because the mattress and the pillows had been ripped.

Olga peered round the door. “Our love-bed’s been destroyed.”

“To hell with that,” Duffy said. “They’ve stolen my whisky.” He dug about under the bed and dragged out two battered suitcases covered with feathers. “Get going,” he said. “Do some work for a change.”

Just then the telephone bell began to ring, and he went over to answer it, leaving her sorting his shirts and things from the wreckage.

It was Sam at the other end.

“Why, Sam,” Duffy was pleased. “I’m glad you phoned.”

“Listen, you bum,” Sam sounded excited. “Don’t tell me you let that hot mamma go home to her people.”

Duffy said softly into the phone, “She’s in the other room.”

Sam groaned. “That dame’ll get you into trouble. Look, Bill, for God’s sake chuck this thing, will you? I’ve heard the Post will give you a job, right up your street, and a swell equipment on the side.”

Duffy said, “Thanks, pal, but I’m on to something big. Not peanut money, but the right stuff. I’m getting out tomorrow and I’m hitting the coast. When I’ve spent it all, I’ll be back. Olga and me are getting on fine.”

Sam said, “Alice’ll kill me if I don’t bring you back tonight. She told me to drag you by the short hairs.”

“It’s time you left Alice, if that’s the way she’s talking.” Duffy grinned. “No, I’m going ahead. When we’re in the money, we’ll invite you over.”

“It’s on the level?” Sam sounded worried.

“Is any big dough on the level?” Duffy asked. “Don’t you sweat about me, I’m okay.”

Sam said, “I’m going to have a sweet time with Alice tonight.”

“Tell her about Olga. She’ll understand. Tell her Olga’s swell. She won’t expect me then.”

“Is she?” Sam sounded curious.

“Is she what?”

“Swell.”

“O boy! Listen, that honey’s—” Duffy broke off as Olga walked into the room. “Well, Sam, I’ll be seeing you. Don’t do anything you wouldn’t like me to know about.” He dropped the receiver on to the prong.

Olga smiled at him. “I heard. I’m glad.”

“You packed my things?”

“Just finished. There’s so much junk.”

“Leave it.. We ain’t coming back.”

He put his arms round her. “I like you a lot,” he said.

She pulled his face down to hers hungrily. “Was I really good for you?” she whispered.

He said, “Huh-uh.”

She put her mouth against his neck. “Best of all?” she asked, taking a little of his skin between her teeth.

He pressed her to him and said, “Sure, best of all.”

They stood there for a long time, just holding each other. Duffy liked the feel of her hair against his face. Then he pushed her away gently, holding her at arm’s length. “I wonder if we’ve been crazy, going for a gang like Morgan’s,” he said. “I could get a job right now, and we could settle down.”

“Play Gleason and we’ll skip,” she said.

Duffy shrugged. He walked over to his bags and closed them, pulling the straps down hard. “Yeah,” he said, “you ain’t Alice, are you?”

She looked puzzled. “Alice?” she said. “Who’s Alice?”

Duffy grinned at her, but his mind was not with her.

“Oh, nothing—she’s a sucker. Dough don’t mean a thing to her. It’s love in a poorhouse with her.”

Olga shrugged. “That type’s nearly dead,” she said a little scornfully, “but you find ’em sometimes.”

Duffy stood looking round the room, holding the bags in either hand. He stood there so long that Olga touched his arm.

“Let’s go, hophead,” she said.

Duffy said, “Sure.” He walked to the door and then stopped again. “I ain’t ever going to see this joint again,” he said.

Olga pushed past him into the corridor. “Who cares?” she asked, walking down the stairs.

Duffy looked after her, put one of the bags on the floor, shut the door, picked the bag up again, and followed her down.

BACK AT OLGA’S villa, Duffy immediately put through a call to Annabel. While he was waiting for the connection, Olga began packing. Duffy could hear her moving about in the bedroom, overhead, singing in a husky monotone, but with plenty of swing with it.

The line connected with a little plop, and he said, “Hullo.”

Annabel’s breathless voice floated to his ear. “Who is it?” she asked.

Duffy said, “Your boy friend there? This is Duffy.”

“You’re going to make a bad move soon,” she said fiercely, “and I’m going to get a big laugh when you fall down.”

Duffy said, “I ain’t got time to talk to you just now, hot pants. Get Gleason.”

She said very evenly, “They put smart guys like you in a gasoline bath and drop in a match.”

Gleason must have taken the ’phone from her. Duffy heard him say, “Pipe down, for Gawd’s sake.”

“Gleason?” Duffy asked.

“Yeah. You ready to play ball?”

“Sure, I’m ready to trade. Competition wasn’t so hot. They offered forty grand, no more, no less. It’s yours for fifty.”

Gleason raved, “How the hell can I get fifty grand together?”

Duffy’s mouth shaped into a smile, but his eyes were mirthless. “I’m moving out tomorrow first thing,” he said. “I don’t care who has the list, but I want somebody’s cash tonight. Fifty grand ain’t all that big, for an outfit like yours.”

Gleason said, “You’re going to pay for this, you sonofabitch.”

Duffy said, “Not until I get the dough and you get the book. After that, we’ll all have to watch out.”

Gleason was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I can’t bring cash; I’ll make it a certified cheque.”

“Cash,” Duffy’s voice was hard. “I’m feeding at the ‘Red Ribbon’ tonight around eight-thirty. If you ain’t there by the time I’m through, the deal’s off. And it’s gotta be cash.” He dropped the receiver back and went upstairs.

Olga was kneeling before a large cabin trunk. The floor was strewn with her clothes.

Duffy said, “For God’s sake…”

She turned her head and smiled at him. “Come and help,” she said.

He looked at the small clock on the mantelshelf. From where he stood he could just make out the tiny hands. It was six-thirty. He put his hands under her elbows and brought her to her feet.