James Chase - Hit and Run

‘Come on,’ I said, waving to her.

She ran down the steps, down the path and scrambled into the car. I got in beside her and drove fast the quarter of a mile to Seaborne’s house.

We both got out.

Leading the way, I started up the drive towards the garage, then I suddenly came to an abrupt stop. Lucille paused at my side.

The garage door stood ajar

The previous night I had locked the doors after I had put the Cadillac away. There was no question about that. I had not only locked them, but I had taken care to make certain they had been secure.

‘What is it, Ches?’ Lucille asked sharply.

‘Wait here,’ I said, and breaking into a run, I covered the last twenty yards to the garage, pushed open the doors and looked inside.

The Cadillac was still there. The hard sunlight made the bent fender and the broken lamp look uglier than they had looked the previous night in the light of my flash-lamp.

I looked at the lack on the double doors. A chill snaked up my spine as I saw the lock was bent and twisted. There were claw marks of a jemmy dug into the woodwork.

Lucille joined me.

‘What is it?’

‘Someone has been here.’

She caught her breath sharply.

‘Who?’

‘How should I know?’

She caught hold of my arm.

‘Do you think it was the police?’

‘No. If it had been the police they would have come for me. My name’s on the licence tag.’

‘The swim-suit, Ches!’

‘Where did you leave it?’

‘On the floor at the back.’

I moved into the garage, opened the rear door of the car and looked inside.

If she had left the swim-suit on the floor of the car, it wasn’t there now.

Overhead an aircraft droned: there was no other sound. The silence seemed to me to go on for a long time. I stood by the car looking into the emptiness of the back seat and the floor, aware that my heart was thumping.

Then Lucille said in a small voice: ‘What is it?’

I turned and looked at her.

‘It’s not here.’

Her eyes opened very wide.

‘It must be there! Let me look!’

I stood aside and she peered into the car.

‘It must be here,’ she muttered and got into the car, her hands feeling under the scat.

‘Are you sure you didn’t leave it on the beach?’

‘Of course I’m sure!’ Her voice was strident. ‘I put it on the floor!’

She got out of the car, her eyes were wide with panic.

‘Perhaps you put it in the boot,’ I said, and going around to the car, I lifted the boot lid and looked inside. There was no swim-suit. I closed the boot and came back to where she was standing.

‘What have you done with it?’ she demanded.

I stared at her.

‘What do you mean? I’ve done nothing with it. I didn’t even know you had left it in the car.’

She moved away from me.

‘You’re lying! You’ve taken it and hidden it!’

‘How can you say such a thing! I tell you I didn’t even know it was in the car!’

Her face was now tense, and her eyes glittered. She no longer looked young and fresh and beautiful. I scarcely recognized her.

‘Don’t lie to me!’ she said furiously. ‘You’ve taken it! Where is it?’

‘Have you gone crazy? Someone’s been here! You can see that for yourself! Look at the door! Whoever it was found the swim-suit and has taken it!’

‘Oh, no! No one’s been here. It was you who forced the door! So that’s why you are so willing to take the blame,’ she said, her voice low and furious. ‘You thought I’d be so grateful to you I’d fall down and kiss your feet, didn’t you? You thought you could make love to me, didn’t you? I’d be so grateful to you, I’d let you! That was the idea, wasn’t it? And all the time you were planning to give me away! You planned to put the swim-suit back in the car so the police would know I had been with you in the car!’

I very nearly slapped her face, but controlled myself in time.

‘All right, Lucille, if you want to believe that, then believe it,’ I said. ‘I didn’t take your swim-suit. You frightened little fool! Someone has been here and has taken it, but it wasn’t me.’

She stood motionless, staring at me, then she put her hands up to her face.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course.’

Her voice was so soft I could scarcely hear it.

‘What does that mean?’ I asked, watching her.

She pressed her temples with her finger-tips, then suddenly she gave me a ghost of a smile.

‘I’m sorry, Ches. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to speak to you like that. I didn’t sleep last night. My nerves are in a dreadful state. Please forgive me.’

‘Oh, forget it.’

‘Who could hare taken it, Ches? It could have been the police, couldn’t it.’

‘No. It wasn’t the police.’

She looked away from me. I had a sudden feeling I no longer existed for her, that her thoughts had carried her far away.

‘There’s no point in you staying here, Lucille,’ I said. ‘It’s dangerous.’

She started slightly, looked at me for a moment, her eyes appeared to be slightly out of focus, then a more lively expression came into them as if she was suddenly seeing me clearly.

‘Yes. Will you give me a cigarette, please?’

Surprised, I took out my pack of Camels and offered her one. She took the cigarette, put it between her lips and accepted the light from my lighter. She pulled hard on the cigarette, then let the smoke come rolling out of her mouth. All the time she stared fixedly at the oily, concrete floor of the garage.

I watched her. It was like seeing a child after several years: a child that had grown suddenly into a woman.

She looked up and saw I was watching her. She smiled: it wasn’t any easy smile, but it made her look very desirable and lovely.

‘So we’re in this mess now together aren’t we, Ches?’

‘Not necessarily. It could have been a sneak thief.’

‘Do you think so? It could have been a blackmailer.’

I stared at her.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘It’s something I feel,’ she said, after a moment’s hesitation. ‘We are in an ideal position to be blackmailed, aren’t we? I for killing this policeman, and you for trying to seduce me.’

For several seconds I said nothing. That angle hadn’t struck me, but now she had put it into words, I could see she could be right.

‘It doesn’t necessarily follow…’

‘No. We must wait and see what happens.’ She moved past me to the garage door. ‘I suppose I had better get back.’

‘Yes.’

We moved out into the hot sunshine. She waited while I closed the garage doors.

I’ll have to come back and fix this lock,’ I said after I had tried to wedge the two doors together and had failed.

‘Yes.’

She walked down the path, the sun making the lights in her glossy hair glitter. From behind, she made a trim little figure in her slacks and yellow shirt: trim and excitingly feminine.

She got into the Pontiac and sat upright, her slim hands resting on her knees.

I got in beside her, started the engine, U-turned and drove back fast to my bungalow.

During the short run back to the bungalow neither of us said anything.

I pulled up outside the gate.

‘I’ll get your cycle.’

‘I’ll come in, Ches. I want to talk to you.’

‘Well, all right.’

I followed her up the path and into the bungalow. She went on ahead of me into the lounge while I paused to lock the front door.

As I came into the lounge, she sat down in an easy chair and stared out of the big window at the beach and the sea.

I looked at the clock on the overmantel. The time was a quarter to eleven. It seemed a lifetime since she had come out of the shadows last night and had fainted in my arms. I moved over to another chair and sat down. I looked at her. She was no longer the lovely kid I had been infatuated with when I had seen her for the first time, admiring herself in the mirror. Since then, she had grown a skin: a veneer of hardness. She was still lovely, still desirable, but the innocence and the youth were now missing.