James Chase - Hit and Run

‘How should I know?’ I said through stiff lips.

He patted my arm absently.

‘That’s right. How should you know?’

He moved past me and headed towards the terrace.

I went after him, but kept far enough behind him so as not to enter into another conversation with him.

He gave Aitken four certificates, clearing his cars.

Aitken took the certificates and tossed them contemptuously on the terrace table. West then gave Hackett a certificate for his car.

‘I guess that’s about all,’ he said, looking around at us. ‘Thanks for your help, sir.’ This to Aitken. ‘And for yours too.’ His small eyes moved to me. Then in a silence you could lean on, he plodded across the terrace, went down the steps to the waiting police car.

‘Well, I must say that’s a wonderful way of wasting tax-payers money,’ Aitken growled. ‘Of all the damned nonsense I’ve run into…’

‘Would you say that?’ Hackett asked, lifting his heavy eye-brows. ‘They’re trying to find the man who killed a policeman. To them it is important. They know the killer’s car is damaged. This is the surest way of finding his car,’ he waved his certificate. ‘Sooner or later, they will come across a car that is damaged and hasn’t a certificate, then they will have found the killer. Personally, I think it’s a smart idea.’ He turned to me. ‘Well, we’re holding you off from your golf.’ He stretched his massive frame. ‘And I’ve got to be running along too.’ He looked over at Aitken. ‘The wife will be wondering where I’ve got to. So long, R.A., this venture of ours is going to be a lot of fun,’ and he shook Aitken’s hand.

‘I hope so,’ Aitken said. ‘A lot depends on Scott.’

Hackett slapped me on the shoulder.

‘He’ll handle it. Well, I’ll get off. Look after that leg, R.A. The sooner you’re up and about again the better.’

There was more talk before Hackett and I crossed the terrace together and walked down the steps to where our cars were parked.

‘You won’t forget to come over to my hotel,’ Hackett said. ‘I’d like you to meet the wife.’

‘That’s nice of you,’ I returned. ‘The trouble is R.A. expects me to come here every night and that limits my time.’

‘Yes, I can see that. But try and find time.’ He paused beside his Buick, looking over at the Pontiac. ‘I see you’re still using Jack’s car.’

I kept my face expressionless with an effort.

‘Yes, but not for much longer. I should have my car back soon.’

The shrewd eyes moved over my face.

‘What did you say was the matter with it?’

‘It’s leaking oil.’

He nodded.

‘Cars can be hell. Coming down here, I blew a gasket. It doesn’t seem to matter how much one spends buying a car, something or other goes wrong sooner or later.’

I wasn’t kidding myself he was talking because he liked the sound of his voice. I was sure a punch line was coming and I tensed myself, waiting for it.

‘Have you met R.A.’s wife?’ he asked abruptly and his eyes were sudden searchlights on my face.

I hadn’t expected that punch to be quite so direct nor so hard. I flinched. There was nothing I could do about it. It had been hard enough to get under my guard.

‘I—I’ve seen her.’

He nodded.

‘I’ve seen her too.’ He looked away from me as he opened his car door. ‘Some girl. I’ve often wondered why R.A. married her. She’s a young man’s girl. He’s much too old for her. When a girl that young marries a man nearly forty years older than she, she becomes rank poison to any young fella who happens along.’ He grinned cheerfully at me. ‘Though why I’m sounding off like this to you I can’t imagine. A sensible guy like you wouldn’t go for rank poison, now would you?’ He patted my arm and got into the car. ‘Don’t forget to come and see us when you have time,’ he went on, poking his genial face out of the car window. ‘So long for now: hope to see you soon.’

I remained motionless as a shop-window dummy and watched him drive away.

I knew then he had recognized Lucille as she had come out of my bungalow last night, and in his odd, kindly way, he was waving a red light in my face.

I was aware my breathing was coming fast and hard as walked over to the Pontiac and got in. For several tense seconds I sat staring through the wind-shield, then leaning forward, stabbed at the starter button and drove fast down the drive and headed towards my bungalow.

During the afternoon I had a long, lonely session with my thoughts. Hackett’s hint bothered me, but as he didn’t seem ready to make trouble for me, I felt I had to get that out of my mind and concentrate on the main problem, which was the Cadillac. I was sure that if I could think of a way to get the car repaired, I could cope with the rest of my problems.

It wasn’t until late in the evening that I suddenly saw how I could do this in safety. I happened to take from my wallet the certificate Lieutenant West had given me, and on examining it, I suddenly realized he had unwittingly handed me the solution.

In completing the form, he had put down only the licence number and had omitted the make of the car. I saw then that if I put the Pontiac’s number plate on the Cadillac, the certificate would clear me if I were stopped while taking the Cadillac to my local garage to get the damage repaired.

For several seconds I stared at the certificate, scarcely believing the solution could be this simple. There was a risk that if I were stopped by a policeman he might check my licence tag against the number plates. If he did that, I’d be sunk, but I decided I would have to take this risk.

I decided it would be too risky to change the number plates before dark. I had still a couple of hours ahead of me before sunset, and it occurred to me, while I was waiting, to call Lucille and tell her I had found a possible solution. I knew her nerve had been badly shaken by West’s unexpected appearance and I wasn’t going to take the risk of her losing her nerve at the last moment just when it looked as if I had the problem licked.

I crossed over to the telephone and called Aitken’s house.

Lucille herself answered.

‘Ches here,’ I said. ‘Can you talk?’

I heard her catch her breath sharply.

‘Yes. What is it?’

‘I wanted you to know I’ve found a way out,’ I said. ‘I think it’s going to be all right, I think I’ve really got it fixed.’

There was a pause. I could hear her quick breathing.

‘Do you really mean that?’ she asked finally.

‘Yes. It’s going to be all right. We’re both going to be in the clear.’

‘But how?’

‘I can’t talk over an open line. I wanted you to know right away. It’s going to be fixed, and you don’t have to worry any more.’

‘I see.’ Her voice sounded curiously flat, ‘Well, all right.’

‘You can relax now,’ I said. ‘You just take it easy.’

‘All right,’ and the line went dead.

I put down the receiver, frowning. Her reaction puzzled me. I had expected her to have been pleased and relieved. It was almost as if she were disappointed that I had found a solution.

As it was still too light to go out to Seabome’s place, I sat on! my terrace and brooded, waiting impatiently for the sun to go down. It wasn’t until half past eight that I got the darkness I had been waiting for.

I left the bungalow and went down to the Pontiac. Then I drove over to Seaborne’s house.

It took me a little time to get the licence plates off the Pontiac. I had to work by my flashlight and the screws had rusted in, but I got the plates off finally. Then I went up the drive to Seaborne’s garage, unlocked the doors and shut myself in before turning on the overhead light.