James Chase - Tiger by the Tail

Ken was in his bedroom when he heard the front-door bell ring. For a long moment he stood motionless, too scared to move. Had the police returned? Was that sergeant going to question him again? Had he given himself away? He looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was ten minutes past nine. Who could it be if it wasn’t the police?

He went furtively to the window and looked out. There was no car at the gate. Then it couldn’t be the police. He crossed the room, opened the door and stepped into the passage.

If he peered around the corner of the passage and across the hall he would be able to see through the glass panel of the front door who the caller was without being seen himself.

He began to edge forward when a movement just ahead of him brought him to an abrupt standstill.

Standing in the middle of the passage, looking up at him, was a fawn Pekinese dog.

The dog stared up at him, its bulging eyes frog-like and expressionless.

Ken turned cold. He stood rooted, paralysed with shock.

He heard a soft footfall in the hall, then around the corner Sweeting appeared. He looked at Ken slyly, then he bent and picked up the dog.

“I must apologize for Leo,” he said. “He shouldn’t have pushed in like that, but I believe he must have taken a liking to you.”

Ken tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Holland,” Sweeting went on. “You are Mr. Holland? There were some letters in the hall I glanced at: they were addressed to you, or have I made a mistake?”

Ken was in no state to attempt to bluff. His mind was paralysed with panic.

“What do you want?” he said hoarsely.

“Just a few minutes with you,” Sweeting said, stroking Leo’s head with his finger-tip. “Perhaps we could sit down? I have had a very tiring day. I won’t keep you long. It’s a business matter.” He looked into the lounge. “That looks most comfortable. Shall we go in there?”

Without waiting, he walked into the lounge.

“How very nice!” he said, looking around. “How very pleasant ! I envy you, Mr. Holland, having such a delightful home.” His beady little eyes went to the silver-framed photograph of Ann. “Is that your wife? What a charming girl ! How pretty ! She isn’t in, is she?”

Ken watched this fat, oily little man walking around his lounge as if he owned it. He was slowly recovering from the shock of finding him in his home. How had Sweeting found him? What was going to happen? Was he going to blackmail him?

“Oh, and I see you keep whisky in your house,” Sweeting said, pausing beside the liquor cabinet. “How pleasant! You know, Mr. Holland, I have always wanted to own one of these cabinets. They are so useful, and they do establish a standard, don’t they? I’m afraid I haven’t been a great success in my life. Some people are a lot more fortunate than others. Would it be discourteous of me if I had a drink? With a whisky and a comfortable chair one can always discuss a business proposition more congenially, don’t you think?”

He set Leo down on the couch, poured himself a big shot of whisky, carried the glass to an armchair and sat down. He took off his hat, which he placed on the floor at his side and drank of the whisky.

“Most refreshing,” he said, looking up at Ken. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Holland?”

Ken came slowly into the room and sat down.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“It’s about last night. A young woman was murdered in the apartment above mine. I have some information that would be of interest to the police.” Sweeting paused to smile knowingly.

“I’m not anxious to become a police informer, Mr. Holland. I realize it is my duty to tell them what I know, but they seldom show any appreciation. After all, one has to consider one’s own interests first, I always think.”

So it was to be blackmail. Ken reached for a cigarette and lit it with an unsteady hand.

“I had nothing to do with the murder,” he said steadily.

Sweeting inclined his head.

“I am quite sure of that. If I thought you had I wouldn’t be here. I am a cautious man. I wouldn’t allow myself to become an accessory to murder. No, of course you had nothing to do with the murder, but you were in Miss Carson’s apartment when it happened, weren’t you?”

Ken didn’t say anything.

“I’m sure you’re too sensible to deny it, Mr. Holland,” Sweeting went on after a pause. “I saw you leave. I noted the time.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “You are in an awkward position. You must realize that it is almost impossible for you to convince the police that you didn’t murder the girl. They are always so anxious to make an arrest.”

Ken began to feel a rising anger against this fat hypocrite who was so obviously enjoying his power.

“All right, I admit all that,” he said curtly. “Suppose we get to the point. What do you intend to do about it?”

Sweeting lifted his fat shoulders.

“That depends entirely on you, Mr. Holland.”

“It’s blackmail, is that it?”

Sweeting smiled.

“Some people might call it that,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s a nasty word. I would prefer to say that in return for keeping my information to myself you will give me a small pecuniary reward.”

“What do you want?”

Sweeting couldn’t conceal his satisfaction. The interview was going along splendidly: exactly how he had planned it to go.

“I am a poor man, Mr. Holland. In fact, to be frank with you, I am in urgent need of funds right now. I thought you might let me have two hundred dollars as a first payment and a small sum each month.”

“How small?” Ken said, an edge to his voice.

“Well, perhaps thirty dollars, perhaps thirty-five.”

Ken realized that if he agreed to pay Sweeting, there would be no end to it. He would be bled white. He had to take a stand. He had to think of Ann. He would probably need every dime he could lay hands on for his defence.

“I should only be buying time,” he said quietly. “The police could find me without your help. You had better tell them what you know. You’re getting nothing out of me.”

Sweeting had had many years’ experience of petty blackmailing. He was a little surprised that Ken should attempt to bluff, considering the dangerous position he was in, but he was quite prepared to accept Ken’s attitude for the moment. So many of his past victims had tried to bluff, but they had always toed the line in the end.

“Let’s be sensible about this, Mr. Holland. My evidence would send you to the chair. After all, I am the only witness who saw you leave the house at the time the police say she died. If I kept quiet…”

“You’re mistaken,” Ken said, getting to his feet. “Someone else saw me: the woman who lives on the ground floor. Your evidence is not so exclusive as you think.”

Sweeting stared up at him, taken aback.

“Now wait a moment, Mr. Holland. We mustn’t be too hasty about this. This woman doesn’t know who you are: I do. It would be stupid of you to sacrifice your life for a few dollars. Besides, you must think of your wife. Think how hurt she will be to learn what you have done.”

“We’ll leave my wife out of this!” Ken said savagely. “I’m not paying you a dime. Get out!”

Sweeting lost his genial smile. His face became hard and spiteful.

“You mustn’t talk like that to me, Mr. Holland. You are in no position to be discourteous. I shan’t hesitate to go to the police if we can’t come to terms. I tell you what I will do. I’ll settle for two hundred dollars. I won’t press you for any monthly payments. I can’t be fairer than that, can I ? Two hundred dollars in cash.”