James Chase - Tell It to the Birds

“He wouldn’t stand Up for three minutes under cross examination,” Jenson said. “He copped a five year stretch for blackmail ten years ago. He’d lie his mother’s life away if he could earn a dollar.”

Maddox ran his fingers through his hair, his red, rubbery face set in a scowl.

“Then it looks like Anson.” He turned on Harmas. “What do you think? Can we nail him?”

“I don’t think so,” Harmas said. “We have nothing against him that a smart attorney couldn’t shoot to bits. I think as you do… I think he is our boy, but proving it is something else besides.”

“Well, this is your job,” Maddox said, glaring at Harmas. “So what do we do?”

Harmas smiled his slow, lazy smile.

“I think we should settle the claim. Give Mrs. Barlowe fifty thousand dollars.”

Maddox’s face turned purple.

“Pay her! You’re trying to be funny! She’ll never get a dime out of me!”

Harmas glanced at his watch. It was twenty minutes to nine and he was hungry.

“I told Anson I’d persuade you to settle the claim. Just to get the right atmosphere, I think we should call her lawyer and tell him the same thing. As soon as they know the money is going to be paid out, things will start happening.”

Maddox suddenly relaxed.

“Go on… keep talking…”

“This woman is an ex-prostitute; there is no greedier animal,” Harmas said. “She won’t part with any of the loot. She and Anson could have a quarrel. She’ll be leaving hospital tomorrow. I thought it would be an idea to tap the telephone and plant microphones, hooked to a tape recorder around the house. It’s my bet Anson will go out there as soon as he knows the money is going to be paid. We could get quite a conversation on tape.”

Maddox rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at Jenson. “The boy’s smart,” he said. “I won’t say I can’t do without him, but he makes my life a little easier than if I didn’t have him.” To Harmas, he said, “Go ahead… call her lawyer and call Anson.”

Anson paced up and down in his sitting-room. Every now and then, he looked impatiently at the clock on the sideboard.

It was five minutes to nine o’clock. Then suddenly the telephone bell rang.

For a moment he hesitated, then picked up the receiver. It was Harmas.

“I’ve fixed it!” Harmas exclaimed. “Phew! I’m pretty near a wreck! Maddox has agreed to settle the claim. You have yourself to thank for it! If you hadn’t been selling so much insurance in the district, Maddox would never have agreed, but even he can see that he would only be spoiling your territory if we fought the claim.”

“You really mean… there’s no trick in this?”

Anson was stiff with suspicion. The idea of Maddox parting with fifty thousand dollars with the evidence he had against Meg seemed impossible.

“Don’t imagine Maddox likes it,” Harmas said and laughed. “He talked first on the telephone with old man Burrows.

He’s sure the woman fixed her husband, but he isn’t sure he can prove it… so, well, he’s letting her get away with it. I’ve called her lawyer. He’ll get the cheque tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Anson said. “Thanks for calling me.”

“That’s okay. I thought you’d like to know. See you sometime,” and Harmas hung up.

Anson slowly replaced the receiver.

Meg Barlowe stirred the fire into a blaze.

The big, dusty room gave her a feeling of security. Having Hogan, his heavy body stretched out on the settee, gave her a feeling of relaxation even though Hogan seemed in a vile mood.

The time was a few minutes after eleven p.m. Meg had left the hospital during the afternoon. As soon as she had got back to the house, she had attempted to call Hogan, but it was some hours before he answered her repeated ringing.

She had asked him to come out right away, but Hogan was busy. He said he would be around about nine o’clock, but he hadn’t arrived before a few minutes after ten.

As soon as he had settled himself and had had a drink, he wanted to know when Meg was going to get the money.

“I don’t know,” she said helplessly. “This guy Jameson is supposed to be smart. He’s put in the claim, but I haven’t heard anything.”

“You get after him tomorrow,” Hogan snarled. “Chase him! I know lawyers. If you don’t keep after them, they sit on their tails and do nothing.”

Meg nodded.

“I’ll get after him. What are we going to do about Anson?”

Hogan scowled at her.

“Nothing… you give him the brush-off. What can he do? As soon as we get the money you give it to me to handle. You give him the air. You understand?”

Meg stared at him.

“I’ll give you the money Jerry, but I’ll also give you Anson to handle. He still has Phil’s gun.”

Hogan half sat up; his eyes alert. “What are you talking about?”

“I have already warned you about Anson,” Meg said. “There’s something about him that scares me. He’s coldblooded.

It’s fine for you to tell me to give him the brush off. What about me? He could do anything… he could kill me!”

“Yeah? He can’t do a damn thing!” Hogan snarled. “Can’t you see, you dope, that unless he wants to stick himself into the gas chamber, he can’t do a thing? We have him over a barrel. You get the money, tell him to go to hell, and give me the money… it’s as simple as that.”

“I wish it was,” Meg said, clenching her fists. “You don’t know him the way I do. He’s ruthless. His mind is set on getting money.”

Hogan swung his legs off the settee and sat up. His thick fingers closed around the buckle of his belt. With a quick movement he released the buckle and whipped the thin leather belt from around his waist.

“Okay, baby,” he said, getting to his feet, “it’s time you had a hiding. You’re getting too big for your pants. A beating…”

He paused as the front door bell rang. They looked at each other.

“Who’s that?” Hogan said, the belt swinging idly, his eyes uneasy.

“Go and find out,” Meg said. “But maybe you would like to beat me first!”

The front door bell rang, loudly and persistently.

Anson got out of his car, opened the double gates and drove the car onto the tarmac drive.

The headlights of the car lit up the garden. Before be turned off the car’s headlights he saw the garden had already lost its magic neatness without Barlowe’s care and discipline.

The time was half past eleven. There was a light on in the sitting-room. He paused for a moment, his hand going into his top coat pocket. His fingers touched the cold butt of Barlowe’s gun, then he walked to the front door and rang the bell.

There was no answer to his ring. He waited, aware of a cold mounting rage inside him, then he put his finger on the bell and held it there.

After a further wait, the front door was suddenly jerked open. The moonlight fell directly on Meg.

Anson remembered the first time he had seen her; in exactly the same position in which she was now standing, but now, of course, it was different. The bruise on her jaw and her slightly swollen eye marred the sensual quality she had.

At the sight of Anson, she drew in a quick, alarmed breath.

“What do you want?” she demanded. “I don’t want you here… go away!”

“Hello, Meg,” Anson said with a deceptively mild smile. “We have things to talk about”

“You’re not coming in!” Meg set herself to slam the door. “I have nothing to say to you!”

Anson made a quick move forward. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a hard shove that sent her staggering back. He entered the hall, shut the front door and then walked past her into the sitting-room.