James Chase - Just Another Sucker

I walked to the garage doors. I had trouble in fitting the key into the lock. As I opened one of the doors, the faint, but unmistakable smell of death came to me, and I paused, fighting nausea and panic.

I closed the door and turned on my torch. It took me several seconds to screw up my nerve to approach the trunk. It took me nearly a minute to fit the key into the lock.

I stood there, sweat on my face, my breathing hard and fast, my heart pounding while I willed myself to lift the trunk lid.

I swung it up.

The shaking light I held in my hand lit up the cheap blue and white dress, the long, beautiful legs, and the small feet in ballet shoes resting against the spare tyre.

The briefcase lay by the body. I snatched it up and slammed down the lid of the trunk. Sour bile was rising in my mouth and I fought down the urgent need to vomit. My whole body was crawling with the horror of the situation. I controlled myself, forced myself to lock the trunk, then the garage doors and then I walked quickly back to the bungalow.

Nina was waiting. The strain was showing on her face. It seemed to me she was older, thinner and very tense.

I put the briefcase on the table.

‘I’ll have that drink now,’ I said huskily.

She had the drink ready. The whisky braced me. I took out my handkerchief and wiped my face.

‘Steady, darling,’ Nina said gently.

‘I’m all right.’

I lit a cigarette and drew smoke down into my lungs.

‘I’ll open it,’ Nina said and moved to the briefcase.

‘No! Don’t touch it! Your fingerprints mustn’t be found on it.’

I took up the case. There was a clip lock on it: it was easy to open. I pressed down the catch and flicked back the flap over. I turned the case upside down and emptied its contents on the table.

I expected a cascade of money. I expected to see dozens and dozens of packets of currency bills.

Instead about thirty newspapers spilled out onto the table: old newspapers, some of them soiled, but just newspapers.

There was no money — just old, soiled newspapers!

I heard Nina catch her breath sharply.

I was too stunned to move. I could only stare at the newspapers, scarcely believing what I saw. Then the realisation came with the force of a sledge hammer blow.

There was no money — I wouldn’t be able to hire a car!

‘We’re sunk,’ I said as I stared helplessly at Nina. ‘We really are sunk.’

Nina flicked through the newspapers as if hoping to find some of the money between the folds of the sheets, then she stared at me.

‘But what’s happened to it? Did someone steal it?’

‘No, the briefcase wasn’t out of my sight until I locked it in the trunk.’

‘But what’s happened to the money? Do you think Malroux never intended to pay?’

‘I’m sure he intended to pay. The money meant nothing to him. He would have known if he had tried a trick like that he would be risking his daughter’s life.’

Then I suddenly remembered the other briefcase: the replica Renick had asked me to get photographed.

‘There were two briefcases: exactly alike. One of them contained the ransom money, the other these newspapers. They must have been switched as Malroux was leaving.’

‘Who could have switched them?’

‘Rhea. Of course! It sticks out like a sore thumb. At the time it struck me as odd that she should have trusted me to collect all that money. I was fool enough to think she had no alternative, but of course she had. She prepared the other case, waited her opportunity and switched the cases. She never had any intention of trusting me nor Odette. That’s why she didn’t come to the cabin. She didn’t have to. She had the money before Malroux left the house. I risked my neck for a caseful of newspapers! I’ll bet she never even intended to pay me the fifty thousand she promised me. She’s played me for a sucker, and she’s got away with it!’

Nina said quietly, ‘What are we going to do now, Harry?’

That brought me up with a jolt.

‘What can we do? Without a car, we’re sunk!’

‘There are dozens of cars in this street and in Pacific Boulevard that are left out all night. We must take one of those.’

I stared at her.

‘You mean — steal it?’

‘We borrow it,’ Nina said firmly. ‘We bring it here, put her in it, then drive it round the corner and leave it. The car will be reported stolen, the police will find it and the girl.’ She gripped my hand. ‘I can’t bear the thought of leaving her in that mine, Harry. She must be found and found quickly.’

I hesitated, but I realised what she had said made sense.

‘It’s a risk, but you’re right. There’s no other way.’ I looked at my watch. The time was a little after eleven. ‘I’ll go out and see if I can spot a car that’s not locked.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘Okay.’

I put the newspapers away in the briefcase, and the case in a cupboard, then we left the bungalow.

Arm-in-arm, we strolled up the street like any couple for an airing before going to bed.

We reached Pacific Boulevard that ran parallel with our road. There were a number of cars standing at the kerb on either side of the street. We finally came on an old Mercury, and both of us paused.

‘This could do,’ I said.

Nina nodded. We looked up and down the street, then she opened her bag and took out a pair of gloves.

‘Let me do this,’ she said and backed up against the car. As she put on the gloves, she went on, ‘Put your arms around me, Harry. Make it look as if we’re courting. I’ll try the door.’

I took her in my arms.

If anyone was looking out of any of the many windows overlooking the street, they would have seen a man and a woman holding each other, the woman leaning against the car. It was a sight you could see in any street.

Nina said, ‘The door isn’t locked.’

I drew away from her and looked up at the house before which the car was standing. There were lights on in the upper rooms, but the lower rooms were in darkness.

Nina opened the car door and slid under the driving wheel, pulling the door to. I lit a cigarette while I kept a sharp look-out, up and down the street.

She was out again almost at once.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, taking my arm and moving away from the car. ‘The ignition isn’t locked.’

‘We can’t do a thing until after one o’clock,’ I said. ‘We’d better go back.’

‘Let’s walk. I don’t want to sit at home and wait.’

I could understand that, so we walked slowly down to the sea. That part of the beach was deserted.

We sat on the sea wall and looked across the bay at the distant lights of Palm City.

‘Harry,’ Nina said after a while, ‘are you sure the girl was murdered? She couldn’t have committed suicide?’

‘Not a chance. She was strangled. No, she was murdered all right.’

‘Who could have done it?’

‘I keep asking myself that. Unless it was some maniac who saw her going to the cabin and attacked her, then it’s my bet Rhea is responsible. She has the motive.’ I went on to tell Nina what Tim Cowley had told me about the hereditary laws of France.

‘If Odette had lived, she would have inherited half Malroux’s enormous fortune by right. Malroux is a dying man. It’s pretty convenient for Rhea that Odette should die like this, but I can’t believe she killed the girl herself. I’m willing to bet this alibi of hers — being ill and taking a sedative — will stand up. She’s too smart to be caught out in a false alibi. Sooner or later, Renick will get around to the fact Odette was to inherit half the fortune. If he suspects the kidnapping was faked, this motive will put him onto Rhea, and she’s smart enough to know it.’