James Chase - Just Another Sucker

Five or six minutes later, O’Reilly came through the swing doors and joined me on the patio.

During those minutes I had got over the shock of my discovery. I had had time to consider more fully the likelihood that he was Odette’s killer. He seemed fitted for the job. I told myself I would have to be careful not to give him any idea that I had spotted his slip and was suspicious of him. By now, Rhea would have warned him that I had the tapes. This should jolt him as much as it had jolted her, but it didn’t incriminate him. Somehow I had to pin Odette’s murder on him before the police pinned it on me.

As he came towards me, silently and smoothly, the way a boxer moves, I had to make an effort to keep my face expressionless.

‘All set?’

‘Yeah.’

He gave no sign that he knew I had the tapes. His hard fleshy face was a little thoughtful, but that was all.

We went together out of the house and down to the police car.

‘Has Mr. Malroux been told?’ I asked as I slid under the driving wheel.

‘Yeah.’ He settled himself in beside me. ‘Tough on him — his only daughter.’

‘Mrs. Malroux took it in her stride,’ I said as I drove down the carriageway, ‘Did she and the girl get along together?’

‘They got along fine,’ O’Reilly said, his voice sharpening a little. ‘She’s not the demonstrative type.’

I decided to stick the knife in hard and turn it.

‘The Lieutenant was saying Mrs. Malroux now comes into all her husband’s money. The girl’s death is pretty convenient for her. The girl would have collected half Malroux’s fortune if she had lived: now the wife grabs the lot.’

He shifted his solid, muscular body. I didn’t risk looking at him.

‘There was enough for the two of them, I guess,’ he said. I couldn’t be sure but I had an idea there was a sudden uneasy note in his voice.

‘Some women are never content with the half of anything. Mrs. Malroux strikes me as the type who wouldn’t share a breath of air with anyone.’

I felt him stare at me. I didn’t look his way.

‘The Lieutenant thinks that?’

‘I haven’t asked him.’

There was a pause, then he said, ‘That was a smart idea of his to print that photograph. The guy in the photograph looked a lot like you.’

That counter-attack didn’t faz me.

‘It was me,’ I said. ‘We had a description of a man who was seen with the girl at the Pirates’ Cabin.

His build matched mine. I volunteered to act as a model.’

That held him.

‘Come to think of it,’ I went on, ‘you’re the same build too.’

He didn’t say anything to that one.

We drove two blocks in silence, then I said, ‘They found the briefcase. It was in the stolen car with the body.’

His big, powerful hand was lying on his knee. I saw it give a little jump.

‘You mean they recovered the ransom?’

‘I didn’t say that: they have found the briefcase: it was full of old newspapers. Did you know there were two briefcases — exactly alike?’

Again I felt him look at me.

‘Yeah.’

‘Know what I think? I think someone switched the cases before Malroux left to deliver the ransom. It could easily have been done.’

That really hit him. He dropped his cigarette.

‘What are you getting at? Who would switch the cases?’

There was a sudden harsh note in his voice. He bent and recovered the cigarette, then tossed it out of the window.

‘It’s just a theory of mine. The way I figure it is this: the girl gets kidnapped. The old man gets the ransom money ready. His wife suddenly gets a bright idea. If the kidnappers are double-crossed, the girl will be murdered. With the girl out of the way, Mrs. Malroux collects the whole of the estate — not just half of it. So she puts a bundle of newspapers in the other briefcase and switches the cases just before Malroux leaves to deliver the ransom. She then has five hundred grand spending money, she has got rid of her stepdaughter, and when the old man dies, she collects all the millions.’

He sat absolutely motionless for some moments before saying in a hard, tight voice, ‘Did the Lieutenant think anything of that?’

‘I haven’t told him yet. It’s just a theory of mine.’

‘Yeah?’ He shifted around in his seat to glare at me. ‘Look, take my tip and don’t let your imagination run away with you. These folks have plenty of influence. You start a rumour like that without proof and you’ll land yourself in plenty of trouble.’

‘I know that,’ I said. ‘I was just coasting. How do you like the idea yourself?’

‘It stinks,’ he said, a savage note in his voice. ‘Mrs. Malroux would never do such a thing.’

‘Is that right? Well, I’ll take your word for it. You know her better than I do.’

I swung the car into the police yard before he could come back on that. I pulled up and got out.

We walked together to the morgue. I stood aside to let him go in first.

Renick and Barty were sitting on one of the tables, talking together. Away in a corner on another table was a sheet-covered body.

O’Reilly shook hands with Renick and nodded to Barty.

‘So you found her,’ he said.

I was watching him. He was as unmoved and as tough-looking as any cop could be.

I watched him cross the room with Renick, then I turned away as Renick flicked back the sheet. I was sweating again.

I heard Renick say, ‘Is that her?’

‘Sure is — poor kid. So she was strangled. Any angles yet, Lieutenant?’

‘Not yet. How did the old man take the news?’

‘He’s pretty bad.’ O’Reilly shook his head. ‘The doctor’s with him now.’

‘Tough.’

They came back to where Barty and I were standing.

‘Okay, O’Reilly,’ Renick said. ‘Thanks for coming. I don’t need to keep you. I’ve got to get on.’

‘Anything to oblige, Lieutenant,’ O’Reilly said. He shook hands, nodded to Barty, gave me a hard stare and went out.

Renick said to a plain clothes man who was lounging against the wall:

‘Tell the doc he can have her now.’

Jerking his head at me, he left the morgue and crossed the yard. Barty and I followed him.

‘What did she say about the dress, Harry?’ Renick asked as we all went down the long corridor to the office that had been put at Renick’s disposal.

‘She knew about it. She bought it herself. It’s a beach dress the girl kept in her car. When she went down on the beach she put it on to save a better dress she happened to be wearing.’

Renick pushed open the door to the office and we crowded in.

‘I wonder why she changed,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Something there that doesn’t add up.’ He sat down behind the desk and put up his feet.

Barty and I found chairs.

‘Why was that briefcase full of newspapers?’ Barty asked. ‘That puzzles me.’

‘And where’s the ransom?’ Renick picked up a letter opener and started to dig holes in the blotter.

‘You know I keep coming back to the idea she was kidnapped by someone who knew her. The fact this guy used Jerry Williams’s name points to it. We’d better check all her men friends and find out what they were doing at the time she was at the Pirates’ Cabin. Will you see to that?’

Barty got to his feet.

‘Right away.’

When he had gone, Renick said to me, ‘As soon as the doc is through, we’ll get that dress photographed. Someone may have noticed her wearing it.’

There came a tap on the door and a police officer looked in.

‘There’s a guy out here, waiting to see you,’ he said. ‘His name is Chris Keller. It’s to do with the photograph in the newspaper this morning.’

‘Shoot him in,’ Renick said, removing his feet from the desk.