James Chase - Strictly For Cash

Della pulled more to the right. The offside wheels banged and bumped along the grass verge. I saw her struggling frantically with the wheel, trying to keep the car straight.

The driver of the approaching car just didn’t seem to see us. I heard Paul yell.

The car was on us now. It sideswiped us as it went past. Della screamed. There came a crunching, ripping noise. The car that had hit us slewed across the road, then crashed into the thickets. I grabbed hold of the dashboard as I felt the Bentley lift. The windshield suddenly turned into a spider’s web of cracks and lines. There was a grinding noise of splintering wood, then a hell of a jolt, and a scorching white light burst before my eyes. Above the grinding, tearing sounds, I heard Della scream again, then the white light snuffed out and darkness came down on me.

The smell of iodoform and ether told me I was in hospital. I made an effort and rolled back eyelids that weighed a ton. A tall, thin guy in a white coat was standing over me. Behind him I could see a fat nurse. There was a bored, harassed expression on her face.

“How do you feel?” the thin guy asked, leaning over me. “Do you feel better?”

He seemed so anxious I hadn’t the heart to tell him I felt like hell. I screwed up a grin and closed my eyes.

Lights flickered behind my eyelids. I felt myself swimming off into misty darkness. I let myself go. Why bother? I thought, you can only die once.

The darkness crept down on me. Time stood still. I slipped off the edge of the world into mists, fog and silence.

It seemed to me I was down in the darkness for a very long time, but after a while lights began to flicker again and I became aware of the bed in which I was lying and the tightness of the sheets. A little later I became aware of the screens. There were tall white screens around the bed, and they worried me. I seemed to remember they only put screens around a bed when the patient was going to croak.

I also became aware that a thickset man was sitting beside me. His hat rested on the back of his head, and he chewed a toothpick, a bored, tired expression on his fleshy, unshaven face. He had copper written all over him.

After a while he noticed my eyes were open, and he shifted forward to peer at me.

“I wouldn’t win a dime with a double-headed coin,” he said in disgust. “Talk about luck! So you have to come to the surface just when I’m signing off.”

A nurse appeared from behind the screen. She also peered at me: not the fat nurse. This one was blonde and pretty.

“Hello,” I said, and my voice sounded miles away.

“You mustn’t talk,” she said severely. “Just lie still and try to sleep.”

“Sleep — hell!” the copper said. “He’s gotta talk. Keep out of this, nurse. He wants to talk, don’t you, pal?”

“Hello, copper,” I said, and closed my eyes.

When I opened them again the thin guy in white was standing over me.

“How am I doing, doc?” I asked.

“You’re doing fine,” he told me. “You’re a miracle.”

I blinked him into focus. He was young and eager and interested. I liked him.

“Where am I?” I asked, and tried to lift my head, but it was too heavy.

“You’ve had an accident. Just take it easy. You’re coming along fine.”

The copper appeared from behind him.

“Can I talk to him?” he asked, an exasperated note in his voice. “Just one or two questions. That can’t hurt him.”

“Make it short,” the doctor said. “He has a bad concussion.”

He stood aside and the copper took his place. He had a notebook in his hand and an inch of blunt pencil in his thick fingers.

“What’s your name, pal?” he asked. “Don’t bear down on it. We just want to get things straightened out.”

“John Farrar,” I told him.

“Address?”

“I haven’t one.”

“You gotta sleep somewhere, haven’t you?”

“I was hitchhiking.”

He blew out his fat cheeks and looked up at the ceiling as if he were praying.

“Well, okay, you were hitchhiking. Got a father or a mother or a wife or someone?”

“No.”

He turned and looked at the doctor.

“Now do you believe I never have any luck? Of all the guys who get snarled up in a car smash I have to pick me an orphan.”

“You’d better cut this short,” the doctor said, his fingers on my pulse. “He’s not fit to talk yet.”

“Wait a minute; wait a minute,” the copper said, licking his pencil. “I’ve got to get this straightened out.” He turned to me again. “Okay, pal. So there’s no one to claim you. Well, how about the dame you was with? Who was she?”

A picture of her floated into my mind with her jet-black hair, her hungry look and the shape she had on her.

“I don’t know. ‘Call me Della if you must call me something.’ That’s what she said. She didn’t tell me her other name.”

The copper groaned.

“How is she?” I went on. “Is she badly hurt?”

“She’s all right,” the doctor said. “Don’t worry about her.”

“And her husband?” I asked.

“What husband?” the copper said, staring at me.

“The guy who was sitting at the back of the car. She said his name was Paul. Is he all right?”

“You don’t have to worry about him, either,” the doctor said.

The copper passed his hand over his face and shook his head. He seemed to be the one who was worrying.

“How did it happen? Maybe you can tell me that,” he said, but there was no hope in his voice.

I couldn’t be bothered to explain about Petelli. That would have taken too long. I wanted to close my eyes and forget about the car smash.

“Another car was coming towards us,” I said. “He was coming fast. He didn’t seem to see us. She tried to get out of his way, but he caught us. What happened to him?”

The copper drew in a deep breath.

“I’ll say it this time,” he said, with heavy sarcasm. “You don’t have to worry about him. Now look, pal, let’s get all this down on the mat and work at it. If you were hitchhiking how come you were driving this Buick?”

It was my turn to stare at him now.

“It was a Bentley, and she was driving. I was sitting at her side, and her husband, Paul, was at the back.”

“Well, smother my old father in a feather bed!” the copper exclaimed. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Then he put his hat on again and pulled aggressively at the brim. “ You were driving! She was at the back! And there was no goddamn husband.” He leaned forward and wagged his finger at me as he bawled, “And the sonofabitch of a car was a Buick!”

I got excited.

“You’ve got it wrong!” I said, clutching hold of the sheet. “I tell you she was driving. The car was a black Bentley coupé. This other car hit us. Ask the driver. He’ll tell you.”

The copper waved his notebook in my face.

“There was no other car! What’s the matter with you? What have you got to lie about?”

“That’s enough,” the doctor said, his voice sharp. “He’s not in a fit state to be shouted at. You must leave him alone, sergeant.”

“I’m not lying!” I said, and tried to sit up. That finished me. A light exploded inside my head, and I took a nosedive into darkness.

It was daylight when I opened my eyes again. The screen at the foot of the bed had been removed, but the screens on either side were still there. I could see another bed facing me. From the sounds going on around me I guessed I was in a ward.

I looked to see if the copper was there, but he wasn’t. I lay still, aware I was feeling a lot better that my head didn’t ache, although it was still sore, and when I moved my arms I could do so without effort.