James Chase - Strictly For Cash

“Toscanini is conducting,” she said. “Could you bear it?”

“Go ahead.”

I had never heard Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony; for that matter I had never heard any symphony, and I had only the vaguest idea what it was all about. But when the music came pouring out into the sunlit silence, its richness and its surging onrush had me gripping my chair. And when it was finally over, Virginia leaned forward and shut off the radio and looked at me enquiringly.

“Well?”

“I’ve never heard anything like that before,” I said. “I’ve steered clear of that kind of music. I thought it was only for highbrows.”

“Does that mean you liked it?”

“I don’t know about that. It did something to me, if that’s anything. All that sound, the movement, the way that fella built it up — well, I guess it was something.”

“Like some more?”

“Is there any?”

“I have records inside. The Ninth’s even better. The choral’ll make your hair stand on end.”

“Then I’d like to hear it.”

She stood up.

“Come and help me load up. I’ve one of these record-changing gadgets.”

I followed her into the big lounge: a comfortable, well-furnished room, full of books and water-colours I guessed were hers.

Against the wall was a massive radiogram, and by it a cabinet full of records.

“Is this place yours?” I asked, looking round.

“Oh, yes, but I don’t come here often. I don’t get the chance. When I’m not here I rent it to a girlfriend who writes novels. She’s in New York right now, but she’ll be back in a couple of weeks.”

“And where will you be?”

“Anywhere. I might be in China, for all I know.”

That was a disturbing thought.

“But you’re here for a couple of weeks?”

“Possibly three.”

She loaded the record holder, putting on Beethoven’s Ninth and the Eroica.

She sat on the settee away from the radiogram and I sat in an armchair near the open casement windows where I could see the beach.

She was right about the choral in the Ninth. It did make my hair stand on end. When the Eroica came to an end she loaded the record holder with a symphony by Mendelssohn and another by Schubert, saying she wanted me to hear the differences in their technique.

It was getting on for seven o’clock by the time we were through playing records, and that still gave me five more hours before midnight.

“You wouldn’t care to go someplace for dinner?” I asked. “Nowhere very grand. I don’t want to go back and change. But maybe you’ve a date, or something.”

I waited for her to turn me down, but she didn’t.

“Have you been to Raul’s yet?”

“No. Where’s that?”

“Oh, it’s part of your education to go to Raul’s. It’s on the waterfront. Let’s go. It’s fun.”

We went to Raul’s in her Lincoln convertible. It was a small Greek restaurant full of lighted fish tanks set in the walls, plush seats and gilt-framed mirrors.

Raul himself, a fat, cheerful Greek, waited on us. He said he knew just what we’d like. He didn’t consult us, and started us with bean soup, then turtle steaks and young asparagus shoots and baked guava duff to follow.

While we ate, we talked. Don’t ask me what we talked about. All I can remember was she was the easiest person in the world to talk to, and there wasn’t one moment’s silence during the whole meal.

We went on the verandah, overlooking the waterfront, and had coffee and brandy, and talked some more. By the time we had finished the coffee I was calling her Ginny and she was calling me Johnny. It seemed like we had known each other for years.

Later we walked along the waterfront and watched the fishing-boats going out for a night’s fishing. She told me she had gone out in one of them the last time she was in Lincoln Beach.

“You must go, Johnny,” she said. “Out beyond the bar the water is phosphorous. It’s like sailing through a sea of fire. And the fish are phosphorous, too, and when they pull in the nets, it’s marvellous. Let’s go, Johnny, one night. It’ll be fun, and you’ll love it.”

“Why, sure,” I said. “We will. Maybe you can...” I broke off as a street clock not far away started to chime, and I stood still, counting the chimes, and each stroke was like a bang under the heart with a mail-clad fist.

Ten... eleven... twelve.

“What’s the matter, Johnny?” she asked, looking at me.

“Nothing. I’ve got to get back. I’ve just remembered a very important date...” That was as far as I could get. It came to me like a punch in the face that for the past eight hours I’d been living in a pipe-dream.

“I’ll drive you back. We won’t be ten minutes.”

We got into the car. My mouth had dried up and the back of my throat ached, and my heart was going like a steam-hammer. She must have guessed something was wrong, but she didn’t ask questions. She drove fast. We reached the casino gates in seven minutes. I knew that because I kept my eyes glued to the clock on the dashboard.

I got out of the car. My knees were shaking. Reisner, Della and the lion pit were now as real as the warm wind against my cold, sweating face.

“So long, and thanks,” I said, and my voice croaked. I wanted to say something else, make a date, let her know how wonderful I thought she was, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Are you in trouble, Johnny?” she asked anxiously.

“No. It’s all right. I’ll look out for you.”

I left her sitting in the car, wide-eyed and startled, and I walked towards the gates of the casino.

The guards opened them. The one with the green eyes gaped at me, and caught his breath sharply, but I walked on past him and headed up the long, green-lit carriageway.

I pushed open the door of the cabin and walked in. The radio was playing muted swing, and every light in the room was on.

Della was lying on the divan, a cigarette between her lips, her face as expressionless as a china mask, and as hard. She still had on the blue wrap, and her bands were clasped behind her head.

My eyes flickered from her to where he had been lying, but he wasn’t there, and I felt my heart contract.

“Where is he?”

“In there.” She pointed to the bathroom. “Where have you been?”

“Killing time. Did anyone...?”

“I told you to keep them away from here, didn’t I?” There was suppressed fury in her voice.

“I did.”

“They phoned three times, and Louis came rapping on the door. Do you call that keeping them away?”

“I told them you weren’t to be disturbed.”

“That was at half-past three. When you left here. What happened after that? At six o’clock they really began to look for him. That’s when you should have been around. Where were you?”

I was more scared of her than I was of the dead body in the bathroom. I knew instinctively she must never find out about Ginny.

“I got lost. I went down to the beach.” The words ran out of my mouth in a blurred stream. “I took the wrong turning. I got snarled up in a forest.”

She studied me, and I couldn’t meet her eyes.

“You tried to run away, Johnny.”

I didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.

“You’re lucky I told the guards to stop you. You’d be under arrest by now.”

“I wasn’t trying to get away,” I said. “I was going for a ride. I went instead for a hell of a long walk, but I came back.”

She stared at me for a moment or so, then shrugged.

“Well, they’re still looking for him. I had to tell them he left me at six. I said I thought he was going for a swim.”

“Who’s looking for him?”

“That fat fool Louis and Miss Doering.” She stubbed out her cigarette. “I’ve done my share in this. You’d better do yours. You know what to do. Be careful. They’re still out there searching the beach.”