Джеймс Чейз - There’s Always A Price Tag

‘But suppose they think we did it? Suppose we do it so well, they prove it was us who murdered him?’

‘I’ve even got the answer to that one too,’ I said and took Dester’s letter from my pocket. ‘This is a letter Dester gave me to post. It’s to his attorney. Luckily for us I forgot to post it. I’ll read it to you.’

She sat motionless, her beautiful face white and her great green eyes stony while I read the letter to her. When I had finished, she drew in a long, slow breath.

‘The devil!’ she said softly. ‘So it was a trap. He never intended me to get the money. The devil!’

‘Never mind. He was smart, but not smart enough,’ I said, folding the letter and putting it back in my wallet. ‘If something goes wrong; if we make a bad mistake — and we’re not going to make a bad mistake — but if we do, and the police think we murdered him, this letter will keep us out of the death cell. That’s all that worries me. For three-quarters of a million dollars I’m willing to risk a fraud rap, but not a murder rap.’

She held out her hand. ‘I want that letter.’

I shook my head.

‘Sorry, but you’re not having it. I’m keeping it. You’re gorgeous to look at, but I don’t trust you further than I can throw you. This letter is my guarantee against a double cross. If you and I are going to work this scheme, I’m not giving you the slightest chance of tossing me out of a window after you have cashed in nor am I giving you the slightest chance of hanging a murder rap around my neck. No, I’m keeping it. I’ll look after it as I’d look after my life. So long as I have it you will have to toe the line, and when the time comes to split the money, I’ll be sure I’ll get my share.’

She studied me, her face expressionless.

‘I think you had better give that letter to me, Glyn,’ she said. Her voice was almost a caress.

‘You heard what I said.’

‘I want it.’ Her voice sharpened. ‘I must have it!’

‘I’m keeping it. You don’t have to worry. I’ll look after it.’

She shrugged, got slowly to her feet and went over to the dressing-table. She picked up a comb and ran it through her hair.

‘Now you know the setup,’ I said, watching her closely, ‘are you willing to have a shot at it?’

‘I still think it is dangerous,’ she said and put down the comb. ‘I still think this man Maddux will find out what we have done.’

She pulled open a drawer in her dressing-table. I was waiting for just that move. I was on my feet and had crossed to her in two strides. I grabbed hold of her arms, pinning them to her sides and swung her away from the dressing-table. I had just time to see the .25 automatic lying in the drawer before she arched her back and nearly had me over. I knew she was strong by the way she had handled Dester, but I didn’t expect her to be quite as strong as she was. She broke my hold, got one arm free and her fingers, like claws, hooked towards my eyes. I caught her wrist just in time. She slammed against me, her foot hooked around the back of my leg. I tried to keep my balance, then went over on my back on the floor with a crash that shook the house. She came down on top of me, her fingers sinking into my throat. She had a grip like steel. She drove her knee into my chest, bending over me, her lips drawn off her teeth. Her expression turned me cold. I drove my fist into her midriff. I saw the sick look of pain come into her eyes and felt her grip slacken. I hit her again. She couldn’t take that kind of treatment. She suddenly let go of me, scrambled to her feet and made a blind dash back to the dressing-table. I threw out an arm, my hand caught her ankle and brought her down. She squirmed around, her other foot in its bedroom slipper caught me on the side of the head with enough force to daze me. She kicked her imprisoned foot free, got up on hands and knees as I rolled towards her, locking my arms around her waist and pulling her down. She closed with me again, her hands seeking my throat, but this time, I kept my chin down. Using my weight I pinned her under me, but she somehow managed to get her knee against my chest and throw me off. It was my turn to make a dash for the dressing-table. We arrived at the same time. I drove my shoulder against hers, sent her reeling against the wall, dipped into the drawer and snatched up the gun. I swung around, pointing it at her.

‘I don’t want to shoot you,’ I said breathlessly, ‘but I will if you move.’

‘Give me that letter,’ she said in a tight, strangled voice.

‘I said no and I mean no,’ I said. ‘Now get out of the way!’

‘You’ll be sorry.’

‘But not half so sorry as I would be if I gave it to you.’ I began to move forward slowly. She gave ground, circling away from me until I reached the door. I opened it without taking my eyes off her.

‘We’ll have another talk tomorrow,’ I said. ‘Relax. I’m handling this business. All you have to do is to say amen.’

Then I stepped out into the passage, slammed the door, turned and sprinted down the stairs, out of the house and across to the garage.

I slid into the Rolls, started the engine and drove fast down the drive.

I didn’t relax until I had lodged the letter and Dester’s gun in an all-night safe deposit. I put the key of the safe in an envelope, scribbled a note to my bank manager asking him to hold the key until I needed it. I dropped the envelope with the key in it into my bank’s letter box. Then I drove back to the house.

I only slept for a few hours that night. There was a lot to think about and a lot to arrange. I didn’t attempt to think about how to turn Dester’s suicide into a murder. There was time for that, but what I had to work out was how I was to explain away his absence to anyone who asked for him until I had worked out a plan to explain his absence, and how I was to keep the creditors from moving in now they knew he was out of a job and how I could stop them taking over the house and, of course, taking over the deep-freeze cabinet.

I wondered if I could find some out-of-the-way cabin which I could rent and to which I could move the deep-freeze cabinet, but, thinking about it, I decided the risk would be too great. Helen and I couldn’t possibly handle the cabinet on our own. It was much too heavy. If it got out that we had moved the cabinet, the police or Maddux might just possibly hit on my scheme. The cabinet had to stay where it was: in sight of everyone, and I had to hope and pray it wouldn’t cross anyone’s mind to look inside it.

By the time the sun came up, I had got my first moves fairly well worked out. I got up just after six o’clock and walked over to the house.

I went up to Helen’s bedroom, turned the handle and pushed open the door.

The early sun came through the slats of the blinds. She was lying on her back, her glistening red hair spread out on the pillow, one arm above her head. She was smoking and she looked at me as I came in, her face expressionless.

I shut the door, went over to the bed and sat beside her.

‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Still hating me?’

‘What have you done with the letter?’ she asked, staring up at me.

‘It’s in a safe deposit where no one but me can get at it. Forget the letter. There’s no point in us fighting. We’ve got ourselves a three-quarters of a million dollar partnership. What have we to fight about?’

She didn’t say anything, but looked away, moving her long legs under the sheet restlessly.

‘Well, you’ve had a few hours to think it over,’ I went on. ‘What’s the verdict? Do I go after the money or don’t I?’

‘How will you do it?’

‘I don’t know — yet. I’m not even going to think about how I’m going to do it unless I’m sure you’re in it with me. This I do know: we have ninety-nine chances out of a hundred of pulling it off. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, and I wouldn’t touch it if I thought for a moment we could slip up. Are you in with me or not?’