Джеймс Чейз - There’s Always A Price Tag

Time was moving. I didn’t like leaving her there to come to in the dark, but I had to. Although I had hit her harder than I had intended, I didn’t think she would remain out for more than a few minutes.

I took the flashlight and went quickly out of the room, closing the door behind me. I went down the passage, pulled the entrance door shut and hurried over to the Rolls. I put the camel-hair coat and the hat in the suitcase which already held Dester’s shoes and suit. I dumped the suitcase in the boot, then I took from my pocket one of those clip-on moustaches you buy at a novelty store and attached it to my upper lip. I had a check cap in my hip pocket. This I put on and pulled well down over my eyes. I took a look at myself in the driving mirror.

Then I headed for the highway.

At twenty minutes past one o’clock I drove through the gateway of Dester’s residence and parked the Buick outside the garage. I looked towards the house. One lone light showed in Marian’s bedroom window. I got out of the Buick and went up to my apartment. I washed my face and hands, then poured myself out a stiff shot of whisky. I was feeling pretty bad, shaking and scared, but I had had a lot of luck. I had passed only two cars on the way back to Hollywood, and they were going fast. I had ditched the Rolls in a side street not too far from the street where I had left the Buick and no one had seen me leave the car. I had taken the suitcase to a bus station and had left it in the left-luggage office. The guy who gave me the ticket was sleepy and scarcely looked at me. He had tossed the suitcase on a shelf alongside a dozen other cases, and by the time he had turned, I was halfway to the door. I had torn up the ticket and had thrown it away.

On my way back to the Buick I had dumped the check cap in a trash bin and dropped the moustache down a drain.

The car-park attendant had gone home and the parking lot was deserted. There were only three other cars, besides the Buick there, and no one saw me drive the Buick away.

I felt better after the drink, and better still when I had had another. I sat down in an armchair and waited.

While I waited I thought about Helen out there in the hut, the cords biting into her wrists and ankles, her face aching like hell and I felt pretty low. Maybe I shouldn’t have hit her. I could have roughed her up a little instead of slamming into her as I had done. But I knew it had to be convincing. I was sure when she had got over it, she would agree I had done right, but I worried all the same.

I sat there, sweating it out until half past two. Then just as I was getting out of the chair to go over to the house, the telephone bell rang.

The sound of the bell pretty nearly made me hit the ceiling. For a long moment I stared at the telephone, my heart thudding and my skin toning clammy. Then I walked over to it and lifted the receiver.

‘Glyn?’

I recognized Marian’s voice.

‘Yes. I was just coming over.’

‘I’m worried. Mrs. Dester hasn’t come.’

‘I know. I dozed off, then woke up and went down to see if the Rolls was in the garage. I’m coming over.’ I hung up, took another shot of Scotch, then leaving the apartment, I went over to the house.

I found Marian in a dressing gown waiting for me in the lounge.

‘Do you think there’s been an accident?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. She’s probably staying the night at the sanatorium.’

‘But she said she would be back tonight.’

‘She may have changed her mind.’

Marian moved restlessly about the room. I tried to appear casual, and I crossed over to the bar for a cigarette.

‘Don’t you think you should call the sanatorium, Glyn? Something may have happened to Mr. Dester. He was pretty shaky.’

‘You saw him then?’

My heart was thudding again. I was careful not to look at her as I lit my cigarette.

‘Yes, I saw him. Please call the sanatorium. I have a feeling something’s wrong.’

‘Okay.’

I put the call through. I got the night supervisor who told me that although they were expecting Dester, he hadn’t shown up. I thanked him and replaced the receiver.

‘They haven’t arrived?’ Marian asked, alarm in her eyes.

‘No. It looks as if they’ve either had a breakdown or an accident.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘This is tricky. I don’t know what to do. Dester’s supposed to be in New York. If it gets out he is going into a sanatorium, his creditors will move in. He owes thousands.’

‘But you must tell the police. They may know something.’

‘We should have heard if they had.’

‘They may be lying somewhere on the road. You must call the police, Glyn.’

‘There’s certain to be some damned newspaper man who’ll pick it up.’

‘You must call them! You just can’t do nothing!’

‘Well, all right. It certainly looks bad.’

I went over to the telephone, dialled police headquarters and waited while the connection was made. I was aware of a cold, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. This was it. There was no turning back now. Once the cops were in, they would stay in to the end.

A hard voice that sounded like a handful of gravel being tossed against a concrete wall barked in my ear: ‘Police headquarters. What is it?’

I thought from now on I was going to hear voices like that: suspicious, barking voices that would probe and yell at me. From now on I was in the middle of it. There was no backing out now: no change of mind. It would be me against a bunch of hard-eyed, gritty-voiced policemen and as a make-weight, there would be Maddux.

Taking a deep, long breath, I began to talk.

Dester may have been a drunk and he may have been washed up in the movie business, but I quickly discovered that he was still an important figure in the eyes of the police.

I expected the desk sergeant, when I told him Dester and his wife had been missing for a couple of hours, would promise to inquire around at the hospitals and check the accident detail and let me know if he heard anything, but he shook me by saying he would send someone out to the house right away.

‘You’d better get dressed,’ I said to Marian. ‘We’re going to have visitors. There’s no news of an accident. It beats me what’s happened to them.’

Looking worried and a little scared, Marian left the lounge. I turned up Edwin Burnett’s number in the telephone book and called his house. I got him out of bed after a long delay and told him the news. He seemed pretty startled.

‘You say the police are coming over?’

‘That’s right. I thought maybe you’d want to be here.’

But he hedged. It was just after three o’clock, and I guessed he didn’t want to make the trip at that time in the morning.

‘You can handle it, can’t you, Nash? Give me a call at ten o’clock at my office and let me know what’s happening.’ He gave me the number. ‘It may be they have only had a breakdown. If the Press get on to you, don’t tell them anything.’

‘That’s easier said than done, Mr. Burnett,’ I said.

‘I know, but we’ve got to be careful not to embarrass Mrs. Dester.’

I suddenly heard the faint note of an approaching siren. The sound chilled me.

‘I think the police are arriving now. I’ll call you at ten,’ I said and hung up.

I crossed the hall and opened the front door just as the police car pulled up.

Two men got out, both in plain clothes. They came up the steps, and I stood aside to let them in.

One of them was a short, fat man with reddish hair, a fiery complexion and a mass of freckles. At a guess he was nudging forty-five or so. He had pale blue eyes that looked like blobs of frozen water. The other detective was taller, younger and dark, with a hatchet face and intent staring eyes.