Джеймс Чейз - There’s Always A Price Tag

I reached the opening to the road after six or seven minutes. There was no moon; only stars, and it wasn’t easy to see where I was going. I moved as silently as I could, not hurrying. I kept to the centre of the road, my ears and eyes alert.

It took me a little over a quarter of an hour to reach the barbed-wire gate. I could just make out the outlines of the gate in the semi-darkness. It stood open, the way I had left it when I had driven away the previous night.

I stood still, staring at the gate. Did that mean anything? Did it mean no one had been here since last night? Or was this a smart move of the police to lull me into walking into their trap?

My heart was beating violently as I stood listening, staring beyond the gate at the dim outlines of the three huts. There was no sign of life, no light showed, and the only sound I could hear was the thumping of my heart.

I moved forward cautiously, and finally reached the hut where I had left Helen. I paused outside the door, listening, then very gently I put my hand on the door and pushed. It moved and swung open.

Why hadn’t the lock been repaired? It was just as I had left it. Could this mean no one had been to the hut or was this again a smart move of the police who were waiting for me somewhere in the darkness beyond?

I had to see. I couldn’t run away now, although I wanted to. I took out my flashlight and thumbed down the switch. The bright beam lit up the passage. The doors on either side of the passage were shut. I moved forward, making no sound, listening, my heart pounding. Slowly, I crept down the passage to the door leading into the room where I had left Helen. The door stood ajar.

I couldn’t remember if I had left it like that or if I had closed it.

Were the police in there, waiting for me?

I couldn’t nerve myself to push open the door. I stood, staring at it, the beam of my flashlight lighting up the panels.

In a croaking whisper I said, ‘Is anyone there?’

The silence that came out of the room was like a physical thing: worse even than the sound of a voice.

I took another step forward, reached out a shaking hand, and touched the door panel. The door swung open with a little squeak that set my teeth on edge.

I sent the beam of the flashlight into the room, along the floor to where I had left Helen.

The beam picked up the pale green of her skirt and her long, slender legs in their torn nylon stockings.

I stood staring at her, scarcely believing my eyes. I could see the cord still around her ankles. I moved forward, cold and shaking. The light moved up her body to her face. The silk scarf was still tightly bound around her mouth. Her eyes were half open, and they looked sightlessly into the beam of the light.

She looked shrunken and like a doll. The dreadful grey, waxy texture of her skin told me she was dead.

How long I stood staring down at her, I shall never know. It was only when I heard a car coming up the dirt road and saw the reflection of its headlights through the window that I was galvanized into action. I lurched to the window and looked out.

The car was coming through the gateway. The red glow on the hood told me it was a police car.

For perhaps three or four seconds I stood rooted, staring out of the window, staring at the approaching car, and when finally it sank into my paralysed mind that in a moment they would be in here and would catch me red-handed, it was too late to escape by the front entrance.

Feverishly I tried to raise the window, but it had jammed and my efforts made no impression on it. I heard the entrance door open. I was now trapped in this room. In seconds they would come in and find me.

I looked wildly around for a hiding place. Right by me were the four big, wooden crates. Dropping down on hands and knees I eased one of them from the wall. I was lucky. This one was empty and without a lid. I turned it on its side with the open end towards the wall and I slid into it. There was just room for me to squat down. It wasn’t much of a hiding place, but there was just the chance they wouldn’t expect anyone to be hiding here and wouldn’t search the room.

I heard a man’s voice say, ‘Stay with the car, Jackson. Come on, let’s have a look at this joint.’

My heart contracted as I recognized Bromwich’s voice.

I heard him walk into the passage, turn a door handle and walk into the office I had entered when I had first come here.

Lewis’s voice said sharply, ‘See that, the window’s broken.’

‘Doesn’t mean anything,’ Bromwich said curtly. ‘This place has been up for sale now for a month. The news gets around. Probably some bum broke in to see what he could pick up.’

‘There was someone out here last night,’ Lewis said. ‘Car lights were seen from the highway. This could be where they were brought after they were snatched, Lieutenant. They were heading this way when MacTavish passed them.’

Bromwich grunted. ‘Nothing in here.’

I heard them come out and cross the passage into the room on the right. I was suspended in a cold, terrified vacuum. If they found me here, they would think I had killed her and they’d send me to the gas chamber.

‘I guess we’re wasting our time,’ Bromwich said from the other room. ‘I still think they’ve skipped. Ditching the car could be his idea of throwing us off his trail. While we’re working on this kidnapping idea, he’s probably on a ship for Europe.’

‘The Chief doesn’t think so,’ Lewis said.

‘He looks for trouble,’ Bromwich said sourly, ‘but he doesn’t have to run himself ragged like I do. I’d think it was a snatch myself if all I had to do was to sit behind a desk and hand out cockeyed orders.’

‘We may as well check this last room,’ Lewis said.

I held my breath as I heard the door push open. The beam of a powerful flashlight swung into the room. I closed my eyes, squeezing myself against the wall of the crate.

‘For sweet Pete’s sake!’ Bromwich exclaimed.

I heard him move forward.

‘It’s the Dester woman!’ Lewis said. His voice sounded excited. ‘The description fits her. Is she cold?’

‘Been dead thirty hours at least,’ Bromwich said. ‘My stars! This is going to start something.’

‘So they were snatched,’ Lewis said. ‘Think Dester’s body is anywhere around?’

‘How the hell should I know?’ Bromwich snapped. ‘I’ve got to get the boys up here. Let’s see if the telephone in the other room’s still connected. You stay here.’

I heard him run down the passage while Lewis lit a cigarette and began to prowl around the room. He paused beside the wooden crates and gave one of them a tentative kick. I remained motionless, sweating, my breath held, my heart hammering.

I could hear Bromwich bawling on the telephone. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. In about an hour, probably less, the whole forestry station would be crawling with police. If I were going to get away I had to do it before they arrived.

Lewis must have tried the light switch for the room suddenly sprang alight.

‘Well, at least the light’s not disconnected, Lieutenant,’ he called.

About five minutes later, Bromwich came back into the room.

‘They’re on their way. Tell Jackson to take a look at the other two huts. Dester may be in one of them.’

Lewis went away. I could hear Bromwich moving about the room. He hummed under his breath. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but every time he passed close to the crates, I held my breath.

‘He’s taking a look,’ Lewis said, coming back into the room. I heard him move over to where Helen lay. ‘She’s certainly been knocked about. Think she was suffocated by that gag?’