Джеймс Чейз - There’s Always A Price Tag

‘I dunno. The M.O. will tell us.’ Bromwich sat on the crate in which I was hiding. ‘It beats me why she was left tied up like that. She must have been alive. They wouldn’t tie up a dead woman, would they? But why did they leave her here? This isn’t like a snatch job to leave her here. There’s something wrong in this setup, Lewis.’

‘Yeah,’ Lewis said. ‘It looks to me it’s the work of an amateur. You know that guy Nash bothers me. There’s something too smooth about him. Think he’s hooked up in this?’

‘I don’t know, but I’ll find out. You’re right; there is something about him. One time he worked for Jack Solly. We had Solly in a couple of times and we couldn’t pin anything on him: remember? Birds of a feather—’

‘That’s what I was thinking. He was too glib about how sick Dester was. It’s my bet Dester never was sick.’

I was listening to all this and I was pretty scared.

‘She may have had something to do with it too,’ Bromwich went on. ‘That cord around her wrists and ankles doesn’t fit. It looks like a plant to me.’

‘All the same, you don’t fake that bruise she’s got there.’

‘That’s right.’

Footsteps sounded in the passage, then a new voice said, ‘I’ve checked the other two huts. No one’s in there and no one’s been in there for some time, Lieutenant.’

‘Okay, Jackson. Stick around outside and let me know when the others come.’

There was a long silence, then Bromwich said, ‘I’ve got another idea: one I like a lot. Suppose Dester killed her and tied her this way to make it look like a kidnapping? He could have skipped, hoping we would think he’s in the hands of kidnappers. How do you like that?’

‘Why should he kill her?’ Lewis asked doubtfully.

‘They didn’t hit it off. From what I hear she treated him like a dog. They may have quarrelled on the way to the sanatorium. It was her idea he should go there. Maybe he felt she was railroading him into the joint and he wouldn’t be able to get out once he was in. Maybe he got her to stop the car and then slugged her, brought her out here, found he had killed her and rigged it to look like she had been kidnapped. That could be it, Lewis.’

‘Then he drove back to Hollywood, ditched the car and took a train or a bus somewhere,’ Lewis said. ‘I think you’ve got something there, Lieutenant.’

‘I’m damned sure I have.’ Bromwich slid off the crate. ‘I’ll have a word with the Chief now. You might take a look at those other two huts in case Jackson has missed anything. He’s not as bright as he could be.’

I heard the two men walk down the passage. A moment later I heard the telephone bell tinkle as Bromwich started to dial.

It was now or never. I crawled out of the crate, stepped silently to the half-open door and peered into the passage.

The office door from which Bromwich was telephoning stood half open. I should have to pass it to get to the front entrance. Was the policeman outside or had he gone with Lewis? I heard Bromwich say, ‘We’ve found Mrs. Dester, Chief. Yeah: she’s out at Newmark’s forestry station. She’s dead. Yeah, it looks like murder.’

I crept down the passage, my heart pounding. If Lewis came back now he would walk right into me. I paused outside the office door, holding my breath.

Bromwich was saying, ‘The boys are on their way here. I’ll know more after the M.O.‘s seen her. Yeah, she’s been dead at least thirty hours.’

I inched forward and peered into the office. Bromwich was leaning across the desk, his hat back half turned to me. I didn’t hesitate. Two quick steps took me past the door to the front entrance. Again I paused while I looked out into the dark night. I could see the police car; its headlights cutting a path in the darkness, but I couldn’t see Jackson or Lewis. I heard the telephone bell tinkle as Bromwich hung up. I hadn’t a moment. Drawing in a deep breath, I slid out into the darkness. Pressing my back against the wall of the hut I began to move cautiously away from the police car.

I heard a sound, and looking to my right, I saw Bromwich come to the door and stare across the open space in front of the hut, down towards the highway.

I kept moving until I reached the end of the wall. Looking around it, I could see nothing except darkness. I felt the cool breeze on my face. I could hear Lewis talking somewhere away from me.

I left the shelter of the hut and, crouching low, I began to move in a wide circle towards the barbed-wire gate. I couldn’t see where I was going and I had to test each step as I made it to be sure I shouldn’t blunder into a tree or step on a dry stick or make some sound that would give me away. But as I got further away from the hut, I took more chances and moved faster. Even at that it took me ten minutes to reach the gate.

I paused to look back.

There was no sign of either Bromwich or Lewis, but I caught sight of Jackson as he lolled against the doorway leading into the hut.

I turned and started down the dirt road, moving cautiously at first, then as I got further away, I broke into a run. I was reaching the end of the road when I heard the approaching sirens. Without hesitation I plunged into a clump of bushes and spread out flat on my face.

Two or three minutes later, three police cars swung on to the dirt road and went tearing up the hill towards the forestry station. I let them get on well ahead, then, scrambling to my feet, I ran as hard as I could back to the Buick.

It wasn’t until I was back in Dester’s big, silent house and in the room that Marian had used before moving over to my apartment that the full impact of what Helen’s death meant hit me.

Too much had happened immediately after finding her to give my mind a chance to do more than accept the stunning fact that she was dead, but now, as I sat in a lounging chair, dry-mouthed, my heart still pounding, I realized that in some way I had caused her death.

I remembered in my panic I had hit her far harder than I intended to, but surely a blow on the jaw couldn’t have killed her? It worried me that there had been no congestion of her face to point that she had been suffocated. The police couldn’t charge me with murder if I had left her alive and she had died later because of the gag. The best they could do would be to try to pin a manslaughter rap on me, but if I had killed her with my fist, then they could charge me with murder.

I cursed myself for ever starting this thing. There was now no question of ever getting hold of the three-quarters of a million. I was in a hell of a jam. Below, in the kitchen, was Dester’s body. Very soon the house and its contents would be valued to meet the creditors’ demands, and then the deep-freeze cabinet was certain to be inspected. I had to move his body somewhere before that happened.

If I could plant his body somewhere without being seen, was I safe? I asked myself. From what I had heard, Bromwich was already suspicious of me, but could he prove anything? Had I left any clue in the hut that would give me away? The greatest thing in my favour was that I had no motive for killing Dester or Helen.

What would happen if the police found Dester’s body if I were lucky enough to be able to dump it somewhere? Would they think the kidnappers had lost their nerve, and after accidentally killing Helen, had shot Dester?

Bromwich had seemed to think that Dester had murdered Helen. Suddenly I saw how I could save myself, providing I had a little luck.

If I could get Dester out of the deep-freeze cabinet and take his body somewhere, get his gun that I had lodged in the safe deposit and put it in his hand, wouldn’t it be possible that Bromwich would think that after killing Helen, Dester had had a fit of remorse and had killed himself?