Джеймс Чейз - There’s Always A Price Tag

Harmas suppressed a yawn.

‘I think you’ve got something,’ he said. ‘I had forgotten the premiums would be returned. What happened to Mrs. Dester then? What went wrong?’

Maddux shrugged.

‘I don’t know and I don’t care. Maybe they quarrelled. Maybe the boyfriend killed her. Maybe Dester killed her. I don’t know. That’s for the police to find out. What I do know is that our client was murdered, and I’m going to take damn good care the killer doesn’t get away with it!’ He suddenly turned and looked at me. ‘Well, Mr. Nash, what do you think of all this? You haven’t said much up to now. Have you any ideas who Mrs. Dester’s boyfriend is?’

I knew now that I had a desperate fight on my hands. I could still get clear if I played my cards right, but if I made one slip, I was through.

‘I don’t know who he is,’ I said, forcing myself to meet his steady, inquiring stare, ‘but I did once see her with someone.’

Maddux smiled. He looked over at Harmas. ‘Do you see? Dig enough and something comes to the surface.’ He turned back to me. ‘When was this, Mr. Nash?’

‘Maybe a week ago. I’m not sure. I happened to be downtown. I saw Mrs. Dester and this man come out of the Brown Derby.’

‘Can you give me a description of him?’

‘Why, yes.’ The words seemed to come out of my mouth without any effort on my part. ‘He was tall, fair, with a blond moustache, around thirty-five or six, good-looking, well-dressed.’

Maddux looked over at Harmas. ‘Got that? At the Brown Derby. You’ve got to find this guy.’

‘Yeah,’ Harmas said. ‘There are only about twenty thousand tall, fair, good-looking guys in Hollywood, but never mind, I’ll find him.’

‘Did you get the impression, Mr. Nash, that they were more than friendly?’ Maddux asked.

‘I’m afraid I didn’t,’ I said. ‘I was driving past. I just caught a glimpse of them. She had her hand on his arm. I didn’t have much time to see if they were on good or bad terms. I just saw him.’

‘Well, okay, that’s something to work on,’ Maddux said and got to his feet. ‘You’d better get working on it,’ he went on to Harmas. ‘Go down to the Brown Derby and see if you can get a lead on this guy. I’m going to talk to Bromwich.’

Harmas unwound his long, lean frame and stood up.

‘I haven’t had any sleep for twenty-four hours. I don’t suppose that interests you, does it?’

Maddux waved this aside. He turned to me.

‘Thanks for the information, Mr. Nash. This is the lead I’ve been looking for.’

‘I only saw them together once,’ I said.

‘Once is enough.’ He caught hold of my hand in a knuckle-cracking grip, nodded and then started across the lounge towards the hall.

‘Don’t panic.’

I spoke the words aloud as I stood watching Maddux’s car disappear down the drive. The big lounge felt lonely and full of empty spaces.

Was Maddux playing with me? I wondered. Did he guess I had been Helen’s lover? Was he laying a trap for me or had he really accepted my story of the blond man at the Brown Derby?

For all I knew he was on his way down to police headquarters to get them to come out here and arrest me. I knew I dared not waste a moment of my freedom. I had to get rid of the pyjamas, dressing gown and gloves. I had to destroy the will. Sooner or later, if I were arrested, the police would find out that I had a safe deposit and they would get a search warrant. It would be fatal to me if they found the will.

I hurried into the kitchen and took from the saucepan the soiled, damp cloth with which I had cleaned out the deep-freeze cabinet, then I ran up the stairs to my bedroom. I put my pyjamas, dressing gown, gloves and the cloth into a suitcase, my old working suit and my few shirts and socks on top of them. I shut the case and, leaving it on the bed, I went to the window and looked down on to the terrace.

The policeman was strolling up and down, his hands behind his back, his cap pushed forward to shield his eyes from the sun. I decided to go out the back way, cross the garden to the garden gate that led on to a back street that would take me down to the bus stop on the lower end of Hillside Crescent.

I picked up the suitcase and went swiftly down the stairs, along the passage to the kitchen and out through the rear exit.

A four-minute fast walk brought me to the bus stop. A bus came along within a minute or so and I boarded it. I kept looking back out of the window to see if a car was following me, but the long, steep road was empty of all cars.

I got off at the junction of Figueroa Street and Firestone and, moving briskly, I mingled with the crowd of business men and shop girls going to work. I approached the all-night safe-deposit vaults as the street clock was striking half past eight.

It so happened that the traffic was heavy and I didn’t immediately cross the street, and it was well that I didn’t. I spotted a big black car parked near the entrance to the vaults in which were sitting four large, beefy-faced men. I knew at once they were policemen, and I ducked into a shop doorway out of their sight. What were they doing outside the vaults? Were they waiting for me to show or were they waiting to pick up someone else? One thing I was sure of: they weren’t sitting there for the fun of it.

Cold, sick fear tugged at my heart. Was this the beginning of it? Were they waiting now for me to make a false move before they pounced?

I tried to assure myself that the four men in the car weren’t waiting for me. They probably knew nothing about me, but I hadn’t the nerve to cross the street and enter the vaults. I retraced my steps and went into an all-night drug store around the corner. I ordered a coffee, and sat smoking while I wondered what I had best do.

I had a growing urge to get out of town. I took out my wallet and checked to see how much money I had with me. It wasn’t much: five dollars and some small change. I had two thousand in the bank. But dare I wait until the bank opened? I had to wait, I told myself. Without money I was sunk.

So I waited. I moved from the drug store to a snack bar and then on to another drug store. The hands of my watch crawled on. After three coffees and having smoked all my cigarettes, I decided I could start towards my bank. I moved slowly, keeping a lookout for any man who might be a detective. This time I approached my bank cautiously, keeping to the opposite side of the road. I spotted another big black car, parked within forty yards of my bank, containing four men.

I stepped into a shop arcade out of their sight. I knew then that the police were on to me. This couldn’t be a coincidence. They were waiting for me to lose my nerve, get my money out and bolt.

I went into a drug store, ordered another cup of coffee and sat down at a table against the wall. My hands were shaking so badly I was afraid to pick up the cup. I had to get out before the net closed, but how was I to do so without money?

Then I thought of Solly. He might lend me enough to get out of town. He had been in trouble with the police himself, and he would know what it was like to be in this kind of jam.

I went over to the row of telephone booths and put a call through to Solly’s office.

Patsy answered.

‘Is Jack there?’ I asked.

‘No. Is that you, Glyn?’

‘That’s right. Look, Patsy, it’s important I talk to Jack. Where shall I find him?’

‘He’s down at police headquarters.’ My heart kicked against my ribs.

‘He’s what?’

‘At police headquarters. A detective came about half an hour ago and took him down there. Glyn, are you in trouble?’

I drew my lips off my teeth in a mirthless grin. That was an understatement.