Джеймс Чейз - Believe This... You’ll Believe Anything

‘Don’t talk! I’m busy,’ she snapped, then, ‘Oh, hell! You’ve made me make a mistake!’

‘I’m sorry.’ I knew I didn’t sound sorry, but I was too worried to care.

Going to the telex, I began typing a request for accommodation in New York. One of my telephone bells rang.

‘Would you get it, please?’ I said without looking around.

I heard her mutter something, then she answered the telephone.

She said impatiently, ‘Hello? Yes... he’s here. Who is it? Oh!’ A slight pause, then she went on, ‘Will you hold it, please?’

‘It’s for you,’ she said in a whisper. ‘Your wife!’

We stared at each other. This was something I hadn’t foreseen. My hands turned clammy. Had Rhoda recognised Val’s voice?

I picked up the receiver.

‘Rhoda?’

‘That’s me. When you buy the bread rolls and the cream, will you also get me two packs of cigarettes? I’m right out.’ I looked at the litter of papers on my desk and then at the desk clock. The time was 17.35.

‘I’m sorry, honey, no can do. I’ll be working late. You get them. I’ll be lucky if I get back before half past nine.’

‘Half past nine?’ Her voice shot up. ‘For God’s sake! What kind of job is this?’

‘It happens to be a busy day.’ I tried to keep my voice under control. ‘First day... you know. Look, honey, I’ll have to hang up. My desk is loaded.’

‘If you think I’m going to wait until nine-thirty before I eat, you’re mistaken!’ Her voice turned shrill.

‘All right... all right! Eat when you like! Don’t wait for me,’ and I hung up.

Val said, her voice unsteady, ‘Did she recognise my voice?’

‘I don’t know and right now I don’t give a damn! Let’s get on!’

Soon after 18.00, Val finished the Libyan schedule.

‘That’s number two, thank God! Now I must fly or I’ll be late.’

I stared at her as she hurriedly removed the carbons.

‘You going?’

‘I have to.’

‘But there are three more schedules to do, Val.’

‘They must wait,’ she said impatiently. ‘I have a dinner date with the Wernsteins, damn them! Henry arranged it. I can’t get out of it.’

‘Okay.’ I was too depressed to argue. ‘If you have to go, you have to go.’

‘Don’t be cross, darling. It’ll be better tomorrow.’

‘I hope to God you’re right!’

She came over swiftly, kissed my cheek lightly and was gone.

I ran my fingers through my hair. I should have anticipated this, I told myself. How the hell could we possibly have sex in Vidal’s own home? It would have been a lot better, easier and safer if I had stayed with the A.T.S.

I was so frustrated that I banged my clenched fists on my desk. After a few minutes I cooled down and wearily looked at the Vidal schedule that Val had typed. It was crowded with typing errors. I suddenly didn’t care anymore. If Vidal didn’t like his wife’s typing, he could tell her so. I put the schedule together with the flight ticket and the hotel voucher in an envelope and addressed it to the Intercontinental hotel, San Salvador.

Laboriously, I began to type the remaining schedules. It wasn’t until 22.00 that I finally cleared my desk.

By the time I had driven out to Miami airport, given the Vidal schedule to an air hostess, who I knew, to deliver to Vidal when she arrived at the Intercontinental hotel in the afternoon, and then driven back to my apartment the time was 23.18.

I found Rhoda watching TV.

‘You’re late!’ she exclaimed, her eyes not moving from the lighted screen. ‘Don’t talk now... this is exciting.’

I went into the kitchen and looked around. There was no sign of any food.

‘Did you get anything?’ I called.

‘No, I forgot. Don’t interrupt!’

I fixed myself a whisky and soda, strong enough to knock over a horse. Then I opened a can of beans and not bothering to heat them, I ate them cold from the can.

I finished as the TV programme finished.

Rhoda came into the kitchen. I could tell by the way she stood, her hands on her hips and her face set that I was heading for trouble.

‘So Slinky answers the telephone for you,’ she said. ‘You must feel flattered.’

I was expecting this. I never underestimated Rhoda’s shrewdness.

‘Mrs. Vidal happened to be in the office,’ I said, rinsing my glass. ‘I was on the telex so she answered.’

‘Mrs. Vidal happened to be in the office? Who do you think you’re conning? You told me that whore was away!’

I held on to my rising temper, but only just. I put the glass down.

‘Try not to be more vulgar than you can help, Rhoda. I told you Mrs. Vidal is away a great deal. She’s not away right now. She came in to see if I approved of the office.’

‘Don’t you dare call me vulgar!’ Rhoda screamed. ‘If anyone’s vulgar it’s your precious Slinky with her money and her jewels! If she’s not a whore, she looks like one!’

‘Have it your own way. I’m going to bed. I’m tired.’

I made to pass her but she blocked my exit.

‘Tired! I bet you are!’ she shrilled. ‘Working until now! Do you think I’m that wet behind the ears? I bet you’ve been screwing that whore!’

I shouldn’t have drunk so much whisky. I did something that was completely out of character and beyond my control.

I slapped her face so hard she went staggering into the living room, overbalanced and sat down hard on the floor.

She sat there, staring up at me, her mouth open, her eyes dazed.

I stepped around her and went into the bedroom. I was shaking and sick with myself. I sat on the bed and put my hands to my face.

After some minutes, she came in and keeping away from me, she began to undress. Every now and then a dry little sob escaped her.

These sounds didn’t touch me. I was too absorbed in my own despair. The fact that I now fully realised I couldn’t make love to Val in Vidal’s house and that I would have to plot and plan to get her somewhere safe where I could, gave me such a feeling of suffocating frustration that Rhoda just didn’t exist.

Suddenly she said in a snivelling little voice, ‘I shouldn’t have said that Clay. You were right to hit me. I deserved it.’

I suppose I should have taken her in my arms then and told her I was also sorry, but I didn’t. Instead I said wearily, ‘Let’s forget it,’ and getting up, I began to undress.

‘You did hurt me. Really you did.’

‘Do you imagine you didn’t hurt me?’ Reaching for my pyjamas, I moved to the bathroom. ‘Let’s forget it.’

Later, when we were lying side by side in the dark, she reached for me, but I pushed her hand away.

‘Go to sleep,’ I said. ‘I’m tired even if you’re not.’

A callous thing to have said, but I was still smouldering with frustration and I didn’t give a damn if I hurt her or not.

I didn’t sleep much that night. I thought with dread of the work to be done tomorrow, of Val’s pecking and hunting, of looking at her and not being allowed to touch her.

Rhoda was soon asleep. The soft little snorts she always made when sleeping got so badly on my nerves I was tempted to wake her, but I didn’t.

At 06.30, I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her. I took my clothes into the bathroom, shaved, showered and dressed. She was still sleeping when I tiptoed into the kitchen. I made myself a cup of coffee. There was no bread for toast. I saw a pack of cigarettes on the table. She hadn’t forgotten her cigarettes.

As I was putting the cup and saucer in the sink, she appeared, looking doleful and in a mess.

‘Why are you up so early?’ she asked.

‘I’m going to the office. I have a load of work still to do. Will you try to remember to get in some bread and cream? If I’m going to be late, I’ll call you.’