Джеймс Чейз - You’re Lonely When You’re Dead

I crept out of the room and peered over the banisters. Someone was moving about in the passage below. Then another torch flashed on, and I caught a glimpse of a cop standing at the foot of the stairs looking up into the darkness.

‘Must be upstairs, Jack,’ a voice murmured. ‘No one around here.’

I didn’t wait to see or hear more, but went quickly and silently back into the room of death, shut the door softly and turned on the light again. There was a good strong bolt on the door and I pushed it home. I had about two minutes to find what I was looking for, and I returned to the cupboard, got my fingers in the gap I had made in the panel and heaved at it with all my strength. It moved, the nails coming away with a sharp, creaking sound. I heaved again, and the panel came away in my hand. I shone the torch into the cavity. Two things met my eyes: a Colt .45 automatic pistol equipped with what appeared to be a miniature telescopic sight and a leather-bound notebook I grabbed them up as a rap came on the door.

‘Open up!’ a voice called. ‘We know you’re in there. It’s the city police. Come on; open up!’

I shoved the gun in my hip pocket and the notebook in my coat pocket, slipped silently off the chair and went over to the window. I was scared stiff and had difficulty with my breathing, but I kept my head. If they caught me in here I would be in a hell of a jam.

As I pushed open the window one of the cops drove his shoulder against the door, but the bolt held.

‘Get down and around to the back,’ I heard him say. ‘He may try to get out of the window.’

The other cop went clattering down the stairs.

I was out on the windowsill by now. There was a sheer drop of about thirty feet into the yard. I couldn’t go that way, and besides the cop would be in the yard any second now. The roof guttering was just above my head. I caught hold of it, tested its strength. It seemed strong enough, and sweating in every pore I started hauling myself up on to the roof. For about four seconds I hung in space, then I got my heel in the gutter and heaved myself up. I felt the gutter bend under the strain, then a voice yelled from below. With a tremendous heave I rolled myself on to the gently sloping roof, crawled desperately for cover behind a chimney-stack. A gun went off and bits of brick stung the back of my neck. I gave a convulsive wriggle and put the stack behind me and the gun, and lay for a moment or so, trying to get my breath. I knew I hadn’t long before they’d be up here looking for me. The moonlight turned night into day. About twelve feet away I could see the flat roof of Delmonico’s bar, separated from Bertillo’s place by the alley.

‘He’s up on the roof, Jack,’ the cop yelled from below, ‘I’m coming up!’

I crawled to the far edge of the roof, stood up and measured the distance between the two roofs. I hadn’t any run back. It had to be a cold-blooded leap with the alley thirty feet below me.

There wasn’t any time to waste. If I was going to get out of this mess I had to jump, so I balanced myself on the edge of the roof and jumped. It flashed through my mind as I was in mid-air that I wasn’t going to make it, and I flung myself forward, hitting the opposite guttering with my chest and sliding back. My hands grabbing and searching for a hold gripped a concealed drain pipe running along the flat roof. I heaved myself up, and, gasping for breath, rolled on to the roof.

There were no chimney-stacks to hide behind on this roof, and the light of the moon picked me out as if a searchlight was playing on me. But not far away was a sky light, and I nipped over to it, heaved it up and without looking where I was going, lowered myself into darkness

For about half a minute I sat on the floor, drawing in great, heaving breaths, my legs feeling like rubber, and not caring where I was or what was going to happen next. Then, just as I decided to get up, a door opened right by me and a panel of light from a shaded amp in the room beyond fell on me.

I twisted around, ready to start fighting and looked up at a girl in a crumpled black nightie that was as transparent as a plate-glass window.

She was a tall, tired faced blonde, and she regarded me with sleepy curiosity.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Are you in trouble, honey?’

I dug up a grin.

‘Perhaps that’s a slight understatement. Sister, I’m full of trouble.’

She poked a knuckle in her eye and yawned.

‘Cops?’

‘Yeah, cops,’ I said, getting to my feet.

She stood aside.

‘You’d better come in. They’ll search the joint.’

I went past her into the room. It was a typical love nest. Delmonico’s catered for all tastes and vices The room was small and stuffy and skimpily furnished. A bed, a chest of drawers, a toilet basin and threadbare mat were the only luxuries the room could boast of.

‘What have you done, honey?’ the girl asked, s ting on the bed and yawning. She had very big white teeth and her mouth was a smear of lipstick. ‘I heard shooting. Was it you?’

‘I walked into it,’ I said. ‘The cops moved in just behind me. I had to get out quick.’

‘Was Betillo shot?’

‘Not him; some other guy.’ Seeing the disappointment on her face, I added, ‘Betillo run into a cracked head. He won’t be much use for some time.’

“That’s fine,’ she said. ‘I hate that heel.’

Outside in the passage there was a sudden soft thud.

‘Cops,’ I said softly. ‘Right out there, now.’

‘They’re crazy to stick their snouts in here,’ she said, moved across the room and swiftly and silently, bolted the door and then dug her thumb into a bell-push on the wall. ‘That’ll bring the bouncers up,’ she went on with a tight little smile. ‘Keep your shirt on, honey. You’ll soon be out of this.’

The door suddenly rattled.

A voice said, ‘Open up or I’ll shoot the lock in!’

I pulled the girl away from the door.

Heavy footsteps came pounding up the stairs. A voice yelled, ‘It’s cops! Hey, Joe! Buttons!’

One of the cops shouted, ‘Lay off! This ain’t anything to do with you! Keep back or you’ll get hurt.’

A gun went off and there was a yell. More feet pounded up the stairs. I yanked the sheets off the girl’s bed, knotted them together, ran over to the window. More gunfire. If I didn’t get a move on the riot squad would be out there to welcome me. I pulled out all that was left of my money and pushed he notes into the girl’s hands.

‘So long, sister,’ I said. ‘And thanks.’

One of the cops fired through the door. Someone along the passage opened up with what sounded like a Sten gun.

I had the window open by now.

‘Boy!’ the blonde exclaimed, excited. She was wide awake now. ‘I’m loving this! Mind how you break your neck.’

I knotted one end of the sheet, dropped the sheet out of the window, got out on the sill.

‘Shut the window on the knot,’ I said, ‘and make it snappy. I’ll buy you a drink one of these days.’

She closed the window as more gunfire rattled through the building, and waved to me through the pane.

I grabbed the sheet and went down fast. As I dropped to the ground a voice shouted, ‘Hey! You!’ And a shadow moved towards me.

I swung round as a hand grabbed at my shoulder. I wasn’t in a playful mood, and I brought my right fist up in an uppercut that caught the guy on the side of his jaw. He gave a choked grunt and slid forward, his hands clutching at my coat. I kicked him off and he dropped down on his hands and knees. He remained like that, groaning.

I ran down the alley to where I left my car.

It was getting on for three o’clock a.m. when I pulled up outside an apartment block on Hawthorne Avenue. The building was set back from the road, and in the forecourt a big bowl and fountain gave the place its only sign of distinction. It was a rabbit warren of apartments; all small, all squeezed together; and all expensive. I had been there before. Its only advantage was that it was soundproof, but even at that, I’d rather have lived in a tent.