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

Miss Bolus rented a two-room apartment on the ground floor, facing east. I decided I wouldn’t embarrass her by using the front entrance. The hall porter wouldn’t take too kindly to a call on an unattended young lady at this hour, so I walked across the lush lawn, past the bowl and fountain and along the cement path to the casement window that I knew led into her sitting room.

Her apartment was in darkness. The window, next to the casement, would be her bedroom, and I tapped gently on the windowpane. She couldn’t have been a heavy sleeper for I had only tapped about three times when I saw through a chink in the curtains a light flash up. I stepped back, pushed my hat off my forehead and groped for a cigarette. I was feeling tired and hot, and hoped there would be a drink in there for me. As I lit the cigarette, the curtains parted and Miss Bolus looked out at me. I could only see the outline of her head, but she could see my face in the light of the match. I grinned at her.

She waved me to the casement window and moved away. The curtain swung back into place.

As I stepped to the casement, I felt a drop of rain on my face. For the past ten minutes, heavy clouds had been piling up in the sky. It looked as if it were coming on for a wet spell. I wasn’t sorry. The close, brittle heat didn’t suit me. The casement window swung open as it began to rain in earnest.

‘Hello,’ I said. ‘It’s raining.’

‘Did you wake me up to tell me that?’ she asked, holding the casement door against her side, and looking at me in the light that flowed over her shoulder from the standard lamp in the sitting room.

‘That and other things. Can I come in? I could do with a drink.’

She stood aside.

‘When I heard you tapping I thought it was burglars,’ she said. ‘I think I was dreaming about burglars.’

I went into the small room that was comfortable enough, but the furniture was too modern for my taste. I sat down in a chair shaped like the letter S, pitched my hat on the nearby divan, yawned and looked at her approvingly.

She was wearing an oyster-coloured silk wrap over a pale blue, crepe-de-Chine nightdress. Her small feet were thrust into fur-lined moccasins, and her flame-coloured hair was tied back with a piece of blue ribbon. She looked very wide awake, her make-up was surprisingly fresh, and there was a look of restrained surprise and perhaps angled in her chinky, green eyes.

‘Never mind the burglars,’ I said. ‘How about a drink? ‘What have you got?’

She moved past me to the sideboard.

‘I think I’m going to be very angry with you,’ she said. ‘You’ve never seen me angry, have you?’

‘I don’t think I have. Why be angry?’

She poured out a big whisky, added Whiterock and handed me the glass.

‘I don’t like being woken up suddenly like this. I think you’re taking too much for granted.’

I sampled the Scotch. It was very good.

‘Yeah, maybe I am,’ I said and set the glass on the table with a little sigh. ‘But this isn’t a social call. I’m here on business: business that can’t wait until tomorrow.’

She sat on the arm of the settee, crossed one slim leg over the other and looked at me inquiringly.

‘What business?’

I took a drag on my cigarette, blew a cloud of smoke to the ceiling.

‘Lee Thayler was shot about an hour ago’ I said ‘Two bullets in the middle of his chest, and the third cut open an artery.’

There was a long, long pause. The silence was broken only by the occasional whirring grunt of the refrigerator in the kitchenette next door.

I looked at her. She was still; her arms folded across her breasts, her eyes expressionless, her mouth set She wasn’t a good card-player for nothing. She didn’t give anything away.

‘Who shot him?’ she asked, after the silence had gone on a little too long.

‘The same killer who wiped out Dana, Leadbetter and Anita,’ I said. ‘You’ve been a little secretive, haven’t you? I didn’t know you and Anita were old pals, nor that you and Thayler were bedfellows.’

‘That’s ancient history,’ she said with a casual shrug. ‘How did you find out?’

‘I ran into a character named Nick Nedick. He showed me a picture of Thayler. You were in it.’

‘You know, I think I’ll make some coffee,’ she said, and got off the arm of the settee. ‘I supposed you’re going to ask a lot of questions now?’

‘Go ahead and make it’ I leaned forward and flicked on the electric fire. ‘We may as well talk now as later’. You don’t seem to care much that Thayler’s dead.’

‘Why should I? We were washed up, and I’ve forgotten he ever existed.’

I heard her go into the kitchenette and I leaned back in the chair. The .45 dug into my hip so I pulled it out and looked at it the telescopic sight intrigued me. I aimed the gun at a blue vase on the overmantel and peered through the sight. I couldn’t see anything. I examined the sight more closely, wondering what it was. Although it looked like a telescopic sight it didn’t function as one. It was something I had never seen before on a gun. But right now I was a little tired, and I had other things on my mind, so I laid the gun on the table beside me and put my hat on it. I’d get Clegg to look at it: G egg knew all about guns and poisons and bloodstains. He was a pretty good man to know.

I heard a sudden, stifled sound that brought my head around and I stared towards the kitchenette door: the stifled sound of a woman crying.

I slid out of the chair and crossed the room without making any noise and peered around the half-open door.

Miss Bolus was standing by the electric percolator; her face in her hands.

‘You go and sit by the fire,’ I said. ‘I’ll make the coffee.’

She started, dashed the tears away with the back of her hand and turned away from me.

‘I’ll make it,’ she said in a muffled voice. ‘For God’s sake leave me alone.’

I took hold of her arm and pushed her into the sitting room.

‘Sit by the fire.’

It took me about a couple of minutes to make the coffee, and when I re-entered the room, she had lit a cigarette and was standing before the fire, her face half-turned from me. I set down the tray.

‘Will you have it black?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’

I poured a cup, laced it with whisky and put it on the overmantel near her. Then I sat down and poured myself a cup.

‘Let’s put the cards on the table,’ I said. ‘It’ll mean nothing, but it’ll be a satisfactory way of clearing the mess up. You know a lot about this business — far more than I do. You’ve been working hand-in-glove with Thayler, haven’t you?’

‘What do you mean — it’ll mean nothing?’ she asked, her voice sharp.

‘Well, how can it? Whatever happens I have to keep Cerf covered. I’ve explained that to you. If I put my hand on the killer I’ll have to call Brandon in, and he’ll chop me for not calling him in before. It’s stalemate. Thayler killed Benny. All right, Thayler’s dead. Well, that’s something. But Thayler didn’t kill Dana. Even if I can’t touch the killer I still want to know who did it, and I think you can tell me who it is.’

‘Can’t you guess?’ she said a little scornfully.

I shook my head.

‘I could, but guessing is not the same as knowing. Thayler knew who the killer was — that’s why he was knocked off. Leadbetter also knew who the killer was — he was knocked off too. I think you know who the killer is. Suppose you tell me before you get knocked off too?’

She sat down, her coffee cup in her hand, opposite me, the table between us.

‘What makes you think I know?’ she asked.

‘A hunch. I think you and Thayler teamed up again after Anita was shot. I think he told you what I’m certain Anita told him.’