Джеймс Чейз - Goldfish Have No Hiding Place

‘Hello there, Flynn. What do you mean?’

He stared stonily at me.

‘We had a call, Mr. Manson. A woman screaming.’

‘Come in,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. My goddamn radio is on the blink. I was listening to the late night horror.’

He moved and entered the living room.

‘I was in my bedroom with the volume turned up and the radio went haywire. The sound nearly knocked my ears off.’ I forced a grin. ‘Sorry if I’ve caused a disturbance.’

He regarded me, his little eyes suspicious.

‘I was told a woman was in trouble.’

‘There’s no woman here.’

‘Your radio, huh?’

‘That’s right. I’ll get it fixed tomorrow.’

He looked at the set and I knew he was itching to turn it on, but he also knew I was the editor of The Voice of the People .

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You caused an alarm, Mr. Manson.’

‘It alarmed me, too.’

‘A horror programme, huh?’

He could check this, but there was no other way out.

‘That’s it.’

He nodded.

‘Pretty late to listen to the radio, Mr. Manson.’

‘Is there a law against it?’ I stared him eyeball to eyeball and he decided I was a heavyweight against his lightweight.

‘Well, it’s plenty late.’

He looked around the lounge, saw the puddle of gin and water, saw my half-finished drink, saw Freda’s empty glass. This cop was nobody’s fool.

‘I’m sleeping badly,’ I said.

He nodded, then made for the front door.

‘And thanks, Sergeant, for coming so quickly,’ I said.

He gave me a cold, cop stare as he said, ‘That’s my job.’

I watched him walk down the drive, join the other cop, watched him pause and talk. They got in their car.

Freda came out of my bedroom.

‘You played that smooth, buster,’ she said. ‘I’m beginning to respect you.’

‘As if you could respect anyone. You wouldn’t know the meaning of the word. Go back in there.’

She lifted her eyebrows.

‘Getting that feeling, buster? Sure, the bedroom is my territory.’

She went into the bedroom. I turned off the lights in the sitting room, then lifted the heavy curtains aside and saw the police car was still there. After some minutes it drove away.

My head still throbbed, but not badly enough to prevent me from thinking. Two films! The film that had been stolen would reveal those stupid women — like Linda — stealing, but the second film could and probably did show someone like Mabel Creeden stealing and there was the big money. There too was the reason for murder: why Gordy had been shot. Thinking about it, as I stood in the darkness, by the window, I realised the second film — worth a million dollars in blackmail money — could be more important now to me than the film I had lost. It would nail the killer.

I went into the bedroom.

It was strange to see this woman lying in the bed I had shared for some time with Linda. She had the sheet over her. The bedside lamp made shadows in the room.

‘Let’s forget today, buster,’ she said. ‘Come on. Let’s have some action.’

The bedside clock showed 01.35. My head still ached. I was tired, but not that tired.

I sat on the bed and looked at her.

‘What’s this about a second film?’

‘Man! Are you a sucker for punishment!’ She threw aside the sheet so I could see her naked body. ‘Strip off and relax.’

I pulled the sheet over her.

‘What’s this about a second film?’

‘Oh, go to hell! I want to sleep. Go away if you don’t want to keep me company!’

‘What’s this about a million dollars?’

Her eyes lit up.

‘Are you interested? A quarter for you, the rest for me?’

‘Why not?’

She stared at me, then shook her head.

‘No. You’re not the type. You wouldn’t blackmail, would you?’

‘Would you?’

‘For that kind of bread.’ She stared up at the ceiling. ‘A million bucks! Think what you could do with it!’

If I could only con her to tell me where the film was!

‘Yes... that’s real money. What do we do?’

‘I’ve got the film. Jesse was scared of it. He gave it to me to keep. He said he could handle the little suckers on the other film, but it would need the two of us to swing the big one.’

‘So you have it? Where is it?’

She lifted her arms above her head and smiled at me.

‘That’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question, buster. I have it so that makes me worth a million bucks.’

‘Unless you get shot like Gordy did, then you’re worth Nothing.’

She grimaced.

‘Whoever shot Jesse didn’t get the film. Whoever shoots me won’t get it either. It’s stashed away and safe.’

‘Who’s the big sucker on the film?’

‘He didn’t tell me, but she’s on the film. Jesse told me that. I have only to run off the film to know her.’

‘What makes you think you would know her?’

She thought about this, then nodded.

‘There’s that. Yeah... there are so many rich bitches around.’

‘But I would know her. It’s part of my job to know everyone with money in this city. Suppose you and I work together? Where’s the film?’

‘I’ll think about it. You could have a point, buster. Do you want to join me in bed?’

I stood up. The time was 01.40. My head still ached.

‘Not tonight.’

She looked relieved.

‘Then fade away. I want my sleep.’

I left her and bedded down in the spare bedroom. I tried to sleep, but thoughts kept churning through my mind.

Finally, I got up, went into the bathroom and took a pill... a mistake.

The sound of the telephone bell brought me awake. I looked at the bedside clock. The time, to my consternation, was 09.35. My head still felt sore, but it no longer ached. I grabbed up the receiver.

‘Steve?’ It was Jean. ‘Are you all right?’

I tried to gather what wits I had left.

‘I’m okay... I’ve overslept.’

‘Mr. Chandler is asking for you.’

‘Tell him I’ll be right over.’

‘You have an appointment with Larry Hersche at ten.’

Hersche was our artist and not important.

‘Put him off.’ I got out of bed. ‘What’s the mail like?’

‘It’s heavy.’

‘Okay, Jean, I’ll be with you,’ and I hung up.

Then I remembered I had Freda still in my hair. She couldn’t stay here. It was Cissy’s afternoon to clean. I went into the main bedroom expecting to find Freda still asleep, but the bed was empty. I looked around, then went into the kitchen. A used coffee cup stood on the sink.

‘Freda?’

No answer. I went through the house, but she had gone.

I dunked my face in cold water, shaved, then hurried back to the spare bedroom. I made the bed. I could leave the main bedroom for Cissy to fix. It wouldn’t do for her to find both bedrooms had been used. As I threw on my clothes, I wondered where Freda had got to. Surely, she hadn’t walked down to the taxi rank which was a good half-mile from my house.

The solution came when I went into the garage. She had taken Linda’s Mini. I returned to the house, looked up her number and called her. There was a delay, then she answered.

‘This is me,’ I said. ‘No names. What’s going on?’

‘I’m packing and getting out.’ She sounded breathless.

‘You have my car.’

‘Oh, sure. It’s parked on 22nd Street. The key’s under the mat. Listen, buster, I need a getaway stake. Meet me at The Annex on 12th Street at nine tonight and bring me fifteen hundred bucks. We’ll talk business,’ and she hung up.

I put down the receiver, went to the front door as a police car pulled up. I paused, seeing Lieutenant Goldstein get out. I shut the door, locked it as he came up the drive.