Джеймс Чейз - Goldfish Have No Hiding Place

I woke with a start. All I could hear was the traffic passing below. I found I was sweating. Then I heard the elevator descend and I looked at the lighted face of the bedside clock. It was 03.40.

I turned over, pulling the bedclothes around my shoulders.

But I didn’t sleep anymore that night.

On my way to my office the following morning, I kept looking in my driving mirror, but the traffic was too heavy to spot a tail.

Knowing that I was now being watched gave me an uneasy feeling. I told myself that as soon as I had dealt with the mail, I would leave Jean to take care of the office and go over to the bank for the film. With any luck, before lunchtime I would know who was on the film.

But it wasn’t to be. When I walked into the office where Judy was already at work, she swung around in her typing-chair.

‘Morning, Mr. Manson. Jean called. She’s sick.’

I came to an abrupt standstill.

‘Isn’t she coming in?’

‘Oh, no, Mr. Manson. She’s in bed. Something she ate last night.’

‘Is she bad?’

Judy nodded.

‘I think so, but she says she’ll be okay tomorrow.’

I realised it would now be impossible for me to leave the office until 18.00. If Chandler should call and found both Jean and myself absent there could be trouble.

‘I’ve opened the mail, Mr. Manson, and Miss Shelley from Secretarial Services is already here for dictation,’ Judy said.

‘Fine... thanks.’

Somehow I got through the morning. It was just as well I hadn’t taken a chance and had gone to the bank for Chandler came through soon after 11.00. He thought it was time we began to research Senator Linsky. When I told him Max Berry was already working on it, he was pleased.

Judy got me a sandwich lunch. I told her to give me a direct line and go for her own lunch. That left me alone in the office. She hadn’t been gone more than ten minutes when the telephone bell rang. I heard coins dropping into the box, then Brenner came on the line.

‘Listen, Manson,’ he said, ‘you’re being tailed. Don’t underestimate these two. They know their job, so watch it.’

‘Give me a description of them,’ I said. ‘I guessed as you didn’t call last night I was being tailed, but I haven’t spotted them. It’d be a help to know their car and what they look like.’

‘Dark blue Mustang XP 55001,’ Brenner told me. ‘Taylor is tall, thin with dark crew cut, wears sports clothes. O’Hara is short, thickset, red hair, wears dark clothes and a dark blue hat, but it’s my bet you won’t spot either of them: they are professionals.’ A pause, then he asked, ‘Have you looked at that film yet?’

‘I can’t until tonight.’

‘You’ll have to tell me about it. I’m not taking the chance of being seen with you. You know you’re in trouble? I thought you told me that gun was lost.’

‘I thought so too. It was dumped in a sack of rubbish. Someone must have seen it dumped and collected it.’

Brenner grunted.

‘Goldstein’s working on it. From tomorrow, your apartment phone is going to be tapped.’

I stiffened.

‘Is this line clean?’

‘He can’t do anything about that. He’s too scared of Chandler to tap anything belonging to him.’

‘He hasn’t a case against me, has he?’ I said, feeling my hands turning damp.

‘Not yet, but he’s got his teeth into you and he’ll need shaking off. Take a look at that film and I’ll call you this time tomorrow,’ and he hung up.

I got up and went to the window and looked down on the busy street some eight storeys below. It took me five minutes watching before I spotted Taylor. Without Brenner’s description he would have been an anonymous man, but there he was, propping up a fire hydrant while he read a newspaper. I studied him, made sure I would recognise him anywhere, then looked around for his buddy, but O’Hara was not to be seen. He was probably covering the lobby.

Then the telephone bell started up and I was back in the business of producing the magazine.

Around 14.15, I called Jean’s apartment.

When she answered, her voice rather far away, I said, ‘I’m sorry about this, Jean. How do you feel now?’

‘I’m recovering. I swear I’ll never eat a clam again as long as I live. How are you getting on?’

I told her Judy had everything organised.

‘Do you feel like a visit?’ I went on. ‘I could come around after six and bring you something.’

‘Thank you. It’s kind of you but my tummy just couldn’t face any visitors.’

I felt a pang of disappointment.

‘I can imagine.’ A pause, then I said, ‘Jean, you remember dumping something in a sack of rubbish?’

‘Yes.’

‘Someone must have followed you and found it.’

I heard her catch her breath.

‘Not now! This line goes through the switchboard. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ and she hung up.

I sat staring at the telephone for a long moment, then replaced the receiver. As I did so there came a tap on my door and Max Berry came in.

From then on until after 17.00, he and I worked on the material he had dug up on Senator Linsky. This was sensational stuff and I told him he had done a fine job. He grinned and said he would now get the article written.

Because of the time I had spent with him, I found I had more work left on my desk than I had bargained for. I was still hard at it when Judy looked in to ask if it was all right for her to go home. I looked at my watch and saw it was 18.30.

‘Sure. I’ve talked with Jean. She thinks she’ll be in tomorrow. Thanks for all you’ve done, Judy.’

She looked happy.

‘Have you nearly finished, Mr. Manson?’

I had still some printers’ proofs to go through.

‘About an hour.’ I got up and locked the office door after her, then I went back to my desk and got down to work again.

It was after 19.00 before I had finished. I called Freddie Dunmore at the photographic studio.

‘You just caught me, Steve,’ he said. ‘I’m in a rush. My wife’s throwing a goddamn party and I swore by my back teeth I’d be there on time. What’s cooking?’

‘I want the use of a 16 mm projector, Freddie.’

‘No problem. I’ll have it sent over to you tomorrow morning. How’s that?’

‘I want it tonight.’

He groaned.

‘Well, okay. I’ll leave it with...’

‘I also want to borrow your projection room tonight,’ I broke in.

The magazine account with Dunmore was substantial. He was in no position to refuse me.

‘God help me! Okay. I’ll call Betty... she’ll kill me.’

‘Can’t you leave the key somewhere? I could be late. I’ll run off the film, lock up and return the key. How’s that?’

‘Can you handle a projector?’

‘I guess so.’

‘Well, okay. For Pete’s sake, don’t forget to lock up. There’s a lot of expensive equipment here I wouldn’t want to lose.’

‘Where do I find the key?’

‘On the ledge above the door. It’s my spare. God! I’m already twenty minutes late! See you, Steve,’ and he hung up.

Now I had to lose those two cops. Remembering Brenner’s warning, I decided not to rush it. I had most of the night ahead of me.

As I started to the door, I paused. Two people had been killed because of the film I was going to collect. I could make a third. I went to the closet and got out the gun that Max Berry hadn’t taken away. I loaded it, put on the holster, adjusted my jacket, and turned off the lights. I locked up the office, then carrying my briefcase, I took the elevator to the lobby.

A short, thickset man with red hair, wearing a dark blue hat was examining the indicator board. He didn’t look in my direction. He was a pro all right. Even when I paused on the street and glanced back, he was still examining the board.