Джеймс Чейз - Goldfish Have No Hiding Place

Still unsteady on my legs, I paid off the cabby and walked to where I had left my car. I saw the blue Mustang was parked five bays from mine. Taylor was sitting at the wheel. There was no sign of O’Hara.

I got in my car and drove to my apartment. From time to time I checked my driving mirror. The Mustang was following. I drove into the underground garage, then took the elevator to my apartment.

As the cage arrived at my floor, I took out the gun and held it down by my side. I couldn’t be sure Webber’s men had found out they had no film and had already arrived.

I stepped from the cage onto the corridor, looked to right and left, saw nothing to alarm me, stepped across to my front door, unlocked it, moved into the lobby, shut the door and switched on the light. I then pushed open the living room door, stood back as I reached for the light switch and snapped it up. No one there. I paused to lock the front door and shoot the bolt, then moving carefully, I explored the apartment. They hadn’t arrived.

For the moment I was safe. Short of battering down the door, no one could get in.

I put the gun on the table and crossed over to the liquor cabinet. I poured myself a stiff shot of whisky and dropped into a lounging chair.

I thought about what had happened. The question that baffled me was why Webber was involved. Until Brenner had alerted me, I had no reason to suspect that Webber’s men were shadowing me. How long had they been doing this? My mind shifted to Creeden. He had enough money to hire Webber. If his wife was on the film, then he would need help and Webber would be the man to hire.

I finished my drink, set down the glass and got to my feet.

I was sure the key to all this was on the film that Max had, but did he have it? Had Webber guessed what I had done and had sent his men after Charlie?

I dialled Max’s number.

The time now was 03.15.

There was a long delay, then Max mumbled, ‘Who the hell is this?’

‘Steve. Did you get it? Answer yes or no... nothing else.’

‘For the sake of Judas! Yes!’

I hung up.

I went into the lonely bedroom, stripped off my clothes and flopped on the bed. My neck was aching, my body limp and exhausted. I lay like that, my mind churning, until finally sleep came.

The following morning, with the Mustang following me, I drove to my office. I felt secure with these two cops tailing me. They would give Webber’s men no room to manoeuvre.

Judy greeted me with a smile.

‘Jean says she’ll be in after lunch, Mr. Manson. She still sounds pretty bad. Miss Shelley is here and waiting.’

‘Thanks, Judy.’

I dealt with the mail, then when Miss Shelley, a dumpy, serious-looking girl who dwelt behind enormous glasses, had gone into Jean’s office to type, I called Freddie Dunmore.

‘Freddie... I didn’t make it last night. I want that projector. Will you send it over?’

‘Sure, Steve.’

‘Wrap it. I don’t want anyone here to know it’s a projector.’

A pause, then he said, ‘James Bond stuff, huh?’

‘That’s the idea. Make a parcel of it and get it over here fast.’

‘Will and can do,’ and he hung up.

I then called Max Berry.

‘Bring that envelope over right away, Max. Put it under your jacket. As I told you, it’s dynamite.’

‘Okay, Steve. I’m on my way.’

There was nothing else I could do now but to hope. Although I hadn’t the time to spare, I told Judy to call Jean for me.

While I was wrestling with a heap of mail, the call came through.

‘Jean! How do you feel?’

‘I’m all right. I told Judy to tell you I’ll be in after lunch. I’m still a bit queasy, but I’ll survive.’

‘Don’t come in unless you’re really fit.’

‘I’m coming in.’

I couldn’t resist it.

‘I’ve missed you.’

‘Thank you. I’ll be in,’ and the line went dead.

My old man had told me to hang on. I wasn’t getting any encouragement, but I loved her, I wanted her, I needed her, so I was going to hang on.

I settled down to read Rafferty’s film column that had come in the mail. I was only half concentrating. Suddenly, I got up, went to the window and looked down on the street. This time it was O’Hara who was propping up the fire hydrant. The sight of him was reassuring. As long as he was there I couldn’t imagine Webber’s men visiting me. Taylor was probably covering the lobby.

The intercom buzzed.

‘There’s a parcel for you, Mr. Manson,’ Judy told me. ‘Shall I bring it in?’

‘Thanks.’

It was the projector, carefully wrapped. A note from Freddie saying he enclosed the instruction book and if I was in trouble to call him.

I put the projector in a closet and finished the Rafferty article. I okayed it and tossed it in my out-tray. As I was starting to read a short story submitted by one of my agents, Max Berry came in.

‘Here it is,’ he said, putting the envelope on my desk. ‘What’s the big excitement about, Steve? You got me out of bed twice last night. What’s all this about dynamite?’

‘No comment, Max, for the moment,’ I said. ‘Thanks for bringing it. How’s the Linsky article building?’

He gaped at me.

‘For Pete’s sake, is that all you’re going to say?’

‘That’s all. How’s the Linsky article building?’

‘I’ll have it finished tomorrow.’ He eyed the envelope, looked questioningly at me, then said, ‘Well, if that’s all, I’ll get back to it.’

‘Do that and thanks again.’

Looking mystified, he left me.

I stared at the envelope, then looked at my desk clock. The time was close to midday. In another quarter of an hour, Judy would be going to lunch and I would have the office to myself. I put the envelope in my desk drawer, then tried to settle to reading the short story but concentration was impossible. I was sweating and my heart was thumping. In a few minutes now I could know the truth unless Freda had sold me a pup. There was always that chance, but thinking back, seeing her serious eyes, hearing her say, “Boy scout’s honour” I felt sure this was the film now in my desk drawer that had caused her and Gordy’s death.

The minutes dragged by. I wanted to get up and tell Judy to go, but I restrained myself.

It wasn’t until 12.20 that she looked in.

‘All right for me to go to lunch, Mr. Manson?’

‘Sure.’

She nodded brightly and I heard her go off to the rest room. At 12.30 I heard her leave. I went to the outer door and locked it. I had only an hour before she returned. Then hurrying back to my office I got out the projector and set it on my desk. Opposite was a blank white wall. My hands were unsteady as I ripped open the envelope and took out the cassette. It was a self-loading job, but even at that I spent a few minutes before I got it loaded. I pulled out the plug of my electric desk clock and connected up the projector. Then I lowered the sun blinds and pulled the curtains.

As I returned to my desk, the telephone bell rang.

The sound made my heart skip a beat. For a long moment, I hesitated, then I lifted the receiver.

‘Mr. Manson? Mr. Chandler on the line.’

Sweat dripped off my chin.

‘Steve? Come over and have lunch with me. I’ve got some real poison that will fix Linsky. I want to discuss it with you.’

I sat staring at the projector.

‘You there, Steve? Come right ever. We’ll have a working lunch here.’

Trying to steady my voice, I said, ‘I can’t make it, Mr. Chandler. Jean’s away sick and Judy’s just gone to lunch.’

‘Well, lock up! The office won’t run away. Come on over!’ and he hung up.

That was something I was not going to do. I switched on the projector, moving the focusing ring as a picture appeared on the white wall. I found myself looking down one of the aisles, packed either side with groceries, of the Welcome store.