Джеймс Чейз - Not Safe to Be Free [= The Case of the Strangled Starlet]

His mind shied away from the memory of the years he had spent with Harriette. Admittedly the first year had been enchanting. She had been breath-takingly beautiful, vivacious, wealthy and exciting. But from the very first, she had been eccentric, but amusingly so. To anyone with any insight the hint of mental instability was there but Delaney had no insight. Her fits of crying, her outbursts of violent temper and her sudden hysterical elation made her to him interesting and unpredictable. Her passion for dangerously fast driving, her long periods of sulky brooding and her restlessness were things that Delaney shrugged off as part of her personality.

Jay was born a year after the marriage and Harriette gave the boy over to a nurse, taking no interest in him. As the years went by, she developed such an active dislike for him that Delaney sent him to boarding school and during the vacations arranged that Jay didn’t come home.

Harriette’s mental condition slowly deteriorated. Although Delaney’s friends had long realized that she was mentally sick, Delaney himself, absorbed in his work, was still unaware that there was anything seriously wrong with her. His married life was no longer happy. Whenever they were alone together, which was seldom, they invariably quarrelled, but this he shrugged off as inevitable.

Then one night something happened that brought the facts brutally home to him.

The memory of that night, although now twelve years ago, still had the power to increase his heart-beat whenever he allowed himself to think of it.

He had returned from the Studios late to his luxurious home in Beverley Hills and had settled down to read the script of a film he was planning to produce.

Harriette sat away from him, silent and brooding. He had spoken to her, but she hadn’t replied, and, mentally shrugging, he put her out of his mind and concentrated on the script.

He had read for about an hour, then suddenly he had become aware of an extraordinary tension in the room. He had looked across the room to where Harriette had been sitting, but she had left the chair and had moved behind him out of sight. There was a mirror on the wall facing him and he had glanced at it. What he saw reflected there gave him the shock of his life.

Harriette was creeping up behind him, a carving knife in her hand and an expression on her face that still haunted his dreams.

He realized in those brief seconds as he stared at her in the mirror that she was insane and the shock momentarily paralysed him.

It was only when she was within a few feet of him and had lifted the knife that he threw aside the script and jumped to his feet.

She had come at him with the ferocity of a wild cat and he had been appalled by her strength. Before he had managed to get the knife away from her, she had slashed his arm and inflicted a long, deep scratch down the side of his face.

She had broken away from him and before he could stop her, she had run out of the house.

That was the last time he had seen her alive.

She had taken his car, driven to a hotel in Los Angeles, taken the elevator to the tenth floor, entered an empty bedroom and had thrown herself out of the window.

Yes, ‘a little queer’ was an understatement and Delaney was irritated that Sophia should revive such a painful memory.

“Yeah, I guess she was,” he said frowning, “but that doesn’t mean... ”

He broke off as he heard the telephone bell ring.

“That’s my call. Look, honey, forget it. There’s nothing to worry about. Jay’s all right. Damn it! I’ve lived with him for twenty-one years. I know he’s all right.”

Miss Kobbe put her head around the door.

“Mr. Brennon on the line, Mr. Delaney.”

“I’m coming.”

Delaney patted Sophia’s cheek, then went into the other room, closing the door behind.

Sophia stared up at the ceiling, frowning.

She again thought of Jay, picturing him as he had moved towards her, the scarlet cord between his fingers, his eyes hidden behind the dark glasses and she moved uneasily.

Where was he? What was he doing? Who had been the girl he had brought up to the suite?

Miss Kobbe looked in.

“Another martini, Mrs. Delaney?”

Sophia nodded.

“Yes, perhaps I will. Has Jay got back yet?”

“Not yet, Mrs. Delaney.”

A sudden impulse made Sophia get to her feet and walk into the lounge.

Delaney was talking on the telephone. His assistant producer, Jack Cooper, sat on the arm of a lounging chair, smoking.

He smiled at Sophia as she crossed over to Jay’s bedroom door.

She nodded to him as she turned the handle and entered the room.

Shutting the door, she leaned against it and looked around.

The hotel maid had been in. She had turned down the bed, put Jay’s blue pyjamas on the bed and had half lowered the blinds.

The smell of perfume was noticeable still in the room.

A photograph in a silver frame of Harriette, looking very lovely and very innocent, stood on the dressing table.

Sophia studied the photograph. She could see how like Harriette Jay was. They had the same mouth and the same facial bone structure and the same beguiling innocence.

From the photograph she looked at the big cupboard against the wall and noticed the key wasn’t in the lock. She crossed to the cupboard and tried to open it, but found the doors locked.

Then suddenly, for no reason at all, she felt an urge to get out of the room. The same sharp feeling of fear she had experienced when Jay had moved towards her, the scarlet cord in his hands, took hold of her.

She stepped away from the cupboard, her heart beating fast. She paused by the door, staring at the cupboard, trying to control this inexplicable feeling of panic. Then she jerked open the door and walked into the lounge.

She came to an abrupt standstill when she saw that Jay was in the room. He was standing by one of the big windows looking towards her. She could see herself, very tense and still reflected in the dark surfaces of his sun-glasses.

Delaney was saying over the telephone: “Fine Ted, get the contract signed and fast. Get it done to-night.” He seemed oblivious of the tight, strained atmosphere.

Sophia moved quickly to her room. She felt Jay s hidden eyes on her as she pushed open the door.

She looked back at him and he smiled at her. It seemed to her it was a sinister, threatening smile and it sent a chill crawling up her spine.

Jay leaned against the polished bar, a tomato juice in his hand He watched the small group of men standing a few feet from him. There was his father, Harry Stone and Jack Cooper, all in tuxedos. They surrounded Jean Thiry, who was wearing a beach shirt, fawn slacks and sandals. He looked hot and tired and bothered. The gay beach shirt stuck to his back in black patches and his face was shiny with sweat.

He was saying: “I’m sorry, Mr. Delaney, I don’t know where she’s got to. I’ve hunted everywhere. She left a note saying she was spending the evening in Monte Carlo, but there’s no sign of her there. I’ve only just got back.”

Jay sipped his tomato juice. He listened and watched with concentrated interest.

Floyd Delaney snapped his fingers impatiently.

“Well for heaven’s sake! Don’t you take care of that girl better than that? Okay, if she’s not here, she’s not here.” He turned to Stone. “Handle this, Harry. I want to catch the film.”

“Yes, Mr. Delaney,” Stone said.

“I’ll see she’s here for you to-morrow any time, Mr. Delaney,” Thiry said miserably. “It’s just one of those things. Someone must have invited her... ”

But Delaney wasn’t listening. He moved away from Thiry and walked over to where Jay was standing.

“You come along with me,” he said. “I want you to see this movie.”