Джеймс Чейз - You Never Know With Women

“Sit down, Mr. Jackson,” Gorman said gently, “and let’s talk this over.” He suddenly seemed to be aware that Veda was still in the room. “Leave us, my dear,” he said to her. “We want to talk to Mr. Jackson. You would only be in the way.”

She went out quickly. The room seemed empty without her. I listened to the sound of her feet on the stairs, and heard something else: the swish of a sap, and I ducked. A light exploded inside my head. I guess I ducked too late.

Before Parker belted me I had noticed the hands of the clock on the mantel showed ten minutes past eleven. When I looked again it showed half past eleven and Parker was throwing water in my face. I shook my head, stared at the clock fuzzily. My head hurt and I felt a little sick. What really bothered me, was to find I was tied to the chair.

Gorman was standing by the fireplace watching me. Parker stood over me, a jug of water in his hand, a vicious snarling expression on his face.

“Now, Mr. Jackson,” Gorman said breathlessly, “let’s talk about the compact. This time you’ll tell me the truth or I’ll have to persuade you.”

“There’s no fresh news on the compact, brother,” I said steadily. “No stop press: no nothing.”

“The weakness of your story is obvious,” Gorman told me. “No one as smart as you would have left the compact in the safe once you had opened the safe. You would have grabbed it and chanced fighting your way out or you would have hidden it somewhere in the room where you could get at it quickly after you had liquidated the guard. You would never have left it in the safe, Mr. Jackson.”

He was right, of course, but he couldn’t prove anything and I grinned at him.

“I left it in the safe,” I said. “The bomb had me rattled.”

“Let me see if I can persuade you to change your story,” he said and came towards me.

I watched him come. Now you see what I mean when I said having a woman on your mind leaves you wide open to a sucker punch. As I looked into his tight fat face I told myself what a mug I’d been to come back here. I might have known he would have turned tough. Then I thought of Veda in that white dress and thought maybe I wasn’t such a mug.

He was standing over me now, his eyes like wet stones.

“Are you going to tell me what you did with the compact, or have I to choke it out of you, Mr. Jackson?”

“I looked carefully. That compact was a heap of dust,” I told him. I tried to pull away from his hands, but the rope held me. Thick fingers circled my chin and neck.

“You’d better change your mind, Mr. Jackson,” he said in my ear. “Where’s the compact?”

I looked across at Parker, who was standing by the fireplace. He was watching, a spiteful smile on his face. I braced myself.

“Nothing to add, brother,” I said and waited for the squeeze. I said that if ever that thug got his hands on my throat he’d make blood come out of my ears. He nearly did. Just when I thought the top of my head was coming off, he relaxed. I dragged in a lungful of air, tried to blink away the bright lights that swam before my eyes.

“Where’s the compact, Mr. Jackson?” His voice sounded a long way away and that bothered me.

I didn’t say anything and he squeezed again. It was worse than being strangled. I felt the bone in my jaw creak under the pressure. I seemed to fade after that. It got dark and breathless like I was drowning.

More water hit me in the face. I came to the surface gasping. Gorman was still there. He was breathing strenuously.

“You’re being foolish, Mr. Jackson,” he said. “Very, very foolish. Tell me where the compact is and I’ll give you the balance of the money and you can go. I’m trying to be fair with you. Where is the compact?”

I cursed him, trying to wrench away from his hand and the squeeze started all over again. After minutes of choking, flashes of pain and a horrible sensation of being slowly crushed, I passed out again.

The hands of the clock on the mantel showed twelve-ten when I opened my eyes. The room was very still and quiet. The only light came from a reading lamp at the far end of the room. Without moving my head I looked about the room. Parker was sitting under the lamp, reading a book, a fat cigarette hanging from his lies. There was no sign of Gorman. On the table at Parker’s elbow was a leather cosh with a wrist thong attached.

I didn’t make a move to tell him I was with him in spirit as well as in flesh. I had a feeling if he knew I’d come to the surface he’d start working on me. My neck felt as if the Empire State Building had fallen on it, and my nose dripped blood. I felt as lively and as fit as a ten-day-old corpse.

I heard the door open and I played dead, shutting my eyes and sitting as still as a dummy in a shop window. I smelt her perfume as she paused to look at me. I heard her go over to Parker.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said sharply. “What do you want? You should be in bed.”

“Has he said anything?” she demanded.

“Not yet, but he will.”

He sounded too confident — much, much too confident.

“Is he conscious?” she asked.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. Go to bed.”

She came back to stand close to me. She had changed out of her white dress and was wearing the canary-coloured slacks again. I looked up at her. She was pale and her eyes were over-bright. For a brief second our eyes met, then she turned quickly away.

“He’s still unconscious,” she said to Parker. “He looks very bad.”

I felt a tingle run up my spine.

“Not half as bad as he’ll look when Gorman gets back. Go away. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Where is Cornelius?”

“He’s gone to Brett’s place to see if he can find out anything.”

“But what can he find out? The police will be there, won’t they?”

“How do I know?” His voice snapped at her. “Go to bed. I don’t want you here with him.”

“You’re not angry with me, Dominic?”

I moved my head slowly so I could watch them. She was standing over him, her slim fingers playing with the cosh, her eyes on his face.

“No, I’m not angry,” he said. “But go to bed. You can’t do anything.”

“Do you think he’s hidden it?”

Parker clenched his fists.

“I don’t know. That’s the trouble. That’s where he’s been so smart. It could have been destroyed. All this trouble: all these plans, and now we don’t know.” He thumped the arm of his chair. “Cornelius was crazy to trust this cheap, tricky crook.”

“Yes.” She was swinging the cosh idly in her hand now. “But Cornelius won’t be able to get near the house, will he? I don’t understand why he has gone.”

“He can’t do anything. I told him that, but he wouldn’t listen. He can’t rest until he knows. If he doesn’t find out anything he’ll kill Jackson. I don’t care what he does. I’m past caring.”

She pointed down at his feet.

“Is that something of yours?”

It was well done, casual and quiet; an ordinary everyday question. It fooled Parker; it nearly fooled me. He leaned forward to look. The back of his head was a perfect target. He spread out on his face on the floor. He didn’t even groan.

She stepped back, dropped the cosh; one hand went to her face.

“I liked your follow through,” I said.

She turned swiftly to look at me.

“What happens now?” I asked.

She continued to stare at me.

“There’s nothing else I could do, was there?” she said. Her words tumbled over themselves. “I couldn’t let them torture you.”

“That’s right,” I said. “How about cutting me loose?”

She moved quickly to the sideboard, found a knife and came over to me.