Джеймс Чейз - You Never Know With Women

She wandered around the room, her hands in her pockets, the cigarette held tightly in her lips, showing herself off. She had a shape to set a man crazy.

“I told him I’d do it,” she said, paused to look at me and then continued her prowling. “It was easy. Brett opened the safe to show his friends a diamond he’d bought. He had the combination on a card he took from his wallet. It was easy to get hold of the wallet and copy the combination without him knowing it. He got pretty drunk as the evening went on. They all did: it was some evening. I asked him about the alarms and he showed me how they worked. He was proud of them and got a lot of fun making the bells ring and bringing the guards arunning. I even took a wax impression of the back door key. I was pretty efficient, and they were all as drunk as an Irishman on St. Patrick’s Day.”

“So you didn’t walk in your sleep?”

She laughed. It was a hard little sound without humour.

“That’s one of the few things I don’t do.”

“And then what happened?”

“I told Gorman I knew the combination of the safe, and how the alarms worked and that I’d taken a wax impression of the key. He was pleased until I asked him what it was all about.” She pursed her lips, frowned as she recollected the scene. “He wasn’t so pleased when I told him he’d have to cut me in on his racket or he wouldn’t get the information.”

I was listening attentively now.

“Did he?”

“Yes.” She flicked ash on to the carpet. “It didn’t come as easy as that, of course, but he came across in the end.”

“And what did he tell you?”

She rested her elbows on the mantel and pushed her chest out at me.

“He told me why he wanted the compact, and what he was going to do when he’d got it. He told me how much the compact was worth and how he was going to get the money. He agreed to trade a third share of whatever he got for my information.”

“Why did he want the compact?” I asked casually: a little too casually.

“What did you do with it?” she asked, also casually.

This was where I’d come in.

“Yeah, that’s what you said before. You needn’t worry about the compact. That’s been taken care of. Finish your story. Why did he want it?”

“Why do you think I ratted on Gorman?” she returned and surveyed me with her alert, cool eyes.

“You didn’t want him to torture me,” I said. “Remember?”

She laughed: the sound jeered at me.

“Guess again.”

“You thought Gorman would gyp you out of your share. You knew Parker was screwy, and you didn’t put it past him after they had the compact to twist your pretty neck and stick you head first in the lily pond.”

Her lapis-lazuli eyes brooded.

“Go on.”

“You also thought a third share wasn’t as good as a half share, and when I turned up you thought I was the kind of guy you could do things with. And when I came back with the yarn that the compact had gone up in smoke, you were sure I was the guy for you.”

She pushed her chest out at me.

“I have information to sell. It’ll cost you a half share of whatever you get out of Brett if you want to buy it.”

I got up, yawned.

“Come on, kid, we’re going to bed. We’ve talked enough for tonight. I’ll show you where we’ll lay our weary heads.”

Alarm and doubt flickered into her eyes.

“Don’t you want my information?” she asked sharply.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, took her arm and led her across to the bedroom. “Maybe I can do without your help.”

“No, you can’t,” she said, pulling away. “It’s no good thinking you can. The compact means nothing to anyone unless they know what I know.”

“So you say,” I said, sitting on the bed. “But I have an inquiring mind. I was a dick once. It’s my business to find out things, and you’d be surprised at the things I have found out.”

She faced me; two angry red spots of colour showed on her cheeks. She was no longer calm and alert: she was rattled.

“I want a half share—” she began, but I pulled her down on the bed.

“Don’t go shrill on me, sweetheart,” I said. “I’m not interested in business any more tonight. I want a little fun.”

“You’re not getting it from me!” she said through her clenched teeth and tried to break my hold, but she wasn’t the only one with steel in her wrists. “Let me go!” she went on furiously. “I’ll scream!”

“Go ahead,” I said, gripping her arms. “What’s a scream or two in this joint? Someone’s always screaming here: it’s part of the set-up. Scream as much as you like if you want to.”

“Let me go — damn you!”

She wrenched an arm free and I collected a punch in the jaw that jerked my head back. She kicked my shin and thumped my sore neck with her clenched fist.

I wasn’t feeling in a gentle mood. I’d been punched around plenty during the past twenty-four hours. I was supposed to be a tough guy, but up to now everyone had been using me as a door-scraper. It was time I showed the cloven hoof.

“That’s how it is,” I said, leaning over her. “I’ve been a sucker long enough. Now it’s your turn, blue-eyes, to be pushed around, and I hope you’ll like it.”

“You beast!” she panted, struggled up and kicked at me.

I grabbed her. She tried to bite, but she didn’t try very hard. After a while her arms slid around my neck and she held on like she was scared of losing me. Her lips parted against mine. Her eyes were shining like two blue stars.

Like I said: women are funny animals.

The clang of the telephone clapper brought me upright in bed. Another jackrabbit popped out of the pillows beside me.

“No fire,” I said. “Only the telephone. Did it scare you?”

Veda pulled away from my clutch.

“Not as much as it seems to have scared you,” she retorted, and as the telephone was at her side of the bed she reached for it.

I put an arm across her chest, flattened her into the pillows.

“I’ll take it. You rest yourself.”

I had to lean on her to reach the receiver, so I leaned on her.

“You have the manners of a hog,” she gasped, “and that’s insulting the hog.”

I smiled down into fierce blue eyes, lifted the receiver off its prong.

“I’m at my best with cripples and very, very old ladies,” I assured her. Into the ‘phone I yawned a hello.

Casy’s voice barked in my ear.

“Come on down, Floyd. The lid’s aching to fly off this can, but I’m holding it on till you get here.”

“What can?” I said. “And don’t shout, Mick, my nerves are jangling.” They were, too. I felt I could duck under a duck and not ruffle its feathers.

Casy let out a bellow.

“To hell with your nerves. Come on down and shake the ants outs your pants. Give you five minutes,” and he hung up.

I replaced the receiver gently, ran my fingers through my hair and looked down at the small pale face half buried in the pillows. Most dames would have looked a little wilted, but Veda didn’t. She still looked good enough to eat.

“Hello?” I said. “Remember me?”

“If I don’t my bruises will,” she returned tartly. “Get off, you big oaf. You’re crushing the life out of me.”

“Swell death,” I said, heaved myself out of bed, stretched, yawned, and made a jump for the bottle. “Like a little of the dog that bit you?”

“No, thank you.” She raised herself up on her elbow. “Who was that?”

“Casy. I have to go down. I’ll have some coffee sent up for you.”

“What’s he want?” Her tone was sharp.

“He didn’t say. Maybe he’s lonely.” I found my wristwatch amongst the junk I’d dumped on the dressing-table. It was twenty minutes past eleven. “Hey! We’ve slept away most of the morning!”