Джеймс Чейз - You Never Know With Women

I breathed gently into the darkness. Even now I hadn’t decided what to do. I didn’t want to go in there. I knew, once I was over the wall, I would have put myself out on a limb, and if I slipped up, the least I could hope for was a stretch in jail. Redfern would fall over himself to put me away. He was only waiting for me to step out of line.

Parker turned on the shaded dashboard lamp. I could see his hands and the shadowy outline of his head and shoulders.

“Here’s the combination of the safe,” he said. “It’s easy to remember. I’ve put it on a card. One full turn to the right, half a turn back, another full turn to the right, and a half turn to the right again. Stop between each turn to give the tumblers a chance to drop into place. Don’t rush it. The only way to open the safe is to wait between each turn.”

He gave me the card.

“How about my dough?” I asked.

“That’s all you think about,” he said with a snarl in his voice. He was wrong there, but it wasn’t the time or the place to tell him about Veda Rux. “Here, take it, and keep your mind on what you’re to do.”

He handed over two one-hundred dollar bills. I folded them small and put them in my cigarette-case. I should have clipped him on the jaw then, shoved him out of the car and driven away, but I wanted to see Veda again. I could still feel her mouth against mine.

“When you’ve opened the safe you’ll find the compact on the second shelf. You can’t miss it. It’s a small gold case, about half an inch thick. You know the kind: hundreds of women have them. Put the dagger in its place.”

“It would have saved a lot of trouble if that babe had slept with a chain on her ankle,” I said. “You might pass the idea on.”

He opened the car door and slid out into the darkness. I followed. Out in the open I could just make out the top of the wall. We stood listening for a moment or so. There wasn’t a sound. I wondered if the dog was loose in the grounds: just thinking about that dog gave me the shakes.

“Ready?” Parker said impatiently. “We want to get this over before the moon is up.”

“Yeah,” I said and swung the leaded cane. I wished now I carried a gun.

He uncoiled the length of rope, and I took the hook in my hand. At the third throw the hook caught on the wire and held.

“Well, so long,” I said. “Keep your ears open. I may be coming out a damn sight faster than I go in.”

“Don’t make any mistakes, Jackson,” he said. I couldn’t see his face but by the way his voice sounded he was talking through locked teeth. “You won’t get any more money out of us if you don’t bring out that compact.”

“As if I didn’t know,” I said and took hold of the rope. “Got the dagger?”

“I’ll hand it up to you. Be careful with it. Don’t knock it against anything. There mustn’t be a mark on it.”

I climbed up the rope until I reached the wire. My feet gripped one of the knots in the rope and I went to work on the wire with the cutters. The wire was strung tight and I had to watch out it didn’t snap back and slash me. I got it cut after a while.

“Okay,” I said into the darkness and drew myself up until I was sitting astride the wall. I looked towards the house, but it was like looking into a pit a mile deep.

“Here’s the case,” Parker whispered. “Handle it carefully.”

I leaned down, fumbled about until my fingers closed around it.

“I have it,” I said and took it from him. While I was shoving it into my coat pocket, I went on: “It’s as black as a hat down there. It’ll take me some time to locate the way in.”

“No, it won’t,” Parker said impatiently. “There’s a path a few yards from the wall. It’ll take you to the back door. Keep to your right. You can’t go wrong.”

“You’ve really made a study of this thing, haven’t you?” I said, pulling up the rope, and slid down the other side of the wall into the garden.

I stood in the darkness, my hand against the wall, my feet on the grass verge and listened. All I could hear was my own breathing and the thump of my heart against my ribs. I had left it late to make a decision now. I could either stay right where I was for a while and then climb back over the wall and tell Parker I couldn’t open the safe or it was too well guarded or something, or I could go ahead and do the job and take a chance of running into the dog and the guards.

Once I had the compact, and if the guards caught me, nothing could save me from Redfern. But I was curious. I was sure the whole set-up was phoney. A guy as smart as Gorman wouldn’t be gambling away fifteen hundred bucks to help a woman out of a mess. He wasn’t the type. The compact or whatever it was he wanted out of Brett’s safe was worth a pile of jack. There could be no other explanation. If it was worth money to him, it might be worth money to me. I was sick of San Luis Beach; sick of being pushed around; sick of having no money. If I used my head I might make a killing with this job. I might collect enough dough to take it easy for years. It was worth the gamble. I decided to go ahead.

All this took about five seconds to go through my mind; a second later I was on the path and heading towards the house. I had on rubber-soled shoes and I made less noise than a ghost, and I was listening all the time. I didn’t hurry and I crouched as I moved; the flashlight in one hand and the leaded cane ready for business in the other. After a while I came out of the trees. Away to my left I could make out the shape of the house: a vast black bulk of stone against the sky. No lights showed.

I kept moving, following the path that circled the lawn, and I kept thinking about the wolf-hound. It was nervy work walking into that thick darkness: a police dog doesn’t bark. It moves along almost on its belly, very fast and quiet, and the first and last time you know it’s there is when its fangs are tearing your throat out. My shirt stuck to my back, and my nerves were poking out of my skin by the time I reached the end of the path. I was close to the house now. The path led to the terrace steps. I knew from the plan that to reach the back entrance you had to walk along the terrace, up some more steps, along another terrace, pass a row of french windows, round the corner and there you were. Once on the terrace you had as much cover to duck behind as a bubble dancer has when her bubble bursts.

I stood near the last tree of the path and probed the terrace and the steps until my eyes hurt. At first I couldn’t see a thing, then I began to make out the broad white steps and the balustrade of the terrace. I kept on looking and listening and straining into the darkness because I knew once I moved out into the open there was no turning back. I had to be sure no one was there. I had to be doubly sure the dog wasn’t up there waiting for me.

Now I was close to the house I could see chinks of light from one of the downstairs curtained windows. I could hear the whisper of dance music. The sound of that music made me feel lonely.

I still couldn’t make up my mind to leave the shelter of the tree. I had a hunch it wasn’t as safe up there as it looked. I kept staring and waiting, and then I saw the guard. By now my eyes had become used to the dark — and besides, the moon was coming up behind the house. He had been standing close to what looked like a big stone bird on a pedestal at the top of the steps. He had been merged into the design of the bird and I hadn’t seen him, although he had been there all the time. Now he had moved away from the bird I could see the outline of his cap against the white background of the terrace. I sucked in a lungful of air. He stood looking into the garden for a while, and then walked leisurely along the terrace, away from the back entrance.