Джеймс Чейз - Have a Change of Scene

I made out I was hesitating, then I nodded as if I had made up my mind.

‘All right, Jenny, you have influenced me,’ I said. ‘I’ll go. You’re right: I am wasting my time here. I hate leaving you. You’ve been a good friend to me, but you’re right. I’ll go first thing tomorrow.’

Maybe I overdid it. Maybe she was smarter than I gave her credit for. She looked sadly at me.

‘I’ve learned people do have to live their own lives. Very few people will take advice. I try, but they don’t listen, so there isn’t much I can do about it, is there?’

I suddenly wanted to tell her what was happening to me. I knew I would never tell Dr. Melish, but there was something about her as she lay in the bed, looking searchingly at me that gave me the urge to confide in her.

Then Rhea came into my mind and the moment to confess had gone.

I touched her fingers, forced a smile, said a few banal things about keeping in touch and then walked out of the hospital, my mind switched to what I had to do this night.

Back in my hotel bedroom, I unpacked the items I had bought. I put on the jacket, then the wig, then the silver glasses. With the Beretta toy gun in my hand, I went into the shower room where there was a full-length mirror.

I looked at myself.

I certainly looked a freak, and I was sure no one could possibly recognise me. I drew my lips off my teeth in a snarl and I looked scarey. I lifted the gun and pointed it at my reflection and I snarled: ‘This is a goddamn holdup!’

If this threatening image in the mirror had walked into my office in Paradise City I would have handed over all the diamonds in the safe without hesitation.

Satisfied, I took off the wig, the glasses and the jacket and packed them carefully, with the gun, in the sling bag. I felt sure that by taking the trouble of buying them in Jason’s Halt there would be no chance of the police, after the raid, tracing them to me.

I was pleased with myself.

Now I had to wait until midnight and then I would be in the big league.

I lay on the bed and rehearsed the operation. I went through the dialogue I would use. Having satisfied myself I was word perfect, I dropped off to sleep. I was pleased I could sleep. This proved to me that there was nothing wrong with my nerves.

Around 21.00, I woke and went across the street to a snack bar and ate greasy meatballs and spaghetti. I took my time. Leaving the snack bar, I returned to the hotel, collected the sling bag and then walked to my car which I had parked at the end of the street.

I drove out of town and along the freeway. Five miles out of Luceville was a Caltex service station. I had never stopped there, but I had often passed it. It was always doing a brisk trade, and I knew it remained open all night.

As I drove by it, I slowed the Buick. There was a fat, powerfully built man in white uniform shooting gas into a car. I couldn’t see anyone else around. I felt satisfied this man was on night shift and would be on his own.

I U-turned when I could and drove back to Luceville. I spent the next two hours in an all-night movie house, watching an old Western. It was good enough to hold my attention.

When the lights came up, I walked with the rest of the crowd into the hot cement-dusty street and got in my car.

For some moments, I sat still, before starting the motor.

Here I go, I thought and was a little dismayed that my heart was thumping and my hands wet with sweat.

There was a lay-by some three hundred yards from the service station. I pulled into it, killed the motor and the lights. I looked ahead at the bright flashing sign that spelt out: CALTEX. Getting out of the car and keeping in the shadows, I put on the jacket, the wig and the glasses. My hands were so unsteady when I took the toy gun out of the sling bag, I dropped it. I spent some feverish moments groping in the grass before I found it.

My heart was hammering. For a moment I hesitated whether to go back to the hotel or to go ahead.

Then Rhea with her red hair and her cynical, sexy green eyes came into my mind and my nerve stiffened.

I walked fast along the grass verge of the highway towards the lights of the service station.

Only an occasional car whizzed by me.

As I neared the service station I slowed my pace.

Keeping in the shadows, I moved slowly forward. I could now see the small, well-lighted office. The fat attendant was watching a late-night TV show, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

Tension was making my heart beat so violently I had trouble with my breathing. I stood still for some minutes, watching him. The highway was deserted. If I was going to do it, I had to do it now.

I heard myself muttering: ‘Are you crazy? You could land in jail!’ But I moved forward, gripping the butt of the toy gun so hard my fingers began to ache.

The attendant looked up as I pushed open the glass door. At the sight of me, he stiffened, then seeing the gun, he froze.

‘This is a hold up,’ I said, but there was no snarl in my voice. I was as scared as he was.

We stared at each other. He was a man around fifty years of age: a fat, fatherly type, his hair shot with grey and he had steady brown eyes and the firm mouth of a provider.

He recovered from his fright. His eyes examined the gun in my hand, then he relaxed.

‘No money here, son,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re out of luck.’

‘Give me the money or this heater goes off.’ The quaver in my voice sickened me. I knew I was as menacing as a mouse.

‘We have a system here, son,’ he said, as if talking to a child. ‘A night safe. Every buck I get gets fed into that steel box over there and only the boss can open it.’

I stared at him, sweat running down my face.

‘I gave my son one of those guns for Christmas,’ he went on. ‘He’s crazy about James Bond.’ His eyes shifted to the lighted TV screen. ‘Suppose you shove off? Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I go for Bob Hope.’ He gave a relaxed laugh as Hope said: Even my flab is flabby.

Defeated, I went away into the darkness, to my car and back to the hotel.

Back in my hotel bedroom, I lay in the dark and in despair.

Cheapie!

Spooky’s taunt rang in my ears.

Yes... Cheapie!

My head ached and I was shivering with frustration and shame. I was gutless! There must be something wrong with my mechanism! It was only when I was goaded into losing my temper that I seemed to be able to act, but in cold blood, I was as menacing as a mouse!

I knew for certain that my gutless attempt to compete with Rhea’s record was now stillborn. I knew I hadn’t the guts to make a second attempt, sure that it would lead to my arrest. I was a hopeless, useless, fumbling amateur! I had been lucky with the fat attendant. He had known as soon as he saw the gun that it was a toy, and he had dismissed me with the contempt I deserved.

My mind switched to Rhea. My body ached for her. I was past telling myself I was crazy, that the evil and the viciousness in her could destroy me. There was her siren’s song hammering in my mind, and it was irresistible.

I remembered what she had said: When you have me it ‘ll cost you more than a meal. I remembered how she had looked, standing there, her green eyes full of sexual promises, her body slightly arched towards me, her sensual smile.

And now I didn’t give a damn what it would cost me! Gone was my arrogant confidence that I would have her for nothing. I had to have her! I had to have her even on her own terms! What would she want? Jenny had written in her report that this woman had been a prostitute. Suppose I offered her two hundred dollars? That was a hell of a price to pay a whore. She wouldn’t refuse two hundred dollars! Maybe once I had taken her, I would get her out of my system.