Джеймс Чейз - Have a Change of Scene

I lit a cigarette. I was no longer frightened of him, although I knew he was still dangerous. If the police got him, he would talk.

Looking at him, I came to a cold-blooded decision. He had to be silenced. There was no other solution if I were to remain safe.

I sat there, smoking and looking at him as he snivelled and cried. His dirt, his smell, his craven spirit made him no more important to me than a fly on the wall.

The City Hall clock struck twelve.

‘You must be hungry, Fel,’ I said. ‘I’ll get you something to eat.’

He stopped snivelling.

‘Hungry? I’m bloody starving! The time I’ve had! I’ve been living on raw fish and crabs in that goddamn swamp! You ever been in there? The stinking place is full of snakes and alligators!’

I telephoned the restaurant and asked the maître d’ to send up the lunch.

‘Go out on the terrace, Fel, and keep out of sight.’

He grabbed up his glass of whisky, drained it, then went out on to the terrace.

I took his glass into the kitchen, my mind busy. How to silence him? I realised I was planning to murder him, but the thought didn’t shock me. If I could get rid of him and then get rid of Rhea I would be safe, and not only safe, but the world would truly be at my feet.

I returned to the sitting room and sat down. During the quarter of an hour’s wait until the waiter appeared, an idea began to form in my mind. It seemed to me that Fel could be easily dealt with, but not Rhea. Well, one bridge at the time, I told myself.

The waiter came in, wheeling a trolley. He beamed at me.

‘Morning, Mr. Carr. Good to see you again. There’s a bottle of champagne with the maître d’s compliments. The chef has given you his special for today.’

I tipped him two dollars and when he had gone, I went out on to the terrace where Fel was sitting with his back against the balustrade, his knees drawn up to his chin.

‘Come and get it,’ I said.

He shoved past me, went to the table and stared at the food, then he sat down and began to eat. He ate like a starving pig, stuffing food into his mouth, bolting it down, making choking noises. He so sickened me, I went out on to the terrace and waited there until he had finished, but while waiting, I went over the plan in my mind: the plan to get rid of him for good and in safety.

Hearing a loud belch, I decided he had finished eating and I returned to the sitting room.

God knows what the waiter would think when he came to collect the trolley, I thought as I looked at the debris. Fel had spilt food on the table cloth; there was nothing left from the copious cheese board; the basket that had contained six rolls of bread was empty. There were wine stains not only on the table cloth, but also on the immaculate cloth that covered the trolley. Even the fruit basket was empty.

Never mind, I told myself, a ten-dollar tip would put this right.

I looked at Fel who was lighting a cigarette.

‘Man!’ he said. ‘Do you rich creeps know how to live! That was the best goddamn meal I’ve ever eaten!’

‘You must have been hungry,’ I said.

‘Yeah... you sitting in this plush joint and me out there in the dark with snakes.’ He stared at me, his eyes hating me. ‘Well, buster, you got me into this mess... you get me out of it or I’ll fix you! If the cops catch up with me, I’ll sing. You and me will go away for twenty goddamn years!’

He didn’t know it but he was talking himself into death.

‘How did you get into this apartment, Fel?’ I asked, sitting down and lighting a cigarette.

‘Any punk could get in here. That wasn’t so tough. Never mind that. I want a car and I want money.’

‘You can take my car. It’s parked outside. How much money do you want?’

He squinted at me.

‘Fifty grand.’

I nodded.

‘I can manage that. What are your plans, Fel?’

‘I’ll drive to Key West. I have a pal who’ll get me to Cuba. Once there, I’ll send you my address.’ He leered at me and I could see the whisky was hitting him. ‘Then you’ll send me five hundred grand. That’ll be my final pay off. When I get it, you won’t ever hear from me again.’

‘But I could hear from Rhea,’ I said.

‘That’s your funeral. I’m talking for myself. She’s got the necklace so why should she worry you? I’ve got nothing!’

‘Where is she, Fel?’

‘What’s it to you? You leave her alone. She’s poison! Forget her... she’ll sell the necklace and she’ll fade. Forget her.’

I tipped more whisky into his glass. He grinned and picking up the glass, he drained it.

‘Man! Do you bastards live well!’ He reached for the whisky bottle and poured more spirit into his glass. ‘My goddamn sister! You know something, buster? She doesn’t give a goddamn for anyone except this creep of hers. What a punk! What a goddamn piss-pot! I bet right now she’s having it off with him! That stinker really turns her on!’

‘Using my car, Fel, you won’t have any trouble,’ I said. ‘As soon as it’s dark... after ten o’clock, all you have to do is to get in the car and take off.’

He half shut his eyes. I could see he was pretty drunk.

‘How about the money?’

‘That’s no problem. I have it right here.’

He peered at me. I could see he was having trouble in focusing me.

‘Right here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who do you think you’re conning? Let’s see it.’

‘You’ll see it. Who is this creep Rhea’s with?’

He blew out his cheeks.

‘Who cares for a stick of crap like Spooky?’ He giggled. ‘Boy! What a creep! Just proves what a stupid bitch she is to get turned on by a stinker like him... he’s ten years younger than she is.’

‘Spooky Jinx?’ I asked.

‘Yeah... you know him?’

‘I ran into him in Luceville... quite a character.’

‘You can say that again.’ He leaned back. ‘Wow! That was some meal!’

‘How come Rhea has hooked up with Spooky?’

‘You tell me! She was having it off with him before she went to jail. As soon as she comes out, she chases after him. Nuts! A creep like that!’ He frowned, shook his head, then rubbed his dirty hands across his eyes. ‘I guess I’ve drunk too much... wanna sleep.’

‘Go ahead,’ I said. ‘Have a sleep.’

An animal instinct brought him upright.

‘Show me the money, buster. You say you have it here... show it to me.’

This was it.

‘It’s in the safe.’ I got to my feet.

‘Safe... what safe?’

I walked over to the Picasso picture, lifted it off the wall, revealing the safe.

‘Well, for hell’s sake!’ Fel lurched to his feet. ‘Never thought of looking there! You got money in that can?’

‘That’s where it is.’

‘Go ahead, buster... open it!’

I twisted the dial, knowing that by doing so, I was setting off an alarm at police headquarters.

‘I’m not too sure how to open it,’ I said. ‘I have the combination, but it’s tricky.’

‘So it’s tricky,’ Fel said, breathing whisky fumes down my neck as he stared at the dial. ‘So go ahead and open it.’

I spun the knob, clicking up the numbers, knowing by now a prowl car would be on the way.

‘Two-double-one, five-double-eight, six-double-nine,’ I muttered as I flicked the dial around. This was not the combination which, because of poor Sydney’s hopeless memory, was a simple 1 — 2 — 3 told to me by Tom Luce. I pulled the knob, then shook my head. ‘Must have made a slip. Here, Fel, you try. I’ll call the numbers.’

‘Me? I’m goddamn drunk!’ He lurched against me, sending me staggering. ‘You open it! Come on, you punk! You damn well open it.’

I began to move the dial around. How long would I have to wait before the police arrived? I began to sweat.