James Chase - The World in My Pocket

She moved away over to the double doors.

‘Well, so long,’ she said to Gypo.

‘So long,’ he said, winking at Kitson, who ignored him and followed the girl out into the hot night air. They walked side by side down the road and on to the highway.

‘Where do you live?’ Ginny asked as they paused at the bus stop.

‘Lennox Street,’ Kitson said.

‘Then I’ll be waiting at the corner tomorrow at eleven.’

‘I can pick you up at your place if you like.’

‘It’s not necessary.’

There was a pause while Kitson kept eyeing her as she stood at his side.

‘The other night,’ he said abruptly. ‘I wouldn’t have hit you. I — I guess I lost my temper. I’m sorry.’

She smiled.

‘I thought you were going to. You scared me.’

Kitson flushed.

‘I wouldn’t have done it. I don’t hit anyone smaller than myself. I wouldn’t have done it.’

‘If you had, it would have served me right. I was asking for it.’ She flicked her cigarette away. ‘Was it such a good idea to hit Bleck?’

Kitson scowled.

‘It’s time someone took a poke at that punk,’ he said. ‘He had it coming.’

‘Yes, but it wasn’t such a good idea. You’ll have to watch him. He’s not the type to forget.’

Kitson shrugged.

‘I can handle him.’

‘I think you can. I saw you in the ring about a year ago. When you beat Jackie Lazards. That was quite a scrap.’

Kitson looked at her, his face lighting up. That had been quite a scrap. He had been lucky to have beaten Lazards. They had fought nine slugging rounds, and it had been anyone’s fight.

‘He was a good fighter.’

‘You weren’t so bad yourself. Why did you quit the ring?’

This was an embarrassing question and Kitson hastily improvised.

‘After my last fight I got double vision,’ he said, running his fingers through his curly hair. ‘That scared me. I was doing all right, but this double vision. The Doc said I should quit, and he was pretty serious about it. I didn’t want to. I had a good chance for the title, but when the Doc said I should quit, I quit.’

This was his version of the story. His manager would have told her something completely different. He looked anxiously at her to see if she accepted the explanation, but her expressionless face told him nothing.

‘What made you pick on Frank?’ he asked after a long pause.

‘Who else is there in this town to pick on?’ she said. ‘Here comes the bus.’

They boarded the bus. She let him buy the tickets, and they sat side by side, their faces reflected in the glass of the window. The bus was full. Except for a moment’s interest when the men in the bus stared at her as she went to her seat, no one paid any attention to them.

They rode back to town in silence.

At the railroad station, she said, ‘This is where I get off. See you tomorrow at eleven.’

He got up to let her pass and he felt a surge of blood move through him as her body brushed against his.

As the bus moved off, he pressed his face against the window, looking out into the darkness, trying to get a last glimpse of her.

At eleven o’clock the following morning, Kitson drove Morgan’s Buick out of town and headed towards Marlow, a sixty-mile drive on Highway 10.

By his side sat Ginny, whom he scarcely recognised. She looked what she was supposed to look: a young girl who had just got married and was about to experience the excitement and the fun of a honeymoon. The simple summer frock she wore gave her youthful charm. Her expression had softened and she was surprisingly talkative.

Kitson was a little stunned by this transformation. He had taken pains with his appearance, and he now gave the impression of being a fairly prosperous young man, just married and embarrassed that anyone should know he was off on his honeymoon.

Morgan had brought the Buick, towing tackle now in position, to Kitson’s place. Gypo had followed him in the Lincoln and he had become sentimental as he watched Kitson and Ginny drive away.

‘They look made for each other, don’t they?’ he said to Morgan as he stared after the swiftly moving Buick. ‘She’s not as hard as she makes out. A girl with a body like that is made for love. They look like a honeymoon couple. They could have beautiful children.’

‘Stop napping with your mouth!’ Morgan said. ‘What’s the matter with you? You’re talking like an old woman!’

Gypo spread his hands and lifted his shoulders.

‘Okay, so I flap with my mouth. So I shut up, but without a little love in this world, where is the happiness?’

‘Come on. We’ve got work to do. Take me over to Ed’s place,’ Morgan said, scowling.

This sort of sloppy talk was bad, he thought. They had a dangerous job ahead of them. This was no time for sentiment.

Bleck had a two-room apartment in a brown stone building that overlooked the river.

Morgan took the elevator to the fourth floor, walked along the passage and dug his thumb into Bleck’s bell push.

There was a delay, then Bleck opened the door.

He was wearing a pair of black pyjamas with white piping and his initials in white on the pocket. His hair was tousled and his eyes heavy and a little bleary.

‘For the love of Mike!’ he said, staring at Morgan. ‘What’s the time then?’

Morgan moved forward and rode Bleck back into the small sitting room, comfortably furnished, but untidy, with a number of empty gin and whisky bottles lined up on the window seat. There was a stale smell of cigarette smoke and perfume that made Morgan wrinkle his nose.

‘It smells like a cat house in here,’ he said. ‘Can’t you open a window?’

‘Why, sure.’ Bleck went to the window and threw it open. He looked at the clock on the overmantel and saw it was twenty minutes after eleven. ‘You’re early, aren’t you? Kitson gone?’

‘They’ve gone,’ Morgan said. He looked across the room to the bedroom door. ‘You got someone in there?’

Bleck grinned sheepishly.

‘She’s asleep. You don’t have to worry about her.’

Morgan reached forward and hooked his finger into Bleck’s pyjama pocket, pulling him close to him.

‘Listen, Ed, this is the big one. Your showing last night wasn’t so hot. You’ll have to do a damn sight better than that or you’re not going to be much help. Until we’ve done this job, cut out the women and the booze. You look like something a cat has sicked up.’

Bleck jerked away, his face tightening.

‘You don’t talk that way to me, Frank.’

‘I do, pal. If you want it the hard way, say so. I can handle you any time and don’t forget it. You do what I say or you’re out of this job.’

The expression in the flat, black eyes chilled Bleck.

‘Okay, okay,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I’ll watch it.’

‘You’d better watch it,’ Morgan said.

Bleck moved away.

‘Anything in the papers about last night?’

‘The usual junk. Everyone was so scared they couldn’t give the cops any kind of description. I guess we’re going to get away with that one. I want you to get down to Gypo’s place right away. He is getting the long bolts for the steel work now, but he’ll need help with the job. Get down there, will you?’

‘Okay,’ Bleck said grudgingly. He didn’t feel like working this morning.

‘And snap it up!’ Morgan barked. ‘I’m going over to Dukas to get an automatic rifle. Ernie has one and he’s willing to sell it.’

‘Sure,’ Bleck said. ‘I’ll get down there right away.’

When Morgan had gone, Bleck cursed under his breath and walked into the bedroom, crossing the half-dark room and pulling up the blind, letting a stream of strong sunlight fall directly across the face of the girl, lying in his bed.