James Chase - The World in My Pocket

‘For heaven’s sake, Eddy,’ the girl protested, sitting up and blinking at him. She was dark, her black hair cut across her forehead in a fringe. Her eyes were big and blue and her features were small. She had on a pair of yellow pyjamas that set off her well-made body.

‘On your way, baby,’ Bleck said as he struggled into his shirt. ‘I’ve got business. Come on! Make the legs walk!’

‘But, Ed. I’m dead beat. If you have to go out, I can stay, can’t I?’

‘No! I’m not leaving you here on your own. Come on! Get moving!’

The girl — her name was Glorie Dawson — groaned, threw off the sheet and staggered out of bed. She stretched her arms, yawned and walked unsteadily into the bathroom.

‘But what’s the panic, honey?’ she asked, running her fingers through her dark hair. ‘Who was your boyfriend?’

Bleck began to mow his beard with an electric razor.

‘Come on! Dress the body and beat it!’ he said. ‘I’m in a hurry.’

She stripped off her pyjamas and got under the shower.

‘Sometimes I think I must have a hole in my head,’ she said, raising her voice above the noise of the running water. ‘It’s always the same. It starts right: soft music, soft lights and soft words, then all of a sudden it’s: dress the body and beat it. What a way to talk to a girl! My dream man! My Prince Charming!’

‘Cut it out and snap it up!’ Bleck said irritably.

He disconnected the razor and then went into the kitchen to heat up some coffee. His head was aching and his mouth felt as if it were lined with felt. He wished he hadn’t drunk so much the previous night, but his nerves had been shot. He wished too he hadn’t invited Glorie to share his bed. He realized that this must have made a bad impression on Morgan.

He poured a cup of coffee, found a pack of Aspro and took three tablets, noting with a sense of uneasiness that his hand was shaking badly. By the time he had finished his coffee, Glorie came into the kitchen, dressed.

‘Hmmmm — coffee. Pour me a cup, honey.’

‘No time. Come on, let’s get out of here. You can get yourself some coffee across the way.’

‘Wait a moment, Eddy.’ There was a sudden sharpness in her voice that made Bleck look quickly at her. ‘That was Morgan who was here just now, wasn’t it? What was he talking about — the big one? What does that mean?’

Bleck was startled. For a moment he stared uneasily at Glorie.

‘You keep your snout out of my business,’ he snarled. ‘Hear me? This is nothing to do with you.’

‘Eddy, please listen to me,’ she said, putting her hand on his arm. ‘Morgan’s no good. I’ve heard things about him. He’s been in bad trouble all his life. He’s done everything except a killing and the way he’s shaping, that’ll come. Please, Eddy, don’t get mixed up with him. You’ll only get yourself into trouble.’

Bleck had been sleeping with Glorie now regularly for three months or so, and he liked her. She was the first person he had ever met who was interested in him for himself and for nothing else, but that didn’t mean he was going to let her dictate what he was to do and whom he should associate with.

‘Skip it, will you?’ he growled. ‘You mind your own business, and I’ll mind mine. Now, come on.’

She shrugged helplessly.

‘Well, all right, darling, but remember what I said. I can’t do more, Eddy. Morgan’s bad trouble. You shouldn’t mix with him.’

‘Okay, okay, so he’s bad trouble,’ Bleck said impatiently. ‘Come on, for Pete’s sake! I’m in a hurry!’

‘Will I see you tonight?’

‘No. I’m busy. I’ll call you. Maybe next week, but not before.’

She looked at him, her expression worried.

‘So you’re planning something with him. Oh, Eddy, please.’

He took her by her arm and hustled her out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. As he was turning the key, he said, ‘Will you pipe down? I’m not going to tell you again. There are plenty of other fish in the sea. Remember that, will you?’

‘All right, Eddy. The least I can do is to warn you, but if that’s the way you feel about it.’

‘That’s just the way I do feel about it,’ he said, hurrying down the stairs. ‘Just pipe down, will you?’

As they reached the front door, she said, ‘I’ll be waiting for you. Don’t be too long.’

‘Sure, sure,’ Bleck said indifferently and waving his hand, he set off at a rapid walk towards the distant bus stop.

Sitting in the bus, feeling the hot sunshine on his face, his mind drifted to Ginny. Now, there was a girl! What a difference between her and Glorie. What a nerve she had! In smart clothes, she could be class whereas anyone could see Glorie was just a tramp.

He scowled to think Kitson was with her on his own now, acting the part of a newlywed. Not that anyone in his right mind would regard that punch-drunk bum as a likely rival. Bleck rubbed his sore jaw, his eyes suddenly vicious as he thought how Kitson had hit him. That was something he wasn’t going to forget. A time would come when he would get even, and Kitson would be sorry he had hit him.

He was still thinking about Ginny as the bus pulled up at the stop near Gypo’s workshop, and as he walked up the rough road leading to the workshop, he wondered what Kitson was finding to say to her.

Kitson was finding very little to say to Ginny, and he thought of the stretch of sixty miles he had to drive with her with a feeling of dismay.

He had always been talkative enough with the girls he usually went around with, but Ginny did something to him. She gave him a feeling of inferiority and made him tongue-tied, and yet she excited him as no other girl had ever excited him.

To his surprise, she was talkative, but only in spasmodic bursts, asking him abrupt questions about his fighting days, if he remembered so-and-so and such-and-such who at one time had had big reputations in the ring and what did he think of them.

Kitson would reply hesitantly, his face tight with concentration as he tried to make intelligent replies. Then they would drive for three or four miles in silence, and then she would start asking questions again.

Suddenly she asked, ‘What are you going to do with the money when you get it?’

As she looked at him, she crossed one slim leg over the other, showing her knees for a brief moment before she adjusted her skirt with a movement so prim that it caught Kitson’s attention and he had to swing the wheel to put the car back on course.

‘I haven’t got it yet,’ he said. ‘I don’t make plans so far in advance.’

‘You don’t really believe you are going to get it, do you?’

He hesitated, then slowly, his eyes fixed on the road, he said, ‘We’ll be lucky if we do get it. I know that. I’ve worked with those two. They’re not quitters.’

‘That depends on us,’ she said quietly. ‘They’ll quit if they’re sure we mean business. Anyway, they don’t matter. We can handle them. We’re going to get this money. I am sure of it.’

‘We’ll be lucky if we do,’ Kitson repeated. ‘The plan is pretty good. I know that. Hiding the truck inside a caravan is a smart idea, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be able to open the truck.

Suppose we have some luck and do open it, what are we going to do with the money? Two hundred grand is a heap of jack. You can’t put it in a bank. The cops will be watching for just that move. What can you do with all that money in cash?’

‘You put it in a safe deposit vault,’ Ginny said. ‘That’s not so hard, is it?’

‘Would that be so smart? Someone knocked a bank off last year and stuck the money in a safe deposit vault. The cops opened every vault in town and they found it,’ Kitson said, his big hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.