James Chase - This Way for a Shroud

“Who am I going to tell, do you imagine?” Janey said scornfully, slipping into her wrap. “You talk as if I’m surrounded by people instead of being left alone night after night in this dreary house.”

“There’s no need to talk nonsense,” Conrad said curtly. “You have dozens of friends, and you know it. It’s just that you’re not interested to entertain people at home. You prefer to be taken out.”

“Who the hell wants to cook and wash up when one can go out?” Janey snapped.

Conrad put the envelope in a small drawer in the dressing-table.

“I’d better throw some things in a bag,” he said, side-tracking the way to an inevitable row.

“And who are these precious witnesses you have to take care of?” Janey asked, sitting down before the dressing-table again. “A woman — I bet.”

“Never mind who they are,” Conrad said shortly. He began hurriedly to pack a bag. “I’d better leave you some money.” He put a few bills on the mantelpiece.

“That should hold you until Thursday.”

It would be too risky to ask Louis to come here, Janey decided as she made up her lips. Too many prying neighbours, but she could go to his place. Again she felt a hot flush run over her. He had been like an animal, she thought. His lovemaking had been brutal, selfish and insatiable. He had left her bruised and gasping but with an overwhelming desire to be caught up again in his hard, muscular arms.

“I must get along,” Conrad said, shutting the bag. “Why don’t you get Beth to spend a few days with you? I don’t like leaving you entirely alone here.”

Janey smiled mysteriously.

“Your remorse is very touching, darling. Considering you leave me here alone fifteen hours a day, a few more hours won’t hurt me.”

“For goodness sake, Janey! Don’t go on and on. You know I have to work late hours,” Conrad said impatiently.

“Then it will be a nice change for you to sit beside some woman and hold her hand in Butcher’s Wood, won’t it?”

Conrad looked at her in disgust.

“Well, so long, Janey.”

“So long,” she said, and turned back to the mirror.

She didn’t move until she heard the front door slam, then she jumped to her feet and ran over to the window. She watched Conrad drive away, then she stood for a long minute, her arms across her breasts and her eyes closed, savouring a sense of freedom.

She had four days and three nights alone! She didn’t intend to waste such a gift.

She ran across the room, down the stairs to the telephone. As she dialled the number of the Paradise Club she was aware that her heart was beating wildly and her breath was coming in quick, uneven gasps. She reached for a cigarette, lit it and tried to control her breathing.

“Mr. Seigel, please?” she said, as a woman’s voice came over the line.

“Who’s calling?”

“Mr. Seigel is expecting me. Put me through, please!” Janey said sharply. She had no intention of advertising her name to a receptionist.

“Hold a moment.”

After a long pause Seigel snapped, “Who is it?”

He sounded curt and angry.

“Louis? Janey here.”

“Oh — hello: what do you want?”

The casual indifference in his voice sent a stab into Janey’s heart.

“You don’t sound very pleased to hear my voice,” she said plaintively.

“I’m busy. What’s on your mind?”

“He’s gone away for two or three days,” Janey said. “I’m on my own. I thought you would be interested.”

There was a long pause. She could almost hear Seigel thinking.

“That’s fine,” he said suddenly, but his voice still remained curt. “Well, come on over.”

“You mean to the club?”

“Sure. Come on over. I’ll buy you a dinner.”

“I don’t know if I should come to the club. Couldn’t I go to your place, Louis?”

“Come to the club,” he said irritably. “See you around nine. I can’t get free before nine. So long for now,” and he hung up.

Janey slowly replaced the receiver. He wasn’t treating her as she had hoped he would treat her, but she didn’t care. She didn’t even care that he must know she was throwing herself at him. His brutal rudeness fascinated her. All she wanted was to be caught up in his arms, to be treated like a woman of the streets, to be bruised and to be left gasping. That was an experience she had never known before: an experience she must have.

Seigel walked along the passage to his office, a heavy scowl on his face. For the past three days, he had been waiting for McCann to warn him a warrant had been sworn out for his arrest. The fact McCann hadn’t telephoned made him jittery and bad-tempered. He was worried, too, that Gollowitz had taken the whole affair out of his hands. It was not as if Gollowitz had anything to brag about. He said he would take care of the girl — and what had happened? Nothing! Not a damn thing!

The D.A. had the girl and he had Weiner. Those two must be talking their heads off by now. If he had his way he would be in New York by now, but Gollowitz had told him to stay where he was.

“There’s nothing to worry about yet,” Gollowitz had said. “McCann is covering you at his end. When Forest decides to make a move, then it’ll be time for you to skip, and not before.”

Seigel turned the handle of his office door and pushed the door open. He came to an abrupt standstill when he saw Gollowitz sitting behind his desk.

“What are you doing here?” Seigel demanded, coming in and shutting the door.

“I’m waiting,” Gollowitz said quietly.

The past three days had left their mark on him. His fat face sagged and there were grey-blue bags under his eyes. He had realized the danger the organization was in, and his shrewd brain had worked ceaselessly for a legal way out, but there was no legal way out. There was only one way to stop those two from giving evidence that would upset his future kingdom. They must be silenced, and silenced for good.

Too late, he realized that Seigel was a broken reed, that Seigel’s thugs were brainless killers who would never get near those two now Forest was alerted. He had finally taken a decision that hurt his pride and weakened his position. He had reported to the Syndicate, admitted he couldn’t handle the situation and had asked for help.

“Waiting?” Seigel snarled, coming over to sit in an armchMr. “Waiting for what?”

Gollowitz glanced at his wrist-watch.

“I’m waiting for Ferrari. He should be here any minute.”

Seigel scowled.

“Ferrari? Who’s Ferrari?”

“Vito Ferrari,” Gollowitz said.

Seigel stiffened. His big hands closed over the arms of his chair until his knuckles stood out white and bony. His tanned face went blotchy, turning red, then white, and he half started out of his chair.

“Vito Ferrari? He’s not coming here, is he?”

“Yes.”

“But why? What’s the idea? What the hell is he coming here for?”

Gollowitz stared at Seigel, his small black eyes like glass beads.

“I asked him to come.”

Seigel got slowly to his feet.

“Are you crazy? You asked Ferrari to come here? Why?”

“Who else do you imagine can handle this mess?” Gollowitz asked, spreading his fat hands palms up on the blotter. “You? Do you imagine you can handle it?”

“But Ferrari…”

“If those two go into the witness-box we’re all finished,” Gollowitz said quietly. “They must be silenced. You have had your chance. I have had mine. We both failed. We can’t afford to fail. I asked the Syndicate to send Ferrari. They said I had done the right thing.”

“What will Maurer say?” Seigel asked, licking his dry lips. “You know he wouldn’t have a Syndicate man on his territory.”