Джеймс Чейз - The Way the Cookie Crumbles

She had heard him come in and she had prayed he wouldn’t come to her room. She had passed a sleepless night, her mind tormented, her body aching. What was Jess now planning to do? she kept asking herself. She was sure he wouldn’t return to New York. She blamed herself for being such a fool as to tell him her story. She was now entirely in his hands. How could she have ever loved him?

Forcing herself not to think of Jess, she began to think of Edris. Here again, she could find no solution. She couldn’t even run away. Mel would immediately alert the police and if they found her, the whole story might come out.

Looking at her as she came in, Mel was startled to see how pale she was.

‘Hello,’ he said, lowering the newspaper he was glancing at. ‘You look a bit under the weather. Were you late last night?’

‘No.’ She sat down and listlessly poured herself a cup of coffee. ‘I’m all right. Don’t fuss.’ Forcing herself to look at him, she asked, ‘Well? What did Joy say?’

Mel grinned happily.

‘We’re getting married at the end of the month. I’ll have some free time then for the honeymoon. You won’t mind being left alone for four weeks?’

She immediately saw this could be her chance. With Mel out of the way, she would tell Mrs. Sterling she was going to stay with a friend and then quietly leave Paradise City. By the time Mel got back, she would be far away: just where she would go, she had no idea, but she would go.

‘No, of course not. Have you made plans yet?’

‘We’ll go to Venice, Italy. They say it’s just the place for a honeymoon.’

She finished her coffee.

‘Hmm. sounds nice. Well, my best wishes, Daddy.’

‘Thanks.’ He got up and came around to her. He rested his hand lightly on her shoulder. ‘You and Joy will get along fine together.’

He bent and kissed her on her cheek.

She stiffened, feeling a rush of emotion flow through her. Getting abruptly to her feet, she walked to the door.

‘I must get off. See you tonight, Daddy,’ she said and went quickly from the room.

Mel stared after her, a puzzled expression in his eyes, then with a shake of his head, he picked up his briefcase as he heard the T.R.4 roar away.

Soon after eleven o’clock, a tall, well-dressed woman came down the steps to the vault. She was Mrs. Marc Garland, the wife of the millionaire steel magnate. Ira had been alerted by one of the guards that she was coming.

‘She and her old man are leaving for New York this afternoon,’ he told her. ‘They cleaned up big at the Casino last night. I guess she’s going to stash her loot away. Watch her: she can get bitchy when she feels that way.’

Ira stood up as Mrs. Garland reached the bottom of the steps.

‘Good morning, Mrs. Garland,’ she said politely.

‘You’re Mel’s daughter, aren’t you?’ Mrs. Garland said, smiling. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’ She sat down in the visitor’s chair by Ira’s desk. ‘I knew your mother years ago, Norena.’ She studied Ira. ‘You’re very alike. I hear Mel’s getting married. Will you like that?’

‘Oh, yes, Mrs. Garland. I’m very happy for him.’

‘You’ve met Joy of course?’

‘Yes.’

‘She’s nice, isn’t she?’

‘I like her very much.’

‘I’m sorry I haven’t met you before. We always have lots of young people up at our place. Next year you must meet my son when he comes down here for the vacation.’

She opened a large handbag and took from it a heavily sealed envelope. ‘Would you be nice and put this in my safe? Here’s the key.’

‘Of course, Mrs. Garland,’ Ira said, her heart suddenly racing. She took the envelope and the key. Then she went around her desk, opened the drawer and took out the pass key. For a moment she hesitated, then picked up the small lump of putty she kept in the drawer. Concealing it in her hand, she hurried down the lane, turned right and reached the Garlands’ safe. She carefully took the impression of the key before she opened the safe. Then she paused. Why bother to take the impression? She had only to put the envelope down the front of her girdle to save Algir the task of cutting the key.

Let him cut it! she thought. He won’t get the money now before Monday. As she put the envelope into the safe, she glanced at the safe’s contents. There were several jewel boxes and a number of thick envelopes to match the one she had just put in. She closed the safe door and locked it.

As she turned she became aware that Mrs. Garland had wandered to the head of the lane and was idly watching her. Ira felt a rush of cold blood up her spine. What an escape! she thought, for a moment unnerved. If she hadn’t put the envelope in the safe, Mrs. Garland would have seen her stealing it!

‘If you ever come to New York,’ Mrs. Garland said as Ira joined her, ‘do look us up. I’m always trying to persuade your father to stay with us, but he’s so occupied.’

‘I’d like to,’ Ira said, trying to steady her voice, ‘but I’m afraid it’s not likely I’ll get to New York.’

‘Well, if you do, remember. Goodbye, Norena,’ and leaving her, Mrs. Garland hurried away.

At lunch time Ira went over to the cafe where Algir was waiting.

‘Well?’ he demanded as she joined him.

Silently she handed him the box containing the key impression.

‘Who’s this belong to?’

‘Mrs. Marc Garland.’

‘Any money in the safe?’

‘Yes, a lot.’

‘Okay. I don’t have to tell you what to expect if you’re lying,’ he said, slipping the box in his pocket. ‘You won’t get a second chance, you little creep. Remember that!’

She turned away and walked out of the cafe. She was so occupied with her thoughts she failed to see Jess Farr across the street in a shabby Ford he had rented. Neither did Algir notice him as he drove off in his Buick.

A cigarette hanging from his thin lips, Jess set the Ford in motion and followed Algir back to Edris’ apartment block.

Fred Hess settled himself more comfortably against the sand dune and released a small, contented belch. He had just completed an excellent picnic lunch, the sun was warm, the breeze gentle and the sound of the sea soporific.

This was his first free weekend from police headquarters for some time and this Saturday morning, he had decided to take his wife Maria and his son Fred to a favourite bathing place they used and to spend the day there.

The only fly in the ointment, Hess thought as he folded his hands over his paunch, was Junior. Hess liked other people’s children, but he wasn’t all worked up about his own. The trouble was, he so often thought, the brat’s spoilt. Maria, a doting mother, but a stern wife, wouldn’t let him lay a hand on the kid, and if ever a child needed a constant walloping on his fat backside it was Fred Hess junior.

But for the moment all was peace. Maria had taken Junior down to the sea where he was busy splashing water at her white dress and enjoying himself.

Hess had announced that he was taking a nap. Junior had wanted him to play ball. There had been a heated argument, and Maria fearing for her husband’s blood pressure had grabbed Junior’s hand and had dragged him out of the hearing of Hess’s highly coloured vocabulary.

This was the life! Hess thought as he closed his eyes.

What more could a man want? It was pleasant to think of the others sweating it out in the hot, stuffy Detectives’ room at headquarters. Joe Beigler was duty sergeant, and right now he would be answering the telephone, trying to sound polite as the callers asked their crummy questions or told him about the dog they had lost or the car they had had stolen. Well, Joe was welcome to all that. Hess grunted happily and let himself drift off into sleep.