Маргарет Миллар - Do Evil In Return

“Why?”

“Someone knows about you and me.”

“Well,” he said quietly. “Well. Who is it?”

“Two men.”

“Strangers?”

“Not exactly. I knew one of them before. I met him last night.”

“On that ‘call’ you made after I left?”

“Yes. Partly.”

“It wasn’t actually a call, was it...? No, don’t turn away. Answer me. Was it, Charley?”

“I went down to see if I could find the girl who was pregnant, the one I told you about last night.”

She had to tell him everything then, about Voss and the old man Tiddles, and Violet and Eddie; about Easter’s visit to her office with Violets sea-stained purse, and the ugly scene on her veranda when Voss asked for the money for Violet’s funeral.

When she had finished Lewis said, “The girl killed herself?”

“The police think so.”

“Don’t they know?”

“It’s too early for an autopsy report. She was only found this morning.”

“I see.” He took his cigarette lighter out of his pocket and began playing with it absently, flicking it off and on in unconscious rhythm with the lighthouse signal. “That’s quite a group of characters you’re messing around with.”

“I guess.”

“I’ve warned you before about that informal way you have of picking people up. Well.” He sighed. “I suppose it’s too late for one of my maiden-aunt talks. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s illegal to pay blackmail.”

“I know. I... in a way I’d like to give him the money and get it over with. Three hundred dollars isn’t very much to pay for my peace of mind. If I could only be sure that it would end there...”

“You’re talking crazy, Charley.” He peered down at her, half-muzzled, half-angry. “You’re afraid of this man. Aren’t you?”

“A little, I guess.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.” Though candor was her habit, she felt unable to speak out, to voice her doubts. The moving sea, which she had always loved, had become a threat to her, and the concrete breakwater seemed insecure, adrift.

Lewis’ hand on her shoulder was strong and steady, but it wasn’t a strength she could lean on, it was a strength that could be used against her.

“Listen to me,” he said harshly. “If you’re willing to pay three hundred dollars to everyone who finds out about us you’re going to end up broke. At least a dozen people already know. It’s not a criminal act...”

“You wore a hat and scarf tonight.”

“It’s windy, it’s cold.”

“Not that cold.”

She turned her face away. The rocks below the seawall were slimy with eel-grass exposed by the ebbing tide. She couldn’t see it in the dark but she could smell its presence. The smell reminded her of Violet’s purse and of death.

“You haven’t told me everything,” he said. “What else has Voss got on you?”

“Nothing definite.”

“But he implied something?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“He...” She watched his face while she spoke. It was white and blurred. “He said I’d better think over the angles, that Violet and you and I made — a threesome.”

“A threesome?” His jaw dropped in genuine astonishment. “What in God’s name did he mean by that?”

“I don’t know. I thought perhaps he meant that you — that you knew Violet in some way.”

“I never even heard of the girl until you mentioned her last night.”

She knew he was telling the truth. She felt suddenly light-headed, as if a physical pressure had been removed from a section of her brain. “I wanted to be sure, Lewis. Don’t get angry.”

“How can I help it,” he said simply. “This Voss must be crazy. He’s got to be stopped.” He rose from the stone bench and pulled his coat collar up around his neck. “Where does he live?”

“Olive Street, 916. What are you going to do?”

“See him. Talk to him. I won’t stand for him bothering you like this. I’ll scare the bejesus out of him if I have to.”

“There won’t be any trouble, will there?”

He looked down at her grimly. “Of course there’ll be trouble. What do you expect? The man’s blackmailing you and I’m going to stop him.”

The breath caught in her throat. “I’d rather pay him the money than have you get into a brawl.”

“Going soft on me, Charley?” His smile was uglier than a frown. “That’s your trouble. You get involved with people like Voss and O’Gorman, and then you don’t know how to deal with them. You haven’t any defenses because they don’t fight with your weapons.”

In spite of the brisk onshore wind, he was sweating. His face was streaked with moisture, and when Charlotte reached for his hand to be pulled to her feet, his palm was clammy. She knew that he was nervous, perhaps even afraid. His legal practice had nothing to do with crime or criminals; it was confined to wills and trusts and estates, and an occasional discreet and very expensive divorce. She realized what a great effort it had been for him to undertake to go and see Voss himself.

“I’m coming along,” Charlotte said.

“What for?”

“Because I want to. Because...”

“Haven’t you gotten into enough of a mess already?” he said. “Look. You can’t deal with a crummy gang like that. You’re sensitive, you’re a woman. You ascribe to these people feelings and thoughts and morals they don’t have. You’ve fallen among thieves, Charley, and you’re a nice, gentle girl for all your knowledge.”

“I’m coming along, she repeated.

“Stubborn, aren’t you?”

“A little. I have to be.”

“Why do you want to come along? Don’t you trust me?”

She hesitated briefly before she answered. “I don’t trust your temper, your mood.”

“I see. You think the situation is going to call for a woman’s soothing influence.”

“Perhaps. Why should that make you angry?”

“I’m not angry.”

“You are... Did you have a quarrel with Gwen?”

“Gwen doesn’t quarrel,” he said heavily. “She sits around looking, very, very pained,”

“I saw her this afternoon.”

“She told me.”

“I can’t go on treating her any more,” Charlotte said. “Get me out of it, Lewis.”

“How?”

“That’s absurd,” he said. “I refuse.”

They walked back towards the café in strained silence, Charlotte keeping a little ahead of him, her step firm and stubborn.

He put her in her car. “I suppose there’s no use reasoning with you? You’re coming?”

“Yes, I am. Don’t you see, perhaps I can help, perhaps I can...”

“Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. All right, I won’t argue.” He closed the door or the car. “I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”

“It won’t take that long, will it? It’s only on Olive Street.”

“I have to stop at my office. I have some business to attend to first.”

“At this time of night?”

“Yes. It’s something Vern asked me to look after and I forgot about it.” Vern Johnston was his partner in the law firm. “He wanted me to put some more food in the aquarium.”

“I see.” She knew he was lying; Vern would never dream of letting anyone else feed his precious fish.

“Meet me in twenty minutes, then.”

“All right.”

“And park on Junipero Street ” he said. “There’s no point in advertising our visit.”

He stood for a minute looking down at her through the open window, his head bent. She thought he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to. Instead, he turned suddenly and walked back to his car.

On Olive Street the adolescent Vosses and Eddies flocked sheeplike in front of the bars and poolrooms, crept singly down alleys like hungry cats, pressed together for love or warmth like rabbits in the dark between the walls of shacks.