James Chase: You Can Say That Again

‘Children?’

‘None.’

‘Your mother is dead. Your father?’

‘He’s dead too.’

‘Your relations? Brothers? Sisters?’

I began to get a creepy feeling up my spine.

‘Now that you mention it,’ I said. ‘I have no relations.’

‘How sad!’ She didn’t look sad. ‘So you are quite on your own.’

‘That’s it.’

She nodded.

‘Now, an attractive man like you must have a girlfriend. Tell me about her.’

‘An actor worth one dollar and thirty cents doesn’t have a girlfriend.’

Again she nodded.

‘Yes, of course, but very soon, Jerry, with thirty thousand dollars in your bank, you will have many girlfriends. It is all a matter of patience.’

She was right there. I had all the girlfriends I needed when I had been making money. With thirty thousand dollars in the bank, I would only have to whistle.

‘Now that we have your wholehearted cooperation, Jerry,’ she went on, after a pause, ‘I want to tell you about Mazzo.’ She spent a moment fondling the poodle. ‘I really don’t know what I would do without Mazzo. His appearance is deceptive, but there is nothing he wouldn’t do for me . . . nothing.’

I looked blankly at her.

‘You have already met him. Mazzo is my loyal and true servant who brought you that delicious meal that I had ordered specially for you.’

I gaped at her.

‘You mean that — that Ape of a man?’

She patted her poodle.

‘You mustn’t speak unkindly of Mazzo’s looks. No one can be as handsome as you, Jerry. Mazzo is going to be your constant companion, Jerry. He will help you in many things. Without him by your side, I don’t think you would succeed in impersonating my son. For years now, Mazzo has been my son’s bodyguard. When you are seen together, it will be assumed you are my son.’

The thought of having that Ape as a constant companion gave me goose pimples.

As I was about to protest, she went on, ‘Changing the subject, Jerry, have you ever met Larry Edwards?’

‘Why, sure,’ I said, surprised by the question. ‘Why do you ask?’

I certainly remembered Larry Edwards. He was like me: an unemployed bit-part actor. We often met at Lu Prentz’s office, both hunting for work. We hadn’t much in common, as both of us wondered if one of us would get a job the other was hoping for, but we did have an occasional beer together and moaned about our hard times.

‘I was just wondering. He was rather like you in appearance: tall, dark,’ Harriet said, smiling. ‘He hadn’t your personality, of course. We did consider him for the job you have now accepted. In fact, we brought him here and discussed the idea with him, but he wouldn’t cooperate. He raised all kinds of difficulties. I am so very glad you aren’t going to be difficult, Jerry . . . so very glad.’

I stared at her, feeling a chill move over me.

‘You are talking about him in the past tense,’ I said.

‘Yes . . . sad.’ She rose to her feet. ‘I’ll ask Mazzo to bring you some books. Please tell him what you would like for lunch.’ She made for the door.

‘What’s happened to Larry?’ I asked, my hands clammy.

She paused at the door.

‘Oh, didn’t you know? He had an accident. Something wrong with the brakes of his car, I believe.’ Her dark blue hard eyes fixed me. ‘He’s dead.’

The door slid open and she was gone.

* * *

An hour later, the door slid back and Mazzo came in, carrying a number of paperbacks. These he set on the table.

‘You want something to read?’

This was the first time I had heard his voice and the sound startled me. It was husky and soft whereas I expected a growl of a bear.

‘Thanks,’ I said.

He stalked over to the chair Harriet had been sitting in and sat down. He grinned at me, showing small white teeth a rat might envy.

‘We’re going to live together, palsy, so we may as well get acquainted, huh?’

‘Why not?’

He nodded his shaven head.

‘There’s nothing to it, palsy, so long as you do exactly what I tell you to do. It’s dead easy money, but don’t ask with the questions. I tell you to blow snot, you blow it. Get it? I tell you to look left, you look left. Get it? I tell you to look right, you look right. Get it? I tell you to run fast, you run fast. Get it?’

‘You have made your point,’ I said.

He wrinkled his forehead.

‘You mean you get it?’

‘I get it.’

‘Okay. The other jerk didn’t get it.’ He lost his smile and looked like a tiger regarding a prospective meal. ‘Too bad for him.’

My mouth turned dry.

‘I heard he had a car accident.’

‘Sure . . . jerks like him often have car accidents.’ He smiled at me. ‘You’re smart, palsy. You won’t have a car accident.’

I didn’t say anything. The hint was there because Larry Edwards hadn’t cooperated, he had been murdered. I couldn’t accept this, but the hint was there.

‘Now, this afternoon, palsy, we start business. Just go along with it, huh?’

I nodded.

‘A creep will come and work you over. Just sit still and let him have his way. Get it?’

Again I nodded.

He smiled.

‘You know, palsy, you and me are going to get along fine together. I saw that movie of yours: The Sheriff of X Ranch. I thought it stank.’

‘So did I,’ I said hoarsely.

He widened his smile.

‘See what I mean? We’re going to get along fine.’

‘Mrs. Harriet liked it.’

‘Sure . . . women! They like anything that moves.’

He got to his feet. ‘Whatcha want to eat for lunch, palsy? You name it, you have it.’

My stomach was churning. The thought of food made me cringe.

‘I had a fine breakfast. Nothing, thanks.’

He released a soft laugh. It sounded like someone stepping on a pair of bellows.

‘Take it easy, palsy. You have nothing to worry about. I’ll have something light fixed for you, huh?’

He moved his great body to the door, turned, smiled his rat smile and went away.

Could Larry have been murdered?

I sat there, sweating.

Something went wrong with his brakes .

No, I couldn’t believe it. I pushed the frightening thought out of my mind.

So I just sat still. I didn’t even get up to look at the paperbacks. I had this frightening thought that now I had committed myself and had accepted the first payment, I would have to do whatever these people told me to do.

He had an accident. Something wrong with his brakes. He’s dead .

I thought of Mazzo’s rat smile.

Man! I thought. What the hell have you walked into?

Can it be possible, that unless you go along with these awful people, if you don’t do just what they want you to do, you could finish up dead?

I sat there, working myself up into a monumental panic.

At 13.00, Mazzo wheeled in a trolley.

‘Take something, palsy,’ he said. ‘It’ll be a long afternoon.’ He regarded me. ‘You feeling okay?’

‘Yes, but I don’t want anything.’

‘You eat something. Get it?’ There was a sudden snarl in his soft voice. ‘You’ve work to do,’ and he stalked out.

So I ate some of the lobster soup because I was scared not to. It was so good, I finally finished it, then sat away from the trolley, fighting the inclination to throw up.

Then action began.

Mazzo came in, inspected the empty tureen, smiled at me and wheeled out the trolley. Then Harriet, minus the poodle, came in, followed by a short, fat man in a short sleeved white overall, carrying what looked like an expensive vanity box.

This man was something to see. His hair, thick and long, was dyed the color of apricots. His eyelids were tinted pale blue and his lips were shell pink. He paused as the door slid shut and gave me a half sly, half roguish smile.