James Chase: Eve

She looked at me searching. “It is exciting, isn’t it, Clive? Won’t you come now . . . we ought to celebrate.”

I wanted to, but I had something more important to do. If we’d been alone, I’d have gone with her, but with Peter, it wasn’t quite the same thing.

“I’ll join you later if I can,” I said. “Where are you eating?”

“The Vine Street Brown Derby,” Peter said. “How long will you be?”

“It depends,” I said. “Anyway, if I don’t turn up, I’ll meet you both here after dinner . . . all right?”

Carol put her hand in mind. “It’ll have to be,” she said. “You will try, won’t you?”

Peter got up. “Well, then, let’s go. Are you coming our way?”

“I promised to meet my publisher at eight,” I explained. It was only half past seven. “Do you mind if I stay here for a few minutes? I’d like to finish my drink and I have some calls to make.”

“No . . . come on, Peter, we mustn’t interfere with business.” Carol waved to me. “Then we’ll see you? Are you going back to Three Point tonight?”

“I think so, otherwise, if I’m very late, I’ll go over to the penthouse, but, I want to start work tomorrow.”

When they had gone, I poured myself out another whisky and picked up the telephone book. There were a number of Marlows in the book. Then with a sudden feeling of excitement I saw her name. The address was a house on Laurel Canyon Drive. I had no idea where that was.

For several seconds, I hesitated, then I picked up the tele-phone and dialled her number. I listened to the steady burr- burr of the bell, then there was a click and my blood began to move around in me, like a prospective tenant looking over a house.

A woman, it wasn’t Eve, said, “Hello?”

“Miss Marlow?”

“Who is calling?” The voice was cautious.

I grinned into the telephone. “She won’t know my name.”

There was a pause, then the woman said, “Miss Marlow wants to know what you want.”

“Tell Miss Marlow to come off her high horse,” I said. “I’ve been advised to call her.”

There was another pause, then Eve came on the line. “Hello,” she said.

“Can I come and see you?” I kept my voice low so she wouldn’t recognize it.

“You mean now?”

“In half an hour.”

“I suppose so.” She sounded doubtful. “Do I know you?”

I thought this was a hell of a conversation. “You will before long,” I said and laughed.

She laughed too. Her laugh sounded good on the telephone. “Then you’d better come along,” she said and hung up.

It was as simple and as easy as that.

CHAPTER FIVE

LAUREL CANYON DRIVE was a narrow street with a scattering of small-town style frame dwellings, partly hidden by hedges and shrubs.

I drove slowly down the street until I saw the number of Eve’s house painted on a small white gate I stopped and got out.

There was no one in sight and the house itself was discreet. Once I was through the gate, the high hedge hid me from the street. I walked down the path that went steeply to the front door which, in its turn, was screened by a built-in porch. The windows on each side of the door were curtained with cream muslin. I had to walk down several wooden steps before I was level with the front door.

The knocker on the door was an iron ring which passed through the body of a naked woman. It was a nice design and I studied it for a few seconds before I knocked. I waited, aware that my heart was thumping with suppressed excitement.

Almost immediately I heard an electric light switch click on and then the door opened. A tall, angular woman, almost as tall as myself, stood squarely in the doorway.

The light in the passage floodlit me while she remained in the shadows. I could feel her eyes crawling over me, then as if satisfied by what she saw, she stood aside.

“Good evening, sir. Have you an appointment?”

As I stepped round her into the lobby, I looked curiously at her. She was a red-faced woman of about forty-five or so. Her face was sharp with a pointed chin, pointed nose and small bright eyes. Her smile had just the right blend of friendly servility.

“Good evening,” I said. “Miss Marlow in?”

I felt acute embarrassment and irritation. It was hateful to me that this woman should see me and should know why I had come to this sordid little house.

“Will you come this way, sir?” She moved down the passage and opened a door.

My mouth was dry and I felt a pulse beating in my temples as I entered the room.

It was not a large room. Facing me was a dressing table fitted with a bevelled mirror; on the floor in front of the dressing table, was a thick white rug. To the left of the rug was a small chest of drawers on which stood several tiny glass animals. On the far right was a cheap, white-painted wardrobe. A large divan bed, covered by a shell-pink bedspread took up the remaining space.

. Eve stood by the empty fireplace. Near her was a small armchair and a bedside table on which stood a reading lamp and several books.

She was wearing the same short-sleeved blue dressing gown and her face was wooden under careful make-up.

We looked at each other.

“Hello,” I said, smiling at her.

“Hello.” Her expression did not change nor did she move. It was a suspicious, indifferent greeting.

I stood looking at her, slightly embarrassed, puzzled that she showed no surprise at seeing me again and irritated about the dressing gown. But in spite of the hostile atmosphere, my blood moved fast through my veins.

“So we meet again,” I said a little lamely. “Aren’t you surprised to see me?”

She shook her head. “No . . . I recognized your voice.”

“I bet you didn’t,” I said. “You’re kidding.”

Her mouth pursed. “I did . . . besides, I was expecting you.”

I must have shown my startled surprise because she suddenly laughed. The tension eased immediately.

“You were expecting me?” I repeated. “Why?”

She looked away. “Never mind.”

“But I do mind,” I insisted, walking round her and sitting in the armchair. I took out my cigarette case and offered it.

Her eyebrows went up, but she took a cigarette. “Thank you,” she said. She hesitated, and then sat down on the bed near me.

I also took a cigarette, thumped my lighter and as she leaned forward to light up, I said, “Tell me why you were expecting me.”

She shook her head. “I’m not going to.” She let smoke drift down her nostrils and she glanced uneasily round the room. She was on the defensive and I felt instinctively that she was nervous and unsure of herself.

I studied her for a few seconds. As soon as she felt my eyes on her face, she turned to look directly at me. “Well?” she said sharply.

“It’s a pity you make-up like that. It doesn’t suit you.”

She stood up immediately and looked into the mirror over the fireplace. “Why,” she asked, staring hard at herself. “Don’t I look all right?”

“Of course, but you’d look better without all that muck on your face. You don’t need it.”

She continued to look at herself in the mirror. “I’d look an awful fright without it,” she said, half to herself, then she turned and frowned at me.

“Did anyone tell you you’re an interesting woman?” I asked, before she could speak. “You have character and that’s more than most women have.”

Her mouth tightened and she sat down. For a moment I had caught her off guard, but the wooden expression was now back again.

“You haven’t come here to tell me I’m interesting, have you?”

I smiled at her. “Why not? If no one has told you before, then it’s time someone did. I like to give women their due.”