Just Another Sucker

I

When I got up on Saturday morning, there was a hint of rain in the air. I was nervous and uneasy. All my doubts about this job came crowding up out of my sub-conscious. It was only the thought of the money that stiffened my jittery nerves.

‘I’ll be late tonight,’ I told Nina who was preparing breakfast. ‘This is the last night of the traffic count.’

She looked anxious at me.

‘Will you be seeing John today?’

‘I’ll see him on Monday. If he had any news for me he would have telephoned.’

She hesitated, then asked, ‘Are you going to take the job, Harry?’

‘I think so. A lot depends on what they will pay.’

‘John said the salary would be good.’ She smiled at me. ‘I’m so glad. You really have been worrying me.’

‘I’ve been worrying myself,’ I said lightly. ‘I’m taking the car tonight. It’s going to rain.’

‘There’s very little gas, Harry.’

‘That’s okay. I’ll fix it.’

Later, I went down to the beach cabin. I had just got into my swim trunks when Bill Holden appeared in the doorway.

‘Hello there, Mr. Barber,’ he said. ‘Are you keeping the cabin on for another week?’

‘I guess so,’ I said. ‘Maybe not for the whole week but at least until Thursday.’

‘Would you like to settle for this week?’

‘I’ll settle tomorrow. I’ve left my wallet at home.’

‘That’s okay, Mr. Barber — tomorrow’s fine.’

I stared out at the grey, heavy sky.

‘Looks like rain. I guess I’ll have a swim before it starts.’

Holden said he thought it would hold off until later, but he was wrong. I had just come in from the swim when the rain started.

I settled down in the cabin with a paper-back. The beach was now deserted. That suited me. I hoped the rain would go on all day.

Around one o’clock, I went over to the restaurant which was empty and ate a hamburger and drank a beer, then I returned to the cabin. As I pushed open the door, the telephone bell rang.

It was Rhea on the line.

‘Is everything arranged?’ she asked. There was an anxious note in her voice.

‘On my side, it’s arranged,’ I said. ‘I’m ready to go. Everything now depends on Odette.’

‘You can depend on her.’

‘Well, fine. Then at eight-forty-five, I’ll start things moving.’

‘I’ll telephone you tomorrow at eleven o’clock.’

‘I want some money,’ I said. ‘I have to pay for the rent of this cabin. Maybe it would be better if you came down here tomorrow morning. I’ll be here.’

‘I’ll do that,’ she said and hung up.

I remained in the cabin for the rest of the day. The rain beat down on the roof. The sea turned slate grey. I tried to concentrate on the paper-back, but it was impossible.

Finally, I got up and prowled up and down and smoked endless cigarettes, watching the time and waiting, waiting and waiting.

When at last the hands of my wrist watch showed eight-thirty, I left the cabin and ran across the wet sand to the Packard. It was still raining, but more lightly. I drove to a drug store in the main street of Palm City. By the time I had parked and had walked through the drizzle to the drug store, it was close on eight-forty-five.

I called Malroux’s residence.

Almost immediately the call was answered.

‘Mr. Malroux’s residence,’ an English voice announced. ‘Who is this, please?’

‘I want Miss Malroux,’ I said. ‘This is Jerry Williams.’

‘Will you hold the line, Mr. Williams? I’ll see if Miss Malroux is available.’

I held the line, aware that I was breathing over-fast.

There was a longish delay, then Odette’s voice said brightly, ‘Hello?’

‘Is anyone listening?’

‘No. It’s all right. Hello, Harry.’ There was a caress in her voice. ‘You’re the only man who has ever dared to hit me. You are quite a character.’

‘I know. Watch it I don’t hit you again. You know what to do? I’ll be at the Pirates’ Cabin in twenty minutes. The Packard will be parked on the far right-hand side of the parking lot. The dress will be on the back seat. You haven’t forgotten any of the details?’

‘I haven’t forgotten.’

‘Then get moving. I’ll be waiting for you,’ and I hung up.

It took me a quarter of an hour, driving fast to reach the Pirates’ Cabin. The parking lot was pretty full, but I managed to park the Packard where I had told her it would be. There was no parking attendant and that suited me. Someone was playing a squeeze-box and singing. I could see through the windows that the bar was crowded.

I sat in the Packard and waited. I was pretty tense. Every car that came into the park made me stiffen.

At twenty-five minutes after nine, I saw a white T.R.3 slide through the gates and park within twenty yards of my car.

Odette climbed out. She was wearing a white plastic mack over a scarlet dress. She paused beside the T.R.3 and looked in my direction.

I leaned out of the Packard and waved to her. The thin drizzle of rain was now becoming heavier. She waved back, and then walked quickly to the restaurant and entered the bar.

I got out of the Packard and crossed over to her car. There was a suitcase lying on the passenger’s seat. I looked to right and left, satisfied myself no one was watching me, then took the suitcase over to the Packard.

Through the bar windows I could see Odette. She was speaking to the barman. He shook his head at her and she moved away from the bar and out of my sight.

I looked at my wrist watch. The plane to Los Angeles left at ten-thirty. We had plenty of time. I had made her reservation by telephone in the name of Ann Harcourt. I had told the clerk she would pick up and pay for her ticket at the airport. I had also telephoned and reserved a room at a small hotel in Los Angeles that I had once stayed at. It was quiet, and away from the centre of the town; I felt sure she would be all right there.

I saw Odette come out of the bar. My heart skipped a beat when I saw she wasn’t alone: there was a man with her.

She began to walk towards the Packard. The man caught hold of her arm, pulling her back. I couldn’t see much of him. He was short and fat, and he was wearing a light coloured suit.

‘Come on, baby,’ he said in a loud, wheedling voice, ‘let’s have a party. I’m on my own: you’re on your own; let’s be lonely together.’

‘Get away from me!’ Odette said. ‘Take your hands off me!’

She sounded scared.

‘Aw, come on, baby. Let’s have some fun together.’

If she couldn’t handle him, we were in trouble. I didn’t dare show myself. He might not be as drunk as he seemed. If things turned sour, he might remember me.

‘Get away from me!’ Odette repeated and she started once more towards the Packard. The drunk hesitated, then came after her.

I moved around to the off-side of the car. I wanted to yell to her to keep away from the Packard. He might remember the car, but she kept coming.

The drunk staggered after her, caught hold of her arm and swung her around.

‘Hey! Don’t get snooty with me, baby. Come on back. I’ll buy you a drink.’

She slapped his face. The sound her hand made as it contacted his face was a minor explosion.

‘Okay, so you’re tough,’ the drunk snarled and grabbing her, he tried to kiss her.

I had to do something now. She was struggling, but I could see he was too strong for her. She had enough sense not to cry out.

In the glove compartment of the Packard I always kept a heavy flashlight. I grabbed hold of it. It was a foot long and made a good club.

It was pretty dark, and we were away from the single spotlight above the gates. I circled around so I could come up behind him. I was so jittery, my breath was whistling through my clenched teeth.

As I came up, Odette managed to break free. The drunk became aware of me and spun around.

I slammed him over the head with the flashlight, driving him to his knees. I heard Odette catch her breath in a strangled scream.

Cursing, the drunk made a grab at me, but I hit him again: this time much harder, and with a grunt, he spread out, face down at my feet.

‘Take my car!’ I said to Odette. ‘Get going! I’ll follow in your car!’

‘Have you hurt him?’ She was staring down at the drunk, her hands to her face.

‘Get going!’

I ran over to the T.R.3, got in and started the engine. If anyone came out of the restaurant and found this guy lying in full view, we would be in a hell of a jam.

As I reversed the little car, I heard the Packard start up. I let her drive out of the parking lot, then I followed her.

She had enough sense to head for the beach road. After we had driven a mile or so, I overtook her and signalled her to stop.

The road was deserted. The rain was now streaming down. I got out of her car and ran back to where she had stopped the Packard.

‘Get changed!’ I said. ‘Then follow me to Lone Bay car park. Hurry!’

‘Did you hurt him badly?’ she asked as she reached into the back of the car for the dress.

‘Forget it! Never mind about him! Get changed! Time’s running out.’

I ran back to the T.R.3 and got in. I sat there, sweating and watching the road, praying no stray car would come along and spot us.

After about five minutes — the time seemed an eternity — I heard her tap the horn and I looked back.

She waved to me. I started the little car and drove fast to Lone Bay. She followed.

I kept looking at my wrist watch. We still had plenty of time to reach the airport. It was two miles beyond Lone Bay. I kept thinking of the drunk, wondering if I had hit him too hard. But now it was over, I realised perhaps it hadn’t been such a bad thing to have happened. If Odette ever had to face up to a police investigation, it would strengthen her story: just so long as I hadn’t hit him too hard or he hadn’t one of the egg shell skulls one is always reading about.

Lone Bay car park served a colony of bungalows. The residents used the park as a permanent parking place, and it was always full of cars. I felt pretty confident the T.R.3 could be left there without anyone spotting it. As I approached the park, I signalled to Odette to stop, then I swung the sports car into the park.

There was a narrow aisle between the parked cars, and I drove slowly down this aisle, my headlights on, looking for a vacant place.

Then suddenly, without warning, a car backed out into the aisle. It hadn’t its lights on. It came out fast and I hadn’t a chance to avoid it. Its rear bumper thudded into my off-wing, and there was a grinding sound of crushed metal.

For a brief moment, I sat paralysed. This was the one thing I hadn’t thought of: an accident. This stupid ape would want my name and address: he would take the number of the car and it would immediately be traced to Odette. What was I doing — driving her car?

While I sat there in a panic that stood my hair on ends, the driver got out of the car.

It was fortunately dark in the parking lot. As he came up to me, I turned off my headlights. I could see he was a small man with a bald head, but I couldn’t see much of his features and that meant he couldn’t see much of mine.

‘I’m sorry, mister,’ he said in a shaking voice. ‘I didn’t see you coming. It’s my fault. I’m entirely to blame.’

A large woman got out of the car. She opened an umbrella and joined the little man.

‘It wasn’t your fault, Herbert!’ she said angrily. ‘He shouldn’t have sneaked up like that. Don’t you admit anything. It was an accident.’

‘Get your car forward,’ I said. ‘You’ve locked my front wing.’

‘Don’t you move the car, Herbert,’ the woman said. ‘We’ll get a policeman.’

Cold sweat was running down my back.

‘You heard what I said!’ I bawled at the little man. ‘Get your goddam car forward!’

‘Don’t you speak to my husband like that!’ The woman exclaimed. She was staring hard at me. ‘This is your fault, young man! You don’t intimidate me!’

Time was running out. I didn’t dare exchange names and addresses with these two. I did the only thing left to me. I engaged gear, twisted the steering wheel and trod down hard on the gas.

As the little car jumped forward, there was a grinding noise and the other man’s bumper came away.

Part of my wing came away too. I kept going as I heard the woman scream: ‘Take his number, Herbert!’

I drove fast to the far end of the parking lot, found an empty space, swung the car into it and jumped out. I was wearing gloves so I didn’t have to stop to wipe off the steering wheel. I looked back down the aisle.

The woman was staring after me. The little man was trying to lift the fallen bumper.

There was an exit just ahead of me. I ran for it. Would they go to the police? It was his fault. There was just a chance they would let it go. If they didn’t, the T.R.3 would be traced to Odette. The police would want to know who the man was driving the car.

As I sprinted towards the waiting Packard, I realised with a sudden sinking feeling of fear, that my highly organised arrangements weren’t working the way I had planned them to work.

First the drunk: now this car accident.

What else was going to go wrong with this zany idea of mine?

II

The next morning I was woken out of a heavy sleep by the sound of the telephone bell ringing.

I sat up in bed with a start, only half awake, and I looked at the bedside clock. The time was twenty minutes to eight.

I could hear Nina talking to someone, and I forced myself to relax back on my pillow. I reached for a pack of cigarettes on the night table.

As I lit the cigarette, my mind jumped to the events of the previous night. I had seen Odette off at the airport. I hadn’t told her about the car accident. There was no point in upsetting her nerves. It was bad enough for my nerves to be upset without involving hers. She had gone off happily enough, having got over the shock of the drunk. She had the resilence of youth. During the drive to the airport, I had assured her I hadn’t hurt the guy and once she was convinced, she was able to dismiss him from her mind. But I couldn’t: nor could I dismiss from my mind the car accident.

During the drive from the airport, I tried to convince myself it was going to work out all right. The drunk who I had knocked on the head, knowing he had tried to assault Odette, was pretty certain to keep his mouth shut. The man and the women who owned the car that had crashed into the T.R.3 might not tell the police, knowing it was their fault that the car had backed into mine.

When I had reached Palm City I had gone to a bar in a quiet street. I had had a couple of drinks. The bar was crowded with people sheltering from the rain. No one paid any attention to me.

I shut myself in a pay booth and had called Malroux’s telephone number.

While I waited, listening to the thump-thump-thump of my heart, I wondered if Odette had safely reached her hotel. After a delay, I heard the butler’s voice.

‘Give me Mr. Malroux,’ I said, making my voice sound hard and curt. ‘I have a message from his daughter.’

‘Who is this, please?’

I fairly yelled at him: ‘Do what I say! Tell Malroux to come to the phone!’

‘Will you hold on?’

There was a shocked note in the man’s voice.

I heard him lay down the receiver. I waited, feeling sweat on my face. I kept looking through the glass panel of the booth at the crowded bar. No one looked my way.

Then a quiet voice said in my ear, ‘This is Malroux. Who is calling?’

Well, at least Rhea hadn’t been bluffing. She had said she would make him come to the phone and he had come.

‘Listen carefully, pal,’ I said, speaking slowly so he couldn’t miss a word. ‘We’ve kidnapped your daughter. We want five hundred thousand bucks. Do you hear me? Five hundred grand and in small bills. If you don’t pay up you won’t see her again — that’s a promise. You’re not to call in the cops and no tricks — understand? This is a snatch, pal. If you want to see your daughter again, you’ll do as I’m telling you.’

There was a moment’s pause, then the quiet voice said, ‘I understand. I will pay, of course. How do I deliver the money and how is my daughter to be returned?’

He sounded as calm and as unruffled as a politician presiding over a tea party.

‘I’ll telephone you Monday,’ I said. ‘How soon can you get the money? The sooner you get it the better for your daughter.’

‘I’ll have it ready tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow’s Sunday.’

‘I’ll have it ready tomorrow.’

‘Okay. I’ll phone you Monday morning. You’ll get instructions where to deliver it, and remember, one word to the cops, any tricks and you won’t see the kid again. You’ll find her in a ditch, but not before we’ve had some fun with her.’

I replaced the receiver and went out to the Packard.

I didn’t feel proud of myself, but this was a job. The money involved was too big to worry about pride. I was glad to find Nina asleep. I didn’t get much sleep that night. It seemed I had barely dozed off when the telephone bell woke me.

I now listened intently to the sound of Nina’s voice as she talked to the caller.

When I heard her quick steps coming down the passage, I braced myself.

The bedroom door opened.

‘Harry… it’s John. He wants to talk to you. He says it’s urgent.’

I threw off the sheet and slipped on the dressing-gown she held for me.

‘What’s so urgent?’ I said. ‘Did he tell you?’

‘No. He’s asking for you.’

‘Okay. I’ll talk to him.’

I went into the lounge and picked up the telephone receiver.

‘John? This is Harry.’

‘Hello there, boy,’ John said. His voice sounded excited. ‘Now, listen: I’ve got this job fixed for you, and you could be right into something that could be a sensation. I want you to come down here right away. I’m calling from the D.A.’s office. Just to make it sweet for you, they’re going to offer you a hundred and fifty and expenses. But never mind that. The point is we can use you, Harry, and fast. We could have something on our hands that’ll start a prairie fire. You’ve heard of Felix Malroux: the French millionaire? It looks as if his daughter has been kidnapped. If he has — brother! Will this be something!

It’s just the set-up you can handle. Come down here right away. The D.A. will want to talk to you.’

I felt icy fingers closing over my heart.

‘Now, wait a minute,’ I said, my voice unsteady, ‘I didn’t say I’d work for the Administration.’

‘For the love of Mike, Harry!’ Renick’s voice shot up half an octave. ‘If this turns out to be what I think it is, it’s going to be the biggest goddam thing that’s ever hit Palm City. Don’t you want to be in on it?’

I was aware that Nina was standing in the doorway, looking at me. My hand was so slippery with sweat I had trouble holding the receiver. So the lid had already come off this thing. It looks as if his daughter has been kidnapped. If I worked with the D.A., at least I would know what the moves were. I hesitated for about three seconds, then I said, ‘I’m on my way, John.’

‘Fine… fine… and hurry,’ Renick said. ‘I’ll be waiting for you.’

I put down the receiver.

‘What is it, Harry?’ Nina asked.

‘I don’t know. He’s excited about something. He didn’t say. He wants me down at the D.A.’s office.

They’re paying a hundred and fifty. I’m not turning that down.’

‘Oh, Harry!’ She threw her arms around me. ‘I’m so glad. A hundred and fifty!’ She kissed me. ‘I knew it would be all right for you. I knew it!’

I wasn’t in the mood for love. I patted her and then pushed her away.

‘I’ve got to get down there fast.’

I went into the bedroom and threw on my clothes. My heart was hammering so hard I had trouble with my breathing. So Rhea had been too confident. Malroux had told the police. Well, I had lost out. I wasn’t going to make fifty thousand dollars, but at least, I had a hundred and fifty dollar a week job.

I paused as I knotted my tie.

But had I the job?

If the police found out I was mixed up in this faked kidnapping, I wouldn’t hold the job for five minutes. Maybe those two tapes would save me from being prosecuted, but they wouldn’t save the job.

I got down to the D.A.’s office a few minutes after nine o’clock. A girl took me to Renick’s office.

‘Come on in, Harry,’ he said, getting up from behind a massive desk. He gripped my hand. ‘I’m glad you’ve decided to throw in with us. You won’t regret it. The D.A. is on his way now. He should be here any minute.’

I sat on the arm of a lounging chair and took the cigarette he offered me.

‘What’s all the excitement about, John?’ I said, trying to sound casual. ‘What’s this about Malroux’s daughter?’

There was a tap on the door and a girl looked in.

‘Mr. Meadows is here now, Mr. Renick.’

Renick stood up.

‘Let’s talk to Meadows,’ he said.

As we walked down the long passage, Renick went on, ‘Watch your step with him. He’s a good guy, but a little touchy. He knows all about you and he admires your work and also the way you came out of that mess. You deliver the goods, and you’ll have no trouble with him.’ He paused outside a door, rapped and entered.

A thick-set man with chalk white hair was standing by the window, lighting a cigar. He glanced around. His small, piercing blue eyes swept over me. He was around fifty: his red fleshy face, jutting chin and this thin hard mouth gave me an immediate impression of ruthless efficiency.

‘This is Harry Barber,’ Renick said. ‘He’s on the staff from this morning.’

Meadows pushed out a cold, hard hand.

‘Glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard about you, Barber: what I’ve heard is good.’

I shook hands with him.

Blowing a cloud of smoke from between his thin lips, Meadows walked over to his desk and sat down. He waved Renick and myself to chairs.

‘You’ve spoilt my week-end,’ he said to Renick. ‘I was planning to take the wife and kids for a picnic. What’s all this about?’

Renick dropped into a chair and crossed his long legs.

‘Could be we have a kidnapping on our hands, sir,’ he said. ‘I thought you would want to be in on it from the start. Early this morning, I had a telephone call from Masters, the manager of the Californian and Los Angeles Bank.’ He looked over at me. ‘We have an arrangement with all the banks to report sudden withdrawals of any large sums of money if the circumstances seem urgent and unusual. From experience, we have learned that such withdrawals usually mean they are for ransom demands.’

I took out my handkerchief and wiped my sweating face. This was something I hadn’t known and hadn’t even suspected.

‘Masters said he had just had a telephone call from Malroux telling him to open up the bank and have ready for him five hundred thousand dollars. This is Sunday of course, and Masters tried to persuade Malroux to wait until tomorrow, but Malroux, who is the bank’s best client, said he must have the money right away. This seemed to conform to the arrangement between Masters and us, so he telephoned.’

Meadows scratched his chin.

‘Maybe Malroux is swinging a business deal involving cash.’

‘That’s what I thought, and I decided to check.’ Renick looked over at me. ‘As you should know, Harry, what usually happens in a kidnapping case is the parents of the kidnapped child are so scared that something will happen to their child that they pay up at once without consulting us. They seldom give us the chance to mark the money or set a trap for the kidnappers. Then when the child isn’t returned, they come running to us and expect us to find it. I’m blaming no one for not coming to us: a kidnapper is the most vicious type of criminal we know. He always warns his victim if he goes to the police the child will be murdered, but by not coming to us, they put us in a bad position to get moving. Hence this idea of getting bank managers to co-operate secretly. We don’t, of course, act on the information — we can’t, but at least we are geared and ready to go into action when the parents do ask for help.’

‘What makes you think the girl has been kidnapped?’ I asked, feeling I should say something.

‘She’s missing,’ Renick returned. ‘Malroux’s chauffeur is an ex-cop. When Malroux came to live here, he wanted a bodyguard. A man with his wealth is constantly being pestered by cranks. He asked us to recommend a thoroughly experienced man who could act as his chauffeur and keep him clear of trouble. O’Reilly wanted a change. He was a good cop, and he was sick of the way things were being run at that time. He took the job. I’ve had a word with him. He tells me Odette Malroux, the daughter, had a date last night to go to the movies with a girl friend. Odette didn’t turn up at the movies and O’Reilly says she didn’t come home last night.’

‘How does he know she didn’t go to the movies?’ Meadows demanded.

‘The girl friend telephoned and O’Reilly took the message.’

‘Malroux hasn’t asked for our help?’

‘No.’ Renick got to his feet and began to wander around the office. ‘I have a man watching the bank.

He’ll report to me as soon as Malroux gets the money.’

‘Is Masters recording the numbers of the bills?’

Renick made a grimace.

‘I don’t think so. Recording small bills worth five hundred thousand would take a hell of a time.’

‘What about this girl? Know anything about her? She couldn’t have run off to get married?’

‘Then why does Malroux want all this money?’

‘Blackmail?’

Renick shrugged.

‘I doubt it: more like kidnapping. As for the girl, she is about twenty and pretty. She gets around and has more freedom than is good for her. She’s had a number of speeding raps. We have her fingerprints and there are plenty of photographs we can get from the Press.’

Meadows brooded for a long moment, then he said, ‘If this is kidnapping, it is going to be a sensation.

We’re going to be right in the limelight.’ He looked over at me. ‘This is where you come in, Barber. It’ll be your job to handle the Press, and believe you me, every newspaper man in the country will come storming down here.’ He pointed a fat finger at me. ‘I like publicity, Barber, so long as it is good publicity. Understand? It’s your job to see I get it. It’s your job to see I don’t get panned. That’s what we are paying you for. It’s your job to put Palm City on the map. A kidnapping like this is just the thing to put a town on the map. You have a very responsible job, Barber: that’s why we picked you.’

‘I understand, sir,’ I said.

Meadows turned to Renick who was still prowling around the office.

‘Is her car missing?’

‘Yes. It’s a white T.R.3. O’Reilly gave me the number.’

‘Can’t do any harm to look for it. Tell the boys to find it. There’s not much else we can do until Malroux calls us in. I’ll talk to the Police Commissioner. How about talking to the Federal boys. They’ll come into this automatically.’

‘I’ll do that, sir.’

‘Okay, let’s get going.’ He looked over at me. ‘We don’t want you for the moment, Barber. You might as well enjoy your Sunday. Give Renick a call every two hours just in case something breaks.

Right?’

I got to my feet.

‘Sure.’ I hesitated, then went on, ‘Just an idea, sir. Couldn’t we watch Malroux when he’s got the money? Couldn’t we follow him if he delivers the money some place?’

Meadows shook his head.

‘That’s one thing we’re not going to do,’ he said. ‘We don’t do a damn thing until he asks us to.

Suppose we followed him, suppose we were spotted by the kidnappers and they flipped their lids and killed the girl: what would happen to me? No, I’m not taking that risk. We don’t do a thing until Malroux calls us in.’

Here then was a chance, I thought as I nodded.

‘I see that. Well, I’ll call you, John, at eleven-thirty.’

As I started across to the door, Meadows reached for the telephone. John was already on the other one.

I closed the door and went down the passage to my eleven o’clock rendezvous with Rhea Malroux.