Just Another Sucker

I

At twelve-thirty, I left the cabin and drove to the bus terminus. I parked the Packard and walked over to the Inquiry desk. I asked the girl if the eleven o’clock plane from Los Angeles was on schedule. She said it was, and the bus from the airport would arrive at one-five.

I then shut myself in a phone booth and called police headquarters. Sergeant Hammond told me that Renick had just gone home. There was nothing new on the Malroux case.

It was now time to call Malroux.

In the letter I had drafted for Odette to her father, he had been told to stand by for a telephone call after midnight when he would be given last-minute instructions for delivering the ransom.

He was standing by all right. He answered my call himself.

‘You know who this is,’ I said, making my voice hard and tough. ‘Have you got the money?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay: here’s what you do,’ I said. ‘Leave your house at two o’clock. You’ll be watched. Come in your Rolls. Drive along East Beach Road. Somewhere along the road you’ll see a flashing light. Don’t stop. As you pass the light, drop the bag out of the car window and keep going. Go to Lone Bay parking lot. You’ll find your daughter’s car there. If the money is okay and you haven’t tried to pull a fast one, your daughter will join you. It’ll take about an hour to get her to you. Expect her around three. If she doesn’t turn up at three, go home, you’ll find her there. Have you got all that?’

‘I understand.’

‘That’s it then. No tricks. Come alone. From the moment you leave the house, you’ll be watched.

You don’t have to worry about the girl. She’s fine, but she won’t be if you pull a fast one.’

‘I understand.’

I had to hand it to him. He sounded unmoved and very, very calm.

I hung up, then leaving the terminus, I crossed to the Packard, got in and lit a cigarette.

I wasn’t unmoved nor was I very, very calm. If it hadn’t been for the thought of those two tapes in the bank that must give me protection against a prosecution if anything turned sour, I wouldn’t have gone through with this thing. With the tapes to safeguard me, and the thought that by tomorrow I would be worth fifty thousand dollars, I managed to screw up my nerves to finish the job.

I kept assuring myself that nothing could go wrong. So far, Rhea had been justified in predicting her husband’s reactions. It seemed to me, and I was groping for comfort, that the chances of him calling in the police when Odette returned was now remote.

The police would, of course, question Odette about the bashed wing of her car, and this I had warned her about. But with a man of Malroux’s influence behind her, the police couldn’t become too curious nor could they push her around.

I looked across at the bus terminal. There were a few people waiting for the bus. There were only about five other cars, besides mine, in the park. No one paid any attention to me. I was just another man, waiting for someone off the bus.

A few minutes after one o’clock, I saw the headlights of the bus as it came down the road. It swung to a standstill outside the terminus. There were about two dozen people in the bus. I leaned forward to stare anxiously through the wind-shield for the sight of Odette.

After a moment or so I spotted her. She was wearing the sun goggles, the red wig and the cheap blue and white dress. As she moved away from the bus, she looked anxiously around. She seemed pretty nervous.

I slid out of the Packard and went over to her.

There was a crowd of people milling around: some of them waiting for taxis: some greeting friends.

Odette saw me coming and started towards me. We met by the bus.

‘Hello there,’ I said. ‘The car…’

A heavy hand dropped on my shoulder: a hand that could belong to a cop. For a moment I was completely paralysed. Then I looked around, my heart skipping every other beat.

A broad-shouldered, suntanned man of around fifty stood grinning at me.

‘Harry! Well, what do you know! How’s the ex-jailbird!’

I recognised him immediately. His name was Tim Cowley. He was a reporter for the Pacific Herald: a first rate newspaper man who visited Palm City fairly regularly, and with whom I had worked and played golf whenever he came my way.

The unexpected sight of him threw me in such a panic I couldn’t utter a word.

I grabbed hold of his hand and shook it, slapping him on the shoulder while I made a frantic effort to gain control of myself.

Odette just stood there. I wanted to scream at her to go away.

‘Why… Tim!’

Somehow I managed to get my voice going.

‘I’ve just blown in. How are you, boy?’

‘I’m fine. Good to see you again.’

The shrewd, ever-curious eyes moved from me to Odette.

‘Hey… don’t keep a lovely like this to yourself. Introduce me, you dope.’

‘This is Ann Harcourt,’ I said. ‘Ann, this is Tim Cowley: a great newspaper man.’

Too late, Odette seemed to realise the danger. She backed away, looked at me and then at Cowley and seemed on the point of bolting. I reached out and caught hold of her wrist.

‘Ann’s a friend of Nina’s,’ I said to Cowley, ‘She’s passing through to Los Angeles and she’s staying the night with us.’ My fingers dug into her wrist. ‘What are you doing here, Tim?’

With his eyes still on Odette, ‘The usual grind. Have you a car here, Harry? Can you drop me off at the Plaza?’

‘I’m sorry… I’m going the other way. Nina’s waiting for us.’ I looked at Odette. ‘The car’s over in the park. Wait for me, will you?’ I gave her a shove, sending her on her way across the road towards the car park.

I saw Cowley looking after her, one eyebrow lifted.

‘That kid is so shy,’ I said, ‘she just freezes at the sight of any man.’

‘That’s a fact. She looked scared to death. What’s biting her?’

‘She’s just a sex-conscious kid. She and Nina get along fine, but she drives me nuts.’

It was the right thing to say for he suddenly grinned.

‘I know. Kids of her age get like that. What are you doing now, Harry?’

I told him I was working for the District Attorney.

‘We’ll get together and have a talk,’ I said. ‘I mustn’t keep this kid waiting or she’ll lay an egg.’

‘Okay. I’m at the Plaza. See you, Harry.’

I left him and crossed to the Packard. As I got in, I said, ‘What’s the matter with you? Why did you stand there like a dummy?’

She looked resentfully at me.

‘He had seen you speak to me. I thought it was better to stay.’

‘Well, at least he couldn’t recognise you. I’m sure of that. It was bad luck…’

‘What’s all this about the police? I’ve been going crazy after that telephone call of yours. How have the police come into it? Has father…?’

‘No and I don’t think he will call them in. It was another bit of bad luck.’

I told her the whole story. When I was through, I said, ‘You’ll have to have an explanation for the bust wing. You can say you did it when you came out of the garage. I don’t know how far Renick will press you. He might ask where you have been. If he does, tell him to mind his own business. This hit and run story is phoney. I don’t think he will press you, but you’ll have to be ready for him.’

‘You seem to have handled this pretty badly,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about the accident?’

‘Oh, forget it!’ I was getting fed up with criticism. ‘Nothing happened your end? You stayed in the hotel and kept off the streets?’

‘Yes.’

‘You haven’t forgotten all the dope I gave you, just in case your father calls in the police.’

‘I haven’t forgotten.’

It was twenty minutes to two when we reached the cabin. I pulled up and gave her the key.

‘Go in there and change and wait for me. I should be back around two-thirty.’

She took the key and got out of the car. I handed her the suitcase.

‘I’ll be waiting,’ she said. She suddenly smiled at me. ‘Take care of that money, Harry.’

‘I’ll take care of it.’

She leaned into the car.

‘Kiss me.’

I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her to me. Our lips touched. She drew away, her finger touching her mouth.

‘It’s a bore you’re married, Harry.’

‘That’s the way it is,’ I said, staring at her. ‘But don’t kid yourself… I wouldn’t swop.’

‘That’s what I mean... it’s a bore.’

I started the car.

‘I’ll be seeing you.’

She stood back and as I drove down East Beach Road, I saw her in my driving mirror, walking slowly back to the cabin.

I had already chosen the spot from where I would signal Malroux. There was a big thicket behind which I could hide the car. There was also plenty of cover for me, and I had a clear, uninterrupted view of the road.

I drove the car off the road, turned off the lights, walked back to the road to satisfy myself the car couldn’t be seen. I then squatted down behind a bush, my flashlight in my hand and waited.

It wouldn’t take Malroux more than ten minutes to reach this spot if he left his house punctually at two. I had just time for a cigarette.

As I squatted there, smoking, my nerves seemed to be crawling out of my skin. Suppose Malroux was planning a trap?

Suppose he had brought O’Reilly along with him and when they saw my light, O’Reilly, a tough ex-cop, jumped out of the car and went for me?

I tried to assure myself Malroux wouldn’t risk his daughter’s life, but suppose he had guessed this was a faked kidnapping? Suppose…?

Then I saw distant headlights and I hurriedly stubbed out my cigarette.

This was it, I thought, in another few seconds I’d know if I had walked into a trap.

In the moonlight, I could see the car. It was the Rolls. I let it come closer, then pushing my torch through the shrub, I began pressing the button on and off, sending a flicking beam into the road.

The Rolls was moving at about twenty miles an hour. I could see there was only the driver in sight.

But that didn’t mean anything. If O’Reilly was with him, he would be hidden at the back.

The car was level now. It slowed slightly. I saw Malroux make a movement, then with an effort, he tossed a bulky briefcase out of the window. It landed with a thud in the road within ten feet of me.

The Rolls gathered speed and swept on, heading for Lone Bay.

I remained squatting behind the bush, staring at the briefcase lying on the road for several seconds, scarcely believing the money was there, and within my grasp.

I looked down the road. The red tail lights of the Rolls were fast disappearing in the distance. I stood up, grabbed the briefcase and ran back to the Packard. I threw the briefcase on the back seat, slid under the driving wheel and drove fast towards the beach cabin.

I was elated. It had turned out to be the easiest job in the world, and now I was worth fifty thousand dollars!

I reached the cabin as the hands of the clock on the car’s dashboard showed twenty-five minutes to three. I parked the car and got out, reaching into the back for the briefcase. Then I paused to look around. There was no other car in the park, and that surprised me.

Rhea should have been here by now. She couldn’t have walked. Then where was her car?

Maybe, I told myself, she had had trouble getting away. Maybe O’Reilly had been on the alert, and she would be late. That wasn’t my funeral. I wasn’t going to wait for her. I would take my cut, give the rest to Odette and get home.

I hurried across the sand to the cabin which was in darkness. That wasn’t unexpected. Odette would be sitting on the veranda waiting for me. She wouldn’t have put on the lights in case someone, passing, might wonder what was in the cabin at this late hour.

But when I walked up the veranda steps there was no sign of her. I paused, suddenly uneasy.

‘Odette!’

No sound came to me. The air conditioner was on. Cold air came out of the cabin and dried the sweat on my face.

I entered the cabin, shut the door, put the briefcase on the table and groped for the light switch. I turned on the light.

The room was just as I had left it a few hours ago.

I listened, puzzled and very uneasy.

‘Odette!’ I raised my voice. ‘Hey! Are you there?’

The silence in the cabin was now frightening me. Had she lost her nerve and bolted? Or maybe she had fallen asleep while waiting for me.

I crossed the room and opened the bedroom door. My hand ran down the wall until my fingers found the light switch. I flicked it on.

Just for a brief moment I relaxed when I saw her lying on the bed. Her face was turned away from me. Her black hair was spread out on the pillow. The red wig lay on the floor at the foot of the bed.

‘Hey! Wake up! I’ve got the money!’ I said, then a cold chill began to crawl up my spine.

Twisted tightly around her throat, cutting into her flesh, was something that looked like a nylon stocking.

I took two, slow hesitant steps forward and I peered at her. I caught a glimpse of the blue skin, the protruding tongue and the flecks of white foam around her lips. Shuddering, I stepped hurriedly back.

I just stood there, my heart scarcely beating, while I tried to accept the fact that she had been brutally and horribly strangled.

II

This was murder!

With my mind paralysed with shock, I walked unsteadily into the lounge and across to the bar. I poured myself a shot of Scotch. It helped steady me.

Where was Rhea? I looked at my watch. It was now three minutes to three. Why hadn’t she come? I had to know if she was coming.

After hesitating for some moments, I reached for the telephone and called her house.

I recognised the butler’s voice as he said, ‘Mr. Malroux’s residence. Who is this, please?’

He didn’t sound as if he had been dragged out of bed. Probably, he was sitting up, waiting for Malroux to return.

‘Mrs. Malroux,’ I said. ‘She is expecting me to call. Tell her it is Mr. Hammond calling.’

‘I am sorry, sir, but Mrs. Malroux is asleep. I can’t disturb her.’

‘I must talk to her. She’s expecting me.’

‘I’m very sorry, sir.’ He almost sounded sorry. ‘Mrs. Malroux isn’t well. The doctor has given her a sedative. She is not to be disturbed.’

‘I didn’t know. Well, thanks,’ and I hung up.

What did this mean? I asked myself. Was her illness an excuse so she could slip out of the house and not be missed or had she become really ill?

I wiped my sweating hands.

By now Malroux would be at the Lone Bay parking lot, and waiting. When Odette didn’t show up, he would return home. How soon would it be before he alerted the police?

Then a sudden horrible thought dropped into my mind that set my heart pounding. Those two tapes, so safely lodged in the bank, were useless to protect me now. A faked kidnapping was one thing, but murder was something else. This murder could be pinned on me. The police would say Odette and I had quarrelled over dividing the money, and I had killed her.

I couldn’t leave her body here. I would have to get rid of it. If I left it here, Bill Holden would find it and call the police. They would want to know who had rented the cabin and he would name me. They would want to know why I had rented this de luxe cabin for close on two weeks when I had been out of a job and had no money. They would want to know where I had been this night. Tim Cowley had seen me with a girl. I had introduced her to him as Ann Harcourt. The police would check, and when they found Ann Harcourt didn’t exist, they could easily put two and two together and make her Odette Malroux.

How would Rhea react when she learned that Odette had been murdered? Would she admit planning a faked kidnapping and accuse me of killing Odette? I had to talk to her!

But first I had to get rid of Odette’s body.

The thought of touching her made me feel sick, but I had to do it. I would have to dump her somewhere where she wouldn’t be found until I had had a chance to talk to Rhea.

I decided to take the body to an old worked out silver mine, a mile off the highway. It had the advantage of being on the road home and was a very unfrequented spot. Out there, she could remain undiscovered for months: maybe no one would ever find her.

I hated to do such a brutal thing to her, but I had to think of myself. I took another drink, then bracing myself, I went out and moved the Packard closer to the cabin. I unlocked the trunk of the car and opened it. Then I returned to the cabin and went into the bedroom.

Without looking at her, I flicked the bed cover over her and picked her up. She was surprisingly heavy. I carried her out to the car and slid her into the trunk, then as gently as I could, I pulled the bed cover from under her and then closed the trunk.

By then I was feeling pretty bad. I went back to the cabin and took another drink, then I went into the bedroom, straightened the bed and put the cover on. I put the red wig in her suitcase and checked to make sure there was nothing else belonging to her I had overlooked. Satisfied, I went into the lounge.

As I was crossing to the door, I saw the briefcase on the table. I had completely forgotten about the money. I was no longer interested in it anyway. I didn’t dare touch it. It was murder money. It would have to be dumped with Odette’s body.

I grabbed up the briefcase, then turned off the light and locking the cabin, I got in the car.

I had a three mile drive. Before reaching the mine, I had to pass through Palm Bay. The mine was between Palm Bay and Palm City. The time was now ten minutes after three. There would be no traffic, but there would be patrolling cops. I would have to be careful: no fast driving. I mustn’t do anything that would attract attention to myself.

I drove onto the highway.

It was as I was driving down the main street of Palm Bay that my plan to get rid of Odette’s body blew up in my face.

At the intersection, I spotted a cop, standing by the traffic lights. The lights flicked to red when I was within forty yards of them. I eased down on the brake, bringing the Packard to a smooth standstill.

I sat motionless, trying to behave as if I didn’t exist, aware the cop was idly staring at me because he had nothing else to stare at.

It seemed to me, he and I were the only two people left on earth. The gay neon lights of Palm Bay flashed on and off, entirely for our benefit. The heavy, yellow moon floated in a cloudless sky and shone down on us. There was no sign of any other person in the broad, long, long road.

I stared at the red light, willing it to change to green. It seemed symbolic to me: it screamed danger to me, and I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my fingers ached.

The cop cleared his throat, then spat in the road. The sound made me start and I looked quickly at him.

He was swinging his night-stick aimlessly, and he was staring at me. He was a big, solidly built man with a round ball-like head that seemed to sit on his vast shoulders as if he had no neck.

Would the lights never change?

I felt sweat on my face and I shifted my eyes back to the glaring red warning sign just ahead of me.

Then it flicked to green.

I took my foot off the brake and with infinite care, I pressed down on the gas pedal, meaning to move smoothly away, doing nothing to incite the cop’s criticism.

The car moved forward, then there was a sudden jarring sound and the car jerked sharply to a standstill.

I shifted the gear from ‘drive’ to ‘neutral’, and then back to ‘drive’. I pressed down on the gas pedal.

The engine roared, but the car didn’t move.

I sat there, with panic crawling over me, knowing that at long, long last, and after years of good service, the gearbox had finally packed up. Some cog had lost its final tooth, and now I was stuck with a cop within ten feet and me and Odette’s dead body in the trunk behind me.

I couldn’t move nor think. I just sat there, gripping the driving wheel, not knowing what to do.

The green light flicked to red again.

The cop took off his cap and scratched his shaven head. The light of the moon played on his red, brutal face. He was of the old school: a man of about fifty. He had seen everything bad, everything rotten and he had been, and still was, hated by those he also hated. He was a man who would rather get you into trouble than out of it.

I slid the gear lever into reverse, hoping I could move the car from the middle of the road to the kerb, but the reverse gear didn’t respond.

The red light flicked to green again.

The cop stepped off the sidewalk and came over.

‘Planning to sleep here the night, buster?’ he said in a hard cop voice that went with his face.

‘Looks like I’ve got a bust gearbox,’ I said.

‘Yeah? What are you going to do about it?’

‘Is there a garage open anywhere close?’

‘I’m asking the questions, buster. I’m asking you what you are going to do about it?’

‘Get a tow,’ I said, trying to keep my voice under control.

‘Yeah? And what’s going to happen to this heap while you’re fixing a tow?’

‘Maybe you’d give me a hand and we could push it to the kerb.’

He rubbed his night-stick against his thick, red ear and he squinted at me.

‘Yeah?’ He spat into the road. ‘Do I look the kind of mug who pushes cars belonging to unlucky punks? I’ll tell you something: I hate cars and I hate punks who own cars. Get this goddam heap off the middle of the road or I’ll book you for obstruction.’

I got out of the car and tried to push it, but it was standing on a slight gradient and I couldn’t move it.

I pushed until the sweat rolled off me and the cop watched, his ball-like head cocked on one side, watching.

‘You need some iron in your bones, buster,’ he said, and slouched forward. ‘Okay: relax. You can consider yourself booked. Let’s have a look at your licence.’

The effort of trying to move the car had left me breathless. I handed him my licence and I had enough sense to give him also my brand new Press card. He stared at the Press card, then at me, then back to the Press card.

‘What’s this?’ he asked.

‘I work for District Attorney Meadows,’ I said. ‘I’m Lieutenant Renick’s man.’

‘Renick?’ The cop pushed his cap to the back of his head. ‘Why didn’t you say so before? The Lieutenant and me were buddies before he got promoted.’ He fingered the Press card doubtfully, then gave it back to me. ‘Well, I guess it won’t kill me — I’ll give you a hand.’

Together we shoved the car to the kerb.

The cop surveyed the car, an expression of disgust on his face.

‘A bust gearbox, huh? That’s going to cost you plenty to put right, isn’t it?’

‘I guess so.’ My mind was racing. What was I going to do? I didn’t dare leave the car in a garage. The only possible thing was to get the car to my garage. But then what was I going to do with Odette’s body?

‘Well, I guess you guys who own cars must expect to spend dough. Me — I wouldn’t own a car if someone gave me one,’ the cop went on.

‘Is there a garage anywhere around?’ I asked, wiping my sweating face with a handkerchief.

‘About a mile up the road, but it’ll be shut. If a squad car passes and spots this heap, they’ll have it towed to headquarters, and then you’ll get booked.’

Across the way I saw an all-night drug store.

‘I guess I’ll phone,’ I said.

‘Best thing. I’ll stick around. Tell the guy I want him to move the heap. I’m O’Flagherty. He knows me.’ He took out his guide book and gave me the telephone number of the garage.

I went over to the drug store and phoned the garage. There was a long delay before a man’s voice, sleepy and surly, came on the line. He demanded what the hell I wanted.

I told him I wanted a tow and that Officer O’Flagherty had given me the garage number.

The man cursed fluently, but finally he said he would come.

I went back to the Packard.

‘He’s coming,’ I said.

The cop grinned.

‘I bet he cursed.’

‘He certainly did.’

‘When you see the Lieutenant, tell him I think of him,’ O’Flagherty went on. ‘He’s a fine man. He’s the best man we have had on the force.’

‘I’ll tell him.’

‘Well, I guess I’ll be on my way. See you some time.’

‘I hope so, and thanks.’

His red, hard face split into a grin.

‘We guys have got to stick together,’ and nodding, he started off down the road, swinging his night-stick and whistling under his breath.

I lit a cigarette with a shaky hand. I was in such a panic I could scarcely breathe. When I got the car into my garage, what was I going to do? There was Nina to think of. How was I going to move Odette’s body without being certain Nina wouldn’t suddenly walk into the garage just when I was doing it? I couldn’t do it in daylight. Nina never went out at night. I was in such a jam, I couldn’t think straight. My mind was seething with panic.

After a ten-minute wait, the breakdown truck arrived. The garage man was a little guy, thin as a bean stick and Irish to his backbone. He was in such a rage, he didn’t speak to me but got in the Packard, tested the gears, got out and spat in the street.

‘Busted gearbox,’ he said. ‘A two-week job, and it’ll cost plenty.’

‘I want you to tow me home,’ I said.

He stared at me.

‘Don’t you want me to repair the goddam thing?’

‘No. I want you to tow me home.’

His face worked convulsively.

‘You mean you got me out of bed at this hour and I don’t get the repair job?’

I had had enough of Irishmen for one night.

‘I work for the District Attorney,’ I said. ‘Stop yakkiting and tow me home.’

I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel, but somehow he managed to swallow his anger.

Muttering under his breath, he fixed the tow cable. I told him where to go, and I got in beside him in the truck.

Neither of us said a word during the four-mile drive home. As we pulled up outside the bungalow, I looked anxiously at the windows, but no lights showed. Nina was in bed and asleep.

He cast off the tow line.

‘We’ll shove her into the garage,’ I said.

He didn’t help much, but the approach to the garage was on a gentle incline, and after a slight struggle, we got the car in.

‘How much?’ I asked.

Scowling at me, he said, ‘Fifteen bucks.’

I hadn’t got fifteen bucks. I took out my wallet. The most I could scrape together was eleven dollars. I gave him ten.

‘That’s plenty for a job like this.’

He took the bills, glared at me, then got in the truck and drove off.

I closed the garage doors and locked them.

Already the faint light of dawn was showing in the sky. In another hour the sun would come up.

There was nothing I could do now. I still had no idea what I was going to do.

In the meantime, all during the day, the body would have to remain in the trunk. The thought turned me sick.

I walked up the path, unlocked the front door and entered the lounge. I caught sight of myself in the wall mirror. I looked like a man in a nightmare.

On the table was Nina’s handbag. I opened it and took from it the duplicate set of keys of the car and dropped them into my pocket. I didn’t dare risk her opening the trunk while I was at the office.

I turned off the light and went silently into my dressing-room and stripped off my clothes. I took a shower. My mind was still too paralysed with fear for me to begin to think what my next move was to be.

I was reaching for my pyjamas when I heard the telephone bell ring. The sound made my heart contract. I pulled on my pyjama trousers and bolted into the lounge and snatched up the receiver.

‘Is that you, Harry?’ I recognised Renick’s voice. ‘Malroux has just phoned. She has been kidnapped!

Come on down to headquarters right away!’

I stood there, shaking, gripping the telephone, feeling wave after wave of panic run through me.

‘You hear me, Harry?’

I got control of myself.

‘Yes, I hear you. My goddam car has broken down. I’ve got a bust gearbox.’

‘Okay. I’ll send a squad car. It’ll be with you in ten minutes,’ and he hung up.

‘Harry… what is it?’

Nina was standing in the doorway, half asleep.

‘It’s an emergency. That girl has been kidnapped,’ I said, moving past her. ‘You go back to bed. They are picking me up right away.’

I was dressing hurriedly as I spoke.

‘Can I get you some coffee?’

‘Not a thing. Go back to bed.’

‘Well, if you’re sure…’

‘Go back to bed.’

I was struggling into my coat when I heard a car pull up.

‘Here they are now.’

I put my arm around her, kissed her, then I ran out to the waiting police car.