No Business of Mine

Chapter Twenty-One

A waiter passed, pushing a table on wheels before him. The table was set for someone’s belated breakfast: a simple meal of coffee and rolls. He eyed Julius Cole; I noted his look of snobbish contempt. He went on, disappeared around the bend in the corridor, but Julius Cole didn’t disappear. He sauntered into my room, smiling his secret smile, wagging his head, very sure of himself.

“Nice to see you again, baby,” he said.

I let him in because I was too surprised to exert the effort to keep him out. Somewhere in my sub-conscious mind an alarm bell was ringing, warning me that trouble was on the way.

“What do you want?” I asked, leaning against the door.

Julius Cole looked around the room, peered out of the window.

“How nice,” he said, his hands in his baggy trouser pockets. The grey suit he wore was shiny at the elbows, even on the back of the coat he had managed to collect grease spots. His bottle-green shirt was frayed at the cuffs; his white tie was grubby. “I’ve often wanted to see the Savoy from the inside. I had no idea they did you as well as this. The view alone must be worth the money.” He gave me an arch look. “What do they charge for a room like this?”

“Suppose you tell me what you want,” I said. “And then I’ll call Corridan. He wants to see you.”

He sat on the window seat, raised his eyebrows.

“I know,” he said. “But you won’t call Corridan.”

I wondered if it might be a sound idea to hit him in the left eye, but resisted the temptation. I sat down.

“Go ahead,” I said. “Something’s crawling about in the thing you call your mind. What is it?”

He took a crumpled packet of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one. Smoke drifted down his narrow nostrils.

“I want to borrow a little money,” he said.

“I won’t stop you,” I returned briefly, “but you’re in the wrong room. Try the desk. They might trust you. I don’t.”

He giggled. “I don’t suppose you’d think it to look at me, baby,” he said softly, “but one of my side-lines is blackmail. I’m here to blackmail you.” He giggled again.

“What makes you think I’d be a good subject to blackmail?” I asked, suddenly wary.

“No one’s a good subject to blackmail,” he returned, pouting. “Sometimes I wonder if the game is worth the risk.” He fingered his tie with slender, grubby fingers. His finger-nails were black crescents. “It’s a big risk, you know. I have to be very careful how I select my victim. Even then I have made mistakes.”

“Chalk this up as your biggest mistake yet,” I said grimly. “I don’t believe in blackmail; never did.”

He stroked his clipped hair, smiled. “But then no one ever does, baby,” he pointed out. “It depends entirely on the force of circumstances. In your case, I don’t see how you can help yourself.”

“By ramming my foot into your fat carcass,” I said, eyeing him with distaste.

He flicked ash on to the carpet, shook his head. “So many people have wanted to do that. I’ve always taken care to convince them it wouldn’t pay.”

“Tell me,” I said.

“I heard what you and Corridan said to each other,” he said, giggled. “I was listening outside the door. I could get you hanged. That’s not bad, is it?”

“I don’t think you could,” l said, shaken.

“Don’t be obstinate, baby,” he pleaded. “I wouldn’t risk coming to London, coming here, unless I was sure it’d pay dividends. It was my luck that I heard what Corridan said. He wants me and he suspects I saw what happened in Madge Kennitt’s flat. Well, I wouldn’t disappoint him. I’d tell him.”

“You saw nothing,” I said.

“I know, but he doesn’t know. I’ll tell him you were in love with Netta. That Madge told you Netta and Peter French murdered Anne. You didn’t want Madge to tell the police, so you tried to bribe her. She wouldn’t play, and you lost your head and killed her. I saw you do it.”

I drummed with my fingers on the chair arm. “You didn’t, Cole,” I said. “And you know it.”

He nodded. “Of course I didn’t, but that doesn’t matter. Corridan expects me to say something like that and I will if you force me to.”

“They’ll want to know why you didn’t tell them before,” I said.

“Of course, I shall get into trouble, but then I don’t anticipate it’ll come to that. I was also watching you when you went to Selma Jacobi’s flat. I saw Littlejohns enter after you had arrived, but I didn’t see him come out.”

“You get around, don’t you?” I said.

“I’ve never even seen Selma’s place, but I can tell Corridan that, can’t I? He wants to get someone for these murders, and he’ll jump at my evidence.”

I knew Corridan would.

There was a long pause, then I said, “Corridan wouldn’t be so pleased to learn you made a monkey out of him when you identified Anne as Netta. He’d give you a stretch for that.”

Cole smirked. “Yes, baby,” he said; “I’ve taken that into account too. But they’d stretch your neck, so I’m not really anticipating trouble. I don’t think I shall have to go to Corridan because you’ll pay me to keep quiet.”

I lit a cigarette, smoked for a moment, thinking.

“You see, there’s Netta to be considered too,” Cole said in his soft, lisping voice. “She’ll get into trouble too. Corridan will bring a murder charge against her. He’s a hard man.” He removed a hair from his coat and put it on the window seat with exaggerated care. “You must admit I have a strong hand. But you needn’t worry. I’m not asking for much. I’m always modest in my demands. What do you say to a single payment of five hundred pounds? That’s reasonable, isn’t it?”

“But you’ll be back in a week or so for more. I know the kind of louse you are.”

He shook his head. “Don’t call me names, baby. It’s not kind. I don’t do business that way. Give me five hundred pounds, and you’re free to leave the country as soon as you like. Five hundred pounds would keep me going for a long time. I’m not extravagant, baby. I have simple tastes.”

“I’d like a little time to think this over,” I said. “Suppose you come back this afternoon?”

“What’s there to think about?” he asked, wagging his head from side to side.

“It’s just that I have to get used to the idea of being blackmailed,” I returned, wanting to sink my fist in his fat, flabby face. “I also want to think of a way to get out of this. Right now, I don’t see a way.”

Cole giggled. “There isn’t one, baby,” he said. “Corridan would love to get his hooks into you. Besides, what’s five hundred pounds to you? It’s nothing.” His grey-green eyes wandered around the room. “You’re used to the good things of life. You wouldn’t like to spend weeks in a cell. That’s what it’d mean, even if they didn’t prove you guilty: Weeks in a cell.”

“You’re quite a salesman,” I said, getting to my feet. “Come back at three-thirty this afternoon. I’ll either tell you to go to hell or I’ll have the dough for you.”

Cole shifted his fat carcass out of my reach. “All right, baby,” he said, watching me. “Have the money in pound notes.” He looked once more around the room, wagged his head. “It’s nice. I might even book a room here. It’d make a change after that beastly flat of mine.”

“I shouldn’t,” I said. “Not in that suit, anyway. They’re fussy here.”

A faint flush stained his pasty face. “That’s not kind, baby,” he said.

I watched him go, the frame and build of a truck-driver, sauntering along softly, insolently, like a dancer.

When he had rounded the bend in the corridor, I returned to my room, poured out a stiff shot of whisky, sat down by the window. Things were breaking a little too fast for me. I was being crowded. If I was going to solve this puzzle outside a cell, I’d have to move fast.

I thought for a few seconds, finished my drink, decided I’d have to see Netta. I jumped up, grabbed my hat, made for the door.

The telephone rang.

I hesitated, picked up the receiver.

“Harmas?”

I recognized Bradley’s voice, wondered what he wanted.

“How are your front teeth, Bradley?” I asked. “I’m still undertaking painful extractions. If you have any left, let me know. I’ll fix it for you.”

I expected him to blow his top, but he didn’t. He sounded almost mild.

“All right, Harmas,” he said. “Never mind that stuff. We’re quits now. I gave you a bad time, you gave me one. Let’s forget it.” I could scarcely believe my ears.

“So what,” I asked.

“But I want my rings back. Harmas. They’re worth two thousand pounds. Maybe you did take them for a joke. I’m not saying you stole them, but I want them back.”

That was reasonable enough, I thought, but how was I going to give them back?

“Corridan’s got them,” I said. “You’d better ask him for them.”

“I’m not interested in who’s got them,” he snapped. “I’m only interested in getting them back. You took them. You return them.”

I wondered if Corridan would part, doubted it. I began to sweat.

“But I can’t get them back without being arrested,” I returned. “Suppose you ring Corridan, tell him I took them for a joke, and ask him to return them to you. He’ll try to persuade you to file a charge against me, but you needn’t do that. That’s the only way to get ’em back.”

“If you don’t deliver those rings by four o’clock this afternoon, I’ll file a charge against you and I’ll see it damn well sticks,” Bradley snarled, hung up.

I brooded for a moment, rang Whitehall 1212. Someone told me Corridan was out of town, wouldn’t be back until late. I thanked him, put the receiver on its cradle, scowled.

“Oh, the hell with it,” I said.

I hurried to the elevator, rode down to the ground level, took a taxi to Cromwell Road.

I entered Mrs. Crockett’s house, mounted the stairs to the first floor, stood for a moment listening. I heard nothing to alarm me, crossed to Madge Kennitt’s door, rapped.

I called, “This is Steve, honey.”

The door opened immediately. Netta stared at me, her eyes opening wide. I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Julius Cole watching me. He wasn’t. I stepped into the room, closed the door.

Netta was wearing a suit of almost transparent pyjamas. She looked cute, and if I hadn’t so much on my mind she’d have given me a buzz. As it was I said sharply, “Put on some camouflage, kid. For interesting places a tourist map has nothing on you.”

“What’s the matter?” she asked, grabbing a silk wrap, putting it on. “Why have you come? Is something wrong?”

“Plenty,” I said, sitting on the arm of a chair. “Things are moving. They’re moving too damn fast for me, and I thought I’d better have a word with you.”

She sat down on the chaise-longue. I thought of Madge Kennitt and the way she had looked, lying there with her throat cut.

“Don’t sit there,” I said sharply. “That’s where she was found.”

“Pull yourself together, Steve,” Netta said, not moving. Her eves had hardened, were watchful. “You’re not losing your nerve, are you?”

“Hell, no,” I said. “Okay, sit there if you want to.” I stared at her for a moment. “There’s nothing wrong with your nerve, is there, Netta?”

She shook her head. “Not so long as you’re with me. What’s wrong, Steve?”

I told her how Corridan and Cole had visited me and what they had said. I told her about Bradley’s phone call, too.

She listened without interrupting.

“Well, that’s the set-up,” I concluded. “How do you like it?”

“There’s only one way out of this,” she said, after a moment’s thought. “We’ve both got to get out of the country. Even if they don’t pin the murders on to you, you’ll be in jail for weeks. Then what shall I do?”

“Yeah, I’ve thought of that,” I said. “But if I run away I’m telling Corridan I’m guilty.”

She jumped to her feet, ran over to me.

“Steve! Can’t you see? You’ve got to get out while the going’s good. You can write to Corridan when you get to America. You can tell him the whole story; but if you wait now, we’ll never get away. French will catch up with me. You’ve got to save me and yourself.”

I put my hand on her hip. Under the thin silk it felt nice. I remembered our more intimate days, patted her flank.

“All right,” I said. “We’ll get out while the going’s good, and I’ll give Corridan the works from a safe distance. Now, I suppose I’d better try to fix a plane.”

“Let’s go tonight,” Netta said, gripping my arm. “Do you think we could get off tonight?”

“If we don’t, we’ll never get off,” I returned. “Once they know I’m on the run, they’ll watch every airport.” I pulled her a little closer to me. “Bradley worries me. I might be able to handle Cole, but Bradley has a real grievance. Where did you get those rings from, Netta?”

“I didn’t give him the rings.”

“He said you did. He said he bought them off you for three hundred pounds.”

She shook her head. “Of course not. I’ve told you what happened. I went to him, told him the truth, asked him for some money. He gave me two hundred pounds. He told you that yarn about the rings to shield me. I remember he always had a lot of jewellery in his office.”

I snapped my fingers. “My God! I’ve been a sucker. I should have guessed he was lying. What a mug I was to have taken the rings. He can get me three months for that. It’s robbery with violence.”

“But he won’t get you three months because you won’t be here,” Netta said. “How soon can you fix that plane?”

“Right now,” I said, going over to the telephone. I dialled a number, waited. “Is that you, Bix?” I asked, when a man’s voice came on the line.

The voice said, “Sure!”

“This is Steve Harmas. I’m coming to see you. This is important. When’s your next trip?”

“Why, hello, Steve,” he said. “Glad to hear from you again. What’s the excitement?”

“I’ll tell you when we meet. When’s your next trip?”

“Twenty-two-thirty hours tonight,” he returned. “Want to come with me.”

“You bet I want to come,” I said. “I’ll be right over.” I hung up, turned.

“Cross your fingers, kid,” I said. “Maybe I’ll be able to persuade him to take us. Get packed, and be ready for me at nine o’clock.”

She grabbed hold of me. “You’re wonderful, Steve,” she cried, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Sure, I’m wonderful,” I said, feeling like a heel, “but save the celebration until we’re over the Atlantic.”

I let her kiss me, but I didn’t kiss her in return. It’d have been too much like the touch of Judas.