A dry sound came from behind him. A sound like a piece of wood being broken. He jerked away from her and looked over his shoulder.
Joe had come in and had coughed. He stood looking at Schultz with blank, stony eyes.
Schultz gave a little giggle. He walked back to the centre of the room. ‘Get some drinks, Joe. Cubitt’s coming.’
‘Him?’ The boy sounded contemptuous. ‘What’s he want?’
‘Get the drinks, Joe, and don’t talk so much.’
Lorelli lay back on the divan, her eyes smouldering and her fingers gently touching her chin. ‘Maestro is rough tonight. He hurt me.’
‘Great lovers often hurt those they love,’ Schultz said. ‘I read it somewhere, so it must be true.’ He went over to a large vase of flowers and began to caress the petals of a rose.
There was a long, heavy silence. Lorelli watched Schultz closely. ‘There is something wrong,’ she said. ‘I feel you are angry.’
‘When Cubitt has gone,’ he said, looking at her across the scent of the rose.
The front door bell rang insistently.
‘That’ll be Cubitt,’ Schultz said. ‘Let him in, will you, my pigeon?’
‘I’ll go,’ Joe said, putting down the glasses he had just brought in.
‘You stay here.’ Schultz looked at Lorelli. ‘Let him in.’
She shrugged, pulled her skimpy dress over her knees and got up. Schultz watched her walk across the room and through the door.
Lorelli opened the front door.
The short, thickset man from the Chez Paree was standing on the step. He tipped his hat when he saw her. ‘Hello,’ he said, looking with X-ray eyes. ‘Schultz in?’
Lorelli stood aside. ‘Come in. Wipe your boots, and don’t forget to keep your hands to yourself.’
Cubitt grinned. ‘I don’t play with dynamite,’ he said, stepping round her cautiously. The last time he had tried to make a pass at her, he had nearly lost an eye. ‘I’m here on business.’
‘Well, go in. He’s waiting. I don’t care why you’re here so long as I’m not mixed up in it.’
Cubitt walked into the sitting room and nodded to Schultz. ‘Here I am, boss,’ he said.
Lorelli slid into the room, went over to the divan and sat down.
Cubitt looked at her knees and wiped his nose with his forefinger. It beat him why Lorelli stood Schultz.
‘Have a drink, Cubitt?’ Schultz said, seeing his interest in Lorelli and liking it. He knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with Lorelli and it tickled his vanity.
Cubitt went over and mixed himself a highball. He glanced over at the other two. ‘Ain’t you drinking?’ Schultz shook his head. ‘Not just yet,’ he said. ‘So Bellman had a scare?’
Cubitt nodded. ‘It was Korris. He nearly got him.’
‘Korris,’ Schultz repeated. ‘Are you sure?’
Cubitt nodded. ‘He came in the back way and asked if Duke was with Bellman. When I said he was . . .’
‘Duke?’ Schultz leaned forward. ‘What do you mean?’
Cubitt frowned. ‘I’m telling you, ain’t I?’ he said, a little impatiently. ‘Duke was with Bellman.’
‘Why didn’t you say so before? What did he want?’
Cubitt shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I tried to listen but Bellman didn’t give me a chance.’
While they were talking, Lorelli sat still. Her eyes were anxious. Joe, who leaned against the wall, his eyes on Cubitt, looked bored. He hadn’t moved or spoken since Cubitt came in.
‘Go on,’ Schultz said, in a flat voice.
‘When I told Korris that Duke was with Bellman he went straight up. I heard a couple of shots and then Korris comes running down with whisky over his front, and dripping off his spectacles. He shot past me into the street and drove off like a bat out of hell.’
‘Bellman?’
Cubitt shook his head. He’s all right,’ he said, regretfully. ‘Duke spoilt Korris’s aim. They know who did it. Kells got the number of Korris’s car.’
Schultz closed his eyes. ‘I want to think,’ he said, and a long silence fell on the room.
Cubitt stood watching Schultz uneasily, shifting his eyes to Lorelli and Joe and then back to Schultz.
Lorelli and Joe might have been dead. They remained still, hardly seeming to breathe.
Then Schultz sighed and opened his eyes. ‘Okay, Cubitt,’ he said, fumbling in his pocket. ‘Keep your peepers open. I want to hear everything that goes on up there.’ He pulled out a roll of greenbacks and peeled off several. He gave them to Cubitt who
grinned at him.
‘I’ll watch it, boss,’ he said, tipping his hat. ‘Anything else I can do?’
Schultz waved him away. ‘No, but watch out. Don’t talk, just watch out and phone me if anything happens.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Cubitt returned. ‘Good night, boss.’
‘Wait,’ Schultz pointed at Joe, ‘he’ll drive you back.’
Cubitt stared. ‘Me?’ he said, as if he could hardly believe his ears.
Schultz nodded. ‘Something may have happened while you’ve been over here. Check up and tell Joe.’ He looked at Joe sleepily. ‘Go with him. Hang around until he’s had a chance to look round and then come back.’
Joe said sullenly, ‘It’s late.’
‘It’ll be later still when you come back,’ Schultz returned. ‘Beat it.’
Cubitt and Joe went out of the room.
Lorelli fussed her curly, blue-black hair with her finger ends. ‘What did Korris want to shoot at Bellman for?’
Schultz didn’t say anything. He sat with his head on one side listening for the sound of the car. He didn’t move or say anything until the engine started, the gears engaged and the roar of acceleration had died away. Then he looked over at Lorelli and smiled.
Lorelli had never seen him look quite like this before. He frightened her. She stood up and stretched. ‘I think I’ll go to bed,’ she said, patting her mouth to conceal a nervous yawn. ‘Is Maestro sitting up?’
‘So Harry Duke went to see Bellman,’ Schultz said, taking his glass and moving to the sideboard. He began to mix himself a stiff drink.
Lorelli watched him and edged towards the door.
‘I think I’m angry with you,’ Schultz said, softly. He squirted soda into his glass. ‘I think I’m very angry with you.’
‘What have I done?’ Lorelli asked, her hand on the door handle.
Schultz sipped his whisky and looked at her. His eyes rested on her face for a second and then shifted to her hand. He beckoned to her. ‘Come here,’ he said, gently. ‘I want you.’
Lorelli remained where she was. Her hand turned the handle and the door opened an inch. She was ready for flight.
Schultz laughed. It was a low rumble of sound like thunder in his belly. ‘All right. Stay where you are.’ He waddled over to his armchair and sat down. ‘But I want to talk to you.’ He drank half the whisky and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘You telephoned Harry Duke, didn’t you?’
Her eyes opened. ‘I did?’ she repeated. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You’re a pretty little liar.’ Schultz seemed to have recovered his good humour. ‘But you see Duke told me.’
Lorelli said, ‘Why should I telephone him and about what?’
‘You’ve made things awkward for me,’ Schultz went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘You’ve made Duke curious. That’s bad. Duke can’t keep out of anything. He never could.’ He finished his whisky and sat holding the glass, smiling at her. Then he pushed his great legs out and sat lower in the chair. ‘Duke’s the kind of fella a girl like you would fall for. I don’t know why, but there it is. Some people might think it odd a guy like me should bother with orchids. It’s just the way it is. You should never have spoken to Duke. Of course, I’m to blame, I shouldn’t have told you about Bellman, but then I was crazy to trust you.’ He sat forward abruptly. ‘Why did you tip him off, you little fool?’ he snarled, his rage
burning in his eyes. ‘I could have got his mind off Bellman.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Lorelli said, with a kind of childlike obstinacy. ‘I don’t remember what you said about Bellman. You’re just trying to frighten me.’
Schultz forced the anger out of his eyes. He wanted to take her by her thick curls and smash her head against the wall. But he had to make sure.
‘I was forgetting,’ he said, slowly, turning the glass idly in his hand, ‘you don’t listen to what I say, do you?’ He shook his head and eased himself forward slowly in his chair.
Lorelli watched him nervously. ‘I don’t like your mood tonight, Maestro. I’m going to bed.’ She jerked the door wide.
‘Yes,’ Schultz returned, his body moving forward in his chair. ‘You’ll sleep well too, my pigeon,’ and he threw his glass at her viciously.
She saw the flash as the glass caught the light and she ducked. But Schultz had acted too fast. The glass caught her between the eyes and she stumbled, a high-pitched scream of fear in her throat. Then she found herself on her hands and knees with lights exploding inside her head.
Schultz heaved himself out of his chair with incredible swiftness and reached her before she could clear her head. She was still on her hands and knees, her head hanging low, as he came up.
She felt him close to her and she whimpered; dragging at her fluttering muscles, she tried to get away from him.
He knelt down beside her and taking her by the scruff of her neck he shook her until her teeth rattled. ‘Why did you telephone Duke?’ he snarled.
‘I wanted to keep him out of this,’ she whimpered, trying to get away. ‘Let me go, you’re hurting.’
He shook her again. ‘You little fool! That’s the way to push him into it and I believe you knew it! You wanted Duke in this, didn’t you? You wanted to make things difficult for me?’
‘No . . . no!’ she wailed. ‘Let me go! I didn’t mean anything! You said that you’d kill him if he interfered and I thought I’d stop it by phoning him.’
Schultz’s face set in furious, vindictive mask. He hit her on the back of her neck with the side of his hand. It was a violent, chopping blow that drove her to the floor senseless.
Schultz stood over her, trembling with rage. He moved his great foot as if he wanted to kick her, then he drew back. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face and hands.
Walking a little unsteadily, he crossed the room, collected his glass and poured himself out a stiff drink. Then he stood thinking.
Lorelli had been living with him for six months now. She amused him and he would miss her. But there was too much on the ball to bother with that. It was a pity, but he knew that he’d have to make more sacrifices before he got what he finally wanted. Lorelli was only the beginning.
He decided to get rid of her before Joe came back. He wasn’t sure of the boy. He didn’t know whether he and Lorelli meant anything to each other. That was the worst of being old and fat. He never knew whether Lorelli was cheating or not.
He went into the kitchen and selected a short length of rope. He made a running loop in the rope and waddled back again. He didn’t like doing this job, but there was nothing else he could do. She was becoming dangerous and if he didn’t do something, he’d only be running into trouble himself.
She still lay flat on the floor and he knelt down stiffly beside her. He felt the sweat running down his back and his breath was coming in great labouring gasps. He tried to control himself, but in his way, he was fond of her. It shocked him to think that he was going to do this without giving her any chance.
He slipped the noose round her neck and gently pulled it tight. Then he placed his fat knee squarely on her shoulders and gathered the loose end of the rope in his hands.
Harry Duke, sitting on the window sill, cleared his throat. ‘I say, Paul,’ he said, ‘be careful what you’re doing. If you want to alter the shape of her neck, why not send her to a plastic surgeon?’
Schultz knelt there staring at him. His saucer-like eyes were flecked with red.
SEVEN
It was almost twenty minutes before Clare came out of the Ladies’ room.
Peter had begun to wonder if she had slipped out without him seeing her and had gone home.
The waiter had hovered around looking worried, seeing first Clare go and then Duke. Peter beckoned him and cancelled one of the dinners.
‘Will the lady be coming back, sir?’ the waiter asked.
‘Yes. Just wait until you see her, then bring the order quickly. Don’t keep us hanging around, we may want to leave in a hurry.’
The waiter looked at him, considered he didn’t look crazy and went away.
Just then Peter saw Clare come out and look over. She wasn’t looking too happy, Peter thought uneasily. He didn’t like the way her lips compressed when she saw he was alone. Somehow, he felt the evening wasn’t going to be a success.
She came over and sat down.
‘Harry had to go. He remembered a date. That’s like Harry. Always forgetting something or other,’ Peter said, smiling at her anxiously.
‘Oh,’ she said, and looked past him at the four-piece band that was playing across the room.
The waiter came up just then with a loaded tray and began to serve their dinner.
‘What shall we drink, Clare?’ Peter said, picking up the wine list.
She hesitated, then she said, ‘No, nothing. I’ve got a bit of a headache.’
The waiter grimaced to himself. Women were always the same. They’d either ask for some brand of champagne he didn’t keep or else would go on the waggon.
‘Come on, Clare, it’ll cheer you up,’ Peter said. ‘Let’s have some white wine. It’ll take your headache away.’
‘I can recommend the 156,’ the waiter said, hopefully, pointing with his pencil.
Clare shook her head. An obstinate look came into her eyes. ‘No. I don’t want any, thank you. And I don’t want cheering up either.’
Peter took one quick look at her tired, unhappy face and he waved the waiter away. ‘Okay, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘Let’s eat. I know how you feel.’
‘Do you?’ Clare said, sharply. ‘I don’t think you do, Peter.’
He put his knife and fork down and stared at her. ‘What’s the matter, Clare?’ he said. ‘Have I annoyed you?’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Peter, I’m tired and I just don’t feel like all this. I’m sorry I’m such a bore.’ She looked as if she were going to cry.
‘But Clare. . .’ he began.
Her mouth twitched suddenly, then she jumped up and went quickly out of the restaurant.
Peter was so astonished that he sat gaping after her, unconscious of the curious looks that came from all parts of the room.
The waiter was at his elbow with the check. ‘Something wrong with the dinner?’ he asked in an injured voice.
Peter became aware of the people staring and the waiter. ‘Here, let me get out of this,’ he said, shoving some money into the waiter’s hand. ‘I guess my friend isn’t well.’
He went out and stood looking up and down the street, completely bewildered.
The commissionaire touched his cap. ‘Your car’s over the way, sir,’ he said. ‘The lady’s just gone over.’
Peter gave him some small change and then crossed the street.
He found Clare curled up in the far seat, crying. He stood hesitating, feeling that he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but scared that he might make things worse. He lit a cigarette and stood near the car, feeling low.
‘It’s all right, Peter,’ Clare said, trying to steady her voice. ‘What’s the matter, darling?’ He opened the car door and got in beside her.
‘I feel so low I don’t know what to do.’
‘You’re tired. I’ll take you home. A good sleep’s what you want.’ He wanted to put his arm round her, but he still wasn’t sure.
She held her handkerchief to her eyes and shook h
er head. ‘Let’s drive somewhere, Peter,’ she said. ‘I want to feel the air on my face. It’s so hot. Let the windscreen down, will you?’
He fixed the windscreen and started the engine. ‘Where shall we go?’ he said.
‘Oh, I don’t care - anywhere.’
He couldn’t understand why she was like this, but he turned the car and began to drive towards Fairview. She didn’t say anything for a long time. She had stopped crying and she sat away from him with the hot wind in her hair, staring at the dancing pools of light from the headlamps.
Peter had never seen her in a mood like this before. It made him uneasy. Usually, she was so self-possessed and confident.
‘I’m sorry about tonight, Peter,’ she said, suddenly. ‘It’s just that I’m nervy and the heat. Do you mind most awfully?’
‘That’s all right,’ he said, dropping one hand from the wheel and squeezing hers gently. There was an answering pressure. ‘I get low myself sometimes. Only, it’s not a bit like you, is it?’
‘I’m afraid it is,’ she said, ‘only this is the first time I’ve let myself go in public. I suppose I’m not right yet after my illness.’
‘You work too hard.’ He eased up on the accelerator and pressed on the brake. The car stopped by the side of the road. He turned in his seat. ‘Listen, Clare, why don’t you do the sensible thing? Give all this up and let’s get married.’ He took her in his arms and kissed her. She didn’t resist, but her lips were cold and impersonal and his kiss didn’t mean a thing. ‘Darling, I do love you so,’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘Can’t you make up your mind? I’ll make you happy. I’ll do anything for you.’
She pushed him gently away. ‘It’s no good, Peter,’ she said, ‘I’m not in the mood tonight. Will you go on?’
‘What do you mean?’ he demanded, making no effort to stem his rising anger. ‘In the mood? I’m not flirting with you, Clare. I’m asking you to marry me. You don’t have to be in the mood for that. You either love me or you don’t.’
She suddenly put her hands on his arms and gripped his muscles tightly. Her strong fingers hurt.
1944 - Just the Way It Is Page 5
