1953 - The Sucker Punch

by James Hadley Chase

  Impatiently I turned to go back, when I noticed, for the first time, a short corridor leading off the one I was in, and which terminated in a cul-de-sac. There was one door down the corridor, and I paused to look at it.

  There were thirty guest rooms in this enormous house, but I doubted if this door led into a guest room. It was too isolated from the various bathrooms.

  With a sudden feeling of excitement, I wondered if this was Eve's room.

  I looked up and down the corridor to make certain no one was watching me, then I walked quietly into the cul-de-sac and paused outside the door and listened.

  For a moment or so I heard nothing, then the faint sound of movement told me someone was in the room. As I raised my hand to knock, I heard the tinkle of a telephone bell and the sound of dialling.

  I stood still, my head close to the panel of the door, listening.

  I heard Eve's voice.

  "Is that you, Larry?" she asked. "I'll be along on Thursday. She's giving a party, so I can be late. Yes, it won't be over much before one. I'll meet you at the Atlantic Hotel at seven. Can you manage that?"

  There was a long pause, then she said, "I'm counting the hours, Larry. Don't be late, will you, darling?"

  There was another pause, then the soft click told me she had hung up.

  I don't remember walking back to my dressing room.

  I found myself sitting on the bed with my face in my hands, shaking and cold.

  If her love for me had made Vestal soft and vulnerable, my obsession for Eve had made me far more so.

  I felt as if someone had bludgeoned me with a hammer.

  As the last few inches of the tape ran off the spool and slid, snakelike, through the recording head of the take-up spool, Chad switched off the recorder.

  He glanced at his wristwatch. He had been talking non-stop now for an hour. He pushed back his chair and stood up, stretching his arms above his head.

  The afternoon sun was fiercer now, and the heat inside the wooden beach hut was intense.

  He wiped his face and hands, then poured an inch or so of whisky into his glass, added charge water and drank.

  As he set down the glass, he looked over his shoulder at the dead woman on the divan bed.

  A bluebottle fly was walking slowly up her long, shapely leg. It paused on her knee, buzzed excitedly, then flew off to circle the room.

  Chad lit a cigarette and tossed the match into the ashtray that was laden with cigarette butts.

  Unable to resist the morbid temptation, he crossed the room and touched her hand. He kept his eyes averted from her face.

  Her hand felt cool, but there was no sign yet of rigor mortis, but that wasn't to be expected so soon in this heat, he thought, and grimacing, he crossed the room to look out of the window.

  He had a clear view across the sands to the distant Eden End, some nine miles away. The Eden End road stretched in a straight ribbon to the beach.

  He had no fear that Larry would come on him unexpectedly, but he would have to watch the road from now on. Although he was confident Larry wouldn't get here for another hour, he knew he couldn't afford to be surprised.

  He fingered the heavy wrench on the table. He picked it up and balanced it in his hand. It was a good weapon. He swung it, nodded his head, satisfied, and put the wrench down on the table.

  He moved the table closer to the window and arranged his chair so that he could watch the road while he dictated the last part of his story.

  He threaded another tape on to the machine, took another gulp of whisky, turned the starting switch, and as the spools began to revolve, he began to talk again.

  chapter eleven

  Thinking about the setup now, I find it distinctly funny, although, of course, at the time, I didn't think so.

  Vestal was madly in love with me and terrified she was going to lose me. I was madly in love with Eve, and now I was terrified I was going to lose her.

  Yes, it was funny. I was making Vestal suffer, and Eve was making me suffer.

  But I had more guts than Vestal. When I got over the first shock of finding out that Eve was cheating me, I became viciously angry. I had no intentions of begging Eve not to give me up. I was determined to find out who this man was, how long this affair had been going on or if it were something that hadn't yet become an affair. I was determined to stop it, and get Eve back by force if necessary.

  She was to meet this Larry at the Atlantic Hotel at seven o'clock on Thursday. Her story that she had to be with her mother was obviously a lie. If she could make a date with Larry, she could have made one with me.

  I made up my mind I would be at the hotel when they met. What I did after that remained to be seen. First, I wanted to look at this man who made Eve count the hours until they met.

  On Thursday morning, I told Vestal I might be a little late back from the office, but I would be in good time for the party. At twenty past six, I called her from the office.

  "Vestal, I'm sorry, but I can't make the party until much later."

  "Oh Chad! Why not?"

  "A guy I knew in my army days has just blown into town. I haven't seen him in years. We have a lot to say to each other. You can get on all right without me."

  "But, Chad, bring him to the party. You—you can't leave me to…"

  "Of course you can manage. This guy wouldn't fit in. He was a top sergeant, and he's a rough tough. You wouldn't want him among your friends. I'll see you around eleven. If I can get rid of him before then, I'll be back earlier. So long for now," and I hurriedly hung up as she began to protest.

  I had taken her Rolls to the office as my Cadillac was receiving attention from Joe.

  The Atlantic Hotel was out at Eden End, some twelve miles from Little Eden, and I had to have transport.

  Eden End was a playground for tourists. It was a jumble of auto-camps, beach huts and this one hotel.

  The hotel was a typical love nest. All kinds of couples stayed there, and no awkward questions were asked. So long as you paid in advance you could have a room, with or without luggage, with or without marriage lines, for an hour or for a year: the management wasn't fussy.

  I had been there myself from time to time with Glorie, and I knew the setup pretty well.

  I left the Rolls in a parking lot a few hundred yards from the hotel, and walked along the beach to the hotel entrance.

  The big garden was crowded with visitors, sitting at tables, shaded by gay umbrellas.

  I took a table in the shade of a tree, on the fringe of the crowd and looked around for Eve. It took time to spot her.

  I scarcely recognized her. She had looked beautiful and desirable at San Marco when I had seen her for the first time without her glasses and stripped of her dowdiness, but she looked far more beautiful and desirable now. She had on a light blue wool sweater and a white skirt.

  The way that sweater showed off her shape turned my mouth dry.

  I looked with rising fury at the man sitting with her. He was about my build; big, powerful and broad shouldered. He was fair and younger than I was, and better looking. He had on a worn sports jacket and baggy whipcord brown trousers. He didn't look as if he had any money to spare, and that discovery gave me sudden hope.

  I watched them for maybe an hour.

  Eve talked animatedly, but her companion seemed depressed. He slouched in his chair, and from time to time I saw he was stifling a yawn.

  It suddenly occurred to me that he was bored, and it also occurred to me that I must look the way he was looking when I had Vestal in my hair.

  The more I watched him, the more convinced I became that he was bored with Eve. Every now and then, he would glance at his wristwatch when she wasn't looking. I noticed too that Eve was having a struggle to keep the conversation going, and I felt a sudden vicious pleasure in watching them.

  Around eight-fifteen, they got up. I saw Eve slip a five-dollar bill under her glass to take care of the check.

  Larry, if that was his name, didn't appear to s
ee her do it, but he made no attempt to call the waiter and settle the check himself.

  They walked towards the hotel. I went after them. As they walked up the steps to the restaurant, Eve slipped her arm through his, but after they had taken a few steps, his arm dropped, and he moved away from her.

  I didn't go into the restaurant. I sat on the balcony and watched them through the casement windows.

  Before the meal was over Eve had given up the unequal struggle, and they finished the meal in silence.

  I could see he was becoming more and more bored, while into her pale, lovely face came a drawn, miserable expression I had seen so often on Vestal's face.

  Thinking about it now, it certainly was funny: Vestal was miserable about me; I was miserable about Eve, and Eve was miserable about Larry. Yes, it was funny all right.

  When they had finished the meal, I saw Eve slip a couple of bills into Larry's hand, and I watched him settle the check with the money she had given him.

  They came out on to the balcony, but not before I had ducked out of sight.

  "Shall we go down on the beach?" Eve asked as they paused at the top of the steps leading into the garden.

  He shook his head.

  "Sorry, but I've got to get back now. There's a guy I have to meet."

  So I wasn't the only one who had a convenient guy to meet.

  I saw Eve's face suddenly harden.

  "You're lying, Larry! You know very well…"

  "Okay, okay," he broke in, his voice exasperated. "So I'm lying. Maybe I haven't got a guy to meet, but I have things to do. For the love of Mike, quit acting like a lovesick kid and go home. I'll see you next Thursday if I can get away."

  "But, Larry, I don't have to get back until late," she said, suddenly pleading. "I told you. Don't go now. Let's go down to the beach."

  "What the hell for? I'm not in the mood for beach work tonight. Let's skip it for God's sake. I tell you I have things to do."

  He walked down the steps leaving her on the balcony, her face tight with misery. She started after him, then stopped, and with a despairing shrug of her shoulders, she went over to the basket chair I had been sitting in, and sank into it.

  We both watched Larry walk through the gardens towards the hotel car park. He got into a battered, dusty Ford coupe, and drove away, heading for Little Eden.

  Eve sat motionless, watching him until he was out of sight. I came out from behind the palm trees and sat down in a chair close to her.

  She was so preoccupied with watching Larry drive away that she didn't notice me.

  I lit a cigarette and waited.

  After a while she became aware that someone was near her, and she looked up sharply.

  Our eyes met.

  "Hallo, Eve," I said, and smiled at her.

  She flinched. Fear, surprise and anger jumped into her eyes.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Spying on you. Your mother's a pretty well setup guy, isn't she?"

  Her fists clenched.

  "Does Mrs. Winters know where you are?" she said fiercely. "Why have you left the party?"

  "I had a guy to meet, Eve."

  Again she flinched.

  "When a man gets bored with a woman, there's always a guy to meet," I went on, staring at her.

  Her hands turned into fists, but she didn't say anything.

  "Who is he, Eve?"

  She looked at me, hesitated, then with a sudden shrug, she said, "My husband—satisfied?"

  I felt a little spasm in my guts. I wasn't expecting to hear that, and it knocked me.

  "You've kept him secret, haven't you? Do you love him, Eve?"

  She stared at me, her eyes stony.

  "I used to."

  "So that's why you don't want to lose your luxurious job. I bet that guy comes expensive."

  She flinched.

  "Don't let's talk about him."

  "I want to. He looked pretty bored. Other women, Eve?"

  "Hundreds of other women," she said bitterly. "You don't know what it means to have loved someone and watched that love fall to pieces. Larry means nothing to me now. He's just a rotten habit. If he suddenly fell in love with me again, I'd be able to walk out on him." She paused, then went on in a tight, strangled voice, "It is being dropped, put on the shelf for some other woman, knowing every minute he spends with me is boring him to death that makes me see him every Thursday. I keep hoping he'll change. There was a time when he begged for my love. Perhaps one day, he'll beg for it again. Then I'll tell him to go home, and I'll be rid of him forever."

  "That doesn't make sense."

  "Doesn't it? It makes sense to me. No man has ever picked me up and dropped me. Larry's the first. It hurt my pride. One of these days I want to be in the position to walk out on him, and have him run after me, begging me to come back."

  We sat silent for several minutes. Then I got to my feet.

  "Come on. We're going down to the beach."

  She stiffened.

  "We're not!"

  My hand closed around her wrist.

  "You wanted to go down there. I heard you ask him. That's where we are going."

  She tried to pull away, but I tightened my grip.

  'I don't give a damn if we make a scene up here," I went on, looking at her. "Are you coming or am I going to drag you down there?"

  "Let me go!"

  "I mean it, Eve."

  She stared up at me, her face white, her eyes angry. We looked at each other, and she saw I did mean it.

  "I don't want to, Chad; not now."

  "You did five minutes ago. Come on."

  She got up, and we walked down the terrace steps, across the garden and down to the beach.

  The road out of Eden End was as straight as a foot rule and bordered either side by sand dunes. I turned on the headlamps and shoved the gas pedal to the boards. The speedometer needle flicked upwards, and hung around seventy-five as the big car surged effortlessly and silently along the road.

  It was when I was in sight of the lights of Little Eden that the thing happened that was to change my life, has taken away my future, and is responsible for me sitting here in this stifling beach hut, recording a confession of murder.

  Without warning, the front offside tire burst.

  I heard the bang, and felt the car lurch violently to the left.

  I was going at over seventy miles an hour. The car heaved itself off the road while I wrestled madly with the steering wheel. I had stamped down on the brake and that action saved the car from turning over.

  It ploughed through the sand, and lurched horribly. The offside wheels lifted, hovered, then slammed back and the car stopped.

  I sat for a moment recovering from the shock. Then I got out of the car, swearing, and looking for damage.

  Apart from the burst tire, nothing seemed bent or broken or even scratched. Luckily the sand at this spot wasn't too soft, and I didn't have much trouble in backing the car on to the road again.

  I stripped off my coat and got down to the job of changing the wheel.

  While I worked, I thought what a lucky escape I had had. If the blowout had happened while I was driving up the cliff road with its hairpin bends, and its nine hundred foot drop on to rocks I should be dead by now. I couldn't have found a more convenient place for a blowout. The sand had taken up the shock, and the car wasn't even damaged.

  I was tightening the wheel bolts when the idea dropped into my mind.

  Thinking about it now, I am sure the seed of murder had been in my mind ever since I heard about Vestal's will.

  The tire blowout germinated the seed.

  I suddenly saw the complete solution to my problems: money, Eve, my freedom and my future. It was as if a picture had been flashed on the screen of my mind—as clear as that.

  If she died…

  That thought had already occurred to me.

  Well, I could kill her, couldn't I?

  I came up the steps to the terrace as the lounge clock struck h
alf past midnight. The lights were on in the lounge, but before I could reach the casement windows, Vestal came out.

  "So you're back?"

  Her voice was strident and hard, and she looked pale in the shadowy moonlight.

  "If it's not me, it must be my ghost," I said, shoving my chin at her.

  I wasn't in the mood to take anything from her this night.

  After I had changed the wheel I had put the burst tire into the boot and locked the boot. During the rest of the journey back to Cliffside, my mind had been busy.

  My murder plan was nearly complete by the time I had garaged the Rolls and had walked up the steps to the terrace.

  I felt impersonal about it. What puzzled me was why I hadn't thought of murdering Vestal before.

  Seeing her in the casement doorway, hearing her strident voice, killed any shrinking feeling I might have had of ridding myself of her.

  "You've been with some woman!" she said furiously. "Don't you dare lie to me! Who is she?"

  "Top Sergeant Jim Lasher," I said, grinning at her. "He may sing soprano, but at least he has hair on his chest."

  Her hand flashed up and caught me on the side of my face, a hard, stinging slap that made my eyes water.

  Women don't do that to me and get away with it.

  I felt a vicious surge of fury run through me, and I grabbed her; my fingers dug into her skinny shoulders.

  I had a sudden impulse to shift my grip to her throat, but luckily for me I didn't do it.

  Two hands that felt like steel grips closed around my wrists and broke my hold. I was shoved back as violently as if I had walked into an advancing bulldozer.

  "Take it easy, Mr. Winters," Police Lieutenant Leggit said quietly.

  Instinctively I set myself to throw a punch at him, but his voice suddenly barked, "I shouldn't do that!" And that bark brought my hands down.

  I shrugged my coat into place and fumbled for a cigarette. I was shaking with rage, but somehow I kept hold of myself. This was dangerous. I wouldn't have touched the little bitch if I'd known Leggit was on hand.

  Vestal had vanished. That left Leggit and me on the terrace.