1953 - The Sucker Punch

by James Hadley Chase

  "Will you answer my question!" I said, trying to control my voice.

  "Exactly when did you telephone?"

  She began to look scared.

  "I'm sorry, Chad, I wouldn't have called you if I had known it was going to upset you so."

  I grabbed hold of her and gave her a little shake, snapping her head back.

  "Will you answer my question, damn you!" I shouted. "When did you telephone?"

  "The night before last," she said and she looked scared out of her wits.

  The night I killed Vestal!

  "What time?"

  "About nine."

  "Don't you remember the exact time? Goddam it! You'd better remember!"

  "Chad, darling, you're hurting me. What have I done?"

  "What time did you call?" I yelled at her.

  "It was just after nine: about nine-twenty."

  "You say you heard me dictating?"

  "Yes. You're frightening me. Has something terrible happened?"

  "Shut up! You telephoned me the night before last at nine-twenty - is that it?"

  She nodded.

  "Who answered the telephone?"

  "I think she did. The girl you…”

  "A woman answered it?"

  "Yes."

  "What did she say?"

  "I asked for you. She said you were out. I heard you talking. You were dictating a business letter. I didn't want to disturb you so I hung up."

  I let go of her. I felt so bad I thought I was going to faint.

  "Chad, darling!"

  "Shut your goddam trap!" I snarled at her.

  She slid off the couch and ran over to the liquor cabinet. I'll say this for her: she knew what to do in an emergency. The whisky she thrust into my hand would have knocked over a mule.

  I drank it as if it were water. If she hadn't taken the glass out of my shaking hand I would have dropped it.

  "Darling, you're terrifying me. What's the matter? Why are you looking like that?"

  The whisky helped to steady me.

  I looked at her.

  "You're sure you heard me dictating a letter?"

  "Yes. It was something about Conway's Cement."

  "While I was talking, this woman said I was out?"

  "Yes."

  "Did she speak distinctly. You heard her all right?"

  "Yes. She—she sounded nervous. Her voice was shrill."

  "All right." I got to my feet. "Just leave me alone for a moment: I want to think."

  She sat on the couch, staring at me, her face chalk white, her eyes scared.

  I couldn't think.

  I was shaking from head to foot. The only thing that came into my mind were Leggit's words when we had talked after the fight: It's when a guy gets full of confidence he's wide open for a sucker punch. I've seen it happen again and again in my racket. Some guy commits murder. He takes a lot of trouble and thought to cover up: fakes himself an alibi or maybe makes it look like it's been done by someone else.

  Then he imagines he's safe, but he isn't. Just when he least expects it— wham! and he's down on his back, only he has something a damn sight worse coming to him than a busted jaw.

  I moved slowly about the room. I was so scared I could hardly breathe.

  "Chad; what is it?"

  I turned and looked at her. The expression on my face made her catch her breath in a faint scream.

  "What have I done, Chad?"

  I walked over to her.

  "Done, you stupid bitch?" I yelled at her. "You've taken away my future!"

  I balled up my fist and punched her in her stupid, tired, degenerate face. She shot off the couch and rolled over on her back on the floor.

  I didn't give her a second look. I didn't even wait to grab my hat. I flung open the front door and went down the stairs as if the devil from hell was after me.

  chapter nineteen

  The big clock on City Hall struck the half-hour after nine. Roosevelt Boulevard was crowded. I mingled with the crowd like a naked man sheltering under a blanket.

  My eyes were everywhere. For all I knew the police were looking for me already. I had left the Cadillac in the lockup behind Glorie's apartment block. Its maroon and white colouring would have been too easy a target for the cops to spot if they were looking for me.

  I ducked into a drug store at the corner and bought a pair of green tinted sunglasses. They wouldn't be much of a disguise, but they would give me a slight feeling of security. I wished now I hadn't bolted out of Glorie's apartment without my hat.

  I crossed over to the row of telephone booths and called Joshua Morgan's number.

  "This is Chad Winters," I said. "Where is she now?"

  "Hold on, Mr. Winters. I'll just check," Morgan's reedy voice said.

  I stood against the wall of the booth and watched the entrance of the drug store. My heart was thumping and my mouth was dry. I had trouble in keeping my hands steady.

  "Are you there, Mr. Winters? She left Cliffside last night soon after you did," Morgan told me. "She took with her a fair-sized suitcase. She is now staying at the Palm Beach Hotel."

  "Is she there now?"

  "Yes. Her breakfast was sent up twenty minutes ago."

  "What's her room number?"

  "159, first floor, front."

  "Thanks. Keep watching her."

  "Certainly, Mr. Winters."

  I hung up, lit a cigarette, put on the sunglasses and went out on to the street again. I signalled to a taxi

  "Palm Beach Hotel."

  The hotel faced the sea. It was the best and the most expensive hotel in town.

  I stopped the cab at the entrance to the two hundred yard drive-in.

  "I'll walk the rest of the way," I said and paid off the driver.

  There were a lot of cars in a queue before the front entrance. The hall porter and a small army of assistants were busy handing in visitors to the cars, collecting tips and handling luggage. They were far too busy to notice me as I stepped past them and pushed my way through the revolving doors.

  The big hall was also full of departing visitors. There was a small mob of them at the reception desk. The bellhops were all handling luggage.

  I walked over to the stairs without anyone paying me any attention.

  I went up the stairs leisurely, taking off my sunglasses and holding them in my hand. A waiter passed me on the stairs. He didn't even look at me. There was a big landing at the head of the stairs. Long wide corridors led off the landing. A gold lettered signboard showed me where Eve's room was.

  Halfway down the corridor I spotted room 159. I stepped up to the door and knocked.

  "Who is it?" Eve asked.

  The sound of her voice made me feel breathless.

  "Telegram please, Miss Dolan," I said.

  I heard a movement and I braced myself. The door opened. I shoved hard with my shoulder. I was in the room and the door was shut before Eve could recover her balance.

  She had on a white silk wrap; gone were her glasses and her scraped back hair. She looked lovelier than I had ever seen her.

  She stared at me, her face paling. I could see the scream in her eyes before she began to open her mouth.

  "Stop it!" I said sharply. "I had to see you, Eve. The alibi's gone!"

  She stepped back, her hand going to her throat.

  "You're lying! Get out before I have you thrown out!"

  "Why didn't you tell me someone telephoned that night?"

  Her eyes opened wide.

  "What do you mean?"

  "A friend of mine asked for me when I was supposed to be dictating. Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

  "I—I forgot. What does it matter anyway?"

  "You forgot? How could you forget? You spoke to her, didn't you? You said I was out."

  "What does it matter?" she said impatiently. "I had to say something. Now get out and leave me alone!"

  "You can't be so damned stupid you don't realize what this means," I said, trying to steady my voice. "Bl
akestone must have heard the bell ring. Did Hargis hear it too?"

  "I suppose so. You're using this as an excuse to pester me. Will you please go away?"

  "You suppose Hargis heard? Don't you know for certain? What were you doing when the telephone bell rang?"

  She looked sharply at me.

  "I had just told Blakestone you wouldn't keep him very long. I was returning to the study when the bell rang. It was lucky it didn't ring a minute or so before. It would have spoilt the effect of your voice speaking to Blakestone."

  "Had Hargis left the room?"

  She frowned, then shook her head.

  "He was just leaving, but he hadn't gone."

  "So he heard the bell too. Did you leave the study door open? Could they have heard you say I was out?"

  "Yes, I suppose so. But what does it matter? They know you weren't out. They knew I was making an excuse so you wouldn't be disturbed. What are you making such a fuss about?"

  "If the recorder was recording and not playing back it would have picked up the sound of the telephone bell and the sound of your voice!"

  She stood very still, staring at me.

  "But it wasn't recording! It was playing your voice back! So what does it matter? It couldn't have picked up the telephone bell. You're just trying to frighten me."

  "Are you such a simple fool? The machine was supposed to be recording! It should have picked up your voice and the bell. Can't you see? Leggit has only to find out the bell rang to know the recorder wasn't recording; that it was playing back. He has the tape, and he must have played it again and again, looking for a snag. He'll know it backwards by now. If Blakestone tells him the phone bell rang, he'll know he's got us! Don't you understand? The alibi doesn't exist anymore."

  I thought she was going to faint, and I grabbed hold of her. She leaned against me for a moment, then pushed me away.

  "Don't touch me!" She went over to sit on the bed. "He may not find out."

  "Are you going to gamble on that? Are you going to wait and hope he won't find out? I know him. He'll find out. He told me there had to be a hole in that alibi, and he was right. Why didn't you tell me the telephone bell rang?"

  She beat her hands together.

  "It went out of my mind. It seemed then so unimportant. What are we going to do?"

  "I'll tell you what we're not going to do: we're not going to spend Vestal's money."

  "Chad! Don't talk like that! There must be a way out. What are we going to do?"

  I came and sat on the bed beside her.

  "Clear out; get as far away as we can, and as quickly as we can."

  "But where? They'll find us—they always do!"

  "I know a place where they might not find us. Are you coming with me, Eve?"

  She looked at me, her blue eyes dark with terror.

  "Do you want me to come with you after what I said?"

  "I wouldn't ask you if I didn't. There's nothing left now. Your thirty millions have vanished. You've got to choose now who you want— Larry or me. I think I can save you: he can't. Do you want to throw in with me or do you want to try to beat this on your own?"

  "Where will you go?"

  "Havana, and then on to South America. With luck and if we're quick, we should be able to lose ourselves in South America. Are you coming with me?"

  "Yes."

  I grabbed hold of her.

  "Are you sure? We'll start a new life together. We can beat this rap, Eve, if we stick together. But are you sure?"

  "Yes, Chad."

  I pulled her to me and kissed her on the mouth. I felt her shiver.

  "Get dressed and hurry," I said, releasing her. "Leave all your things. Don't let the hotel people know you are leaving. I'm going now to raise as much money as I can lay hands on. You go back to the house, Eve. Open the safe and get her jewellery. None of it, except the diamonds, is insured. No one knows what she had. Leave the diamonds, but take the rest. There should be a million dollars' worth of stuff in that safe, and we must have it. I'll meet you at the house in three quarters of an hour's time. I'll get the plane tickets. Leggit can't have got around to Blakestone yet, but we must hurry."

  She nodded as she began to struggle into her dress.

  "See you at the house then."

  I went to the door.

  "Don't lose your nerve. We'll beat them, but we've got to hurry."

  "Yes, Chad."

  She stared at me, her eyes like holes in a sheet.

  "The two of us together can beat the world," I said.

  "Yes, Chad."

  I drove up the cliff road, my eyes alert for trouble. I had hired an old Buick from a bank client - garage owner I knew, and in its nondescript shabbiness I felt fairly safe from the prying eyes of any cop.

  On the back seat lay a suitcase. It contained bonds and cash to the value of a hundred thousand dollars, collected from the bank and from my office safe. I had two plane tickets for Havana in my pocket. I was ready to go.

  I had been a little longer than I had anticipated. I was over fifteen minutes late.

  The gates to Cliff side stood open, and I drove through, and up the drive. There was no sign of Eve's car, but that didn't mean anything.

  She wasn't likely to advertise the fact that she was at home.

  I left the Buick in one of the lockups and walked to the house. I pushed open the front door and stepped into the vast, gloomy hall. I paused to listen. No sound came to me. I wondered if Leggit was already on to us, and if he were waiting somewhere in the house to grab us.

  "Eve!"

  My voice fled up the stairs, along the silent corridors and seemed to fill the hall.

  No voice answered mine.

  I went into the lounge, but there was no one there. I picked up the house telephone and dialled her room number, but no one answered the persistent burr-burr of the buzzer.

  Time was getting on. We had only three quarters of an hour to get to the airfield.

  I went out into the hall again.

  "Eve!"

  Still no answer.

  A cold, furious rage began to mount inside me. Another double-cross!

  I wasn't surprised. That shiver when I had kissed her had warned me of the possibility of her running out on me again.

  This time she wouldn't get away with it!

  I returned to the lounge and called Morgan's number.

  "This is Winters. Where is she now?"

  "My man's just called in his report, Mr. Winters," Morgan told me.

  "When you left the Palm Beach Hotel, she put through a call to the Atlantic Hotel, Eden End. My man knows the Palm Beach telephone operator…"

  "Never mind that. Who did she speak to at the Atlantic?"

  "Mr. Larry Grainger. She arranged to meet him at a beach hut at two-thirty this afternoon."

  "Did she say what beach hut?"

  "No. He seemed to know. But I'll have my man cover her, Mr. Winters. I'll find out for you."

  "It's okay. You can pull your man off now. I'm not interested in Miss Dolan anymore. Pull him off right away, and let me have your account. Make it a thousand; you've earned it."

  "Thank you, Mr. Winters. I try to oblige. You're sure you don't want any more reports?"

  I was holding the receiver so tightly, my fingers ached.

  "No. Get your man off her right away."

  "Yes, Mr. Winters. Any time you want."

  "So long," I said and hung up.

  So it was Larry again.

  There could only be one beach hut: Vestal's hut where we had rehearsed and plotted her death. From there these two would disappear—at least, that's what she imagined.

  I looked at my watch. It was half-past twelve. I had plenty of time. I picked up the receiver and called the Atlantic Hotel.

  "Reception? I have a message for Mr. Grainger. Will you take it?"

  "Mr. Grainger is out right now."

  "Give him this message: 'Larry Grainger; delayed; don't meet me until five-thirty. Same place as arranged,
Eve.' Got it?"

  The clerk said he had.

  "Give it to Mr. Grainger as soon as he comes in. Do you expect him soon?"

  "Any moment. He went to fix his car, sir."

  "Fine," I said and hung up.

  I moved to the door. Then I paused, feeling the hair on die nape of my neck stiffen.

  Coming up the drive was a blue and white police car. Even as I stared through the window at it, it braked violently to a standstill, and Leggit got out. He was followed by Blakestone and Hargis and a cop in uniform.

  They moved towards the house.

  As I stepped into a dark recess between the lounge and Vestal's study, the front door bell rang.

  I could have left the house by the servants' quarters without being seen, but I was suddenly curious to find out what Leggit was up to, and why he had brought Blakestone and Hargis along with him. The setup was too tricky not to accept any free information.

  The front door bell rang several times before Leggit opened the door and walked into the hall.

  "Take a look around the house, Johnston," he said to the cop. "Doesn't look as if anyone's at home, but make sure." He turned to Blakestone. "If you two will come into the lounge."

  I watched Hargis and Blakestone follow him into the lounge, while the cop walked along the passage and through the door leading to the servants' quarters.

  "You've got this all wrong," I heard Blakestone say. "Chad wouldn't do a thing like that. I know he was in the study all the time. I not only heard him, but damn it! I saw him as well."

  "You saw his arm on the chair; that's not seeing him, Mr. Blakestone," Leggit said curtly. "He could have put his coat in the chair with a stiffener in the arm. Did you see any other part of him, except his arm, Hargis?"

  "No, sir, I didn't."

  "Miss Dolan kept you away from him?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "I still don't believe it," Blakestone said heatedly. "Why, he actually spoke to me."

  "She controlled the recorder; a little practice, a lot of nerve and the setup's easy," Leggit said. "The tape was prepared beforehand."

  "Sorry; I still don't believe it," Blakestone said.

  "A jury will," Leggit snapped. "If he was here, and if he was dictating letters, how is it the telephone bell wasn't recorded? That was the one thing he couldn't prepare against. You both heard the bell and you were in the outer room. The tape would have recorded it, but it didn't, and that proves it was playing back and not recording!"