1973 - Have a Change of Scene

by James Hadley Chase

  I didn’t give a goddamn if I killed him. I hit him with all the strength of my two arms and with all the weight of my body. My viciousness matched his.

  The pickaxe handle caught him on the side of his face. Two of his front teeth flew out and landed on my desk. Blood spurted from his nose. His jaw went slack and hung. He fell, his eyes rolling back and he lay in a crumpled, smelly heap on the floor.

  I didn’t even pause to look at him. I came around the desk like a rampaging bull, the bloodstained pickaxe handle flaying.

  His seven buddies scattered into the passage. I hit out right and left. I was demented with vicious rage.

  They ran, falling over each other to get down the stairs. I went after them, hammering their cowering backs to the second landing.

  Then I paused while they continued pounding down the next flight, like the frightened rats they were.

  Faces appeared at doorways. People gaped at me as I went up the stairs and back into the office.

  I hated to touch him, but I wanted him out of here. I grabbed hold of his filthy, greasy hair and dragged his unconscious body along the passage and to the stairs. Then I booted him and he rolled over and over to land with a crash on the lower landing. He lay there, blood running from his nose: as broken as anyone could be broken.

  I returned to the office, put the pickaxe handle in one of the closets, then called the cop house.

  I asked for the Desk Sergeant.

  ‘This is Carr remember me? Fifteen hundred bucks?’ I listened to his heavy breathing while be absorbed this information.

  ‘What’s on your mind this time?’ he finally asked.

  ‘Spooky looked in,’ I said. ‘He wanted to alter the shape of my face with his nail-studded belt. I had to get a little rough with him. I suggest you send an ambulance. he seems in urgent need of care and attention,’ and I hung up.

  For a few moments I sat still, taking stock of myself. I looked at my hands, lying on the blotter. There was no shake. I felt completely relaxed as if I had had a good round of golf, and this puzzled me. The whole violent affair had taken two minutes. I had done something that, three weeks ago, even less, I would have thought impossible. I had faced eight thugs, maimed one and had driven the others away. And now it was over I felt no sense of shock. All I wanted was a cigarette which I lit. Then, knowing Jenny would be along in an hour or so I got some cleaning rags from the closet and cleaned up Spooky’s blood.

  As I was dropping the rags into the trash basket I heard an ambulance siren.

  I didn’t bother to go out into the passage. I sat at my typewriter and continued to work on the card index.

  After a while two cops came in.

  ‘What’s going on?’ one of them asked. ‘What’s all this about?’

  Both of them were grinning and looked happy.

  ‘Spooky came here, got rough, so I got rough,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah we’ve seen him. Come on, buddy, the Sarg wants to talk to you.’

  As they drove me to the cop house they told me the latest ball scores they had heard over the radio. For cops, they were more than friendly.

  I walked up to the Desk Sergeant, who was rolling his pencil, but this time, his heart didn’t seem to be in it.

  He squinted at me with his pig eyes, sniffed, scratched under his right armpit, then said, ‘Let’s have it. What happened?’

  ‘I told you over the telephone, Sergeant,’ I said. ‘Spooky arrived with seven of his pals. He threatened me. I threw him out and his pals took off. That’s it.’

  He studied me, pushed his cap to the back of his head and released a snorting grunt.

  ‘Just got the medical report,’ he said. ‘The punk has a bust jaw, a bust snout, eight teeth missing and he’s lucky to be alive.’ He peered at me. ‘What did you hit him with - a brick?’

  ‘In his hurry to leave, he fell down the stairs,’ I said woodenly.

  He nodded.

  ‘Sort of fell over his feet, huh?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  A long pause, then I said, ‘Have you seen his belt? It has sharpened nails. He was proposing to whip my face with it.’

  He nodded again while he continued to regard me.

  ‘Should we cry over him, Sergeant?’ I went on. ‘If you think I should, I could send him some flowers. if you think I should.’

  He began rolling his pencil again.

  ‘He could make a complaint - assault. We would have to investigate.’

  ‘Suppose we wait until he does?’

  Again the pig eyes examined me, then he stopped rolling his pencil.

  ‘Yeah that’s an idea.’ He looked past me and surveyed the empty charge room. For some reason or other no one at this moment was in trouble and we were alone. He leaned forward and said in his husky voice, ‘Every officer in this town has been wanting to do what you did to that sonofabitch.’ His raw beef of a face split into a wide, friendly grin. ‘But watch it, Mr. Carr. Spooky is like the elephant: he won’t forget.’

  ‘I have work to do,’ I said, still keeping my face wooden, but feeling an inward surge of triumph. ‘Can I get back to it?’

  ‘Oh, sure.’ He sat back and now his eyes were thoughtful. ‘A taxi driver reported he saw a motorbike go up in flames last night. Spooky’s bike. Would you know anything about it?’

  ‘Should I?’

  He nodded.

  ‘That’s the correct answer, but don’t lean on it, Mr. Carr. We have to keep law and order in this town.’

  ‘When you can spare a minute, Sergeant,’ I said, ‘you might mention that to Spooky.’

  We looked at each other and then I left.

  When I got back to the office I found Jenny there. Of course she had heard all about it. This was something I couldn’t hope to keep quiet. She was white and shaking.

  ‘You could have killed him!’ she exclaimed. ‘What did you do to him?’

  ‘He got rough. I got rough.’ I went around the desk and sat down. ‘He had it coming. I’ve seen the police. They are as happy as kids at a party. So let’s forget Spooky.’

  ‘No!’ Anger I hadn’t expected ever to see jumped into her eyes. ‘You think you’re a hero, don’t you? You’re not! I know you destroyed his motorbike! You’ve broken his nose and his jaw! You’re as brutal and as vicious as he is! I can’t have you here! You’re spoiling everything I’m trying to do! I want you to go.’

  I stared at her.

  ‘You’ll be telling me next you’re going to the hospital to hold his hand.’

  ‘There is no need to make a cheap remark. I want you to go!’

  I began to get angry, but I controlled my temper.

  ‘Look, Jenny, you must face facts. Thugs like Spooky have to be treated like the animals they are,’ I said. ‘Suppose I had sat still and let him whip the flesh off my face with his belt. Would that have put me right with you?’

  ‘You nearly killed him! Don’t talk to me! Get up and go!’

  ‘Okay.’ I got to my feet and walked around the desk. ‘I’ll be at the hotel for a few more days.’ I reached the door, paused and looked at her. ‘Jenny, the trouble with nice people is they are seldom realistic. Spooky is a savage animal. Okay go ahead and hold his hand if that’s the way you feel. Everyone is entitled to their way of thinking, but be careful. There is no animal yet born more dangerous and more savage than Spooky.’

  ‘I won’t listen to you!’ Her voice rose. ‘My uncle made a mistake sending you here! You are quite unsuitable for welfare work! You can’t nor ever will realise that people do react to kindness! I’ve worked here for two years and you have been here ten days. You. . .’

  So then I let my temper have a free hand.

  ‘Wait!’ The snap in my voice startled her and cut her short. ‘What have you done with your kindness in two years? People don’t appreciate kindness! All they want from you is a meal ticket or a handout. They would accept a handout if you threw it at them! All these women who come pestering you are scroungers. Are you sure they
aren’t laughing at you? This sector of yours has been terrorised by Spooky for years. Even the police couldn’t handle him. Well, I’ve handled him and maybe you’ll find I’ve done more for this sector of your town in ten days than you have done in two years!’

  ‘Go away!’

  I saw I had hurt her, but I didn’t care. I had done something no one had had the guts to do in this miserable town: I had fixed Spooky Jinx and had fixed him good.

  I left her and walked back to the Bendix Hotel.

  On the way I became aware people didn’t edge away from me: some of them even smiled at me. News travels fast. A cop, resting his feet on the edge of the kerb, gave me a friendly wink.

  I had suddenly become popular in Luceville, but I didn’t feel ten feet tall: Jenny had spoilt my triumph.

  I just couldn’t see how she could be so stupid.

  I wondered what I was going to do. Maybe, in a day or so she would have cooled off and we could get together again. Paradise City seemed a long way off. I didn’t want to go back there - anyway just yet.

  I found I was hungry so I went to Luigi’s restaurant. The two old waiters beamed on me. On my first visit they had ignored me. A fat, elderly man with food stains on his suit came over as I was eating. He said his name was Herb Lessing.

  ‘I run the Drug store around the corner. I wanted you to know I think you did a fine job, Mr. Carr. That bastard had it coming. Now, maybe I can rest at night.’ He paused, breathed over me, then added, ‘I reckon you’ve done a real service to this town.’

  I wondered what Jenny would have said had she heard this. I nodded, thanked him and went on eating.

  He regarded me with open admiration and then returned to his table.

  After lunch and because I couldn’t face the hotel and had nothing to do, I went to a movie. It didn’t hold me as I kept thinking of Jenny.

  I walked back to the hotel, taking my time and went up to my room.

  You’re as brutal and as vicious as he is!

  I lit a cigarette, then laid on the bed and thought about what she had said.

  I finally decided she could be right. Something must have happened to me. I recalled the demented rage that had seized hold of me as I had hit Spooky and then had turned on his buddies. Admittedly I had been provoked, but I knew, three months ago, I would never have acted like this. Was this demented outburst of rage due to the crash? Had one of my mental cogs been jogged out of place? Should I consult Dr. Melish? Then I decided I couldn’t be bothered. For the first time, since I had lost Judy, I felt an overpowering urge for a woman.

  What the hell was happening to me? I asked myself. Maybe it would be an idea to visit the local whorehouse - in a town like Luceville, there must be a whorehouse. The reception clerk would know.

  I looked at my watch: the time was 18.15. As I swung off the bed, I told myself I would have a woman, have a good dinner at the Plaza and then let tomorrow take care of itself.

  As I was leaving the room the telephone bell rang. I didn’t know as I picked up the receiver this was to alter my whole way of life.

  ‘Mr. Carr? This is O’Halloran. Desk Sergeant, city police.’

  I recognised the husky, worn-out voice.

  ‘Yes, Sergeant?’

  ‘Been trying to find you, then remembered you’re checked in at the Bendix.’

  ‘Yes?’ I was now very alert, all thoughts of having a woman gone, and I felt my belly muscles tighten.

  ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘Yeah you could say that.’ He snorted, then went on, ‘Miss Baxter fell down stairs. She’s hospitalised.’

  I felt my heart beat slow.

  ‘Is she badly hurt?’

  ‘Well, nothing serious, but bad.’ He paused to snort again, then went on, ‘Broken wrist, broken ankle, fractured collarbone, quite a fall.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘City hospital. Thought you should know.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  I heard a sound that puzzled me. Could he be rolling his pencil?

  ‘There was a trip wire at the head of the stairs,’ he said. ‘Off the record, I figure it was meant for you, but she fell over it.’

  A smouldering fire of rage began inside me.

  ‘Is that right?’ I said and I hung up.

  For a long moment I stared bleakly at the opposite wall. The trip wire was meant for me. With all her cockeyed ideas of kindness, Jenny had taken a fall that could have killed her.

  I called the reception clerk, and asked him to connect me with the city hospital. When I got through, I asked if I could see Miss Baxter. Some nurse said not until tomorrow. Miss Baxter was under sedation. I thanked her and hung up.

  It was getting dark now and the shadows were closing in. I walked from the hotel to Jenny’s office and climbed the six flights of stairs. The rage inside me grew and grew. I still had the key I had forgotten to give her when I had walked out. I unlocked the door, turned on the light, went to the closet and took out the pickaxe handle. I laid it down by the side of my desk, out of sight. All the other one-room offices in the building were closed: no lights showed except the light from my window. I hoped this would entice Spooky’s buddies to come up and take care of me. It was a bait I longed for them to take so I could get amongst them and do them damage, but they didn’t come.

  I sat there, waiting until 23.30, then carrying the pickaxe handle, I shut the office and walked down to the street. I found a taxi and told the driver to take me to 10th Street.

  When we arrived, I paid him off and waited until he had driven away. I walked down the street, which, at this hour, was deserted although the striptease clubs, and the cafes were doing business. I arrived outside Sam’s Cafe. Parked in a neat row were seven gleaming Honda motorcycles. The noise erupting from the cafe was deafening. Holding the pickaxe handle under my arm, ready for action, I took off the caps of the bikes. Then I turned the bikes on their sides so the gas spilled out.

  A girl in a mini skirt and a boy with beads around his neck came out of the cafe. They stopped to stare at what I was doing.

  ‘Hi!’ The boy said weakly. ‘Leave those bikes alone!’

  I ignored him. Stepping away, I lit a cigarette.

  The girl let out a scream like the bleat of a sheep. The boy bolted into the cafe.

  I moved back, then flicked the lighted cigarette into the pool of gasoline.

  There was a bang, a blinding flash and then flames. The heat forced me to retreat across the road to the far sidewalk.

  Seven youths in their dirty yellow shirts and their cat’s fur pants came spilling out of the cafe, but the heat brought them to a standstill. I watched. None of them had the guts to pull even one of the bikes out of the now roaring furnace. They just stood there, watching the Hondas, which were probably their only love, melt in the flames.

  I waited, both hands gripping the pickaxe handle, willing them to come at me so I could smash them, but they didn’t. Like the stupid stinking sheep that they were, they stood, watching the destruction of the toys that had made them feel like men, and did nothing about it.

  After five minutes I got bored and walked away.

  Although Jenny in her bed of pain didn’t know it, I felt I had made the score even.

  * * *

  I slept dreamlessly until 08.10 when the telephone bell woke me.

  I picked up the receiver.

  ‘Mr. Carr there’s a police officer asking for you,’ the reception clerk said, reproach in his voice.

  ‘I’ll be down,’ I said. ‘Ask him to wait.’

  I didn’t hurry. I shaved and showered and put on one of my expensive sports shirts and a pair of whipcord slacks, then I went down in the creaky elevator.

  Sergeant O’Halloran, massive, in shirt sleeves with his cap at the back of his head, filled one of the bamboo chairs. He was smoking a cigar and reading the local newspaper.

  I went over and sat by his side.

  ‘Morning, Sergeant,’ I said. ‘Have a coffee with me?’<
br />
  He put down his newspaper and, folding it carefully, placed it on the floors ‘I’m on duty in half an hour,’ he said in his husky worn-out voice, ‘but I thought I’d drop by. Never mind the coffee.’ He stared at me with his pig eyes that were ice cold and diamond hard. ‘There was a hell of a fire on 10th Street last night.’

  ‘Is that right?’ I stared back at him. ‘I haven’t seen the papers yet.’

  ‘Seven valuable motorbikes were destroyed.’

  ‘Someone put in a complaint?’

  He crossed one thick leg over the other.

  ‘Not yet, but they could.’

  ‘Then of course you will have to investigate.’

  He leaned forward and there was a touch of red in his pig eyes.

  ‘I’m getting worried about you, Carr. You are the coldest, most ruthless sonofabitch that has arrived in this town. Off the record, I’m telling you something: you pull one more trick like this and you’re in trouble. You nearly set the whole goddamn street on fire. It’s got to stop.’

  I wasn’t intimidated.

  ‘Produce your witnesses, Sergeant, and I will then accept trouble, but not before. I’m not admitting anything, but it seems to me the police in this town can’t cope with bastards like Spooky Jinx and his kind, so I don’t see why you should set up a bleat when someone does.’ I got to my feet. ‘If you want a cup of coffee, join me. I do.’

  He sat there, turning his half-smoked cigar around in his thick fingers as he stared at me.

  ‘I’m telling you lay off. Just one more trick from you and you’re in the tank. You’re lucky I dig for Miss Baxter. She’s doing a swell job in this town. Maybe you think you’re levelling the score, but enough’s enough. I went along with what you did with Spooky. He had it coming, but this job last night I don’t dig for.’ He heaved himself to his feet and faced me. ‘I’m getting a feeling about you. I’m getting the idea you could be more tricky than this gang of stupid bastard kids. If I’m right, then you could be heading for trouble.’

  ‘You said that before,’ I said politely. ‘Did you say this was off the record?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Then still off the record, Sergeant, go get screwed.’