1950 - Figure it Out for Yourself

by James Hadley Chase

  'I have about a couple of minutes in hand, Mrs. Dedrick, I said. 'But even at that I seemed to have kept you waiting. I'm sorry. Do you want to talk here or somewhere else?'

  'Where else is there?'

  'Well there's a river view near the golf course that isn't bad. At least it's quiet.'

  'All right. We'll go there.' She moved along the bench seat. Perhaps you'll drive.'

  I got in under the steering wheel, switched on and trod on the starter. As I manoeuvred the car out of the lot into the driveway, I gave her a quick glance. She was looking away from me, remote and thoughtful, her face as expressionless and as smooth as an ivory mask.

  I drove through the entrance gates, turned right, continued up the brilliantly lit avenue to the bridge, then swung the car on to the bridle path that led along the river. A few minutes' more driving brought me to the spot I had in mind. I slowed down, turned the nose of the car to face the glittering moonlit river and parked. Except for the occasional croak of bullfrogs in the reeds farther up the river and the lap-lap-lap of water against the bank, there was no sound to disturb us.

  'Do you want to get out?' I asked, breaking the silence that had brooded over us since we had driven from the club.

  She roused herself, as if her thoughts had been miles away, tossed her cigarette end into the river and shook her head.

  'No; we can talk here. It was you who found Souki, wasn't it?'

  'Yes. Have you any news of your husband?'

  'They phoned tonight. They want five hundred thousand. They told me he was well and was looking forward to seeing me again.' She spoke in a cold, flat voice that didn't quite conceal a frightened anxiety. 'The money is to be paid the night after next, and he will be released as soon as they have it.'

  I didn't say anything. After a long pause, she turned to look intently at me.

  'Someone has to deliver the money. I want you to do it. I'll pay you well.'

  I was afraid she was going to say that. Dealing with kidnappers could be a dangerous business. More often than not the stooge who hands over the ransom money gets himself knocked off.

  'Have you made any arrangements with them yet?'

  She shook her head.

  'This is only the opening move. The money is to be in used twenty-dollar bills. It is to be made up into three parcels, wrapped in oilskin. I shall get last-minute instructions where the money is to be delivered.' She turned to look at me. 'You're not frightened of the job, are you?'

  'I'll tell you that when I've heard what the arrangements are.' Then you think it could be dangerous?'

  'It could be.'

  She opened her handbag and took out a cigarette case. As she offered it, she said, her voice a little unsteady, 'Do you think they'll send him back?'

  I took the cigarette, tapped it absently on my thumbnail before saying, 'The possibilities are that they will.'

  I lit her cigarette, and for some moments we smoked in silence. 'I want you to tell me the truth,' she said suddenly. 'Will they send him back?'

  'I don't know. It depends if he's seen them. If he hasn't, then there's no point in not sending him back.'

  'But if he has seen them?'

  'It depends on them. Kidnappers are about as ruthless as blackmailers, Mrs Dedrick. Kidnapping carries the death penalty. They won't take chances.'

  'There's nothing I wouldn't do or pay to get him back. It's all my fault this has happened. If it wasn't for my money, he wouldn't have been worth kidnapping. He's got to come back!'

  There was nothing I could think of to say to that. My own feeling was she had seen the last of him: anyway, alive. With all that money at stake they were pretty certain to get rid of him. Most kidnappers prefer to kill rather than return. It is a lot safer for them. Too many kidnapped people in the past have given clues to the police that have led to the kidnappers being caught.

  'Have you consulted the police about this development?' I asked.

  'No; and I'm not going to! This man tonight said every move I make is being watched, and if I communicate with the police, Lee would be murdered. Besides, the police are useless. They haven't done a thing.'

  'We have time to set a trap. The money could be marked in a way no one would spot it. At least, it would give the police a chance to catch them after your husband's safe.'

  'No!' she said emphatically. 'I gave them my word not to try any tricks. If I did that, and they found out, and Lee suffered, I'd never forgive myself. I don't care a damn about the money. It's Lee I want.'

  'Who phoned you? Did you get an idea from his voice what kind of man he was? I mean was he educated? Did he have an accent? Was there anything about his voice that you would recognize if you ever met him?'

  'I think he was talking through a handkerchief. His voice was very muffled. He didn't have an accent, but that's all I can tell you.'

  'Did he talk tough?'

  'Oh no. In fact, he was horribly polite.'

  I stared thoughtfully at the river. Probably they had killed Dedrick as soon as they got him out of the house. They hadn't hesitated to kill his chauffeur, and they wouldn't hesitate to wipe me out after they had the money. It was a job I didn't want.

  She was smart enough to guess what I was thinking.

  'If you don't do this, I have no idea who else to ask. I'll come with you if you will do it.'

  'Oh no. If I do it, I do it alone.'

  'There will be no question of that. I've made up my mind to see the money delivered to them with my own eyes. If you won't go with me, I'll go alone.'

  I turned to look at her, surprised by her vehemence. We stared at each other for about three seconds. I could see by the expression in her eyes no one would make her change her mind.

  'Well, all right, if that's how you feel about it,' I said. I'll come with you.' We sat for some moments in silence.

  'There's one thing I wanted to ask you,' she said abruptly. 'What was this woman like who said she was my secretary?'

  'You mean to look at?'

  'Yes.'

  ‘Well, she was about thirty or so, dark, good-looking and well dressed. I thought at the time she didn't look like anyone's secretary.'

  'Was she very pretty?'

  'I suppose she was, and she had character too. She hadn't the usual vacant face of the usual pretty woman.'

  'She called my husband by his Christian name. Is that right?'

  'Yes.'

  I saw her clench her fists.

  'That fat fool of a policeman thinks Lee was having an affair with her,' she said, and she seemed to be speaking through locked teeth. 'Do you think that?'

  'Does it matter what I think?'

  'I'm asking you - do you think that?' Her voice was harsh and tight with emotion.

  'I don't know. I know nothing about your husband. It looks like it, but she may have just been a friend of his.'

  'He wasn't in love with her!' she said so quietly I could scarcely hear her. 'I know it! He wouldn't have done a thing like that. He wouldn't have taken another woman into my home. He wasn't that type.' She stopped, looked quickly away, her hand going to her face.

  'Have the police found her yet?'

  'No. They're not trying to. They're so sure she's Lee's mistress. They say it's better not to find her. I don't believe it! She must know something.'

  I didn't say anything.

  After a long, heavy silence, she said abruptly, 'Perhaps you'll drive me back to the club. I don't think there's anything else to discuss until the night after next. Will you come to the house at six? We may have to wait, but we must be ready to leave at a moment's notice.'

  'I'll be there.'

  We drove to the club in silence. As soon as I parked the car, she got out and gave me a meaningless, automatic smile as she said, 'The night after next then, at six.'

  I watched her walk towards the clubhouse; a graceful, lovely figure in the gold dress; diamonds sparkling in her hair; fear and jealousy in her heart.

  chapter seven

  I to
iled up the stone steps leading to Mifflin's small office on the fourth floor of Police Headquarters' building.

  Mifflin was staring out of the window, his hat over his eyes, the stub of a cigarette stuck on his lower lip. He had a brooding, dismal look on his red face and his eyes showed the energy of his thoughts.

  'You,' he said gloomily as I pushed open the door and edged my way into the small office. 'Funny thing, I was thinking about you. Come in, and park. I'm out of cigarettes, so don't ask me for one.'

  I pulled up a hard, straight-backed chair, sat astride it, and folded my arms along the back of it.

  'How's the kidnapping going?'

  'Awful,' he said, and sighed. 'Nothing to work on, and Brandon's going around like a fiend. He reckons someone will make him Chief of Police if he catches the kidnappers.'

  I searched in my coat pocket, fished out a package of cigarettes, offered him one.

  We lit up and brooded at each other.

  'Anything on the Jerome dame?'

  Mifflin sighed.

  'Have you come in here just to pick my brains?'

  "No; nothing like that. I came here to swop some information.'

  Mifflin's face lit up and he gave me a quick, searching look.

  ‘You got anything?'

  'Not much. It's confidential. Last night, Mrs. Dedrick called me up. You can guess what she wanted.'

  'She's got the ransom demand, and you're to deliver the dough, is that it?'

  I nodded.

  'She doesn't want the police to know.'

  'She wouldn't,' Mifflin said, bitterly; 'but she expects us to get her husband back. When?'

  'Tomorrow night. They'll call her and give her final instructions.'

  'Brandon will have to be told.'

  I shrugged.

  'That's up to you. There's nothing he can do about it, unless he moves in and grabs the guy who collects. If he does, he'll kill Dedrick as if he shot him himself.'

  'It's my bet, Dedrick's dead already.'

  'Maybe, but we don't know for sure.'

  'Well. I'll have to tell him.'

  'So long as he doesn't let Mrs. Dedrick know I've been here. What will you do - tap the telephone wire?'

  'Could do,' Mifflin said, closed his eyes and frowned. 'If that woman doesn't want us in this, the chances are Brandon won't do anything. He's scared to make a wrong move with her. Once the ransom's paid, our troubles will be over. The Federal Bureau will take charge.'

  'Getting back to Mary Jerome; anything or nothing?'

  'Brandon's leaving her alone, but I've traced her car. A patrolman spotted her coming from Ocean End and got the number. He's one of those freaks who remembers car numbers. He shoved in a report when he heard about the kidnapping. She rented the car from the Acme Garage. Maybe you know the joint. It's run by a guy named Lute Ferris. We've had our eye on him off and on for smuggling reefers, but have never pinned anything on him. He was in Los Angeles when I called, but I talked with his wife. She remembers this Jerome dame. She arrived the night before last - the night of the kidnapping - around eight o'clock and asked Lute for a car. She paid fifty dollars deposit and said she needed the car for a couple of days. She gave the Orchid Hotel as her address.'

  'Trusting of Ferris to let her have a car without checking on her first, wasn't it? Why should he care? The car's insured. Anyway, that's the story, and we're stuck with it.'

  'You've checked the airport and the station to see if she came from out-of-town?'

  'Yeah, we've done that, but can't get a line on her.'

  'And that's as far as you've got?'

  'That's as far as we'll ever get,' Mifflin said, stubbing out his cigarette. 'A kidnapping case is the worst kind of case you can get. If they knock off the guy who's kidnapped and the money ain't marked, you're up a tree. The only hope is for one of them to be dissatisfied with his cut and give the rest of them away. It makes it ten times as hard now Brandon's scared to move. This Jerome dame is our only lead, and I can't go after her.'

  'Well, maybe you'll have another murder on your hands to cheer you up,' I said bitterly. 'It wouldn't surprise me if I don't get knocked off tomorrow night.'

  Mifflin eyed me thoughtfully.

  'That's the only bit of good news I've had this week,' he said. 'Yeah, come to think of it, it's an even bet that's what they'll do to you.'

  I left him, rubbing his hands and whistling the Dead March in Saul.

  chapter eight

  Have you made a will?' Jack Kerman asked as he watched me load a .38 from a box of shells on my desk. 'I hope you've left me all your money. I can do with it. That redhead of mine seems to think I'm made of the stuff.'

  'Do be quiet, Jack,' Paula said sharply. She was trying not to show how worked up she was, but the worried expression in her eyes gave her away. 'Haven't you any sense of decency?'

  'Oh, shut up, you two,' I said, scowling at them. 'You're giving me the shakes. Now, let's get this straight, Jack. The house will probably be watched, so you've got to keep out of sight. I'll let you know where we're going on my way out. Give us a good five minutes to get clear of the house, then follow on after us. Make certain no one sees you. We can't afford to slip up on this. Whatever you do, don't show yourself unless trouble starts, and then come out shooting.'

  Kerman gulped.

  'What was that last bit again?'

  'I said come out shooting.'

  'I thought that's what you said. Come to think of it, it mightn't be a bad idea if I made a will myself.'

  'And for the love of Pete, try to shoot straight,' I went on, looked at my wristwatch, stood up and shoved the .38 into the shoulder holster under my coat. 'We'd better get off. If you don't hear from either of us, Paula, by midnight, get on to Mifflin and tell him the tale.’

  'She'll hear from me,' Kerman said, looking worried. 'Well, damn it, I hope she will!'

  'Be careful, Vic,' Paula said anxiously.

  I patted her shoulder.

  'I can't make you out. You worry over a little job like kidnapping, but think nothing of sending me into a room full of dope fiends. Be your age, Paula. Think of the money we're going to make.'

  'Well, don't do anything silly,' she said, trying to smile, 'and for heaven's sake don't show off before that rich blonde.'

  'You're making me nervous,' I said. 'Come on, Jack. Let's get out of here.'

  Together we went along the corridor to the elevator. 'Think we have time for a drink?' Kerman asked hopefully as we reached ground level.

  'No; but there's a pint in the car. And, Jack, don't make any mistakes. This might turn out to be a nasty job.'

  Kerman gave an exaggerated shudder. 'It's already nasty enough for me.'

  He climbed into the back of the Buick and squatted down on the floor. I chucked a rug over him.

  'I'm going to love every minute of this,' he said, poking his head out from the folds of the rug. 'How long do you reckon I'll be under this lot?'

  'Oh, about three or four hours: not more.'

  'With the temperature in the eighties, that should give me some idea what the Black Hole of Calcutta was like.'

  'It'll get cooler in the evening,' I said heartlessly and started the car. 'You have a whole bottle of Scotch to help pass the time, only don't smoke.'

  'Not smoke?' His voice shot up in a yelp of dismay.

  'Listen; stop kidding yourself. If these guys find out you're in the back of the car, they'll steal up and slit your gizzard.'

  That quietened him.

  I drove up the two miles of private road a lot more sedately than the first time I came this way. I took the bend in the drive nice and slow, and pulled up within a yard of the balustrade surrounding the courtyard.

  In the warm light of the evening sun, the house looked about as attractive as any house would look after a million dollars had been spent on it. The big black Cadillac stood before the front entrance. In the middle distance two Chinese gardeners were picking the dead roses off an umbrella standard. They wo
rked as if the rose tree was their main source of income for the next nine months: probably it was. The big swimming pool glittered in the sun, but no one swam in it. Across the expanse of velvety lawn in the lower garden, below the terraces, six scarlet flamingoes stood looking towards me, stiff-legged and crotchety, as unreal as the blue sky of an Italian postcard. There was everything to be had this day at Ocean End except happiness.

  I looked towards the house. The grass-green shutters covered the windows; a cream-and-green striped awning flapped above the front door.

  'Well, so long,' I said in a low voice to Kerman. 'I'm going in now.'

  'Have a lovely time. Kerman's voice was bitter from under the rug. 'Don't stint yourself. Have plenty of ice with your drinks.'

  I walked along the terrace and screwed my thumb into the bell push. I could see through the glass panels of the door into a big hall and a dim, cool passage that led to the back of the house.

  A tall, thin old man came down the passage and opened the front door. He looked me over in a kindly way. I had an idea he was pricing my suit and wishing he could buy me something a little better that wouldn't disgrace the house. But I was probably wrong. He may not even have been thinking about me.

  'Mrs. Dedrick is expecting me.'

  'The name, sir?'

  'Malloy.'

  He still stood squarely in the doorway.

  'Have you a card, please?'

  "Well, yes, and I have a birthmark too. Remind me to show it to you one of these days.'

  He tittered politely like an aged uncle out to have fun with his sister's young hopeful.

  'So many gentlemen of the Press have tried to see Mrs. Dedrick. We have to take precautions, sir.'

  I had an idea I would be standing there till next summer if I didn't show him my card, so I got out my billfold and showed him my card: the non-business one.

  He stood aside.

  'Would you wait in the lounge, sir?'

  I went into the room where Souki had been shot. The Mexican rug had been cleaned. There were no bodies lying about this evening to welcome me; no untouched whisky and soda, no cigarette stub to spoil the repaired surface of the table.