1980 - You Can Say That Again

by James Hadley Chase

  His small eyes shifted.

  ‘What do you want with her?’ There was a rasp in his voice.

  ‘Tell her!’ I rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom.

  After a quick shower and a shave, I returned to find him gone.

  I drank coffee, ignored the dish of scrambled eggs, lit a cigarette, then dressed.

  By then it was approaching 10.00. I went into the living room to find Mazzo, sitting, staring into space.

  ‘Did you speak to Mrs. Harriet?’ I asked.

  ‘Too early for her.’ He pointed to one of the telephones on the desk. ‘That one works. Go ahead and call your bank.’

  I had the Chase National bank’s telephone number on the credit slip. I sat at the desk, lifted the receiver and dialed. While I waited for the connection, thoughts ran through my mind. Should I tell them to alert the police? Should I yell for help? Those thoughts were dispelled as Mazzo got up and came over to stand close to me.

  ‘Careful, Mr. Ferguson. Just business, huh?’

  When a girl answered, I said. ‘I want to check if Mr. Jerry Stevens has an account with you.’

  ‘A moment, please.’

  A man came on the line.

  ‘This is Mr. Jerry Stevens,’ I said. ‘Tell me: has there been an account opened in my name, and has the sum of seven thousand dollars been credited to the account?’

  ‘Hold it, please, Mr. Stevens.’

  There was a long pause, then the man said, ‘Yes, Mr. Stevens. A sum of seven thousand dollars was credited to your account yesterday by telex. It’s all in order.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Who . . .’

  Mazzo’s big hand broke the connection.

  ‘That’s it, Mr. Ferguson. Happy now?’

  Well, at least, I now knew I had seven thousand dollars waiting for me if I could get out of this nightmare place.

  ‘Oh, sure,’ I said. ‘Now, I want to talk to Mrs. Harriet.’

  ‘Yeah. I heard you the first time.’ Mazzo grinned. ‘You’ll talk to her. She’s not so young. She gets up late, but you’ll talk to her. I’ll fix it. How about some exercise?’

  ‘Not right now. I’ll wait.’

  ‘Okay.’ Mazzo shrugged. ‘Want anything special for lunch?’

  ‘I want to talk to Mrs. Harriet!’ I practically shouted at him. ‘To hell with lunch!’

  ‘Take it easy, Mr. Ferguson. I’ll talk to the Chef.’ He went into the bedroom, wheeled the trolley out to the door. ‘Just take it easy, huh?’

  He left, shutting the door behind him. I heard a faint click that told me the door had been locked. It wasn’t until an hour later that Mrs. Harriet, carrying her poodle, came into the living room. She was wearing a black trouser suit with a dark red collar and cuffs. Her wig was immaculate. A button of glittering diamonds ornamented her ensemble.

  ‘Good morning, Jerry dear,’ she said, smiling at me. ‘Mazzo tells me you wanted to talk to me.’ She moved to a chair and sat down. ‘I do hope you are satisfied. I do hope you are no longer unhappy. Mazzo tells me you called the bank. You now know, don’t you, the money we promised you has been paid.’

  I sat opposite her.

  ‘The money owing to me was only paid by telex yesterday,’ I said. ‘I was promised one thousand dollars a day. It is only because I warned you I wouldn’t cooperate, you arranged to pay the money you owe me. That doesn’t give me confidence, Mrs. Harriet.’

  She gave a chuckling little laugh.

  ‘Dear Jerry! You don’t really understand finance, do you? Let me explain. To pay you a thousand dollars a day would be a loss of money to me. Money earns money. Even one thousand dollars can earn money: not much, but a little, and a little money amounts to big money in time. You would have been paid in a lump sum when your job is finished. I assure you of that. The Fergusons always meet their commitments. However, you have no need to worry, Jerry dear. Every day you remain here, one thousand dollars will be credited to your account. At the end of the week, you may telephone the bank and make sure of that.’ She fondled her poodle’s ears, smiling at me. ‘Happy now?’

  There was nothing I could say to this. I shrugged.

  ‘So glad.’ She continued to smile. ‘Mazzo tells me you tried to run away. Wasn’t that rather silly of you? You see Jerry we are relying on you. Perhaps, it was a sudden nervous reaction?’ Her dark little eyes suddenly hardened. ‘You won’t try to run away again, will you?’

  ‘I would if I could,’ I said. ‘I make no promises.’

  ‘Dear Jerry! How unfortunate! Why do you want to run away when you are making so much money?’

  ‘The reason why I asked to talk to you,’ I said, ‘is to tell you that Loretta is planning to have you murdered.’

  She lifted her eyebrows.

  ‘You think that?’

  ‘Mrs. Harriet, this is a nightmare house! Loretta told me that she can persuade Mazzo to creep into your bedroom while you are asleep and smother you with a pillow. She has seduced Mazzo and she tells me she is sure he will do what she tells him to do. Can you wonder why I want to get away from this goddamn house? I’m telling you, you could be murdered and I too could be implicated!’

  ‘How kind of you, Jerry. How kind of you to think of me.’ Her fingers continued to fondle the poodle’s ears.

  ‘Do you understand what I am saying?’ I demanded.

  ‘Of course, Jerry dear, of course. What else did Etta say to you?’

  I stared at her. I had imagined when I told her Loretta planned to murder her, there would have been some reaction, but there she sat, fondling the poodle, smiling, completely at ease.

  ‘Are you and Loretta out of your minds?’ I asked, my voice shooting up. ‘Don’t you understand that any night, you could be murdered?’

  She gave a trilly laugh that grated on my nerves.

  ‘Poor Jerry! I do appreciate your loyalty. Nothing like that will happen. Please don’t worry about it.’

  I found I was sweating.

  ‘Right! I’ve warned you! If you think you won’t be murdered, that’s your goddamn funeral! I’ve told you!’

  ‘Of course, Jerry dear. It is sweet of you. Did Etta tell you that my son is mentally ill?’

  I clenched and unclenched my hands.

  ‘Yes, and he is in the left wing of the house, supervised by a nurse.’

  ‘And did she tell you, Jerry dear, she isn’t married to my son?’

  I gaped at her.

  ‘You know that?’

  ‘She told you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Again the trilly laugh.

  ‘And did she tell you she was arranging with a priest to come here with a register and you should forge my son’s name?’

  ‘So you know about it? Then there’s the will.’

  ‘Of course. Poor Jerry! What a turmoil you must be in. You are doing a marvelous job substituting for John who is out of the country. You have been so loyal to me. I am going to be quite, quite frank with you.’ She leaned forward and patted my knee. ‘I am going to tell you the sad truth in strict confidence. I am afraid Mr. Durant wouldn’t approve, but never mind. You have earned the right to know the truth.’

  I sat still, staring at her.

  ‘Now, Jerry dear, please give me your promise to say nothing about what I am going to tell you.’ Her dark little eyes probed mine. ‘Will you promise?’

  I had to know. This situation was driving me crazy.

  ‘Yes, I promise,’ I said, and waited.

  ‘So glad, Jerry dear. You see, it has all happened before. Etta told the same sad story to Larry Edwards and he, worried as you are, came to me. I suppose she offered you two million dollars to forge my son’s will?’ She nodded. ‘Yes, of course, she did. She made the same offer to Larry. I tried to reassure him, but he no longer wanted to cooperate.’ She gave me a steady stare. ‘I paid him off.’ She shook her head, her eyes sad. ‘Rather a nice young man. Such a shame he had that accident.’

  My mouth turned dry. The threat w
as there.

  ‘You must be worrying and wondering, dear Jerry,’ she went on. ‘Of course, Etta is John’s wife. They were married two years ago. I’m not asking you to accept my word. I can give you proof.’ She put down the poodle and getting up, walked across to a cabinet which she opened. Then she returned, carrying a large envelope. ‘See for yourself. Here are the photographs of the wedding. It is quite a social occasion,’ and she laid the envelope on my knees.

  I took out a collection of press photographs. Loretta, looking radiant, wearing a white wedding gown with a veil, held onto the arm of John Merrill Ferguson. They were surrounded by people: Mrs. Harriet, Durant, a number of faces that meant nothing to me. I flicked through the other photographs: Loretta cutting the cake. She and John Merrill Ferguson toasting each other with champagne, and so on and so on.

  I returned the photographs to the envelope, then looked at Mrs. Harriet.

  ‘Then why did she tell me she wasn’t married to your son?’ I asked, my voice unsteady.

  ‘That, of course, is the sad secret my son and I have been concealing for the past year,’ Mrs. Harriet said quietly. ‘We need your cooperation, dear Jerry. You have shown you are loyal. You are entitled to know. You have given me your promise to say nothing once you leave here. I accept your promise.’ She reached out and patted my knee. ‘Loretta is mentally ill.’

  This didn’t come as a surprise to me. I had already formed an opinion that Loretta was crazy.

  ‘So all this talk about not being married, that your son is a nut, about persuading Mazzo to murder you is just the talk of a lunatic?’

  ‘Of course, Jerry dear. Mazzo would never think of doing such a thing. I have complete faith in him.’

  ‘She said she and he were lovers.’

  Again the trilly laugh.

  ‘Poor Etta is plagued with sexual temptations. She seduced poor Larry.’ She looked slyly at me. ‘And I imagine you too, dear Jerry. That I can well understand. Men find her irresistible, but not Mazzo. Poor Mazzo had his equipment — shall we call it — shot away in the Vietnam war. No, Mazzo is not capable of going to bed with any woman.’

  It took me a moment or two to absorb this information, then I said, ‘Your son is not kept behind iron bars with a nurse?’

  ‘You have noticed those windows? There are times when it is necessary for her protection to keep Etta confined. Yes, there is a resident nurse. We have barred the windows for Etta’s safety. Once, she nearly threw herself out of an upper window. Hers is a peculiar mental illness.’ Mrs. Harriet paused to make cooing noises to the poodle, then went on, ‘It began when she had a miscarriage. Both my son and Etta longed to have a son. The baby boy miscarried. From that moment, Etta went mentally to pieces. She began having delusions. We noticed that when the moon was full, she became more than difficult, and she had to be confined. At the waning of the moon, she becomes reasonable enough to lead a normal life. Whenever there is a full moon and when John is away, I come here. There will be a full moon in a few days, and she will be confined. We have consulted the best specialists in the greatest secrecy, but there is nothing they can do for her.’ She sat back, fondling the poodle. ‘There, Jerry, you now know our tragic secret. My son can’t bear the thought of anyone knowing. He adores Etta. I ask you to be patient and please continue to cooperate with us. It won’t be for much longer.’

  My mind switched to Larry Edwards. It would seem he wanted out, and refused to cooperate and had a fatal accident. This wasn’t going to happen to me!

  ‘Thank you for confiding in me, Mrs. Harriet,’ I said, in my sincere voice. ‘Now I know the facts, of course, you can depend on my cooperation.’

  She beamed at me.

  ‘I’m so glad. You won’t regret it. Don’t pay any attention to what poor Etta says. Be kind to her. Pretend you will do what she asks you to do. For the next few days, she will become more and more imaginative.’ She got to her feet. ‘Remember, Jerry, dear. John has so much influence. The Fergusons are always most generous to those who help them.’ She moved to the door. ‘Have a good lunch. Ask Mazzo for anything you fancy.’ She opened the door, her little dark eyes searching my face. ‘Have a nice day,’ and she was gone.

  * * *

  After a light lunch, Mazzo suggested tennis.

  I couldn’t remain in this room all the sunny afternoon, so I agreed, but I wasn’t in the mood. The result was Mazzo won in three straight sets.

  As we put on our sweaters, he eyed me thoughtfully.

  ‘Got something on your mind, Mr. Ferguson? You can play better than that.’

  ‘Just not in the mood.’ I picked up my racket. ‘Tell me, Mazzo, did you fight in Nam?’

  ‘Who, me?’ He gave his sighing laugh. ‘Vietnam? The Boss pulled strings and got me off the draft. Everyone listens to the Boss. I was too important as his bodyguard to go farting around in Vietnam.’ He paused and stared at me. ‘Why the question?’

  ‘I was out there. I just wondered.’

  ‘No, sir. That mess was strictly for the suckers.’

  He left me to take a shower. When I had dressed, I went into the living room and sat down.

  Mrs. Harriet had lied to me that Mazzo had been wounded in Nam and was now incapable of going to bed with a woman. Why? If she had lied to me about Mazzo, had she lied to me about Loretta? Could those wedding photographs she had shown me have been faked? It was easy to substitute Loretta’s face for some other girl’s face. I went to the cabinet from which she had taken the envelope of photographs, opened it and stared at the empty shelves. After examining the photographs I had returned them to the envelope and had put the envelope on the desk. While playing tennis, they had been removed.

  I returned to my chair.

  Who was I to believe?

  Was John Merrill Ferguson a prisoner behind bars or was the prison waiting to confine Loretta?

  Were both of these women lunatics?

  I was convinced now I wouldn’t be able to escape at night. I was free to walk in the grounds with Mazzo during the day. I went to the window and looked down at the wide expanse of lawn. Two guards were wandering around. I went into the bedroom and looked down at the swimming pool. Again two other guards were wandering around. Were there more guards among the trees, out of sight?

  I felt confident I could put Mazzo out of action, then which way would I run?

  The estate was surrounded by ten foot high walls.

  Could I get over them? I imagined trying and the guards closing in. That wasn’t the way. I returned to the living room window. To my left was the triple garage, the doors opened. I could see the Rolls, a Caddy and a Jaguar. I remembered the big double iron gates at the end of the drive. With a car as strong and as heavy as the Rolls, driving fast, I could smash a way through those gates. With the windows up and the doors locked, the guards couldn’t stop me.

  Here was my way of escape!

  I pulled a chair to the window and sat down. From where I was sitting, I had a clear view of the garage.

  The time was 17.15.

  After some ten minutes, the Jap chauffeur came down the outside stairs from an apartment above the garage. He was wearing a shirt and his grey uniform trousers.

  I had forgotten him. He could present a problem.

  Would I have to cope with him as well as Mazzo? My hopes of escaping sagged a little. Japs were tricky to handle: quick, judo, karate. I remembered I had had to tangle with a Jap in a spy movie. He practically flattened me, and the director had to tell him to take it easy.

  Maybe the chauffeur wouldn’t be around when I made my break.

  I wondered if the ignition key would be in the ignition lock. Could I start the Rolls without it? The business of opening the bonnet, fiddling with the ignition wires could cause a fatal delay.

  I watched the Jap close the garage doors, then he climbed the stairs and disappeared.

  Tomorrow morning, armed with the paperweight, I would tell Mazzo I needed exercise. We would take a walk around the grounds, t
hen end up by the garage.

  I was still thinking when Mazzo wheeled in the dinner trolley.

  ‘Chicken Maryland, Mr. Ferguson,’ he said. ‘Special for you.’

  ‘Mrs. Harriet talked to me, Mazzo,’ I said, coming to the table. ‘She tells me Mrs. Loretta is as nutty as a fruit cake. What do you think?’

  He served the chicken and placed the plate before me.

  ‘Don’t worry your brains about what Mrs. Harriet says. You do your job like I do mine, and everything will be fine.’

  ‘And another thing,’ I said, looking directly at him. ‘She told me you had your balls shot off in the Vietnam war.’

  He stared at me. His brutal face suddenly blank.

  ‘What was that?’

  I repeated what I had said.

  ‘I told you, I wasn’t in the goddamn Vietnam war!’ he snarled.

  ‘Oh, sure.’ I began to eat, aware he had moved away and was continuing to stare at me.

  ‘Why would she say a thing like that?’ he muttered.

  ‘Because Mrs. Loretta told me you were screwing her, Mazzo, and I told the old lady. She said you couldn’t screw any woman, and why.’

  ‘Me? Screwing Mrs. F.?’ Mazzo’s voice shot up a note. ‘That’s a goddamn lie!’

  ‘Loretta told me that because she had hooked you, Mazzo, you would murder Mrs. Harriet: creep in her room and smother her with a pillow,’ I said casually. I laid down my knife and fork, turned and looked directly at him.

  He stood motionless, sweat on his forehead.

  ‘I’m telling you this, Mazzo, because you need me as a friend, and I need you as a friend. Loretta is mad enough to murder Mrs. Harriet and pin the murder on you.’

  I could almost hear his brain creaking. He stood there, like a vast ape, trying to put thoughts together.

  ‘I’m warning you, Mazzo. Both these women are dangerous. You could have a murder rap slapped on you, and you would have no answer,’ I said.

  He pulled himself together.

  ‘Shut your mouth!’ he snarled. ‘More talk like that and I’ll tear your goddamn head off!’

  He went away, slamming the door.

  I had sown a seed of fear in him. I was sure of it.