1945 - Blonde's Requiem

by James Hadley Chase

  I went over to her and fiddled at the knots.

  “Watch him and don’t bother about me,” she whispered.

  That advice came about a split second too late. Starkey, reaching forward with the speed of a striking snake, kicked at my temple. His hard pointed shoe crashed against my head and I fell flat on Audrey Sheridan.

  Dimly I heard Starkey’s voice, high-pitched with excitement, shout: “Nail him, you lugs!”

  Then hands seized me, dragged me to my feet, and before I could clear my head something exploded on my jaw and I crashed against the wall. I slithered to the floor, peered up at the savagely grinning face of Jeff Gordan and blocked his foot with my arm as he kicked at me.

  I grabbed his leg before he could get out of the way and shoved it hard in his direction. He waved his arms, cursed and went over backwards. I was nearly on my feet when the other thug drove at me. He tackled me, his shoulder catching me in the belly, his arms around my hips. I crashed to the floor, slammed hard at his face, and saw Starkey, holding his automatic by the barrel, running at me. I tried to twist away, but the butt of the gun caught me on the top of my head. Lights flashed before my eyes and then I slipped off into darkness.

  I couldn’t have been out for more than five minutes. I became aware of someone tying my hands behind my back and of the burning pain that crawled up my arms as the cord bit into my flesh.

  A hand came out of the mist, fastened onto my shirtfront and dragged me to my feet. My legs bent, but the hand kept me from falling. I shook my head and Jeff Gordan came into my vision. lie shook me gently backwards and forwards, then his hand came up and he slapped my face three times. They were hard, heavy slaps and they made my eyes water.

  I mumbled curses at him and he slapped me some more, dragged me to a chair and slammed me down into it. Then he went out of my vision.

  I sat slumped in the chair, a curtain of red before my eyes. I wanted only to get at Gordan and hammer him until there was nothing left of him. I wanted to take Starkey and beat his head on the corner of the desk and see the white mess of his brain spew out on the carpet. Even though I was dazed and pain crawled through my body, I was conscious of hating these men as I had never hated anyone before.

  A sudden sharp cry snapped me out of my rage. I looked up, screwed up my eyes in an effort to focus, saw figures in a mist which suddenly cleared away.

  Gordan and the other tough had got Audrey Sheridan pinned across the desk.

  Her coat was off and Starkey was bolding a lighted cigarette on her ann.

  The two of them had all they could do to hold her. One pulled down on her legs while the other held her arms. Her back was arched over the desk and her body squirmed as the glowing end of the cigarette burnt her.

  I drew a deep breath, kicked away the chair and reeled over to them. My shoulder caught Starkey and sent him staggering back. He turned viciously, sidestepped the kick I aimed at him and his sharp, bony knuckles thudded into my face.

  I went over and hit the carpet. Almost before I lit, I caught his legs between mine and shoved on a lock. He came down close to me, hissing like an angry snake. He tried to reach my face with his fists but he was just out of range. I put more pressure on the lock and his face turned green. Then he began to beat on the carpet, squealing to Jeff for help.

  Jeff let go of Audrey and came at me. I gave one more squeeze to the lock, heard Starkey catch his breath and tried to twist away from Gordan’s foot that whistled at my head. I only got a quarter of the steam in the kick but it was enough to stun me. I relaxed limply on the carpet.

  The rest of what happened was like a dream. I was only half-conscious of it, but enough to know what happened without being able to do anything about it.

  When Gordan let go of Audrey’s hands, she sat up and did something to the other thug. He fell down on his knees, holding his hands to the back of his neck, making a whining sound. She slid off the desk.

  I avoided Starkey’s rush, and tossed a heavy ashtray through the window.

  The crash of breaking glass was followed by a silence you could cut with a knife.

  Then Starkey said: “You’ll be seeing me again.” The vicious anger in his voice came through the, mists that clogged my brain and chilled me.

  A boot crashed into my side and then a door slammed.

  I settled myself more comfortably on the carpet and dissociated myself from further activities.

  I must have lain there at least ten minutes before I was disturbed again. Someone shook me gently and I was conscious of a smell of lilac. I opened one eye cautiously and found Audrey Sheridan bending over me.

  Her thick tresses almost touched my face.

  I dug up a low groan and firmly closed my eye. She shook me again.

  “Don’t be a baby,” she said. “You’re not really hurt. It’s only because you’re a little soft and out of condition. Come on, sit up. I’ve driven them away and it’s quite safe now.”

  This annoyed me. I opened my eyes and regarded her coldly. “Is that a nice thing to say?” I demanded heatedly. “I get kicked, trodden on, bashed on the head and beaten up by three great thugs and you’ve got the crust to say I’m not hurt.”

  She sat back on her heels, her hands resting on her thighs, and smiled. “I thought New York detectives were made of iron,” she said.

  I felt my scalp gingerly. ‘“You’ve got that out of a book,” I said, raising myself on my elbow and wincing as pain stabbed through my head. “I’m a mass of bruises and shattered bones. My back’s broken and my truss’s slipped. I’ll never be able to walk again.”

  She continued to regard me with the half-mocking smile. Then I remembered how Starkey had burned her with the cigarette and I gazed at her with blank incredulity. She was pale but her smile was genuine all right.

  “Talking about being made of iron,” I went on, “you’re not so bad yourself.”

  She looked at the livid red circle on her arm and grimaced. “That hurt,” she said. “But it wasn’t that I minded so much as the way they did it.” Her violet eyes glittered angrily. “What filthy brutes some men are!”

  I looked around the disordered office, with my head in my hands and my elbows on my knees. “You wouldn’t have any hard liquor in this joint, would you?” I asked. “I could do with a shot, and it wouldn’t poison you.”

  She got to her feet and moved slowly and limply across the room. From a cupboard she produced a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. She came back and flopped on the floor again.

  I took the bottle from her and poured out two stiff drinks. “Hair on your chest,” I said, nodding at her.

  “Hair on yours,” she said, nodding back.

  We drank.

  “That’s better,” I sighed, sniffing the whisky. “What happened? Did the cops come?”

  She nodded. “While you were swooning on the floor, I dealt with the cops,” she said. “Trust a man to leave all the dirty work for the woman to do. I told them the ashtray slipped out of my hands. They believed me. And after I’d said what big strong men they were and how grateful I was for their kindness, they went away as smug and happy as only men can be.”

  I regarded her reproachfully. “Something tells me you’re a cynic,” I said. “In my present condition I’m not in a fit state to talk to cynics. Shall we patch ourselves up and go home? Perhaps we can meet again later when I’m feeling stronger and have a long intimate talk.”

  “All right,” she said, setting down her drink. “We’ll do that. Do you think you’re strong enough to reach the bathroom, or would you like me to carry you?”

  “Sarcasm in one so young reveals a sophistication I abhor,” I said, crawling painfully to my feet.

  “Do you usually talk like a Walt Whitman fan or are you lightheaded?”

  I balanced myself carefully on the flat of my feet and held onto the desk. “Lady, I’m lightheaded, but you want to hear me when I’m drunk.”

  She showed me the bathroom
and stood by as I bathed my bruised head. I felt a lot better when I was through, although my ribs gave me some pain.

  “Would you like me to bandage your head?” she asked. “You’d look awfully sweet and people would think you’ve been using it to break coal with.”

  “Never mind,” I returned, surveying myself in the mirror. I didn’t look any worse than if I’d been run over by a truck. “But if you’ll give me something to work with I’ll bandage your arm.”

  She shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ve always looked after myself and I won’t make a change now.”

  We went across the devastated room to the door. “I’m sorry I’m not well enough to help you put all this straight,” I said, stopping and looking round. “But I think it would be a little too much for me.”

  “That’s all right. You don’t have to act like a gentleman with me. I’m a detective myself.”

  I sighed. “Stop ribbing me,” I complained. “And get that arm fixed. We ought to talk. How about tonight? I think I’ll be strong enough by then. Have dinner with me?”

  She shook her head. . “I don’t eat with detectives,” she said firmly. “I like to keep business and fun as far apart as possible.”

  “Don’t be difficult,” I pleaded. “You could have an awful lot of fun with me.”

  She regarded me with serious eyes. “I believe I could,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean I’m going to.”

  “Okay, I won’t try to persuade you. Suppose I come out to your place sometime tonight? We have a lot to talk about.”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be in after nine o’clock. Goodbye now, and thanks for horning in. If you feel faint, get yourself some smelling-salts.”

  I said I would and left her.

  chapter four

  I was awakened around six o’clock by someone knocking on my door. I raised my head cautiously, decided I felt better, and went over to unlock the door. As I passed the mirror I took a quick look and winced. I still looked pretty terrible.

  Marian French gazed at me with startled eyes as I let her in. “Whatever’s happened?” she asked, her hand going to her face with a gesture of shocked concern.

  “I had an argument with a midget,” I said, smiling crookedly. “It’s surprising how strong the little guys are. But come in. I don’t feel as bad as I look.”

  “Oh, your poor head!” She came in, took a quick look at the crumpled bed and went on: “I’ve disturbed you.”

  “It’s all right,” I said, sitting on the bed and feeling my head gingerly. “I was getting up, anyway.”

  There was a bump on the top of my head that felt no smaller than a doorknob and my ribs were still sore, but I could have been worse.

  She sat beside me and with cool, gentle fingers explored the bruise and the bump.

  “I’ll fix that for you,” she said. “Just you lie back on the bed and take it easy.”

  “Don’t you bother,” I said, trying to appear brave about it. “A little bang like this doesn’t worry me.”

  “Don’t be tough and obstinate,” she said firmly. “Lie down and leave this to me.” She pushed me back on the bed. That was all right with me. I considered I was due for a little fussing.

  “Now I won’t be a minute,” she said. “Don’t move until I come back.”

  When she had gone I lit a cigarette and related. The sun made pools on the shabby carpet and the room was hot, but I didn’t care. The telephone jangled and, frowning, I reached for it.

  I recognized Wolf’s growling voice. “I’ve got the Gazette,” he told me.

  “Now what the hell am I going to do with it?”

  “You’ve got it?” I repeated blankly. “That’s fast work, isn’t it?”

  He gave the nearest thing he could to a laugh. “I told you when I want a thing it happens. And let me tell you, it cost plenty; not that I give a damn about that.”

  “Swell,” I said. “We can’t do anything tonight, but we’ll get together at the office tomorrow morning. With the Gazette we can run Macey ragged.”

  He grunted. “I don’t know a damn thing about handling a newspaper,” he said, “but I guess I can learn fast enough.”

  I told him about Reg Phipps. “He’s young, but he’s got guts. Keep him on the job and you won’t go wrong,” I advised.

  “He can stay,” he said. “But how about the woman?”

  “I’ll get you someone,” I promised. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow.”

  “Have you found anything yet?” he demanded.

  That was something I didn’t want to talk about. “I’m working on it,” I said, and hurriedly hung up on him.

  I was calling the Gazette office when Marian came back. She carried a bowl containing cracked ice and odds and ends that looked interesting.

  I winked at her as Phipps came on the line. “It’s okay,” I told him. “Wolf’s got the Gazette and you’re in. We’ll be along tomorrow morning.”

  He didn’t seem to believe it, but when I persuaded him I wasn’t kidding he sounded excited enough. I told him to take it easy and cut the connection.

  “You shouldn’t be phoning,” Marian said severely.

  I flopped back on the bed. “That’s my final rally before I croak,” I said feebly.

  She made an ice bag with the cracked ice and a strip of flannel and put it on my head. It felt swell.

  “Isn’t that better?” she asked, sitting on the bed beside me.

  I took her hand. “Terrific. I wouldn’t mind having a tap like this every day if I had a nurse as nice as you.”

  She took her hand away and tried to look severe. “You can’t be as bad as you make out,” she said, moving away a foot. “You’ll be making passes soon.”

  “Give me a couple of hours and you’ll be surprised what I will do,” I kidded, then I went on: “How’s the uplift and pant business?”

  Although her face clouded she forced a smile. “I’m getting discouraged,” she confided. “If something doesn’t happen soon I’ll be on the bread-line. Cranville isn’t any good for the stuff I’m peddling.”

  I regarded her thoughtfully. She wasn’t as good as Betty Grable or Rita Hayworth or Ginger Rogers, but she wasn’t bad. I could imagine Reg Phipps going for her in a big way.

  “Can you use a typewriter and do shorthand?” I asked.

  She looked puzzled, but said she could.

  “There’s a job going on the Cranville Gazette: If you want a change from selling, you can have it.”

  “You mean that?” There was eagerness in her voice.

  “Sure, if you want it.”

  “Would it pay steady money? I’m getting tired of wondering when next I’m going to eat.”

  I looked sharply at her. “As bad as that?”

  She took the ice bag away and changed the ice. “As bad as that,” she repeated seriously.

  “Well, you’re hired. Send your samples back and tell your boss to go bowl a hoop,” I said, patting her hand. “Report to the Gazette tomorrow and tell Reg Phipps—he’s the editor—that you’re his new secretary. Tell him I said so.”

  She looked doubtful. “You’re sure it’s all right? Perhaps he won’t like me.”

  “Phipps?” I laughed. “You ought to see who he’s got now. He’ll be all over you.”

  “I can’t say how grateful—” she began, but I stopped her.

  “The job isn’t all that good,” I said. “Maybe you won’t like it. Maybe we’ll curl up before we start, but if you want to take the chance, it’s yours.”

  “I’ll take the chance,” she said.

  “Then that’s settled.”

  She glanced at her watch. “Now don’t think I’m ungrateful if I leave you, but I promised to go out with Ted Esslinger and I’ve got to change.”

  “Esslinger?” I raised my eyebrows. “He’s a fast worker, isn’t he? He only met you last night.”

  She blushed. “Well, you know how it is.
I hadn’t anything to do and he phoned.”

  “I was only kidding,” I said, not wanting to embarrass her. “And he’s a nice kid. Hope you have a good time.”

  “Now don’t be doing anything you shouldn’t. With a head like that you might have concussion.” She moved to the door. “Sure there’s nothing I can get you before I go?”

  I said, “No,” and added: “If Esslinger arrives before you’re dressed, shoo him in here. I’ll keep him company until you’re ready.”

  She nodded, said she hoped I’d be better in the morning, and thanked me again for the job.

  After she had gone I lit another cigarette and thought about her. She was a good kid and I was glad to give her a break. From her my thoughts drifted to Audrey Sheridan. Now, she was a surprise. I hadn’t expected to find quite such an independent, smart beauty in a dump like Cranville. I wondered where she got her money from. If what I’d heard was right her detective agency was a flop, but the appearance of the place and her apartment showed she must have money. I wondered if her old man had left her anything, and decided he must have.

  The way she had stood up to Starkey showed she had plenty of guts. That’s one thing I liked in a woman. She was a beauty too. I almost regretted I was working in the opposite camp. It might be plenty of fun to work with her. I wondered how Colonel Forsberg would react if I suggested he hire her as an International Investigations operative. He’d probably have a stroke.

  I was just beginning to think of the best way to get even with Starkey when Ted Esslinger put his head round the door.

  “Come in,” I said, sitting up and balancing the ice bag skillfully on my head.

  “Gee!” he exclaimed, staring at me. “What a wreck you look!”

  “Sit down,” I said, jerking my thumb to a chair near the bed. “Never mind how I look. I want to talk to you.”

  He sat down and continued to stare at me with a worried expression on his face. “What happened?”

  “I fell over a heap of feathers,” I said shortly. “Any news of Mary Drake?”