1945 - Blonde's Requiem

by James Hadley Chase

  “I hope they won’t do any such thing,” Audrey returned. “Now, you run off, because I want to change. Take my neck with you.”

  I unstrapped the cast, kissed her and went to my room, where Reg was lying on the bed, smoking.

  “I’m getting the jitters,” he said, sitting up. “Where’ve you been and what have you got there?”

  I told him about the cast.

  “Holy mackerel!” he exclaimed. “That’s an idea. But you don’t honestly think they’ll try to strangle her, do you?”

  I lit a cigarette. “If they don’t, then I’m on the wrong tack,” I said. “But I’m taking no chances.”

  “You’ve got something more up your sleeve,” he said, regarding me suspiciously. “What else have you been up to?”

  I grinned at him. “Plenty of time for that,” I said. “I promised Beyfield I’d have this case sewn up, and with luck I will. But it’s too early yet to tell you what’s cooking.”

  He scowled. “All right, if you want to be mysterious,” he said, “but think of my nerves . . .”

  “I’ll think of them,” I said, and glanced at my watch. It was a quarter to seven. Time was moving slowly. I sat down to wait. While I was waiting I checked through my plans and found them sound. There was nothing more I could do.

  At seven o’clock Beyfield arrived. He looked animated and he actually grinned at both of us as he entered the room.

  “We’re getting somewhere,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ve seen Latimer and we’re going to fix Wolf.”

  “What did it cost you?” I asked, knowing Latimer.

  He winked. “I’ve got friends,” he said. “There’s a guy in this town who wants the Cranville Gazette. By this time tomorrow Wolf will be glad to sell out.”

  “Maybe you’ve even found another mayor?” I said, watching him closely.

  “Maybe I have,” he returned, “but it depends on you. If you don’t pull this stunt of yours off tonight I’ll be in a hell of a jam.”

  “I’ll pull it off,” I said. “How about a drink?”

  He nodded. “I was going to suggest it,” he said. “What’s happening?”

  I phoned down to the desk clerk and ordered drinks before I answered and then I told him that Audrey was meeting Ted Esslinger at Ciro’s club and the rest depended on Esslinger.

  “So it is Ted Esslinger?” he said, shaking his head. “It’ll be a shock to his old man. I like Esslinger, but I don’t care much for the boy. He’s too fond of running around with the girls. At one time we had complaints, did you know that?”

  I shook my head. “I heard he was wild, but I didn’t know he was vicious,” I said. “This boy Roger Kirk he goes around with might make a witness for the State.”

  Beyfield grunted. “He’s as bad. Both of ‘em have been heading for trouble for some time. In a small town like Cranville it’s difficult to hide things up, but they’ve been smart up to now. I guess they’ve picked the kind of girl who’s too scared to talk. One or two of ‘em did complain, but Esslinger fixed it with Macey.”

  His face showed his disgust. “You can fix anything with Macey if you have enough dough.”

  The drinks came and I made three highballs. As we were finishing them Audrey came in. She looked swell in her white linen coat and skirt and her cashmere white and blue sweater.

  Beyfield eyed her with open admiration.

  “Well, I like that!” she exclaimed. “You three guzzling whisky and nothing for me! After all, I’m the one who’s going to be strangled.”

  “Don’t talk that way,” I retorted. “And I don’t like my wife to drink whisky. I’ll buy you a gin at the club.”

  She shook her head sadly. “I’m beginning to wonder if I’m being wise marrying you,” she said, pouring a small whisky into my glass and adding soda. “Until I’m married, I’m doing what I like. When I’m married I might do what you like—if it’s reasonable.”

  “I bet you look after your wife better than that,” I said to Beyfield.

  “My wife?” he said with a snort. “I haven’t seen her for six years and I don’t care if I never see her again.”

  “I’m sure Mrs. Beyfield feels exactly the same,” Audrey said, smiling at him.

  “So you’re both bound to be happy.”

  I looked at my watch, “I think we’ll go,” I said. “Take a taxi to the club,” I went on to Audrey.

  “We’ll be right behind the whole time. If Ted wants to take you some place, go with him. Before you leave the club, don’t forget this.” I tapped the box containing the plaster cast.

  “I won’t,” she promised, and turning to the other two, she said: “I’m sure you won’t mind leaving me with my future husband for a moment. He might have other important but confidential things to say to me.”

  Beyfield moved to the door with an embarrassed smirk. Reg followed him.

  Five minutes later we joined them in the hotel lobby and Audrey left in a taxi. We called another taxi and followed on behind.

  “That dame’s got guts,” Beyfield said suddenly as if he couldn’t contain himself any longer. “You’re a lucky guy to get a dame like that.”

  “Don’t I know it,” I said soberly, meaning every word.

  Ciro’s club was the only bright spot in Cranville. When we arrived, just after eight, we were in time to see Audrey walking up the broad stairs to the bar.

  “Reg,” I said, “I want you to stick around outside. It’s just possible, if there’s a crowd in there, we’ll miss her. You keep the taxi waiting and watch out. Understand?”

  He nodded and we left him.

  The bar was crowded and Beyfield and I pushed our way with difficulty to the front. I ordered two large whiskies, and while waiting I glanced over the heads of the crowd.

  Audrey was sitting at a table near the door. She was alone.

  “He hasn’t turned up yet,” I said to Beyfield in a low voice. “I wonder if he’s got cold feet.”

  The barman served us the whiskies, nodded to Beyfield, whom he knew, and went away to serve other drinks.

  We left the bar and sat down at the far end of the room where we could see Audrey without being seen ourselves.

  We waited five minutes and then I saw a bellhop go up to Audrey and speak to her.

  “Something’s up,” I said to Beyfield. “You wait here. I’ll go over and see her.”

  As I approached, the bellhop went away.

  Audrey stood up. “He’s left a message,” she said, her eyes a little scared.

  “He wants me to go to 49 Maddox Avenue, right away. Friends of his are having a party there.”

  “Now we know,” I said. “That’s how he got the other girls to go to the house in Victoria Drive.” I waved to Beyfield, who quickly joined us.

  “Where’s Maddox Avenue?” I asked.

  “It lies at the back of Victoria Drive,” he said, staring at me. “Why?”

  “Ted’s left a message for Audrey to join him there. He says friends of his are staging a party. The number of the house is forty-nine.”

  “Wait here a moment,” Beyfield said, and lumbered off to a telephone. He was back within five minutes and his beefy face showed his excitement.

  “It’s an empty house,” he said. “I’ve ordered a bunch of boys to be ready to surround it as soon as we go in. It certainly looks like you’re on to something.”

  I gave Audrey the box I had been carrying. “Get that on, kid, and let’s go.”

  She drew a sharp breath. “It’s worse than having a tooth out,” she said, with a bad attempt to smile. “And won’t I be glad when it is over!”

  We watched her go into the ladies’ room and then we went downstairs to wait in the taxi.

  Maddox Avenue was a dimly lit street with houses on one side and a large vacant lot on the other. Across the lot was the smelting works. The houses were widely spaced like the teeth in an old man’s mouth and were grimed wit
h years of sooty smoke. It was too dark to see much of their sordid appearance.

  We all stood beside Audrey’s taxi for the final talk before she went on to the house.

  “Beyfield and I’ll go first. We’ll keep out of sight in the garden,” I said.

  “Reg, you come on after the taxi’s arrived.”

  Audrey, leaning out of the taxi window, said a little anxiously: “And what do I do?”

  “When you reach the house, ring the bell and wait. If Ted comes to the door, go with him. We’ll be right after you,” I said. “Have you a gun?”

  “Yes . . . it’s in my bag.”

  “Well, don’t keep it there. Have it in your hand, but keep it out of sight. If things get sticky and we don’t get there fast enough—shoot. Beyfield won’t mind.”

  All the time we were talking, the taxi-driver listened, openmouthed. “Sounds like you’re going to have a party,” he burst out. “Jeeze! This’ll be something to tell my old woman.”

  Beyfield curtly told him to pipe down.

  “All set?” I asked.

  They nodded.

  I squeezed Audrey’s hand. “Don’t be scared,” I said, and lowering my voice so only she could hear, I said: “I love you a lot.”

  Then I left her and Beyfield and I walked up Maddox Avenue, keeping in the shadows.

  Number 49 was the last house in the street. It stood alone in a large garden and it looked dark and deserted. We approached it cautiously, and when we were a short way from it I spotted a light shining in the lobby.

  “See that,” I whispered to Beyfield. “He’s there, waiting for her.”

  “Suppose we bust in and pinch him?” Beyfield asked. “I don’t like that young woman going in there alone.”

  “Nor do I,” I said shortly. “But what else can we do? We must catch him red-handed.”

  We had stopped now and we were peering through the hedge that surrounded the garden. The rest of the house except for the lobby was in darkness.

  “We’ll try the back. Maybe we can get in that way,” I murmured.

  “My men should be around by now,” Beyfield whispered. He looked at his watch. The luminous dial showed eight-fifty. “Mind how you go or they’ll bend a club over your skull.”

  I stepped back. “Then you’d better go first,” I said. “Your head looks like it could stand it better than mine.”

  He grunted and moved forward. I followed him around the back of the house. We hadn’t gone far before a man rose out of the darkness. I caught a faint gleam of silver buttons and Beyfield called to him.

  “Anything happening, Sergeant?” he asked.

  The police-sergeant shook his head. “We ain’t been here more than a couple of minutes,” he said. “There’s someone in the house, but we haven’t disturbed them.”

  “How many men have you got?”

  “Six. They’re spread around the garden. I’ve told ‘em that anyone can enter the house, but no one must leave. That okay?”

  “Sure.” Beyfield turned to me. “He’d better come with us, hadn’t he?”‘

  “Okay, but no noise.”

  We crept across the uneven ground to the back of the house. A cement path led up to the back door and as we walked softly forward we heard the taxi coming up the street.

  I was nervous and my hands were shaking. I suddenly wanted to stop Audrey from going any further with this. It was only with a tremendous effort that I fought down my panic.

  Beyfield was trying the back door.

  “Locked,” he said, his lips against my ear.

  I pushed him aside and examined the lock. It seemed a simple affair, and taking out my pocketknife I fiddled for a moment and then pushed open the door.

  As I did so I heard the taxi stop outside the gate and a moment later a bell rang somewhere in the house.

  I stepped into the kitchen and turned on my flashlight.

  “She’s at the door now,” I murmured to Beyfield. “Give me a couple of minutes and then come after me. Leave the sergeant to guard the back door.”

  He pressed my arm to show he understood and I went forward. I slid my hand inside my coat and eased the .38 police special from its holster.

  The bell rang again, and as I opened the kitchen door, turning off my flashlight as I did so, I heard someone moving on the stairs.

  I stood in the narrow, dark passage, my gun thrust forward, my heart hammering against my ribs, and waited. A shaded oil-lamp set high on the wall by the foot of the stairs shed a yellow light over the lobby.

  A shadow appeared on the wall—a gaunt, crouching figure with long, thin hands and grotesque claw-like fingers. It moved swiftly and silently towards the front door. A moment later I saw it was Elmer Hench. He paused at the door, listened, and then jerked it open.

  I heard Audrey catch her breath in a startled scream and then Hench’s bony fingers closed on her arm and pulled her inside. As she twisted away from him he closed the door and stood with his back against it.

  “Good evening, Miss Sheridan,” he said, smiling at her.

  In the flickering oil-lamp his gaunt, white face looked terrifying. Audrey baled away from him. She was so close to me, I could hear her quick, uneven breathing.

  “Don’t be afraid, Miss Sheridan,” Hench said. “Ted’s waiting for you. He’s upstairs. All his friends are up there waiting for you. Go up and join them.”

  Audrey stood as if paralysed.

  Hench frowned at her and then his face writhed into a terrifying grin. “What are you waiting for?” he said, his bony fingers reaching out towards her and then drawing back. “Go up to Ted. He’s been waiting a long time for you.” He gave a smothered snigger. “He wants you.”

  Very slowly, Audrey moved to the staircase. Not once did she take her eyes off Hench, who now stood motionless by the front door.

  She put her foot on the first stair and then paused. I felt Beyfield breathing down my neck, but I didn’t look round. I was watching Audrey with intent concentration.

  Then it happened. There was a faint swish. Audrey screamed. Her hands went to the rope that had encircled her throat. Then she was drawn slowly upwards. As her feet left the ground, Hench, making a soft, snarling noise like an animal, threw himself at her knees and hung.

  Then a gun exploded by my ear end I was half blinded by the flash.

  I blundered forward as Hench folded up silently on the floor. I caught Audrey round her waist, lifted her and took her weight off the rope. She was limp, and for a moment I had a horrible fear that we were too late.

  Beyfield, who had fired at Hench, whipped the noose from her neck, and I heard her say: “It’s all right, Marc,” and then she began to sob. Reg and the police-sergeant came blundering up.

  “Take care of her,” I said to Reg, and putting her into his arms I ran after Beyfield.

  He waited for me at the head of the stairs.

  “We’ve got him now,” he said, between his teeth. “He can’t get away. I’ve never seen anything to beat that.”

  “You’ll see something better than that when I get my hands on the devil,” I said savagely.

  We moved down the dark passage, our flashlights throwing two big spots ahead of us. There were doors along one side of the passage and I went into each room as we came to it, while Beyfield stood in the passage, his gun ready in case the killer dashed passed me.

  We tackled room after room in that way. It was nervy work and slow. Each empty room brought us nearer to the killer, lurking in the darkness and listening to our steady approach.

  Finally there was only one room left.

  “We’ve got him,” Beyfield said, pushing me aside. “Come on out!” he shouted savagely. “Do you hear? Come on out with your hands in the air!”

  There was a distinct movement inside the room.

  “Come on out!” Beyfield roared again.

  The police-sergeant and two cops came up and stood watching at the end of the passag
e. Their powerful flashlights lit up the worm-eaten door.

  Steps crossed the room. Slow, light, undecided steps.

  We raised our guns.

  The door moved inwards and then was suddenly flung wide. Mrs. Esslinger stood looking at us, her lips in a hard line and her eyes like stones.

  She wore the same black ill-fitting dress and on her head was a flat black hat covered with jet sequins. She stood staring at us and then suddenly she went into peal after peal of wild laughter.

  * * *

  We sat in the hotel lounge with drinks at our elbows and cigarettes burning.

  It was our last night in Cranville and we were all a little high.

  Beyfield was positively beaming. Things were going well for him. Already he could see himself as Chief of Police. As soon as the story was published the Governor of the State was certain to demand an inquiry. Macey would have to go.

  Beyfield raised his glass and, with tipsy dignity, saluted me. “You’re a great guy,” he said. “A guy of sterling worth—even if you are a private dick.”

  I thanked him.

  Audrey rested her head on my shoulder and smiled secretly at the ceiling. “It was a fluke,” she said softly. “A beautiful fluke. Now I know how to be a successful detective. All I have to do is to pick on an innocent man and hope for a fluke. Come on, darling, admit it, you did think it was Ted.”

  I grinned. “Well, for a while I thought it was Ted, but then I changed my mind.” Seeing the look of outraged astonishment on her face, I went on hastily: “Okay, okay, I did think it was Ted, but I took the precaution to check up on Mrs. E. and her brother. Those two puzzled me. Anyway, how was I to know they were crazy? I haven’t lived all my life in this town like you . . . you can’t criticize.”

  Latimer sat up and looked at me with slightly bleary eyes. “Don’t argue,” he pleaded. “I want to write this story and how the hell can I write it if I don’t know what it’s all about?”

  Reg patted his arm. “You’re drunk,” he said happily. “Forget the story and have another drink.”

  Latimer scowled at him. “Go away,” he growled. “A story’s a story to me no matter how drunk I am.” He looked over at me. “Tell me about it. The old dame was nuts, but that don’t explain everything.”