Lady—Here's Your Wreath

by James Hadley Chase

  Getting Mardi to the sea was a good thing. In a week or so it began to make a big difference to her. She lost the drawn, tense look that had begun to worry me, and she tanned mighty quick in the sunshine and sea air. She was happy and so was I. I reckon I never felt happier.

  We got up every morning and had a bathe in the sea. It was grand swimming in that deep blue water, with no one to watch us— just the two of us, in the rolling swell of the sea. Mardi wore a white swim-suit that made her figure look better than it was, and that’s saying something. She never bothered about wearing a cap, and we played around with each other without a care in the world.

  Mardi said to me, a couple of weeks after we had settled down, “Nick, you must start working.” I’d just come out of the sea, and was lying down on the sand, too lazy to dry myself, and letting the hot sunshine do it for me.

  “That’s okay with me,” I said. “I’ll look around and see what I can find.”

  Mardi knelt over me, her knees and thighs buried in the soft sand and her hands crossed in her lap.

  “Nick,” she said, “I’ve been thinking. Why don’t you write a book?”

  I blinked up at her. “Write a book?” I said. “Why, hell— I couldn’t write a book.”

  She shook her head. “You’ve never tried,” she said, which was true. “Look how some novels sell. Why don’t you try, and see what happens?”

  “Yeah, but look how some flop. I guess novel-writing ain’t so hot.”

  She said, “Why don’t you write a novel about a newspaper man? Don’t you think you could do that?”

  There was an idea there. I sat up and thought about it. Ackie had enough background to fill three books, and I had had a few experiences. Mardi could see that I was looking at the idea favourably, and she began to get excited. “Oh, Nick, wouldn’t it be fun if you could. You wouldn’t have to leave me then, would you? I could get your meals and sit around darning your socks, and you could be working—”

  I grinned at her. “Don’t sound much fun for you,” I said, but she scrambled to her feet.

  “You stay and think about it, Nick,” she said. “I’ll go back to the house and get the breakfast on. I’ll call you.”

  Well, I thought about it, and the more I thought the more I liked the idea. Before she called me, I was itching to make a start. I went back to the house, bolted my breakfast and got down to it. It took me all the morning to work out the general idea of the book, and when I was through it seemed pretty good to me.

  I took it along to Mardi, who was in the kitchen, and explained the synopsis to her. She leant against the kitchen table, her eyes wide and bright with excitement, and was as enthusiastic about it as I was.

  “Okay, honey,” I said, when I had finished. “The next move is to get a typewriter, and I’ll make a start.”

  It took me two months to get the book done, and if it hadn’t been for Mardi it would never have been written. I got stuck half-way through and lost patience with it, but Mardi kept at me until I just had to go on. She was so excited that I hadn’t the heart to fold up. When it was finished, and I read it through, I knew I had something. It wasn’t going to be a best seller or anything like that, but it was good enough.

  Mardi said, “This is only the beginning; you’re going to write more and more and you will very soon be famous.”

  I grinned at her. “Don’t pin too much on this. Maybe it’ll come back with the usual rejection slip.”

  Mardi had faith. It didn’t come back, it stuck. A couple of months after sending it off, I had a letter from the publishers in New York I had mailed it to, saying that they liked it and would I come on over and meet them.

  I didn’t expect to hear so soon, and we were right in the middle of painting the outside of the house. Mardi insisted on my going, and she stayed behind to finish the work. I knew she’d be all right on her own. We’d been clear of the trial and things had settled down. Spencer and his gang had all caught pretty stiff raps, and although, at the time, Mardi was pretty het up, she’d forgotten about the business by now.

  So I took the train west and left her. The publishers were mighty nice to me, offered me a very fair advance, and a contract for two more books. I wasn’t going to waste time hanging around New York. Once I got their contract signed, I grabbed a taxi and made for Central Station. I found I’d got a couple of hours before I could make connections to Santa Monica, so I turned into the refreshment bar for a drink, before deciding where lid go to pass the time. Standing at the bar was Colonel Kennedy.

  He said, “Well, this is a surprise.”

  I took his hand. “You’re right,” I said. “Colonel, this is a fine time to meet you. I’ve got a lot to thank you for.”

  We ordered more drinks and made ourselves comfortable. “What have you been doing all this time?” he asked, once we were settled.

  “I’m living at Santa Monica now with my wife,” I said. “You know, I’ve never thanked you enough for letting me have your lodge for a honeymoon.”

  He grinned. “That’s all right, Nick,” he said. “I’m glad I had it to lend you. Why live so far away? I guess I’d like to meet that wife of yours.”

  - “Well, what are you doing? Why not come on over for a week or so? We’d be glad to have you with us.”

  He shook his head regretfully. “I can’t, I’m afraid. I’ve got commitments right now.”

  I smiled. “They’re still falling for you, Colonel?” I said.

  He nodded. “I guess I haven’t much to worry about,” he said.

  I glanced at the clock. “I’ve got almost two hours before I pull out,” I said. “How about having lunch with me?”

  He slid off the stool. “Sure, I’d be glad to.”

  Now that I had met up with him again, a sudden curiosity to file off the rough ends of the Spencer business seized me. When we got seated in a quiet little restaurant not far from the station and had given our order, I got the conversation round to the angle I wanted it to go.

  “Colonel,” I said. “You remember the Mackenzie Fabrics trial?”

  He Looked at me, and nodded. I wasn’t sure, but I fancied he looked a little taken aback. “Yes, I remember it—caused quite a sensation.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “I was in that business right up to my neck.”

  “You were?”

  “Yeah. I’d like to tell you about it, because I think you could finish the tale off for me.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know a thing about it,” he protested.

  “Wait a minute, Colonel,” I said. “Maybe I can jog your memory.”

  I took him carefully through the whole story, and he sat there, his lunch forgotten. When I had finished with the death of Blondie, and how Mardi and I had quietly slipped away to Santa Monica, he sat back and gently blew his cheeks out. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “That’s some yam. I can’t see where I come in, for all that.”

  This is where it was going to be a little tricky. “You remember when the newspaper boys had you bottled up at the lodge with a girl friend, Colonel?” I said.

  He frowned. “Now I don’t want to go into that,” he said abruptly.

  “The girl friend was the woman on the telephone,” I told him quietly. “I want to know who she was.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve made a mistake.”

  “I’m givin’ you this straight. I heard her voice, and that was enough for me. I’d know that voice anywhere.”

  “I can’t discuss this any further, Nick. I’m sorry.”

  I said, “Listen, Colonel. I’ve got a right to know. That dame might have caused me a lotta grief. The trial’s over, and the whole thing’s washed up. You know me well enough to know that I won’t use any information you give me. It’s just that it is an unsatisfactory ending— not knowing.”

  He sat brooding. “I guess maybe you have a right,” he said with a little smile. “I wouldn’t tell it to any other man, but you’ve done a lot for me.”

  He was just
saving his conscience, but that didn’t worry me.

  “Thank you, Colonel; it’ll go no further.”

  He hummed and hawed a bit, then said, “I don’t know who she was—that’s the truth. She came out to see me, representing a fellow named Lee Curtis. This fellow was associated with the Mackenzie Fabrics Co. and I had just put in for a bundle of their stock. This girl was authorised by Curtis to make me an offer for them. She was a devilish pretty woman, and I asked her to stay to dinner while we discussed the matter. I was curious to know why Curtis, who was the secretary of the place, should want to get hold of such a large block.”

  “How much was it?” I asked.

  Kennedy shrugged. “I forget now, I think it was about ten thousand dollars—something like that. Anyway, we had dinner. All the time, she refused to give me her name, but kept on selling me the idea of parting with the stock. She had some story which didn’t convince me, but in the end I decided to negotiate. Curtis was offering a high percentage on the stock, and I thought it might be worth while.”

  “You mean, you don’t know who she was?” I said, disappointed.

  “No—I don’t. The rest of the story doesn’t reflect to my glory, but you may as well have it. Once the business part was over, and she gave me Curtis’s cheque, I thought we might get a little more friendly. I did tell you that she was a remarkably pretty woman?”

  I nodded a little grimly. “Yeah—you mentioned it.”

  “Well, she got a little scared and pulled a gun. I was never so astonished in my life. I tried to take the damn thing away from her, and it went off. The rest of the story you know.”

  I sat back. “Well, that don’t get me very far,” I said. “I was hoping to tie that dame down.”

  Kennedy glanced at the clock. “You’ll have to be on the move or you’ll lose your train.”

  I beckoned the waiter for the bill. Kennedy said hastily, “I’ll pay that.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve just sold a book, Colonel. I guess it’s a nice experience to buy a guy, with all the dough you’ve got, a lunch.”

  Kennedy laughed. “I’m glad you’ve settled down, Nick. But you’re not to hide yourself away. You must bring your wife up to town.”

  I took out my wallet and found a ten-dollar bill which I gave to the waiter. A photo of Mardi was amongst my papers, and I flipped it across to Kennedy. “That’s my wife, Kennedy—you’ll think she’s a grand girl when you meet her.”

  I took the change from the waiter and gave him a buck for himself. Then I turned to see what Kennedy was making of Mardi. He was sitting staring at me, his face a little white and his eyes like granite.

  I said, “What’s wrong?”

  He said in a hard voice, “What’s the idea, Mason?”

  I stared at him. “You gone screwy, Colonel?”

  He tapped Mardi’s photograph. “If you knew about this girl, why ask me?”

  I sat for a full minute, staring at him. Then I said, “That’s my wife, Colonel—I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at.”

  “That’s the woman Curtis sent to me to negotiate the stock I was telling you about.”

  I pushed back my chair. “You’ve made a mistake,” I said unsteadily. “That’s Mardi—my wife.”

  He picked up the photograph and looked at it carefully. All the time he was doing that, my heart was beating against my ribs like a pile-driver. Then he looked up. “Who was your wife before she married you, Nick?” he said.

  With the sudden horrible feeling of things crumbling, I said, “She was Spencer’s secretary.”

  Kennedy pushed the photograph across the table towards me. “It fits, doesn’t it?” he said quietly. “There’s no doubt about it, Nick.”

  . I just sat there in a heap. Kennedy wasn’t the kind of a guy who made mistakes. I said unevenly, “But this is crazy.”

  He got to his feet. “Suppose we leave it, Nick? I’ve got to run along. I’ll be seeing you.” He put his hand on my shoulder for a moment, then walked out of the restaurant. I picked up the photograph and put it in my wallet. I couldn’t think. I didn’t want to think. I got up, pushing the chair away from me with the back of my legs and walked over to the hat rack. I put my hat and coat on slowly. The waiters were looking at me curiously, but I didn’t care about them; then I went outside into the street.

  The train to Santa Monica was already in the station and I got a seat. I settled myself and looked out of the window. My eyes didn’t see anything, and although it was a hot day I felt cold.

  The train began to glide out of the station, taking me back to Santa Monica—and to something I was frightened to face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  BY THE TIME I had reached Santa Monica I had got over the shock. The explanation must be simple, I told myself. Either Kennedy had made a bad mistake, or else Mardi had been forced to play some deep game by Curtis. Whatever the explanation was, it wasn’t going to break up Mardi’s life with me. I’d spent a lot of time playing around with girls, and I knew when I had found the right one. Mardi was my girl. I wasn’t going to let anything come between us. I’d talk the whole thing over with her, and she’d tell me the truth. The truth wasn’t going to be bad—it mustn’t be bad.

  I took a taxi from Santa Monica station. I wanted to get back there fast. It seemed a long way, and I sat on the edge of my seat urging the driver to push his cab along. I got there at last. The front door was standing open, but Mardi wasn’t in the garden. I walked up the long path, feeling suddenly a little sick. I kept on telling myself that it would be all right, but somehow at the back of my brain I knew that what I had built up was already crumbling.

  I stepped into the hallway. A man’s hat and coat hung on the rack— they weren’t mine. I put my grip carefully on the floor and stood looking. Then I got rid of my own hat and coat and walked into the sitting-room.

  They were there waiting for me.

  For a moment, I didn’t recognise him. He was a tall guy, with a lot of wavy hair, a tanned complexion and bright blue eyes. It was Lee Curtis, all right. I stood in the doorway, with the blood roaring in my ears. I looked at Mardi. She was sitting listlessly in an armchair. Her face was white and her eyes looked like big holes cut in a sheet. She didn’t even look at me.

  Curtis said, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  I couldn’t say anything.

  “I’ve been here four days—she an’ I’ve been living together.”

  I felt suddenly brittle Inside, like someone had stepped in close with a half-arm jab, but still I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  He looked at me thoughtfully, then he put his hand up to his chin. I could hear his nails rasp on his beard. He said, “Take it easy—it’s no use gettin’ rattled.”

  I walked with stiff legs over to Mardi. I said, “I’m with you all the way—but I’ve got to know the truth.”

  She didn’t look up. She just sat there as if I hadn’t spoken.

  Curtis turned on his heels, so that he was facing me. He said, “I’ve been waiting for this, for some time. Now I’ve got you both where I want you.”

  I turned ray head and looked at him. I guess I must have had a flicker in my eye, because he jerked a gun out of his hip pocket.

  “Take it easy,” he said. “I don’t want to start shootin’, but I’m not riskin’ anything from you.”

  I said between my teeth, “Talk quick an’ get out.”

  He sat on the edge of the table, still holding the gun leveled at me. “It’s quite a tale,” he said, with a sneer. “Sit down—you’ll get tired.”

  I didn’t move.

  “A couple of years ago,” he said, swinging his leg slowly to and fro, “I got a job with the Mackenzie Fabrics Corporation as their secretary. She worked for Spencer—you know that. She also lived with Spencer—maybe you didn’t know that.” He stopped talking and fumbled for a cigarette, but not once did he take his eyes off me. “I soon found that there was something going on behind the scenes, and finally Spencer to
ok me into his confidence. I saw the set-up was big—very big, and I wasn’t getting much out of it. Nor was she. So we got together. We thought if we could pin Richmond’s murder on Spencer, and get him out of the way, I could take over, and have some of the profits. So we picked on you. We wanted a guy who would bust the Vessi frame-up wide open, and we decided you could do it. She contacted you on the ’phone—quite smart the way she can change her voice. She wasn’t living with Spencer any more—she was living with me.”

  I said, “You can stop talkin’. I don’t want to hear any more. Get out!”

  He grinned. “You don’t know the half of it yet, smart boy,” he said. “I’m only gettin’ started. She’s a romantic little thing, and I guess she fell for you—fell for you hard. Then she tried to double-cross Spencer, who fired her out. I tagged along behind her, because I wasn’t sure if she’d try and double-cross me. Just when she was set, Blondie turned up. Now Blondie knew all about her. She knew she had lived with Spencer, and she knew she’d lived with me. Blondie wanted some easy dough, so she tried blackmail. You took yourself to town and left our little friend at the lodge. Blondie had been watching, and she called on her as soon as you were out of the way. Blondie didn’t know what she was up against. Mardi shot her. Do you hear that, you big pushover, your girl friend shot Blondie. Now you know why she was so scared. Now you know why she wouldn’t stay in town, but beat it across all these States, until she was sitting on the edge of the Pacific. She wasn’t content at murder, she double-crossed me. As soon as she knew that Blondie was dead, she came to my place and took twenty thousand dollars of bonds out of my safe. I told you she had lived with me, didn’t I? Well, she knew all about my safe an’ how to get into it. So she knocked off all I had and beat it with you.

  “The Feds, nearly got me, but they didn’t. I’ve been hunting for her for months, and I found her just after you left for New York. Well, I guess she’s had to pay for her double-cross.”