1949 - You're Lonely When You Dead

by James Hadley Chase

  A hat-check girl in a skirt that would have done better service as a cutlet frill and a bodice that should have been downright ashamed of itself, took my hat and gave me a check and a leer.

  Miss Bolus said she was going to the Ladies’ Room and would I wait?

  I hadn’t time to say either yes or no before she vanished through a door marked Madames, and left me high and dry in an atmosphere so lush that it threatened to suffocate me. But not for long.

  Out of the crowd that drifted in a steady stream through the open doorway, a lean guy with a face like a weasel and eyes like sloes picked his way towards me. I could tell he was going to talk to me by the way his eyes fastened on me the moment he saw me. As soon as he came to rest before me I decided by the cut of his tuxedo he was some kind of bouncer. I was right.

  ‘Looking for someone?’ he asked in a voice you could have grated a nut on.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Should I be?’

  He licked his lips with a pale tongue, eyed me slowly from head to food and tried again.

  ‘Waiting for someone?’

  ‘Check,’ I said, and jerked my thumb towards the Ladies’ Room. ‘She’ll be out in a moment -I hope.’

  He relaxed, but not much.

  ‘Gotta checkup,’ he explained in a slightly less aggressive tone. ‘We don’t encourage guests to roam around without their escorts. Members only, mister, and their friends. We get a lot of guys drifting in who shouldn’t be here. Thought I didn’t recognize your face.’

  ‘I don’t always recognize it myself, especially in the early morning,’ I said.

  He scratched the side of his jaw and ran his eyes over me again. I could see he wasn’t too sure of me.

  ‘What would be the name of the lady?’ he asked. ‘Just to keep the record straight.’

  ‘Miss Bolus.’

  Immediately he looked as if he had bitten into a quince.

  ‘Oh, her,’ he said, the nut-grater back in his voice. ‘Then you’re in swell company.’ There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Iris voice. He stalked away to third degree another guy who had just handed in his hat and was looking helplessly around.

  Miss Bolus drifted out of the Ladies’ Room and joined me.

  ‘Who’s the fella with the face like a weasel?’ I asked, and indicated with my thumb.

  ‘That’s Gates,’ she told me. ‘He’s one of Bannister’s musclemen. He’s all right if you leave him strictly alone.’

  ‘He doesn’t seem to like you a lot. When I told him I was with you he looked like he had swallowed a bee.’

  ‘Did he? Remind me to cry when I have a spare moment,’ Miss Bolus said indifferently. ‘But never mind Gates. What shall we do?’

  ‘Let’s drink,’ I said. ‘My nerves need bolstering up.’

  She took me through the lobby, along a wide corridor, past double glass doors over which was a lighted sign that read Grillroom, into a big room, furnished with dozens of tub-shaped chairs, a carpet that made you think you were walking on a lawn, and a horseshoe-shaped bar behind which four barmen, immaculate in white coats, officiated with speed and efficiency that was something to see.

  We had several drinks. They were no more poisonous than any of the other drinks in town, but much more expensive.

  After the third whisky I said I thought Miss Bolus had better go away and play poker.

  ‘And what do you think you’re going to do?’ she asked, making motions to the barman to fix another round.

  ‘I’m going to snoop,’ I said. ‘Just give me the layout of the joint. Any idea where she might be?’

  ‘The most likely place is the top floor. Bannister has an apartment up there, and I think there are other rooms on the same floor. If she’s anywhere she’ll be there.’

  ‘Then that’s where I’ll be.’

  She lifted her shoulders.

  ‘You’ll never get as far. I told you if you’re looking for trouble you’ll find it here, but please yourself.’

  ‘If that dame’s here I’m going to find her. If someone spots me I can always pretend I’ve lost my way.’

  The barman placed two more whiskies before us and I parted with more money.

  ‘Go ahead,’ she said without enthusiasm. ‘You won’t get far so I don’t see it matters. But don’t get any bright ideas. One or two wise guys have tried to be funny with Bannister and they’ve run into an awful beating.’

  ‘If there’s one thing I like about you more than another it’s your goodwill and encouragement,’ I said testily. ‘Finish up your drink and run away. If I do meet with trouble leave me to find my own way out. Don’t send for the cops. Brandon is only waiting his chance to get his hooks into me.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she said, finished her drink and slid off the stool.

  ‘It’s you who are sticking your neck out, and it’s your neck. I’m going up to the first floor. We can go that far together.’

  The final whisky gave me a feeling of tremendous confidence. I told Miss Bolus so.

  ‘Just wait until you sober up,’ she said unfeelingly.

  We went from the bar, down the corridor to a flight of stairs.

  A short, thickset man who looked as if he had slept in his tuxedo, stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hands deep in his coat pockets, a bored expression on his face. He looked like an ex-pug, and there was scar tissue on the flesh over his cheekbones. He glanced at Miss Bolus and gave her a curt nod, shot out a hand and gripped my arm.

  ‘Where’s he going?’ he asked in a throaty growl.

  ‘He’s coming with me,’ Miss Bolus said. ‘Don’t work so hard. Bannister won’t pay you anymore.’

  He took his hand away, grunted and waved us on. We went up the stairs, and when we were out of earshot I said, ‘Is that another of Bannister’s playmates?’

  ‘That’s Shannon. He used to be a fighter, but he was never any good. If I had to pick a quarrel with either Gates or him, I’d pick one with him. Gates carries a gun.’

  ‘I think we’d better say goodbye before you have me too scared to do what I want to do. I shouldn’t be long.’

  ‘That’s one thing I’d bet my girdle on,’ she said.

  We were by now in a long corridor, and at the far end was another flight of stairs. Near where we were standing was the entrance to the poker room, and by the look of the crowd business was brisk.

  ‘There’s another bar farther down the corridor,’ she told me. ‘You can see the stairs from there. Don’t get into too much trouble,’ and with no show of further interest in me she went into the poker room and was swallowed up in the crowd.

  I walked down the corridor like a guy who is planning to have fun but is in no hurry to get started. As she had said, another bar, a lot smaller than the one downstairs, was near the foot of the stairs. I glanced in. It was packed solid, and no one looked in my direction. I looked back over my shoulder. A blonde and a tall, beefy man who lurched as he walked, were coming towards me. The blonde had a bleak look in her eyes as she steered the beefy man into the bar.

  Neither of them paid any attention to me. As they began to fight their way through the crowd I jumped for the stairs. I went up them three at a time, and making no noise. I arrived at the top without anyone shouting ‘Hey!’ or shooting me in the back.

  Facing me was another long corridor and a number of doors giving off it that had nothing to tell me what lay behind them.

  I was standing looking down the corridor, trying to make up my mind what was the best and safest thing to do, when a door about ten feet from me jerked open and a blonde woman in a white silk blouse and brick red slacks stepped into the corridor

  It was Anita Cerf.

  chapter five

  I

  She stared at me blankly for perhaps half a second, then recognition jumped into her eyes and she caught her breath sharply, the way you catch your breath when a ghost appears at the bottom of your bed. But she didn’t lose her presence of mind. She too
k two quick steps back and tried to slam the door, but I shot out my foot, blocked the door open and gave it a hard shove with my shoulder. She went staggering back as I swept into the room, spun on her heel and made a dive for another door at the far end of the room. I caught up with her before she reached the door, grabbed her wrist and swung her around to face me.

  ‘Take it easy,’ I said. ‘I want to talk to you.’

  She wrenched free and backed away. Her breasts rose and fell under the white silk of her blouse, her eyes glittered and her face was the colour of old ivory. She looked nothing like the seductive charmer who had tried so hard to get me to talk the previous night. Now she looked older and harder and a little shop soiled: an ex-follies girl who had kicked around and had been kicked around, who had grown tired of shoving men off, and because she didn’t shove anymore had lost the freshness and the charm that made her type of beauty mean something; and on top of all that she looked scared. Her wide grey eyes were full of terror.

  ‘Get out!’ she said in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

  The room we were in was a bedroom: a nice room; not the kind of room you’d expect to find on the top floor of a night club. The carpet was thick and easy to the feet The bed looked comfortable. The drapes matched the carpet, and the carpet matched the quilted walls. The dressing table was loaded with bottles and powders and perfumes and atomizers. There were a number of lamps with parchment shades scattered about the room to give a restful even illumination.

  A girl - even a millionaire’s wife - could be happy in such a room, but Anita Cerf didn’t look happy. She looked like the victim of a railroad accident coming out of a smashed-up coach.

  ‘I’ve been looking all over for you,’ I said. ‘I have some questions to ask you, Mrs. Cerf.’

  ‘Get out!’ She pointed to the door with a finger that shook like the finger of an old woman with palsy. ‘I’m not going to answer questions! I’m not going to listen to you!’

  ‘What about the necklace? Don’t you want it?’

  She reeled back on her heels as if I had hit her, and her hand flew to her mouth.

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

  ‘Yes, you do. The necklace you gave Dana Lewis. Why did you give it to her?’

  She darted across the room and wrenched open a drawer of the dressing-table. I had seen enough movies to guess what she was after, and arrived at her side as she snatched a .25 automatic from the drawer. My hand clamped down on hers as she was bringing up the gun. I could feel her fingers undermine striving to pull back the safety catch, and I exerted pressure, crushing her fingers against the sides of the gun.

  ‘Drop it!’ I said. ‘Stop acting like a fool!’

  She rammed her elbow into my chest and fell against me, making me stagger. I caught hold of her round her waist and held her to me. It was like trying to hold a wild cat, and she fought with the desperation of terror. I had all I could do to hold her. We went staggering and wrestling across the room.

  ‘Cut it out or you’ll get hurt!’ I exclaimed as she tried to butt me under the chin.

  She hit me in the face, using her fist like a hammer, and hacked at my shin with the heel of her shoe. She was panting, and I could feel the muscles in her body twitching. As she tried to hit me again, I twisted her arm, forcing her to turn her back on me, and pushed up her hand towards her shoulder blades. She bent over, gasping. I put on more pressure, and her fingers relaxed hold of the gun. It dropped to the carpet and I kicked it under the bed.

  ‘You’re breaking my arm,’ she moaned, and flopped down on her knees.

  I let go of her wrist, caught her by her elbows and lifted her to her feet, steadying her. Then I stepped away from her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs. Cerf,’ I said, knowing I didn’t sound sorry at all. ‘Let’s cut out the fighting and talk. Why did you give Dana Lewis your necklace?’

  ‘I didn’t give it to her,’ she said, holding her wrist and glaring at me. ‘You’ve nearly broken my arm.’

  ‘You went with her to her apartment. You were wearing the necklace when you went in. You weren’t wearing it when you came out. It was found in the room. You gave it to her? Why?’

  ‘I tell you I didn’t!’

  ‘You were seen,’ I told her. ‘You can either tell me or the police. Please yourself — but make up your mind.’

  She made up her mind by a sudden dive for the bed. She dropped on hands and knees and began scrabbling wildly for the gun; but it was well out of reach.

  I went over to her and pulled her to her feet. She started fighting again, but I was tired of her by now and slung her on the bed hard enough to drive the breath out of her. She lay flat, her chest arched, her arms stretched wide on the green coverlet.

  ‘Why did you give it to her?’ I repeated, standing over her.

  ‘I didn’t!’ she panted. ‘The necklace was stolen! I didn’t give it to her.’

  “Why did you take a taxi and go out to East Beach when you left her?’

  She struggled up. Her face was stiff with fear.

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about. I didn’t go to East Beach.’

  You were there when she was shot. Did you shoot her?’

  ‘I wasn’t. I was never there! Get out! I won’t listen to you Get out!’

  The odd thing was all the time she was scared she might be overheard And her terror worried me. She wasn’t frightened of me. But she was frightened of what I might say.

  Every time I got set to speak I saw her stiffen the way you stiffen when the dentist begins to drill close to a nerve.

  ‘You don’t know anything, do you?’ I said. ‘Then why are you hiding? Why don’t you go home? Does Cerf know you are here? Come on: it’s time you tallied!’

  She half-lay, half-sat on the bed, flinching away from me.

  She began to say something, but the mumble died suddenly and she stiffened, and her eyes opened very wide and a resigned look of terror came into her face that wasn’t pleasant to see.

  I didn’t hear the door open: the door at the far end of the room. I didn’t hear anyone come in. But I caught a movement reflected in the big mirror in the wardrobe and I turned slowly.

  Ralph Bannister stood in the doorway, his hand holding the doorknob: a man of middle height, square, broad shoulders, in a well-fitting tuxedo. He had a lot of grey-black hair taken straight back off a wide, high forehead. His eyes were small and deep set, and there were heavy dark bags under them which gave him a permanently tired look; as if he got very little sleep. His mouth was pale and thin, and his skin was without colour. I had seen him a few times in the better restaurants downtown, but I had never spoken to him, and I didn’t think he had ever noticed me. He wasn’t the kind of man to notice people, nor could you imagine him to be the owner of a gaudy nighterie like L’Etoile. He looked more like a successful criminal lawyer or maybe a specialist in some obscure disease.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Anita’s head turn slowly until she was looking at Bannister, and I saw her fists clench and her knuckles turn white.

  He paid her no attention. His small, expressionless eyes ran over me, and his stillness managed to create a sharp atmosphere of menace.

  ‘What do you know about the necklace?’ he asked. His voice subdued and quiet, like a churchwarden apologizing for giving you a draughty pew.

  ‘You want to keep out of this,’ I said. ‘Unless you’re interested in murder.’

  ‘Where is the necklace?’ he asked.

  ‘Under lock and key. Did she tell you she’s mixed up in murder? Keeping her here makes you an accessory. But maybe a little thing like that doesn’t bother you.’

  He turned his expressionless eyes to Anita.

  ‘Is this the man you were telling me about?’

  She nodded, rigid with terror. The veins in her neck stood out like knotted cords.

  He turned back to me.

  ‘How did you get in here?’
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  I wasn’t going to get Gail Bolus into trouble if I could help it, so I said, ‘I walked in - what’s to stop me?’

  His small dark eyes examined my face, shifted away. His pale mouth tightened as he moved across the room. All his movements were leisurely, like the movements of a man with a bad heart. He touched the bellpush in the wall, then moved away to take up a position in the middle of the room.

  I thought of the .25 under the bed. I felt a sudden need for it, but unless I went down on hands and knees and crawled half under the bed there was no way of getting it. I didn’t think Bannister, for all his languid airs, would stand by passively while I was crawling under the bed. I decided regretfully to wait and see what happened. I didn’t have to wait long. The door jerked open and Gates came in. He took one look at me and a gun jumped into his hand.

  Bannister said, ‘How did he get in here?’

  Gates moved into the room. There was a ferocious look of rage on his thin, bony face.

  ‘Gail Bolus brought him.’ Rage made his voice unsteady.

  Flat feet came thumping along the corridor and Shannon appeared in the doorway. His eyes jumped from Bannister to me and back to Bannister again. I could see the great lumpy muscles in his shoulders suddenly form into knots under his ill-fitting tuxedo.

  ‘Get her,’ Bannister said.

  Shannon went quickly away down the corridor, making a thudding noise like a man walking on stilts.

  Bannister waved a hand at Anita.

  ‘Go into the other room.’

  She got off the bed.

  ‘I don’t know what he’s talking about,’ she said in a cold, tight voice. ‘lie’s lying. He’s trying to get me into trouble.’

  Bannister looked at her the way you might look at a dead cat you’ve found lying in the gutter.

  ‘Go into the other room,’ he said in his churchwarden voice.

  She went.

  As the door clicked shut Bannister went on to Gates. ‘I said no one was to come up here. One more slip like this and you’re through. You and Shannon.’

  Gates didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at Bannister. His beady, black eyes were fixed on me, and he looked as if he could eat me.