What`s Better Than Money

by James Hadley Chase

  Creedy was a big, broad-shouldered man with a heavy, serious face and a likeable manner. He paced the office while Jack and I sat at our desks and listened to him.

  ‘There’ll be a civic banquet on Saturday,’ he told us. ‘You two wil be guests of honour. One of you will have to make a speech.’

  Jack grinned broadly and jerked his thumb at me.

  ‘You’re the boy, Jeff. I wouldn’t know how to make a speech.’

  ‘I’ll write it,’ Creedy said. ‘I don’t care who delivers it so long as it gets delivered. On Sunday at three o’clock I’ve fixed it for you two to appear on television. I’l pick you up here and take you over to the studio.’

  ‘Television?’ I said and I felt a little stab of uneasiness. ‘What do we want to be on television for?’

  Creedy smiled patiently at me.

  ‘We’re spending six mil ion dol ars of this city’s money,’ he said. ‘The public are entitled to see the two guys who are spending their money. There’s nothing to it. I’l ask the usual corny questions and you’l give me the usual corny answers. We’l have a scale model of the bridge prepared and you’l explain how you’re going to build it.’

  I was now beginning to get even more uneasy. My past was beginning to come alive in my mind. I told myself not to panic. After all, the television hook-up covered the county: we were a long way from Los Angeles.

  ‘I’m trying to get Life to do an article about the bridge,’ Creedy went on. ‘They’re biting. It would be a fine thing for the city to get a coverage from Life.’

  My uneasiness sparked into panic. Coverage in Life was world wide. I would have to make sure there would be no photograph of me in the magazine.

  Jack said happily, ‘Sounds as if we have become a couple of famous people, Jeff. It’s about time.

  We’ve worked hard enough.’

  Creedy took out his notebook.

  ‘You’re famous al right. Let’s have some dope about yourselves. I want to prepare the TV interview.

  Let’s get the basic facts: where you were born, who your parents were, what your training was, your war service, what you’ve done since the war, your future plans: that kind of junk.’

  Jack gave him the information, and while I listened I began to sweat. I had to cover up on the time I had spent in Los Angeles.

  When it came my turn, it was easy until I came to my return home from hospital.

  Creedy said, ‘You began your studies again, and then you suddenly quit: is that right?’

  ‘Yes.’ I didn’t want to tel him any lies so I picked my way careful y. ‘I couldn’t set le to work. I left college after three months, and for a while I just kicked around.’

  ‘Is that so.’ He showed interest. ‘Where did you get to?’

  ‘Al over. I just loafed around and did nothing.’

  He looked sharply at me.

  ‘How did you earn a living?’

  ‘I did a job here: a job there.’

  Jack was now looking interested.

  ‘You never told me,’ he said. ‘I thought you had been in the engineering racket al the time.’

  ‘For a year or so I bummed around.’

  ‘This could make for colour,’ Creedy said. ‘Where did you get to? What kind of jobs did you do?’

  This was now dangerous. I had to kill it.

  ‘I’d rather not go into that. Suppose we skip it if it’s al the same to you.’

  Creedy stared at me, then shrugged.

  ‘Sure. What are you going to do with the money you’l make out of the bridge?’

  I relaxed. That was an easy one.

  ‘Buy a house I guess. I might even build one.’

  Creedy closed his notebook.

  ‘Wel , I guess that’ll hold it for the moment. Don’t forget the banquet on Saturday.’

  When he had gone, we got down to work again. There was so much to do, I didn’t have time to think about this unexpected publicity until I was driving home.

  Then I began to worry.

  I now began to think of Rima not as someone in the dim past, but someone who could come into my present and my future.

  Suppose she spotted my photograph in the newspapers and recognised me? What would she do? It depended on the state she was in. Maybe by now she had had a cure and was living a decent, normal life.

  Maybe she was no longer alive. I told myself to quit worrying. She was in the past, and with any luck she would remain in the past.

  Sarita had dinner waiting for me when I walked into our three-room apartment.

  The sight of her waiting by a roaring fire, a shaker of dry Martinis on the table, and an atmosphere in the room that can only come from a woman who really cares for her man, quieted my uneasiness.

  I held her close to me, my face against hers, and I was thankful she was mine.

  ‘You look tired, Jeff. How has it been going?’

  ‘Pret y hectic. There’s still an awful lot to do.’ I kissed her and then dropped into the lounging chair.

  ‘It’s good to be home. There’s to be a banquet on Saturday night in our honour, and Jack and I have to go on television on Sunday.’

  She poured two cocktails.

  ‘Seems I have married a famous man.’

  ‘So it seems, but I know I have you to thank for it.’ I raised my glass to her. ‘You began the bridge.’

  ‘No – it was Chopin.’

  After dinner we sat by the fire. I was in the armchair and Sarita on the floor, her head against my knee.

  ‘Pretty soon,’ I said, ‘we’re going to have some money to burn. Creedy asked me what I was going to do with it. I said maybe I’d build a house. Would that be an idea?’

  ‘We wouldn’t have to build it, Jeff. I’ve seen a place that is exactly what we want.’

  ‘You’ve seen it? Where?’

  ‘It’s that lit le cot age up on Simeon’s Hil . It’s owned by Mr. Terrel . Last year he and his wife invited me out there for dinner. Oh, Jeff! It has everything, and it’s not too big.’

  ‘What makes you think it’s in the market?’

  ‘I met Mr. Terrell yesterday. He is taking his wife to live in Miami. She needs the sun. Of course it is for you to decide, but you must see it. I’m sure you’l love it.’

  ‘If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me. You don’t know what he wants for it?’

  ‘I’ll cal him tomorrow and ask him.’

  I wasn’t the only one of the firm who was planning to spend some money.

  When I got into the office the next morning, Jack told me he had ordered a Thunderbird.

  ‘Boy! Am I going to cut a dash!’ he exclaimed. ‘What’s money for unless you spend it? And another thing: it’s time I had some new furniture. Could you persuade Sarita to do something about it? I haven’t time to look after that myself.’

  ‘Have dinner with us tonight and persuade her yourself. There’s talk about us buying Terrell’s cot age on Simeon’s Hil . Sarita is making inquiries this morning.’

  He grinned at me.

  ‘We’ve arrived, pal! I’m get ing a big bang out of this.’ He gathered up a heap of papers and crammed them into his brief case. ‘I’ve got to get off. See you tonight.’

  I spent the morning interviewing contractors and working out costs. While I was eating a sandwich lunch, Creedy blew in with a couple of guys, one of them carrying a Rolleiflex camera and a flash equipment. The sight of the camera brought back my uneasiness.

  ‘These boys are from Life,’ Creedy said. ‘I’ve given them most of the dope. They just want some photographs of you working at your desk. Osborne around?’

  I said Jack was on the site.

  As I was speaking the camera man let off his flash.

  ‘Look, I don’t want my photograph in your paper,’ I said. ‘I…’

  ‘He’s shy,’ Creedy said, laughing. ‘Of course he does! Who wouldn’t want his photograph in Life!’

  The camera man went on popping off his flashlight. I
realised there was nothing I could do about it. I did put my hand up to my face to cover my scar, but the other fellow then showed interest in it.

  ‘Did you get that during the war, Mr. Hal iday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’d like a shot of it. Would you turn your face a lit le to the left?’

  ‘I don’t want it advertised,’ I said, curtly. ‘If it’s all right with you two, I have to get on with my job.’

  I saw Creedy looking at me, frowning, but I didn’t care.

  The two guys exchanged glances, then the camera man strolled to the door. The other one said, ‘You were at Holland City’s Plastic Hospital, weren’t you, Mr. Hal iday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Had a tough time?’

  ‘So did the others.’

  He grinned sympathetically.

  ‘I hear you play the piano. Is that right?’

  ‘When I have the time.’

  I had forgotten about the camera man and had taken my hand off my scar. The flash told me he hadn’t forgotten me. He moved out of the office, and the other fellow shook hands, said he had all he wanted and then he and Creedy went away.

  That spoilt my day’s work. I kept thinking of the photographs that would appear in Life. I kept wondering who of those I had known in Los Angeles would recognise Jeff Halliday as Jeff Gordon and wonder.

  I managed to shake off my mood of depression by the time Jack and I got home.

  Sarita was excited. She had talked to Mr. Terrell who had told her he was leaving in two months’

  time, and if we wanted the cottage we could have it.

  Sarita had arranged for us to go out there after dinner and inspect it.

  During dinner, Jack talked to her about how he wanted his penthouse furnished and Sarita promised to get it organised for him.

  The three of us drove out to Simeon’s Hil . As soon as I saw the cot age, perched on the hil with a big garden and a view over the river, I fell for it.

  But at the back of my mind now was a growing fear so I didn’t enthuse al that much about it.

  Inside, it was as perfect as Sarita had claimed it to be. It was exactly what we wanted: three bedrooms, a big lounge, a study, a kitchen with every push button device you could think of, and a built-in bar on the patio as well as a big brick oven for barbecues.

  The price was thirty thousand and it was cheap.

  ‘Boy!’ Jack exclaimed. ‘This is the place for you two! It’s as perfect as you could find anywhere.’

  He was right, but something warned me to be cautious. I asked if Mr. Terrell would let me think it over. He said he would give me a week to make up my mind.

  When Jack had left us and we were getting ready for bed, Sarita asked me if I didn’t like the cot age.

  ‘It’s fine, but I don’t want to rush into it. Suppose you go to Harcourt and see if he has anything like it on the market. We may as well take a look before closing with Terrell’s place. We have a week.’

  The next two days passed fast enough. I was working to capacity and Sarita was house hunting. She didn’t find anything, and I could see she was a lit le impatient with me for wanting her to look. She was so sold on Terrell’s place she just couldn’t believe there could be anything to beat it.

  She brought home a copy of Life. There was a biggish picture of me, sitting at my desk with the drooping eyelid and the scar very much in evidence.

  The caption ran as follows:

  ‘ War Veteran Jeff Halliday plans to build his own house after building Holland City’s six million dollar bridge. A good amateur pianist, he plays Chopin’s Nocturnes as a relaxation after a sixteen hour stint at his desk. ’

  That caption really bothered me. It was a complete giveaway if anyone who knew me as Jeff Gordon saw it, together with the photograph.

  The following night was the banquet. It was an ordeal for me, but I got through it without disgracing myself.

  Mathison said a lot of nice things about Jack and myself. He said the city had every confidence in us.

  He had watched us come up in the world, and he was sure we were going far, and that we would make a splendid bridge, and a lot more of that kind of guff.

  I looked across at Sarita while Mathison was sounding off. She was dewy eyed and very proud. We smiled at each other. It was one of the highlights of my life.

  Sunday was the television date.

  Sarita didn’t come to the studio. She said she preferred to watch me on our set at home.

  It went off all right. Creedy’s idea of having a scale model of the bridge was a good one. It al owed both Jack and myself to explain just how we were going to handle the job, and it proved to the taxpayers that a job of this size couldn’t be built without spending a great deal of money.

  During the interview, Creedy said, ‘It’s no secret that you two are getting a hundred and twenty thousand dollar fee for this job. What are you going to do with the money?’

  Jack said, ‘After I’ve given most of it to the tax col ector, I’m buying a car.’

  Creedy looked at me.

  ‘You, I understand, Mr. Hal iday, are planning a new home.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said.

  ‘Are you building it yourself?’

  ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

  ‘He has enough to do handling the bridge without thinking of building a house,’ Jack broke in, and the interview broke up in general laughter.

  As soon as the camera swung away from us, Creedy opened a bottle of champagne and we had drinks. I was itching to get home to Sarita, but I couldn’t break away too soon.

  ‘Wel , boys, I guess the bridge is launched,’ Creedy said. ‘Now, go ahead and build it.’

  We shook hands with him.

  One of the technicians came over.

  ‘You’re wanted on the telephone, Mr. Hal iday.’

  ‘I bet that’s his wife, cal ing to tel him how handsome he looked,’ Jack said. ‘I’l meet you downstairs.’

  He and Creedy walked out of the studio.

  For a moment I hesitated, then aware that the technician was looking curiously at me, I went to the telephone and picked up the receiver.

  I had an instinctive feeling who was calling. I was right.

  ‘Hel o,’ Rima said. ‘I’ve been watching your lit le performance. Congratulations.’

  I felt cold sweat start out on my forehead.

  People were buzzing around me. I had to be careful what I said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So you’re a rich man now.’

  ‘I can’t talk now.’

  ‘I didn’t expect you to. I’l meet you in the lobby of the Cal oway Hotel at ten o’clock. You had better be there.’

  I heard her break the connection, and slowly I replaced the receiver.

  I took out my handkerchief and wiped my sweating face. I knew I was as pale as death and I was shaking.

  ‘Anything wrong, Mr. Halliday?’

  ‘No. It’s al right.’

  ‘Maybe the heat from the lamps. You look pret y bad.’

  ‘I’ll get out into the open air. I’l be okay.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘No… no thanks. I’l be al right. It was just the heat.’

  I went out of the studio and down the stairs to where Jack and Creedy were waiting.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I

  I had trouble finding the Calloway Hotel. When finally I ran it to earth it turned out to be one of those dingy room-by-the-hour joints that are scattered along the waterfront of the Eastside of the river, and which are being continually closed down by the police, and as regularly opened up again under new management.

  After I had dropped Creedy at a restaurant where he was to meet his wife and Jack at his apartment, it was too late for me to go home and then recross the city to meet Rima by ten.

  So I called Sarita and told her I had to go to the office as Creedy wanted some figures for an article he was writing. I said I would be
having a snack with him and I wasn’t sure what time I would get home. I felt bad lying to her, but this was something I couldn’t tell her.

  I walked into the lobby of the Calloway Hotel a few minutes after ten.

  There was an old white haired negro behind the reception desk. There was a dusty palm in a tarnished brass bowl by the door. Five bamboo cane chairs stood around, looking as if they had never been sat in.

  An atmosphere of squalor brooded over the dismal scene.

  I paused and looked around.

  There was a shabbily dressed woman sitting in a corner in the only leather lounging chair, looking across at me, cigarette dropping from her over-made-up lips.

  I didn’t recognise Rima for a moment or so. Her hair was no longer silver: it was dyed a brick red and cut short in a ragamuffin style. She had on a black suit that was pretty well on its last legs. Her green shirt was grubby and had a washed-out, faded look.

  I walked slowly across the lobby watched by the old negro and stood before her. We looked at each other.

  The past years had been hard on her. Her face had an unhealthy pallor and was puffy. She looked older than her thirty years. The touches of rouge she had dabbed on her cheeks kidded no one except maybe herself. Her eyes were hard: the impersonal bleak eyes of a street walker: like stones dipped in blue-black ink.

  It was a shock to see how she had altered. When I had heard her voice over the telephone the image of her when last I had seen her had risen up in my mind, but this woman was a stranger to me, and yet I knew it was Rima. In spite of the red hair and the hardness there was no mistaking that it was she.

  I watched the stony eyes move swiftly over my suit and the raincoat I carried on my arm and at my shoes, then they shifted to my face.

  ‘Hel o, Jeff,’ she said. ‘Long time no see.’

  ‘We’d bet er go somewhere where we can talk,’ I said, aware that my voice sounded husky.

  She lifted her eyebrows.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to embarrass you. You’re the big wheel now. If your rich pals saw me with you they might jump to the wrong conclusions.’

  ‘We can’t talk here. Come out to the car.’