What`s Better Than Money

by James Hadley Chase

  She shook her head.

  ‘We’l talk here. Don’t worry about Joe. He’s as deaf as a post. Are you going to buy me a drink?’

  ‘You can have what you want.’

  She got up, crossed over to the reception desk and rang a bell by the negro, who shifted away from her, scowling at her.

  A man came out of a back room: a big, fat Italian with greasy black hair and a heavy stubble on his chin. He was wearing a dirty cowboy shirt and a pair of dirtier flannel trousers.

  ‘A bottle of Scotch, two glasses and charge water, Toni,’ Rima said, ‘and hurry it up.’

  The fat man stared at her.

  ‘Who’s paying for it?’

  She nodded to me.

  ‘He is. Hurry it up.’

  His black, blood-shot eyes roved over me, then he nodded and went back into the inner room.

  I pulled up one of the bamboo cane chairs and arranged it so I would sit near her when she came back to her chair and yet be able to see the entrance to the lobby. I sat down.

  She came back to her chair. As she walked I saw she had runs in both stockings and her shoes looked ready to fall to pieces.

  ‘Wel , it’s like old times, isn’t it?’ she said, sit ing down. ‘Except of course you’re married now.’ She took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, blowing smoke down her nostrils. ‘You’ve certainly done pret y well for yourself considering you could have spent all this time in a cell or maybe even by now you could be fertilising the soil of a prison yard.’

  The fat man came with the drinks. I paid him what he asked, and after looking curiously at me, he went away and back into the inner room.

  With an unsteady hand, she poured a big shot of whisky into one of the glasses, then pushed the bottle over to me.

  I didn’t touch it. I watched her drink half the whisky neat, then add charge water to what was left.

  ‘You haven’t much to say for yourself, have you?’ she said, looking at me. ‘How have you been getting on all these years? Ever think of me?’

  ‘I’ve thought about you,’ I said.

  ‘Ever wondered what I was doing?’

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘Did you keep that tape of me singing?’

  Long before I had got home, I had got rid of the tape; I hadn’t wanted anything to remind me of her.

  ‘It got lost,’ I said woodenly.

  ‘Did it? That’s a pity. It was a good tape.’ She took another drink. ‘It was worth a whale of a lot of money. I was hoping you had kept it and I could sell it.’

  It was coming now. I waited.

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘As you lost it, and you’ve made so much money, I don’t suppose you’l mind paying me for it.’

  ‘I’m not paying you anything,’ I said.

  She finished her drink and poured more whisky into her glass.

  ‘So you’re married. That’s a change for you, isn’t it? I thought you didn’t care for women.’

  ‘We’ll skip that, Rima. I don’t think there’s much point carrying on this conversation. You and I are in two different worlds. You had your chance. I’ve taken mine.’

  She slid her hand inside her grubby shirt to scratch her ribs. It was a gesture that brought the past back with an unpleasant impact.

  ‘Does your wife know you murdered a man?’ she asked, looking directly at me.

  ‘I didn’t murder a man,’ I said steadily. ‘And we’ll leave my wife out of this.’

  ‘Well, okay, if you’re so sure you didn’t, then you won’t mind if I go to the cops and tell them you did.’

  ‘Look, Rima,’ I said, ‘you know as well as I do, you shot the guard. No one would take your word against mine now. So let’s skip it.’

  ‘When I saw your photo in Life, in that fine office, I couldn’t believe my luck,’ she said. ‘I just managed to get here in time to catch your TV performance. So you’re going to pick up sixty thousand dollars. That’s a whale of a lot of money. How much are you going to give me?’

  ‘Not a dime,’ I said. ‘Is that plain enough?’

  She laughed.

  ‘Oh, but you are. You are going to compensate me for losing that tape. I reckon it is worth sixty thousand. It’s probably worth more.’

  ‘You heard what I said, Rima. If you try to blackmail me, I’ll hand you over to the police.’

  She finished her drink and sat, nursing her glass, as her stony eyes moved over my face.

  ‘I’ve kept the gun, Jeff,’ she said. ‘The L.A. cops have a description of you on their files. They know the man they want for murder has a drooping right eyelid and a scar along the side of his jaw. All I have to do is to walk into the nearest Station house and tell them you and I are the ones they are looking for.

  When I give them the gun, you’ll find yourself in the death row. It’s as easy and as simple as that.’

  ‘Not quite,’ I said. ‘You would be an accessory to murder even if they did believe your story against mine. You would also go to jail. Don’t forget that!’

  She leaned back and laughed. It was a harsh, horrible sound.

  ‘You poor sap! Do you imagine I would care if I went to jail? Take a look at me! What have I got to lose? I’m washed-up! I’ve lost what looks I ever had. I can’t sing a note now. I’m a junky, always on the hunt for some money to buy a shot. Why should I care if I went to jail? I’d be better off than I am now!’

  She leaned forward, her face suddenly changing to a vicious harshness, ‘But you’d care if you went to jail! You have everything to lose! You want to build that bridge, don’t you? You want a new home, don’t you? You want to go on sleeping with that nice wife of yours, don’t you? You want to hang onto your position in life, don’t you? You have everything. I have nothing. If you don’t toe the line, Jeff, we’ll go to jail together. I mean that. Don’t think I’m bluffing. What’s better than money? I want it and I’m going to have it. You’re going to pay or we go to jail!’

  I stared at her. What she had said was true. She had nothing to lose. She was at the bottom of civilised existence. I could even believe she would be better off in jail.

  I had to try to frighten her, but I knew it was hopeless.

  ‘They’d give you at least ten years. How would you like to be locked up in a cell for ten years without any dope?’

  She laughed at me.

  ‘How would you like to be locked up in a cell for twenty years without your nice wife? I couldn’t care. Maybe they would cure me. How do you imagine I’ve been living these past years? How do you imagine I have managed to scrape up the money to buy my shots? I’ve been walking the streets. You think about it. You try to imagine that nice wife of yours coping with men every night. You can’t scare me with the thoughts of jail, but I can scare you! Jail would be like a home to me after what I’ve been through! You either pay up or we go to jail!’

  Looking at the desperate, degenerate face I knew I was caught. There was a case against me. Maybe I might beat the murder rap, but I was certain to land in jail. My fear turned to a smouldering rage. I had come so far. I was now right at the top. Until she had telephoned, my future was assured. Now I was in her trap. She had only to crack her whip and I would have to obey. I was sure she planned to bleed me white.

  ‘Well, all right,’ I said. ‘I’ll give you some money. I’ll give you five thousand dollars. That’s all I can spare. Think yourself damn lucky to get it.’

  ‘Oh no, Jeff. I have a score to settle with you. I haven’t forgotten how you once treated me.’ She put her hand to her face. ‘No sonofabitch slaps me without paying for it. I’m dictating the terms. That tape you lost is going to cost you sixty thousand dollars. I want ten thousand this week. Ten thousand on the first of the month and thirty thousand on the following month and ten thousand as a final payment.’

  I felt a rush of blood to my head, but I kept control of myself.

  ‘No!’

  She laughed.

  ‘All right: please
yourself. You think it over, Jeff. I’m not bluffing. You either pay up or we go to jail.

  That’s the proposition. Please yourself.’

  I thought about it. I could see no way out. I was caught. I knew it wouldn’t stop there. Once she had run through the sixty thousand, she would come back for more. The only escape from her continual blackmail would be if she died. I suddenly realised that if I were to live the life I wanted to live I would have to kill her.

  The thought didn’t shock me. I had no feeling for her. She was a depraved, degenerate animal. It would be like killing some disgusting insect.

  I opened my cigarette case, took out a cigarette and lit it. My hands were rock steady.

  ‘Looks as if you have me over a barrel,’ I said. ‘Well, all right. I’ll get the ten thousand. I’ll have it ready for you by tomorrow. If you will meet me outside here at this time, I’ll give it to you.’

  She smiled at me: it was a smile that chilled my heart.

  ‘I know what you are planning, Jeff. I’ve thought this thing out. I’ve had plenty of time to think while you have been so busy making money. I put myself in your place. How would I react, I asked myself, if I were you and found myself in such a fix?’ She let smoke drift out of her open mouth as she paused, then she went-on, ‘First, I would try to find a way out. It wouldn’t take me very long to realise there is no way out except one way.’ She leaned forward and stared at me. ‘The same idea has occurred to you, hasn’t it? The only way out is for me to be dead, and you’re already planning to kill me, aren’t you?’

  I sat motionless, staring at her. The blood drained out of my face and my body felt damp and cold.

  ‘I’ve taken care of that angle,’ she went on, and opened her shabby handbag. She took out a scrap of paper and flicked it into my lap. ‘You’ll mail the cheques to this address. It’s the address of the Pacific and Union Bank of Los Angeles. It’s not my bank, but they have been told to credit my account somewhere else and you won’t know where it is. I’m taking no chances with you. There’ll be no way for you to find out where my bank is or where I’ll be living. So don’t imagine you are going to murder me, Jeff, because you’ll never find me after tonight.’

  I kept control of the urge that made me want to fasten my hands around her throat and choke the life out of her.

  ‘You seem to have thought of everything, haven’t you?’ I said.

  ‘I think I have.’ She held out her hand. ‘Give me your wallet. I want some money right now.’

  ‘You can go to hell,’ I said.

  She smiled at me.

  ‘Remember years ago when you asked me for my purse and you took every dollar I had? Give me your wallet, Jeff, or we’ll take a walk to the Station house.’

  We stared at each other for a long moment, then I took out my wallet and dropped it into her lap.

  That morning I had been to the bank. I had two hundred dollars in the wallet. She took the lot and then tossed the wallet onto the table.

  She got up, putting the money in her bag and she crossed the lobby to the reception desk and rang the bell.

  The fat Italian came out of the inner room. She spoke to him. I couldn’t hear what she was saying.

  She gave him some money. He grinned at her, nodding, then went back into the inner room.

  She came back to me.

  ‘I’m leaving now. You won’t see me again unless you try something smart. You will send a cheque sometimes this week for the ten thousand dollars to the Los Angeles bank. On the first of the month you will send another cheque for ten thousand. The following month you will send me a cheque for thirty thousand. The month after that, another cheque for ten thousand. Have you got that?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, thinking if she was leaving now I must follow her. I was sure if I lost her now, I would never find her again. ‘But don’t imagine it’s going to be all that easy.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  The fat Italian, followed by two hard looking characters, came out of the inner room and grouped themselves in front of the entrance to the hotel.

  I was on my feet now.

  ‘I’ve asked these boys to keep you here until I drop out of sight,’ Rima said. ‘I wouldn’t start anything with them. They’re tough.’

  The two men with the fat Italian were both young and strong looking. One of them, with a lot of blond limp hair, wore a leather jacket and had leather patches on the knees of his trousers. The other, with a brutal hammered face of an ex-boxer, was in a filthy white shirt, the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans.

  ‘So long,’ Rima said to me. ‘Don’t forget our little arrangement or we’ll be meeting again in a place you won’t like.’

  She picked up a battered suitcase that was standing, out of sight, behind her chair and walked across the lobby.

  I remained motionless.

  The three men stared at me, also motionless.

  Rima went out of the hotel, and I saw her walk briskly down the steps and away into the darkness.

  After a moment or so, the blond tough said, ‘Should we rough this mug up a little, Battler? Work him over a little?’

  The other snorted through his broken nose.

  ‘Why not? I ain’t had any exercise for weeks.’

  The fat Italian said sharply, ‘None of that stuff. He stays here for five minutes, then he goes. No one touches him.’

  The blond tough spat on the floor.

  ‘You’re the boss.’

  We all stood there while the minutes ticked away. After what seemed a lot longer than five minutes, the fat Italian said, ‘Come on. Let’s get back to the game.’

  The three of them slouched back into the inner room, leaving me alone with the old negro.

  He stared at me, rubbing the back of his head with a large, black hand.

  ‘I guess you’re leading a charmed life, mister,’ he said. ‘Those guys are mean.’

  I went out into the night and got into my car.

  II

  As I drove across the City towards my home, my mind was active.

  There seemed no way out of this trap. It would be impossible to find Rima again now. She could continue to blackmail me in safety and out of my reach. I would have to give her all the money I would earn from the bridge job and then more. I knew she would continue to blackmail me for the rest of her days.

  I realised that Terrell’s cottage was now just a pipe dream. How was I going to explain this to Sarita?

  It was the thought of Sarita that stiffened my back bone. I slowed the car and pulled up at the kerb.

  I couldn’t take this lying down, I told myself, and a hot wave of rage ran through me. I must find a way out.

  For several minutes I sat staring through the windshield at the mass of traffic moving ahead of me, trying to calm my jumping nerves. Finally, I did get control of myself and I was able to think more coolly.

  Rima had given me the address of a Los Angeles bank. Did this mean that she was leaving Holland City for Los Angeles or was it just a trick to throw me off her trail?

  I had to find her again. It was my only hope of survival. I had to find her and then silence her.

  I started the car moving and drove fast to the Ritz-Plaza hotel, a couple of blocks ahead. Leaving the car outside, I went in and made my way to the Travel Bureau.

  The girl in charge smiled brightly at me.

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Is there a ’plane out to Los Angeles tonight?’

  ‘Not now, sir. The first plane out would be ten twenty-five tomorrow morning.’

  ‘How about a train?’

  She picked up a time-table, flicked through the pages, then nodded.

  ‘There’s a train at eleven forty. If you hurry, you could catch it.’

  I thanked her and went back to my car.

  I drove fast to the railroad station, parked and walked to the Information Bureau. The time was now half past eleven. They told me the Los Angeles train was due in at Platform 3.

  Moving cau
tiously, and looking out for Rima, I went to Platform 3. I stopped by the news-stand near the entrance to the platform. The gates were still closed. There was a group of people waiting. There was no sign of Rima. I waited, keeping out of sight until the gates were opened. After a ten-minute wait I watched the train pull out. I was sure Rima wasn’t on board.

  I walked back to my car. It had been a shot in the dark, and it hadn’t come off. Tomorrow would be hopeless. I couldn’t cover both the airport and the railroad station. Anyway, it was more possible that she had given me the Los Angeles bank address to throw me off her trail. She could be planning to settle anywhere. My cheque would go to the Los Angeles bank, and they would send it on to any town in the country. It seemed an impossible task to find her.

  I got in my car and drove home. As I walked from the elevator to my apartment I glanced at my wrist watch. The time was five minutes after midnight. With any luck, Sarita would be in bed. I was in such a depressed, angry mood I didn’t want to talk to her tonight.

  But my luck was out, as I opened the front door I saw the light was on in the lounge.

  ‘Jeff?’

  Sarita came to the door as I took off my raincoat.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ I said. ‘I thought you would be in bed.’

  ‘I’ve been waiting up for you. I thought you would never come.’ The note in her voice made me look sharply at her. I could see she was excited about something. ‘Do you want anything to eat?’

  Although I had had no dinner, the thought of food sickened me.

  ‘I’ve had all I want, thanks. What’s the excitement about?’

  She linked her arm in mine and drew me into the lounge.

  ‘Mr. Terrell telephoned a couple of hours ago. He wants an immediate decision. He has had an offer for the cottage. It’s ten thousand more than he asked us. He’s so kind. He said he would like us to have it and he is offering it to us at the original price, but we must let him know right away.’

  I moved from her and sat down.

  Well, here it was. I was in it up to my neck before I had time to recover from the first body blow.

  ‘He said he would give me a week,’ I said, taking out my cigarette case and lighting a cigarette.