1952 - The Wary Transgressor

by James Hadley Chase

  I got up and walked down the passage to the little bathroom.

  I took a cold bath, and then shaved. My hand was steady, and I didn't cut myself. I didn't even nick my skin, although I expected to.

  I dressed and went downstairs.

  Signorina Bicci put two fried trout before me and a pot of strong coffee.

  Bicci was already serving petrol. I could see him through the window turning the pump handle while he chatted with a truck driver.

  After breakfast I went down to the water's edge and smoked a cigarette. The Lago looked very beautiful in the bright morning sunshine; the water was still and blue, and the sky was full of lazy white clouds.

  Around eight o'clock I walked up to the villa.

  Nurse Fleming, out of uniform, and looking surprisingly smart in a grey dress and a small straw hat, was waiting impatiently on the verandah.

  "I thought you were going to be late this morning," she said tartly.

  "I'm never late. Bicci's bringing the car up right away."

  I followed her into Bruno's bedroom. She had already washed and shaved him, and he looked at me with alert eyes as I gave him a stiff little bow.

  "Good morning, signore," I said. "I hope you are feeling stronger this morning."

  "He is making good progress," Nurse Fleming said, wheeling the chair to the bed, "But he had rather a restless night."

  I lifted him from his bed to the chair and stood aside while she covered him over, then I wheeled the chair on to the verandah.

  Laura was waiting by the verandah rails. She gave me a swift, searching look, and said good morning in a cold, flat voice.

  "You might carry Nurse Fleming's bag to the car, David," she said.

  "Yes, signora," I said.

  Tonight, I thought, looking at her, I shall kill you. These are your last hours on earth. Enjoy them: be charitable: don't look so cold and irritable. In thirteen more hours you will be dead. You could live a lifetime today if you tried hard enough, but instead, you will continue to scheme and plot and think about the money you imagine you are going to have. You will wait impatiently for the hours to pass, instead of trying to delay time, and make full use of the life that is left to you.

  "David! Did you hear me!"

  I started.

  "I beg your pardon, signora," I said, and turned away.

  I saw Nurse Fleming staring at me uneasily. I knew Laura was looking after me as I moved along the verandah. I didn't care.

  It was too late now for her to do anything. The trap was sprung.

  I took Nurse Fleming's handbag down the path to the waiting car and put it on the seat beside Bicci.

  She came out and got into the car.

  "Be careful you don't jolt him while I am away," she said, as the car began to move.

  "I'll take good care of that," I said, and stood watching the old car bounce and bump down the dusty road.

  Well, the curtain had gone up. The first opening move in my plan, and also in Laura's plan, was now made. Nurse Fleming had gone. The next move would be Maria's departure. Then the other moves would follow swiftly. But until Maria had left the villa, the curtain would remain up on an empty stage.

  I took Bicci's boat and a rod and cruised of shore. When I got about five hundred yards from the harbour I cut the engine and put out a line.

  The sun was hot, and reflected from the water up on to my face. Away in the clear distance I could see the fishing boats going over to the Pescatori from the night's fishing. I wondered if Bellini was out of bed yet, and my eyes strayed to my wristwatch.

  Eight forty-five. It had been eight forty-five for the past hour it seemed. Minutes were going to be hours; hours, months. I hunched my shoulders and tried to empty my mind of thought.

  The boat drifted a little. A small puddle of dirty water in the bottom of the boat threatened to wash over my feet.

  I saw Valeria come down the harbour steps. She was wearing a yellow swimsuit. She looked very young as she stood on the harbour wall while she put on her bathing cap. It was the first time I realized she had a good figure: as good as Laura's, but it didn't turn my mouth dry or set my heart thumping as Laura's had. My feelings weren't like that about Valeria. She was going to be my woman; there would be time to get feelings like that when she was really mine.

  I watched her dive into the water and swim lazily towards me.

  When she was about fifty yards from the harbour she turned back.

  I realized she hadn't noticed me in the small green boat, and I was glad. I didn't want to have to talk to her until this thing was over.

  I watched her swing herself on to the wall, and then run up the harbour steps, pulling of her cap as she ran. I watched her all the way up to the villa, and then lost sight of her.

  I played with the rod, jerking the line, while I thought about her. Thinking of her and our future together was like looking at the Taj Mahal by moonlight.

  Around ten-thirty, the man in the white shirt who had so startled me by asking me if I had ever been to General Costain's Headquarters went past in his motorboat.

  He had a girl with him: a blonde with a dumpy figure. She wore a green frock that didn't suit her complexion. She looked the type of girl an Army sergeant would marry; a girl who would want a lot of kids.

  He waved to me, giving me a broad, friendly grin. I waved back, but my smile was stiff at the edges. I watched the boat go on towards Pallanza, and when it was out of sight I drew in a long, shuddering breath.

  It was all right, I told myself. He hadn't been thinking about me. He hadn't really recognized me. He couldn't have given me that grin if he thought I was Sergeant David Chisholm, deserter and murderer.

  I flicked the line and hunched my shoulders.

  It was going to work out all right, I told myself. He had been the one man I was scared of: the unforeseen event. Now, nothing would upset my plan.

  It was like looking at a red traffic light and seeing it turn to green.

  I kept away from the villa during the heat of the afternoon.

  From two until four I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, forcing my mind to stay empty, and counting the flies as they walked up the walls and across the ceiling.

  I couldn't sleep. I knew as soon as I relaxed, my mind would be filled with pictures of what was going to happen at nine o'clock this night. I had to make a continuous effort not to think, and counting flies seemed as good an occupation in this heat as any.

  A little after four I went down to the garage.

  Bicci was fitting a set of new plugs into the engine of a truck.

  I hung around, watching him, and making meaningless conversation. He was a difficult man to talk to as he never had any opinions of his own. He always agreed with anything I said, no matter how stupid or outrageous.

  I soon got tired of talking to him, and I went down to the shore and began to throw pebbles into the water. Every so often I would glance at my watch. Once I even held it to my ear, sure it had stopped, but it hadn't.

  It seemed impossible for time to move so slowly.

  Finally, I decided I had to do something to kill the remaining four hours or I would go crazy. I pushed Bicci's boat into the water, started up the engine and headed towards Stresa.

  I took it slowly, chuntering through the water at half throttle, keeping my mind empty.

  The vaporetto passed me on its way to Pallanza. A number of tourists, lining the rail, stared at me as if they had never seen a man in a boat before.

  I altered course slightly so I would be able to circle the Pescatori.

  I went in fairly close. On the shore, sitting on an upturned boat, a cigar between his teeth, was Bellini, sunning himself and scowling.

  As I swung the nose of the boat away from the island I saw him look at his wristwatch. Laura would be in the villa, looking from time to time at her watch: three people waiting for nine o'clock: three people with murder in their minds.

  As I passed the Isola Bella I saw the man in the white shir
t and his wife standing on the terrace, looking at the set gardens below.

  Hearing my boat, he glanced up, said something to his wife, and waved.

  I waved back.

  He beckoned, inviting me to land, but I shook my head, pointing to my wristwatch. I wasn't going to give him the chance of asking more questions.

  I pushed open the throttle and went on towards Stresa, but I didn't land. Keeping close to the shore, I went the length of the promenade, watching the crowds as they hung over the rails, seeing the carriages and the cars dawdling in the sunshine. Then I swung the boat away from the shore and headed back to the villa.

  It was half past six when I ran the boat alongside the landing stage. As I got out I heard someone running across the beach. I glanced up. It was Valeria.

  "Where have you been all day?" she asked, smiling at me. "I've hunted everywhere for you."

  "Over to Stresa," I said, and on the spur of the moment went on, "Bicci wanted some spare parts. I hadn't anything to do so I went over for him."

  "Let's go in the shade, David. I want to talk to you."

  "Is she up there, looking after him?"

  "Yes. I'm on night duty."

  "Did she arrange that?"

  She gave me a surprised look.

  "Well, she did suggest it."

  I went with her across the beach to the shade of the willows.

  "I have news for you, David."

  I stiffened.

  "Good news?"

  "Yes, darling; wonderful news,"

  She sat on a rock, pulling me down beside her.

  "I've talked to Bruno."'

  "Not about us?"

  "Not exactly. I talked to him about the job. He wants you to do it, David."

  I sat still for a moment, feeling a tingle of triumph run up my spine. Who said it wasn't going to work out all right? Each step was going my way: first the man in the white shirt, and now this, "Are you sure, Valeria?"

  "Yes. I could tell by his eyes. He was delighted."

  "You didn't say anything about us?"

  "Oh, no. That must come later." She swung round to look at me. "Are you pleased, darling?"

  "Pleased? That's not the word. It's terrific!"

  "I shall have to talk to Dr. Perelli. He has all Bruno's papers, but as Bruno agrees, Dr. Perelli won't raise any objections."

  "So I don't have to go on Monday?"

  "Of course not. You'll have a room in the villa too. I'll get it ready for you tomorrow, darling. You'll need a desk. We can go into Milan and choose one."

  "I don't see why I shouldn't continue to lift Bruno," I said. "What's the point in having someone strange to do it when I'm on the spot? We'll tell Dr. Perelli not to send his man."

  She slipped her hand into mine.

  "We'll be able to see each other more often. You'll be working in the house. Oh, David, I'm so pleased!"

  I took her in my arms.

  "What will Laura say?"

  "What does it matter what she says?" Valeria asked. "It's nothing to do with her."

  Well, anyway, it wouldn't be anything to do with her by tomorrow.

  I pulled Valeria to me and kissed her.

  A few minutes to half past seven, Valeria and I went up to the villa.

  Laura was sitting on the verandah, reading. Bruno lay on his chair, his eyes on the distant peak of the Motterone.

  "Is it as late as all that?" Laura said, closing her book. She looked at her wristwatch. "It's time you went in, Bruno. Valeria will stay with you this evening. I'm going down to the boathouse after dinner. A session of swing music will do me good, and I know you don't want to listen to that."

  Bruno looked at her, his eyes alert, but her cold expressionless face told him nothing. I wheeled the chair into the bedroom as she moved of down the verandah to her room.

  "I can't thank you enough, signore, for giving me this opportunity," I said to Bruno after I had lifted him on to the bed. "I'll do my best to carry on your work the way you want it done."

  His eyes smiled, then went to Valeria and back to me again.

  "We'll talk about it in the morning," Valeria said, touching Bruno's forehead lightly. "He's had a long day, and I think he should rest now. Go and have supper, David. What are you doing tonight?"

  I was glad I was standing with my back to the light, and I didn't have to meet her eyes.

  "If you don't want me for anything, I'll do a little night fishing."

  "Look in about ten-thirty before I go to bed," she said, "and see how I'm getting along. I think Bruno should sleep now. Don't make a noise when you come in."

  "Does he realize how grateful I am to him?" I asked as we moved away from the bed to the verandah.

  "You don't have to be grateful. You'll be helping him. He's been worrying about his notes."

  "Well, tell him not to worry anymore."

  I realized as we stood side by side by the verandah rail that the next time I saw her it would be over.

  I touched her hand.

  "I love you, Valeria."

  "It's lovely to know that, and I love you too."

  I left her and walked along the verandah to the garden steps.

  Laura appeared from her room.

  "Oh, David, something has gone wrong with the car," she said, coming to me. "I don't know what it is. The starter doesn't work. Would you look at it after dinner? I have an early appointment in Milan tomorrow."

  You have no appointment tomorrow, nor any other morning, I thought, turning to look at her.

  Her face was as hard as chiselled marble, and her eyes were glittering.

  "Yes, I'll look at it."

  "Will you try to put it right?"

  "I'll put it right."

  "If I could be certain of having the car for tomorrow morning . . ."

  "I'll put it right."

  She gave me a long, hard stare, then went back into her room.

  The time was eight thirty-five. From the open garage door I watched Maria as she walked down the path to the gate.

  I watched her move slowly and heavily down the road until she was out of sight. I had now only twenty-five minutes before I went into action. I had the automatic in my hip pocket. The sandbag was inside my shirt. I was steady, and my nerves were surprisingly calm, but I had that sick feeling of tension in the pit of my stomach that had been worrying me all day.

  I glanced towards the villa. Laura was coming along the verandah, heading towards me.

  I picked up a screwdriver and went back to the car. When she came into the garage I looked busily at work.

  "Have you found out what's wrong?" she asked, standing in the doorway.

  I turned to look at her.

  She was standing with the fading light behind her, as she had stood that day in Piero's trattoria, and I could see the shape of her slim legs and rounded thighs through her skirt.

  She was wearing her pearls, and again I felt a little tingle of triumph run up my spine. Another step going my way, I realized with a sick sense of shock that I had forgotten about the pearls.

  I would have gone down to the boathouse without them, and I should have been without a motive to pin on Bellini.

  But it was going my way. She had corrected my first mistake.

  "Someone's been playing a game," I said. "The ignition is all messed up. It'll take me half the night to put it right."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, I'm sure. If you want the car by tomorrow morning, you'd better let me get on with the job. Every lead has to be traced. It's a swell mix-up."

  "Do what you can, please."

  "I'll fix it."

  I heard her go away as I bent over the engine. I waited a a moment or two, then straightened up. She was already halfway down the garden, heading for the boathouse.

  I put down the screwdriver, walked over to the bench and wiped my hands clean on a lump of waste. Then I pulled on the gloves I had bought.

  I looked at my watch. It was now eight forty-five.

  I ga
ve her three minutes to get down the steps and enter the boathouse, then I went after her.

  The light was fading rapidly now.

  The sun had gone down behind the row of hills ten minutes or so ago, casting a red glow over the Lago and the edges of the peaks.

  I was wearing rubber-soled sneakers. I made no sound as I went down the steps to the harbour. When I was within sight of the boathouse I paused to listen.

  I could see the light coming through the big open window, and a moment later the sound of swing music came surging out into the silent night air, powerful and penetrating, and increasing in volume as Laura adjusted the control.

  Bellini couldn't be far away now, I thought as I went quickly down the steps and reached the entrance to the boathouse. I paused to look across the Lago, but it was now too dark to pick out a small boat that might be heading this way.

  I checked my watch.

  It was now nine minutes to nine o'clock.

  I went up the stairs to the apartment, reached the front door and touched it lightly with my fingers. It was locked.

  I took out the duplicate key. My hand was steady, and I sank the key into the lock at the first attempt. I had no fear of her hearing me. The radiogram was now at full blast. I had no fear that she would be heard if she screamed.

  I turned the key and gently pushed open the door.

  She was kneeling on the window seat, looking out of the window, her back turned to me, her hands on the sill.

  I closed the door.

  "Laura."

  I had to raise my voice to get above the sound of the music.

  I saw her shudder, then she pushed herself away from the window and whirled round. Her face was the colour of old ivory, and her eyes were wide with shock, fear and sick rage.

  "What are you doing here?" she gasped, taking an unsteady step towards me.

  "I thought I'd better come down," I said. "I can't fix the car."

  She looked quickly at the clock on the overmantel. Panic and rage made her ugly.

  "Go back to the garage and try again!" she said violently. "Don't come here, worrying me! It's your job to fix it!"

  I moved across to the overmantel, my eyes on the Dante bust.

  "I can't do impossibilities."

  We were both raising our voices to get above the sound of the music.