1952 - The Wary Transgressor

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1952 - The Wary Transgressor Page 21

by James Hadley Chase


  "Do what I tell you! Go at once!"

  "There's nothing I can do," I said. "I'm going over to Stresa now. I have a date with a friend. You'll have to use Bicci's car if it's so important."

  She could see her whole carefully prepared plan blowing up in her face.

  She stood staring at me, and I could read her mind as easily as if she were putting into words what she was thinking.

  In another three minutes Bellini would be here, and I would run into him. Bellini must be stopped.

  That was what she was thinking.

  She turned quickly towards the radiogram. If she turned that of, Bellini would go back.

  My hand closed round the head of the Dante bust.

  She was reaching for the switch as I caught hold of her shoulder and spun her round.

  She stared at me, her face convulsed with rage. She saw the bust in my hand. She saw I was wearing gloves. Her eyes met mine. In that second of life that was left to her she seemed able to read in my eyes what I was about to do, and how I had beaten her at her own game.

  Her scarlet mouth opened to scream. A vicious, frightened gleam came into her eyes, the way a wild animal looks when trapped.

  She flung up her arm to protect her head, but I caught her wrist, and then hit her on the side of her head with all my force.

  The shock of the blow ran up my arm. The corner of the pedestal sank into her skull, and I felt something warm and wet spray my face. I dropped the bust as she fell forward, her fingers clawing at my shirt.

  I flung her off.

  She fell on her side and rolled over on her back, her skirt coming up over her thighs.

  I stood over her. My breath was coming in great laboured gasps, and sweat ran into my eyes, blinding me.

  I didn't have to touch her to know she was dead. No one could look like that and not be dead.

  I stood for two or three seconds, gulping in air, then making an effort and trying not to look at the widening circle of blood that soaked her glossy, copper-coloured hair, I jerked the pearl necklace from her throat, and walked unsteadily to the door.

  The moon came up over the hills and shed a white brilliance on the still water of the Lago.

  I stood in the doorway of the boathouse and looked across the water. About a quarter of a mile away I could just make out a small rowing boat heading towards me, and I drew in a long, slow breath of relief.

  The boat couldn't reach the harbour for at least a quarter of an hour. Bellini, in spite of his promise, in spite of his assurance, was late!

  I leaned against the wall of the boathouse. My legs were unsteady, and my heart beat so violently I thought I was going to suffocate.

  I wanted to run away. The thought of having to tackle Bellini now filled me with horror.

  "Chisholm?"

  The shock of hearing the soft voice near me was so great that I nearly fainted. I looked slowly in the direction of the voice; slowly, like a man, expecting to see a ghost, who hears a suspicious noise behind him.

  Moving towards me, from out of the shadow of the willows, I saw the tall bony figure of Dr. Perelli.

  "Chisholm?"

  "Yes."

  "Come under cover. What are you doing here?"

  The radiogram continued to blast out swing music, and I could scarcely hear what he was saying. I was so scared I couldn't move.

  He caught hold of my arm.

  "That fellow Bellini's on his way over," he said urgently. "Get under cover. I don't want him to spot us."

  I let him lead me into the shadows.

  "Why did you come down here, Chisholm?"

  And I had been crazy enough to think it was all going my way.

  "I wanted to tell signora Fancino about the car."

  My voice came out as a gasping croak.

  "Did you see her?"

  "No. The door was locked. I couldn't make her hear."

  "That's good. I was afraid you might have warned her. Do you know what she is planning to do?"

  "Planning to do?" I repeated stupidly. "What do you mean?"

  "She and Bellini plan to murder Valeria tonight. He's on his way over now," Perelli said. "I've set a trap for him. The place is surrounded by police."

  I didn't say anything. My heart seemed scarcely to beat.

  "The woman's unbalanced," Perelli went on. "I've always been uneasy about her. It's quite unbelievable. It was she who caused Bruno's accident. She tampered with the brakes. She wants his money, of course. She has persuaded Bellini to murder Valeria tonight, and then she plans to murder Bruno. She is arranging it that you will be accused of Valeria's death. It's an incredible plot."

  "How do you know this?" I said, forcing the words out.

  "She couldn't resist telling Bruno what she was going to do. She thought she was safe as he couldn't speak. But the shock and worry gave him back his speech. I told you if he tried hard enough he would regain his speech. He told me in time to take the necessary precautions."

  I thought of her up there in the boathouse, and I drew in a long, shuddering breath.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" I said.

  "I was afraid you wouldn't play your part well enough. I wanted to catch them red-handed. Besides, it wasn't until yesterday that I learned the full story about you, Chisholm. Up to yesterday you were also a suspect."

  I stared at him, blood hammering in my temples.

  "What do you mean?"

  "She told Bruno you had killed some woman in Florence during the war. I went to the American Embassy to find out details."

  He glanced over his shoulder. "Captain Boos, will you come here, please?"

  A man came out from behind the trees.

  "Hello, Chisholm."

  I recognized him as he came out of the darkness: the man in the white shirt, only now he was wearing uniform.

  "I'm John Boos of the Provost Marshal's office. We've been hunting all over for you," he went on. "Didn't you ever see our adverts in the Press? I thought we'd never find you. It's all all right. We caught Costain doing another of his little jobs about a year ago, and he told us he had pushed that Florence killing on to you. You have nothing to worry about now. You're in the clear."

  I stood like a statue, unable to move nor speak, staring at him.

  "He's coming now," Perelli whispered, and pushed me back against the wall.

  The rowing boat was only a hundred yards or so from the shore, but it wasn't Bellini in the boat. The man who rowed was smaller, and as he came closer I could see he wore the peaked cap of the polizia.

  "Now What's gone wrong?" Boos muttered to Perelli, and walked out on to the wall.

  The police officer pulled alongside.

  "Bellini's been knifed," he said, looking up at Boos. "He's dead. From the way he was cut it looks like a Mafia job."

  "Hell!" Boos exclaimed. "That upsets your trap, doctor. What are you going to do now?"

  "I'll go up and talk to her," Perelli said grimly. "She may give herself away. I'd like you to come with me," he went on to the police officer as he climbed up on to the harbour wall.

  "I wish she would stop that damned noise," Boos said, looking up at the lighted window. He put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm glad about you, Chisholm. You must have had a pretty rough time. But you're okay now. I'll take you to Milan and fix a passport for you. If you want to go home, say the word. We'll cover all expenses."

  I was too stunned even to think. In a few minutes they would find her up there. If I was going to get away, I would have to go now. But I remained where I was, crushed by what I had heard.

  I need not have killed her. If only they had told me!

  "You coming, Captain Boos?" Perelli asked.

  "I guess not. I had better keep out of it. I'll stay here with Chisholm."

  Perelli and the police officer went into the boathouse.

  Boos took out a cigarette, lit it and glanced at me in the flame of the match. I saw the startled look of shock jump into his eyes.

  "What's this? Have you h
urt yourself?"

  I didn't say anything.

  The beam of his flashlight lit up my face.

  "You have blood all over you. What have you done?"

  "Why couldn't you have told me?" I said savagely. "Why didn't you tell me yesterday I was in the clear?"

  He caught hold of my arm.

  "Have you killed her?"

  "Yes, I've killed her. I thought it was the only way out for Valeria and me. I killed her because you kept your damned mouth shut!"

  Boos hesitated.

  "They wouldn't catch you in the motorboat," he said under his breath. "I'll go up and keep them talking. Get the boat and go. From what I've heard about her, she didn't deserve anything better."

  Upstairs the music stopped abruptly.

  "Get going!" he urged.

  I thought of the past six years of hiding. Then I had always a hope that Costain would be caught and I would eventually be in the clear. Now, I had no such hope. I should be in hiding for the rest of my days.

  "Where do you think I'd go? What have I got to live for?" I said. "I've been on the run now for six years; do you think I want a lifetime of it?"

  "Don't talk; get going!"

  "Don't kid yourself you're doing me a favour," I said. "I'm staying here, and I'll take what comes to me."

  Perelli appeared at the window and leaned out.

  "Captain Boos! Don't let that man get away!"

  Boos lifted his heavy shoulders in an uneasy shrug.

  "He's not trying to get away," he said, and walked over to the boathouse.

  I stood on the harbour wall, looking across the still waters of the Lago, feeling more alone than I had ever felt before in my life.

  THE END

 

 

 


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