You Find Him, I'll Fix Him

by James Hadley Chase

“Il signor Giuseppe Maletti.”

  “Here - in Naples?”

  “Yes.”

  Chalmers nodded.

  “Where is my daughter’s body?”

  “At the Sorrento mortuary.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “Of course. There will be no difficulty. If you will let me know when, I will take you there.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I don’t like people following me around. Dawson will take me.”

  “As you wish, signor.”

  “Just fix it with whoever is in charge that I can see her.” Chalmers took out a new cigar and began to peel off the band. For the first time since I had entered the room, he looked at me. “Is the Italian press covering this business?”

  “Not yet. We’ve been holding up on it until you came.”

  He studied me, then nodded.

  “You did right.” Then he turned to Carlotti. “Thanks for the facts, Lieutenant. If there’s anything else I want to know between now and the inquest, I’ll get in touch with you.”

  Carlotti and Grandi got to their feet.

  “I am at your service, signor,” Carlotti said.

  When they had gone, Chalmers sat for a moment, staring down at his hands, then he said quietly and savagely, “God damn wops.”

  I thought this was the time to unload the box of jewels Carlotti had entrusted in my keeping. I put the box on the table in front of Chalmers.

  “These belonged to your daughter,” I said. “They were found in the villa.”

  He frowned, reached forward, opened the box and stared at the contents. He turned the box upside down, letting the jewels spill out on to the table.

  June got to her feet and crossed over to stare over his shoulder.

  “You didn’t give her those, did you, Sherwin?” she asked.

  “Of course not!” he said, poking at the diamond collar with a thick finger. “I wouldn’t give a kid stuff like this.”

  She reached over his shoulder and made to pick up the diamond collar, but he roughly pushed her hand away.

  “Leave it!” The snap in his voice startled me. “Go and sit down!”

  Slightly shrugging her shoulders, she returned to her seat by the window and sat down.

  Chalmers scooped the jewels back into the box and shut the lid. He handled the box as if it were made of egg shells.

  He sat motionless for a long time, staring at the box. I watched him, wondering what his next

  move was to be. I knew he would make a move. He was getting his big-shot atmosphere back.

  His wife, staring out of the window, and I staring down at my hands, were pigmies again.

  “Get this Giuseppe whatever his name is on the telephone,” Chalmers said, without looking at me. “The coroner fella.”

  I turned up Maletti’s number in the book and put through the call. While I was waiting for the connection, Chalmers went on, “Give the news to the press: no details. Tell them Helen, while on vacation, fell off a cliff and was killed.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Be here to-morrow morning at nine o’clock with a car. I want to go to the mortuary.”

  A voice said on the line that this was the coroner’s office. I asked to be put through to Maletti. When he came on the line, I said to Chalmers, “The coroner.”

  He got up and came over.

  “Okay, get busy, Dawson,” he said, as he took the receiver from my hand. “Mind - no details.”

  As I went out of the room I heard him say, “This is Sherwin Chalmers talking…”

  Somehow he made his name sound more important and more impressive than any other name in the world.

  PART FIVE

  I

  At nine o’clock the following morning I was outside the Vesuvius hotel with the hired Rolls as instructed.

  The Italian press had given Helen’s death quite a coverage. Every paper carried her picture: showing her as I had first known her with her horn spectacles, her scraped-back hair-do and wearing her intellectual, serious expression.

  As soon as I had left Chalmers the previous evening, I had called Maxwell. I gave him instructions to go ahead and break the story.

  “Play it down,” I said. “Make it sound commonplace. The story is she was on vacation in Sorrento, she was using a cine camera, she got absorbed in what she was taking and she fell off the cliff.”

  “Who do you imagine is going to swallow a yarn like that?” he demanded, his voice excited. “They’ll want to know what she was doing alone, living in a villa that size.”

  “I know,” I said, “but that’s the story, Jack, and you’re stuck with it. We’ll tackle what comes next when it comes. This is the way the old man wants it, and if you want to keep your job, that’s the way it’s got to be.” I hung up before he could argue further.

  I handed it to him when I saw the morning’s papers. He had followed out my instructions to the letter. The press carried the story and a photograph, and that was all. No smart alec had an opinion to express. They just stated the facts as known, soberly and without hysterics.

  Around nine-ten, Chalmers came out of the hotel and climbed into the back of the Rolls. He had a bunch of newspapers under his arm and a cigar between his teeth. He didn’t even nod good morning to me.

  I knew where he wanted to go, so I didn’t waste time asking him. I got in beside the chauffeur, told him to drive to Sorrento and to snap it up.

  I was a little surprised that June Chalmers hadn’t come along far the ride. From where I sat I could get a good view of Chalmers in the driving mirror as he read the newspapers. He went through them quickly and searchingly, dropping one after the other on the floor of the car as he finished reading what he wanted to read.

  By the time we reached Sorrento he had got through all the papers. He sat smoking his cigar, staring out of the window, communicating with the only god he would ever know — himself. I directed the chauffeur to the mortuary. When the Rolls pulled up outside the small building, Chalmers got out and, motioning me to remain where I was, he went inside.

  I lit a cigarette and tried not to think of what he was going to look at, but Helen’s smashed, bruised face was in my mind and had been in my dreams last night, and it haunted me. He was in there for twenty minutes.

  When he came out, he walked just as briskly as when he went in. His cigar, now burned down to an inch and a half, was still gripped between his teeth. I decided that to look at your dead daughter with a cigar in your mouth was playing the role of “the iron man” to an ultimate end.

  He got into the back seat of the Rolls before I had time to get out and hold the rear door open for him.

  “Okay, Dawson, we’ll go up to this villa now.”

  Nothing was said during the drive up to the villa. When we got there, and I had got out of the car to open the wrought-iron gates and got back in again, and we had crawled up the drive, I saw the Lincoln convertible was still standing on the tarmac before the front door.

  As Chalmers got out of the Rolls, he said, “Is this her car?”

  I said it was.

  He glanced at it and then went on up the steps and into the villa. I went after him.

  The chauffeur watched us without interest. As soon as Chalmers’s back was turned, he reached for a cigarette.

  I kept in the background while Chalmers looked the villa over. He left the bedroom to the last and he spent some time in there. Curious to see what be was up to, I edged to the doorway and looked in.

  He was sitting on the bed beside one of Helen’s suitcases, his big, fat hands in a mass of her nylon underwear while he stared fixedly out of the window.

  There was a look on his face that turned me cold, and I moved silently back until he was out of my sight, then I sat down and lit a cigarette.

  The past two days had been the worst I had ever lived through. I felt I was caught in a trap and was waiting for the hunter to come along and finish me off.

  The fact that Carlotti had traced me from Sorre
nto to the villa, that he knew I had been wearing a grey suit, that he knew exactly when Helen had died and that I, as the mysterious man in the grey suit, had been up there at that time, made my flesh creep.

  I had lain awake most of the night, worrying and thinking, and as I sat waiting while Chalmers was going through his daughter’s things, I still worried.

  He came out eventually and walked slowly across the lounge to the window.

  I watched him, wondering what was going on in his mind. He remained like that for several minutes, then he turned and came over to sit in a chair near where I was sitting.

  “You didn’t see much of Helen when she was in Rome?” he asked, staring at me with his rain-coloured eyes.

  This question was unexpected and I felt myself stiffen.

  “No. I called her twice, but she didn’t seem to want me around,” I said. “I guess she looked on me as her father’s employee.”

  Chalmers nodded.

  “You have no idea who her friends were?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “She obviously got into pretty rotten company.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “I suppose this guy Sherrard gave her the jewels and the car,” he went on, staring down at his freckled hands. “It looks as if I made a mistake keeping her so short of money. I should have given her more and sent some woman along with her. When a good-looking punk comes along, well-heeled with money, and is willing to give lavish presents, it doesn’t matter how decent a girl is, it’s a temptation not to fall for him. I know enough about human nature to know that. I shouldn’t have put her in the way of such temptation.” He produced a cigar and began to peel off its cellophane wrapping. “She was a thoroughly decent girl, Dawson,” he went on. “She was a student; a serious-minded girl. She wanted to study architecture. That’s why I let her come to

  Italy. Rome is the blood and bones of architects!”

  I took out my handkerchief and wiped my face. I didn’t say anything.

  “I have a pretty high opinion of you,” he went on. “I wouldn’t be giving you the foreign desk if I hadn’t. I’ve fixed this coroner fella: he’s going to bring in a verdict of accidental death. There’s going to be no talk about pregnancy. I’ve had a word with the police chief. He’s agreed to let the thing lie. The press will roe the line. I’ve had a word in that direction too. So now we have a clear field. I’m going to leave this to you. I have to be in New York by the day after tomorrow. I haven’t the time to dig into this thing myself, but you have. From now on, Dawson, you have nothing else to do but to find Sherrard.”

  I sat frozen, staring at him.

  “Find Sherrard?” I repeated stupidly.

  Chalmers nodded.

  “That’s right. Sherrard seduced my daughter, and now he’s going to damn well pay for it. But we’ve got to find him first. That’s going to be your job. You can have all the money you want and all the help too. You can hire a flock of private detectives. I’ll have some sent out from New York if they’re no good here. It won’t be easy. It’s obvious he wasn’t using his real name, but somewhere along the line he must have left a clue, and once you find that, you’ll find other clues, then you’ll find him.”

  “You can rely on me, Mr. Chalmers,” I somehow managed to get out.

  “Let me know how you’re going to tackle the job. I want to be kept informed of every move you make. If I think of anything, I’ll let you know. The thing to do is to find him, and find him fast.”

  “What happens when we do find him?”

  I had to ask that question. I had to know.

  He looked at me, and there was an expression in his eyes that turned my mouth dry.

  “This is the way I see it,” he said “Helen met this punk soon after she arrived in Rome. It didn’t take him long to seduce her. The doctor says she was eight weeks’ pregnant. She arrived in Rome fourteen weeks ago, so he worked pretty fast. She probably told him what had happened, and like all the rats of his type, he started to fade out of the picture. I reckon Helen took this villa in the hope of winning him back.” He turned his head to look around the lounge. “It’s pretty romantic, isn’t it? I guess she hoped the surroundings would soften him. From what that wop detective says, Sherrard or whatever he calls himself did came here, but he didn’t soften.”

  I crossed my legs. I had to do something. I couldn’t just shake a frozen dummy.

  “Know what I think?” Chalmers went on, turning the full force of his big-shot personality on to me. “I think Helen’s death was no accident. I think we have two alternatives: she either tried to scare him into marrying her by threatening to commit suicide, and when he told her to go ahead and jump, she jumped or else, to shut her mouth, he shoved her off the cliff.”

  “You can’t believe that… ?” I began. My voice sounded as if it were coming out of a tunnel.

  “I don’t think she jumped,” he said, leaning forward, his face set and his eyes frightening. “I think he killed her! He knew she was my daughter. He knew sooner or later I’d hear what he had done to her. He knew if he tangled with me, he wouldn’t, stand a chance. So he manoeuvred her up on to the cliff top and gave her a push.”

  “But that’s murder,” I said.

  He showed his teeth in a mirthless smile.

  “Of course it’s murder, but you don’t have to worry about that. All you have to do is to find him, then I’ll handle it. Let everyone think it’s an accident. That suits me. I’m not going to have any publicity on this thing. No one is going to snigger behind my back because she was pregnant. If this guy is arrested and tried for murder, the whole dirty story will come out, and I don’t want it to come out, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make him pay for what he has done. I can kill him in my own particular way, and that’s what I intend to do.” His eyes were glaring now. “Don’t think I’m going to murder him. I’m not that crazy, but I can make his life such a hell, in the end he’ll be glad to blow his rotten brains out. I’ve got the power and the money to do it, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll go after the basic things of his life first. I can get him turned out of his house or apartment or wherever he lives. I can prevent him putting a car on the road. I can fix it he can’t go into any decent restaurant. Small stuff, you think? Imagine how you’d like it. Then I can get after his money and wipe out his securities. I can make him lose his job, and I can make sure no one else ever employs him. I can hire thugs to beat him up from time to time until he’s too damned scared to show himself on the streets at night. I can even fix it that be loses his passport. Then when he begins to think life’s bad, I’ll really start on him,” He pushed his jaw at me, his face turning a dusty red. “Every so often I run into odd, tough characters: characters who are a little screwy. I know a guy who would blind this punk for a couple of hundred dollars. He’d tear his goddam eyeballs out, and think nothing of it.” He smiled suddenly, a smile that chilled me. “I’ll make him pay, Dawson, make no mistake about that.” He tapped my knee with a thick finger. “You find him — I’ll fix him.”

  II

  In the cupboard of the sideboard that stood against one of the walls of the lounge, I found three bottles of whisky and two of gin. I broke open one of the bottles of whisky, found a glass in the kitchen and poured out three fingers of spirit.

  I carried the drink out on to the balcony and sat down on the bench seat. I drank the whisky slowly, staring at the magnificent view without seeing it. I was shaking, and my mind was numbed with panic.

  It wasn’t until I had finished the drink that my eyes began to register again. From where I sat I looked down on the distant snake-back road that led down to Sorrento. I saw the big black Rolls that was taking Chalmers back to Naples, moving fast into the bends.

  “It’s all yours, Dawson,” he had said as I walked with him to the car. “Keep in touch with me. Money’s no object. Don’t waste time writing. Telephone me. As soon as you discover anything, call me; no matter what time it is. I’ll fix it from now
on my secretary knows where I am all the time. I’ll be waiting. I want this punk found fast.”

  It was like handing me a razor and telling me to hurry up and cut my throat.

  He had gone on to say that I might as well examine the villa in detail while I was up here, and check up on the place where Helen had died.

  “Use her car. When you’re through with it, sell it and give the money to some charity. Sell all her stuff in there. I don’t want it. I’ll leave it to you. I’ve fixed to have her body flown home.” He had shaken my hand, his rain-coloured eyes on my face. “I want you to find this guy, Dawson.”

  “I’ll try,” I said.

  “Look, you’ll do more than try: you’ll find him.” His chin pushed out at me. “I’ll hold the foreign desk open for you until you do find him… understand?”

  Which was just another way of saying if I didn’t find him, I wouldn’t get the foreign desk.

  The whisky did me some good. After the second drink, I was able to shake off my panic and begin to think.

  I didn’t believe for one moment that Helen had been murdered or that she had committed suicide. Her death had been accidental. I was sure of it.

  I hadn’t been her lover. It was something I couldn’t prove, but at least I knew it. Chalmers had told me to find Sherrard whom he believed was her lover. I was Sherrard, and I wasn’t her lover, therefore it followed that there was another man involved. If I were going to save what was left of my future, I had to find this guy and prove he had been her lover.

  I lit a cigarette while I let my mind work on this thing.

  Was this man I had to look for the intruder I had spotted in the villa? If he wasn’t, then who was the intruder? What was he looking for? Certainly not the box of jewels. That had been on the dressing-table and he couldn’t have failed to have teen it. Then what had he been looking for?

  After thinking around it for five minutes and getting nowhere I decided to shelve it for the moment and try some other angle that might yield dividends.

  Helen had lived in Rome for fourteen weeks. During that time she had met this man X who eventually became her lover. Where did she meet him?