1964 - The Soft Centre

by James Hadley Chase

  'That she was blackmailing you. Maybe she was lying. I wouldn't know, but she said she had enough on you to put you away for ten years and she was shaking you down. She came here the night she died and told me she was expecting you. You were paying her five thousand dollars for her to keep her mouth shut. She was scared of you. She asked me to watch her cabin. Unless I was drunk or dreaming, I was under the impression you arrived around one o'clock. You left around one-thirty. As I say, I could have imagined it, but I have this very strong impression.'

  'You're crazy!' Hardy snarled, his eyes gleaming with suppressed rage. 'I was nowhere near this dump!'

  Henekey shrugged.

  'Well, there you are, Mr. Hardy, so I was dreaming. So Sue was lying.'

  Hardy got to his feet.

  'Now listen, Henekey, I'm warning you. You say one word of this to the police and you'll get it. I mean that! I was at home when that tart was knocked off and I can prove it. You lay off or you'll be as good as dead.'

  'I'm listening, Mr. Hardy,' Henekey said, 'but Sue trusted me. She gave me an envelope she stole from your safe. I have it in my bank. Even if the cops can't pin her murder on you, once they look inside that envelope they could put you away for years.'

  Hardy stood motionless for a long moment, then he sat down.

  'You have the envelope?'

  'Right in my bank, Mr. Hardy, with instructions that if anything happens to me, it goes to the cops.'

  'What happened to the five thousand dollars I gave that bitch?'

  Henekey shrugged.

  'I wouldn't know, Mr. Hardy. Maybe the cops took it you know cops.'

  'Know what I think? I think after I left her, you went into her cabin, murdered her and took the five grand. That's a theory Terrell would like to explore.'

  'That's right,' Henekey smiled. 'He could make it tricky for me, but he could make it much more tricky for you. I'm willing to take the risk, are you?'

  Hardy thought for a moment, rubbing his chin, then he shrugged.

  'Okay, you creep, how much?'

  Henekey took his aching fingers off the butt of his gun. 'I'm in trouble too, Mr. Hardy. People are crowding me I want to get away. I want to get lost...'

  'How much?' Hardy snarled.

  'Five grand, and I'll turn the envelope over to you, drop out of sight and you'll never hear from me again.'

  Hardy took a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He flicked out a cigarette and set fire to it.

  'Okay, it's a deal,' he said. 'Get the envelope and I'll be back tomorrow morning with five grand.'

  'Back alone, Mr. Hardy,' Henekey said. 'We'll meet right here in this office. If anything should happen to me between then and now, my bank have their instructions.'

  'You told me. I know when I have to lose money and when I don't. You'll get paid, creep, but get out of sight fast. If ever Jacko runs into you after I've paid you, I'm not responsible.'

  Henekey took the gun from his hip pocket and laid it on the table.

  'Just for the record, Mr. Hardy, I won't be responsible for Jacko either.'

  Hardy stared at him, then he got to his feet. 'Around eleven tomorrow morning,' he said, 'but don't imagine you're going to put the bite on me again. It's five grand and no more.'

  'All I want is a getaway stake,' Henekey said and for the first time since Hardy had walked into his office, he began to relax. 'There'll be no second bite.'

  Hardy walked out, crossed the lighted car park and got into his car. Strident swing music came from the loud speakers, hanging in the trees. The fairy lights strung across the cabins flickered with pseudo prettiness. Henekey, breathing heavily, his hand still on his gun, watched Hardy go.

  Hardy pulled into the lay-by where Jacko and Moe were waiting. He got out of the car and joined them on the grass verge.

  'It's a shakedown,' he said as he flicked his half-smoked cigarette into the darkness. 'He's got enough on me to get me ten years. It's up to you two. He says he's put the evidence in his bank with instructions for it to be handed to the police if anything happens to him. He's bluffing. I want you two to soften him and get the stuff from him. This is important to me. It's worth a grand.'

  Moe stretched his elegant long arms and smiled happily.

  'Man. It's a long time since I've worked a jerk over. It'll be a pleasure, Mr. Hardy.'

  Hardy looked at Jacko who sat in a massive heap of fat on the grass.

  'We'll fix him, dear,' Jacko said, 'but what do we do with the creep after we've got what you want?'

  'He's best out of the way, Jacko.'

  'Moe keeps on at me for a new car. I don't know where he thinks the money is coming from. Could you make it two grand, dear, and we'll make a very nice job of it for you.'

  'Two grand it is,' Hardy said without hesitation. 'Watch it ... he has a gun.'

  Moe got to his feet. He capered in front of Jacko who watched him admiringly. He turned a couple of handsprings, then thrust out a lean, brown hand to help Jacko lever himself to his feet.

  'Better wait until the joint shuts down,' Hardy said. 'You two go ahead and find out where he sleeps. Wait for him there. I'll stay here. Remember the gun.' As they began to move off, Hardy said, 'There's five grand he took from Sue Parnell. I want that too.'

  It was a little after one o'clock when Henekey switched off the flashing neon sign. By then most of the cabins were in darkness. He locked up his office and stepped into the hot night air.

  Although he was pretty sure he had thrown a scare into Hardy, he was very cautious. He held the gun in his hand and he looked carefully over the moonlit space that separated him from his cabin. There were still a few people sitting on their porches, enjoying the moonlight, talking together and having the last cigarette before going to bed. Their presence gave Henekey confidence.

  He walked slowly from his office pausing now and then to have a word with the people outside their cabins until he finally reached his own cabin. It was a hot night and Henekey's mind was too active for immediate sleep. He sat down in the basket chair on the porch and lit a cigarette. This time tomorrow, he thought he would have ten thousand dollars: five he had stolen from Sue Parnell and five he would be getting from Hardy. With that kind of money, he would fly to New York and get lost. It was time he left Miami. He sat for some thirty minutes trying to make up his mind what he would do in New York. He had never been good at making plans. Maybe it would be better to wait until he got to New York, he thought. He looked at his watch. It was now twenty minutes to two. He stifled a yawn. The rest of the cabins were now in darkness. Time to turn in. By now Hardy would be back in Miami.

  Henekey decided he had nothing to worry about from Hardy. He would be smart enough to know when he was licked. He got to his feet, stretched, then opening his cabin door, he walked into the hot, stuffy darkness.

  As he groped for the light switch, a hard, perfumed hand closed over his nose and mouth and what felt like the hoof of a horse slammed into his stomach.

  Moe found the loose tile in the bathroom. He lifted it, put his hand into the cavity and drew out a sealed envelope. He groped again and came up with a thick bundle of dollar bills. He replaced the tile and returned to the sitting room.

  Jacko was slumped in a chair, mopping the sweat off his face. Henekey lay on the settee, moaning faintly from behind the gag that half suffocated him.

  'Got it, honey?' Jacko asked.

  Moe handed him the envelope and the money. The two glanced at Henekey and then at each other.

  'Take it to Mr. Hardy. Find out if it's what he wants,' Jacko said. He took a carton of chocolate from his pocket and fed a chocolate into his small, wet mouth.

  Moe slid away into the darkness. Running lightly and swiftly, he reached Hardy who was waiting in the Cadillac.

  'Good God!' Hardy snarled. 'You've taken your time! It's nearly four o'clock.'

  Moe smiled his beautiful, evil smile.

  'The creep was a little obstinate,' he said. 'He really did resist. Is this wha
t you want, Mr. Hardy?'

  Hardy took the money and the envelope. He broke the seals and went quickly through the contents.

  'Yeah ... '

  He got out of the car, took out his cigarette lighter and set fire to the papers. As he watched them burn, he asked, 'What's happened to Henekey?'

  Moe showed his magnificent teeth in a flashing smile. 'Right now he seems pretty sick, Mr. Hardy. He seems awful unhappy. I'll go back now and we'll make him happy.'

  Hardy felt a sudden tightening in his throat. He had never told those two to commit murder before. They were like trained animals. They would do just what he told them to do. He hesitated, then he reminded himself that he could never really be safe as long as Henekey was alive.

  'What the hell are you hanging around me for like a grin sting ape?' he snarled. 'Get back to Jacko.'

  Moe executed a neat handspring, then darted away into the darkness.

  Jacko was eating his sixth chocolate when Moe slipped into the cabin.

  'It's okay,' Moe said quickly. 'Mr. Hardy has what he wants.'

  Jacko wiped his sticky fingers on his handkerchief. Still munching, he levered himself out of his chair.

  'We'll put the creep out of his misery,' he said. 'I want to go to bed.'

  The two men, one vast and gross, the other perfumed and slim, walked over to where Henekey lay. Moe leaned over and patted his face.

  'You're a brave jerk, jerk,' he said. 'So long and sweet repose.'

  Henekey looked up at him indifferently. His body raved with pain. He was ready to die.

  With a flourish, Moe picked up a cushion lying in one of the chairs and laid it across Henekey's face, then he bowed to Jacko.

  'You may be seated you great big, beautiful doll,' he said. Jacko moved his enormous body to the settee and, after hitching up his trousers, he lowered his vast buttocks down on to the cushion.

  Homer Hare was at his desk early the following morning. He put a call through to the Spanish Bay hotel and spoke to Trasse, the hotel detective.

  'I want to talk to Mrs. Burnett in private,' Hare said, wheezing into the telephone mouthpiece. 'I don't imagine she would see me if I sent my card up. What do I do?'

  'What's the matter with the beach?' Trasse asked after a moment's thought. 'She's on the beach every morning between ten and twelve. You get here around ten and I'll point her out to you. What's it all about?'

  'I'll be there ten minutes after ten,' Hare said and hung up.

  He went over to the safe, opened it and took from it Chris Burnett's jacket and cigarette lighter. He put the lighter in his pocket and laid the jacket on the desk. He rang for Lucille.

  She came in and looked inquiringly at him.

  'Be a nice girl and make a parcel of this packet for me,' Hare said.

  Lucille eyed the jacket and then looked again at her father.

  'Are you sure you know what you are doing?' she asked. 'I don't like this a lot From what I read in the papers, Travers is a tough cookie and he plays it rough.'

  Hare beamed on her.

  'Don't worry your head about him,' he said. 'I'll talk to his daughter first. If anyone can persuade him to part with half a million, she can.'

  Lucille shrugged uneasily.

  'Well, all right, but don't forget I warned you.' She picked up the jacket with a grimace and took it away.

  Hare lit a cigar and lowered his bulk into the desk chair. He stared through the window, frowning. It was a risk, he thought, but to make a killing of half a million dollars was something he couldn't resist. But he must be careful how he handled Mrs. Burnett. He had to be ready to bow out at the slightest sign of danger.

  Ten minutes later, he clapped his yellow panama hat on his head, picked up the brown paper parcel Lucille had put on his desk and walked slowly and heavily to the elevator. Out on the street, he climbed into the office car and drove towards the Spanish Bay hotel.

  He found Trasse, a thickset, florid faced ex-cop, waiting for him. The two men walked down the flower lined path that led to the private beach.

  'If anyone finds out I fingered Mrs. Burnett for you,' Trasse growled, 'I would lose my job. What's the idea, anyway?'

  'I want to talk to her,' Hare wheezed 'Phew! I'm not as young as I used to be. Don't walk so fast.'

  'The trouble with you is you eat too much,' Trasse said, slowing his pace. 'What do you want to talk to her about?'

  'Private business, Henry. Nothing that would interest you.’

  Trasse looked suspiciously at him, then paused as they came in sight of the beach and the sea. It was still early, and there were very few people lying about on the sand.

  Trasse pointed to a distant figure, sitting under a sun umbrella.

  'There she is. Don't blame me if you get thrown out. If she yells for help, I'll be the one to do the throwing.'

  'She won't yell,' Hare said. 'Put twenty bucks on your next expense sheet, Henry,' and tucking the brown paper parcel more firmly under his arm, he set off slowly across the sand towards where Val was sitting.

  Val was feeling depressed. She had talked to Dr. Gustave on the telephone before coming down to the beach and he had said he had found Chris less well.

  'There's nothing to worry about,' he had assured her. 'One must expect off days. He seems to have something on his mind. I think it would be a good idea if you came out here this afternoon. He might talk to you.'

  Val said she would come.

  'Be quite natural. Tell him what you have been doing,' Gustave went on. 'Don't ask questions. There's a chance he might unburden to you.'

  After this conversation, she had had to make an effort to go down to the beach, but now she was there, she was pleased. It was quiet, and she could relax a little in the warmth of the sun.

  She glanced around and saw this enormous old man wearing a wrinkled white tropical suit and an ageing panama hat plodding towards her. She wondered who he was, and suddenly she realised he was heading her way. She looked quickly away. Opening her beach bag, she took out a pack of cigarettes.

  The old man was very close to her now, and as she tapped out a cigarette, he said, 'Allow me, madam.' He raised his hat with a little flourish and flicked a flame to the gold cigarette lighter he held in his enormous hand.

  Val looked around.

  'Thank you, but it is quite all right.'

  As she was about to turn her back, her eyes fell on the lighter. She felt her heart skip a beat, making her catch her breath sharply.

  'Sorry to have disturbed you, madam,' Hare wheezed. 'An old man's weakness. These days it seems chivalry is out of date.' He snapped the light shut while his beady little eyes watched Val's reactions. He saw her hesitate, then he deliberately dropped the lighter into his pocket. He lifted his hat and then turned and began to move slowly away.

  'Wait ... '

  Val got to her feet. She was wearing pale blue beach pyjamas, and she looked slim and lovely as she moved out of the umbrella's shade into the sunlight.

  Hare paused. They faced each other.

  'That lighter ... I think I've seen it before,' Val said unsteadily. 'May I see it?'

  'Why certainly, madam,' Hare said. He came dose to her. She could feel the heat coming from his vast body and she could hear the wheezing of his breathing. 'This lighter?' He took the lighter from his pocket, turned it so the inscription showing and held it out to her.

  Val stared at the lighter, then she looked sharply at Hare.

  'I don't understand,' she said. 'This belongs to my husband. Where did you get it from?'

  Hare studied the lighter as if he had never seen it before, then he walked heavily to the shade of the umbrella. With a stifled grunt, he lowered himself down on the sand.

  'It is some time since I have been on a beach,' he said, staring across the wide expanse of sand. 'It's very pleasant. My wife, who has been dead now for some years, used to be a beach lover.'

  Val stared down at the top of the yellow Panama hat, her heart beating rapidly. There was someth
ing about this gross old man that frightened her.

  'I asked you where you got that lighter,' she said in a tight, strained voice.

  'The lighter? Oh, I found it.' Hare tilted his head so he could look up at her. 'Won't you sit down, madam?'

  ‘Where did you find it?' Val demanded, not moving. 'So it belongs to your husband,' Hare said musingly. 'How is he today?'

  'Will you please tell me where you found it?’

  'Dear madam, don't be impatient with a feeble old man,' Hare said. 'Do please sit down. You wouldn't force such a heavy old fellow like myself to remain on his feet, would you?'

  Val dropped on to her knees. She felt something bad was coming. She could tell by the sly, simpering smile and the beady staring eyes that this dreadful old man wouldn't be hurried.

  There was a long pause, then Hare said, 'You are Mrs. Christopher Burnett?'

  'Yes.'

  'I understand your husband is in a sanatorium?'

  Val's hands turned into fists, but she managed to control herself to say, 'Yes.'

  'He disappeared from the hotel a couple of days ago and was found by two policemen?'

  'All this was reported by the newspapers,' Val said. 'What is it to you?'

  Hare lifted a fistful of sand and let it run through his fat fingers.

  'I don't wonder that children love to play on a beach,' he said and chuckled. 'Perhaps I'm getting senile. I wouldn't mind having a bucket and spade right now.'

  Val said nothing. She regarded him with growing horror.

  'It seems Mr. Burnett had a blackout,' Hare continued after a long pause, 'and he has no idea what he did during the night of the 18th.'

  Val felt a cold shiver run down her spine. There now seemed no heat in the sun.

  'This must be very worrying to you, madam,' Hare went on and gave his sly little smile.

  'Even when wives have normal husbands, they worry when they don't know where they have been, but when they have abnormal husbands, the worry is even greater.'

  Val said, 'Just what do you want? I'm not going to listen to you much longer. What is it? Where did you get that lighter?'

  Hare took from his billfold a newspaper Cutting.

  'I would be glad if you would glance at this, madam,' he said, offering the cutting.