1964 - The Soft Centre

by James Hadley Chase

  Val took it suspiciously. It was a brief account of the finding of Sue Parnell's body at the Park Motel, Ojus with an interview with Police Chief Terrell who said it was obvious that the killer was a sexual sadist.

  Val let the cutting flutter from her cold fingers.

  'I don't understand,' she said.

  Hare took the lighter from his pocket.

  'This lighter, belonging to your husband, was found by the murdered woman's body ... a woman savagely murder by a lunatic.'

  He peered at Val and he was uneasily surprised to see that, the impact of his words had no apparent effect on her.

  'Obviously my husband lost the lighter and this killer found it.'

  'Charming to have such faith in an unstable mind,' Hare said more roughly than he intended. 'I think the police would have other ideas.'

  Val got to her feet.

  'Then we will ask them. You are coming with me. We will see Captain Terrell and you will tell them what you are hinting at.'

  'Mrs. Burnett, we mustn't be impetuous,' Hare said, not moving. He tossed the lighter into the air, caught it and then put it in his pocket. 'Your husband wore a sports jacket when he left the hotel. When he was found, the jacket was missing. Happily for you both, I found it.'

  With a quick movement, he got rid of the string around the brown paper parcel and produced the jacket. He spread it out on the sand. 'These stains, madam, come from the ripped and murdered body of Sue Parnell!'

  Val stood like a frozen statue, staring down at the coat she immediately recognised as the coat Chris had been wearing on the terrace, a few minutes before he had disappeared. She looked at the ugly rust coloured blotches that covered the front of the coat. She felt her knees sag and very slowly, she collapsed on to the hot sand.

  Hare watched her with the false sadness of a mortician. 'I'm very sorry, madam,' he said gently. 'Very, very sorry. It would seem that your poor husband ran into this unfortunate woman, and in a moment of complete madness, murdered her. This puts me in a very serious position ... I ...'

  'Stop it, you vile old fake!' Val screamed at him. 'I won't listen to you! Go away from me! Go away!'

  Startled, Hare looked quickly over his shoulder and was relieved to see that there was no one close enough to have heard Val's outcry.

  'Well, of course, if that is what you wish,' he said with great dignity. 'I never impose myself when I am not wanted. Then you want me take this heavy responsibility and go to the police with this terrible and damning evidence?' White faced, her eyes burning with fear and anger, Val stared at him.

  'What else are you suggesting?'

  'I have been struggling with my conscience,' Hare said mildly. 'Yours is a very well-known family. Your father is one of the most important men in the country. I felt I had to see you first before I went to the police. I thought you and also your father would not wish for your husband to be tried for the murder of a worthless prostitute, found guilty and put away for life behind the walls of a State Criminal Asylum. I felt the least I could do would be to talk to you and see if that is what you really wanted. It seemed to me that these two articles of deadly evidence could be destroyed and then no one but you and I would be any the wiser. That is why I have taken the trouble to come here this morning to consult with you, but if you would really prefer me to do my obvious duty, then regretfully, I will do so.'

  Val sat still, her hands in her lap, her face white. She remained like that for some moments, then she said quietly, without looking at Hare, 'I understand ... how much?' Hare drew in a deep breath of air into his fat larded lungs. A nasty moment, he thought, but he had handled it well.

  'A half a million dollars, madam.' he said gently. 'It is a reasonable sum. When you think what you are getting in return, it is a paltry sum.' He took his card from his billfold and dropped it close to Val. 'I will give the lighter and the jacket to the police at six o'clock this evening ... at precisely six o'clock. Unless, of course, you telephone me before then.'

  He re-wrapped the jacket, heaved himself to his feet. Then raising his hat to Val, he walked away across the san leaving big, widely spaced footprints behind him.

  chapter six

  Terrell looked up from a mass of reports he was reading as Beigler came into his office. As Beigler sat down and reached for the can of coffee that permanently stood on Terrell's desk, he said, 'Nothing so far. We're still checking the list of her boyfriends. We've reached number fifty-seven: so far they all have cast-iron alibis.'

  Terrell shrugged.

  'They could all be in the clear, but we can't afford to miss out on one of them. It's my guess it is some sex nut who followed her and set on her. If I'm right, we'll have a job to find him. Nothing from the Service Stations?'

  'No.' Beigler sipped his coffee and lit a cigarette. 'How about Hardy? Could be the Lang woman was lying when she gave him an alibi?'

  'I thought of that, but why should Hardy want to kill her?' Terrell said, frowning. 'So far he's operated without getting into trouble. Besides, I can't imagine he's the type to kill in that way.'

  'She could have had something on him, and he ripped her to make us think it was a sex killing.'

  'Yeah, that's right. I ...'

  The telephone bell rang. Terrell stopped short and lifted the receiver. He listened. Beigler saw his face tighten with surprise, then he said, 'We'll be right with you. Don't touch a thing,' and he hung up. He pushed back his chair and got to his feet. 'Henekey's been found dead. Looks like someone's knocked him off Come on ... let's go.'

  Beigler crushed out his cigarette and moved fast from the office. As Terrell began the long walk down the corridor to the street, he could hear Beigler bawling for the Homicide Squad.

  An hour and a half later, Dr. Lowis came from Henekey's cabin and crossed through a patch of sunlight to where Terrell and Beigler were waiting.

  'He was murdered all right,' Lowis said. 'The killer worked him over before killing him. His body is a mass of cigarette burns. He was finally killed by someone putting a cushion over his face and sitting on it. He must have been a very heavy man. Henekey's nose is broken.'

  Terrell and Beigler exchanged glances. Then Terrell said, 'Thanks, Doc. Okay, if you're through, let's get him away.'

  When Henekey's body, watched by the tourists, had been taken away in an ambulance, Terrell and Beigler went into Henekey's cabin. The Homicide Squad had finished their work.

  Hess came over.

  'No prints, Chief. There's one interesting thing ...'

  He walked into the bathroom followed by Terrell while Beigler remained in the doorway.

  Hess lifted a loose tile in the bathroom floor.

  'Could have been a hiding place for something. There's nothing in there flow.'

  Terrell glanced into the cavity.

  'Could be why he was worked over,' he said. 'Let's go look at the office safe.'

  It took an expert half an hour to get the safe open, but they found nothing to give them a lead on Henekey. They returned to the cabin. Hess and his men were leaving.

  'Still nothing, Chief,' Hess said. 'This is a professional killing. Henekey went to bed around two o'clock. It's my bet the killer or killers were waiting for him in the cabin. The lock shows signs of being tampered with. They must have worn gloves. I can't turn up one fingerprint that isn't Henekey's.’

  Terrell grunted.

  'Make a list of all the cabins. See if anyone heard anything. Then check Henekey's print. He may have a record,'

  Hess left, leaving the cabin door open. Terrell sat on the table while Beigler prowled around the cabin.

  'What do you think, Chief?' Beigler asked finally. 'Think this has any connection with the Parnell killing?' Terrell took out his pipe and began to fill it.

  'Yeah ... seems more than possible. Could be Henekey was lying when he said he didn't know the girl. Could be he was holding back something and the Parnell killer came back, tortured him and finally killed him.'

  A shadow falling across the
floor made both men look around sharply. Standing in the doorway was a little girl of around eight years of age. She was quite beautiful with blonde hair hanging below her shoulders. Her features were small and delicate, her eyes big and alert. She was wearing a blue and red check sunsuit and she was barefooted.

  'Hello.' she said. 'Are you the police?'

  Beigler was young enough to have no time for children. He scowled at her.

  'Run away ... get lost,' he growled.

  The girl looked inquiringly at Terrell.

  'Who's the loud mouth with the ugly face?' she asked, resting her small, tanned body against the doorway.

  'Hear me!' Beigler barked. 'Run away!'

  The child pursed her lips and blew him a raspberry that resounded through the still cabin.

  'Drop dead!' she said with withering contempt. 'If you're not all that tired of life, go suck your toenails!'

  Terrell watched with amused interest. Beigler's face, dark red, was a study.

  'If you were my daughter, I'd smack your bottom,' he said furiously. 'Run away!'

  'If you were my father I'd have my mother's head examined,' the child replied promptly.

  Terrell turned a guffaw of laughter into a loud cough. Beigler glared at him, then with slow, deliberate steps, he began to advance on the child who faced him without fear and with such a sophisticated expression that Beigler came to a hesitant standstill.

  'If you touch me, I will charge you with rape,' the child said.

  Beigler took two hasty steps back and then looked helplessly at Terrell.

  'What a little horror!' he exclaimed bitterly. 'It's all very well for you to sit, grinning. I don't see anything funny in this little monster.'

  Terrell sat forward, resting his large hands on his knees.

  'I'm the Chief of Police,' he said and smiled at the child. 'Who are you?'

  The child drew a bare foot up her leg while she regarded Terrell with interest.

  'My name's Angel Prescott. Who is the face over there?'

  'He helps me,' Terrell said gravely. 'His name is Beigler.'

  'You really mean he helps you?' Angel looked astonished. 'I wouldn't have believed it.'

  'He's very clever,' Terrell said.

  The child cocked her head on one side and studied Beigler who was slowly growing puce in the face.

  'You never know, do you?' she said finally. 'He looks like my uncle ... he's poorly. They even have to feed him.'

  Beigler said with violence, 'Get out of here! Get lost!'

  'He is noisy, isn't he?' Angel said. 'I really came here because I wanted to help you.'

  'That's very nice of you, Angel,' Terrell said. 'I need all the help I can get. Come and sit down.'

  Beigler made a strangled noise and walked without thinking into the bathroom. Once inside, he didn't know what to do with himself, so he came out again.

  Angel, her blue eyes growing round, stared at him with morbid interest.

  'Pheeeew! You were quick!' she exclaimed.

  'Quick about what?' Beigler snarled, his face purple with rage.

  'Don't expect me to discuss that sort of thing,' Angel said primly. 'I have been nicely brought up.'

  Beigler seemed to have trouble with his breathing. He looked around desperately as if in search of a weapon.

  'I don't think I want to help you now,' the child said to Terrell. 'I see no reason why I should ... Goodbye.' and she walked with beautiful grace down the steps of the cabin and across to her own cabin.

  'If she were my daughter. I'd take the skin off her bottom!' Beigler exploded. 'Kids! Who wants kids these days! They ...'

  'Relax,' Terrell said quietly. 'She could have seen something. She lives right opposite. I'll go over and talk to her.'

  Beigler drew in a long, deep breath.

  'I'll see how Hess is making out.' he said and walked stiffly away towards where the three police cars were parked.

  Terrell grinned to himself, then knocking out his pipe. he walked over to the opposite cabin. He tapped on the door which was opened by a youngish, shabbily dressed woman with a harassed expression and who brushed back a lank strand of hair as she looked inquiringly at Terrell.

  'Yes?'

  'I'm Chief of Police Terrell,' Terrell said. 'I was talking to your daughter a moment ago. I would like to continue our conversation. Do you mind?'

  'You've been talking to Angel?' The woman looked even more harassed. 'But why?'

  'She talked to me first,' Terrell said. 'I think she might be able to help me.'

  'Oh, no! You don't know Angel! She is always romancing! It's about this murder, isn't it?'

  'That's right.'

  'I'm sorry ... I don't want Angel mixed up in that. She knows nothing. She's always romancing... really.'

  Angel joined her mother.

  'Mummy, don't be a square.' she said. 'I know all about it. I saw them last night.'

  Mrs. Prescott looked helplessly at her daughter who regarded her with kindly contempt.

  'Baby-girl, you know you didn't. You mustn't waste this gentleman's time. Now go in and do your painting.'

  Angel looked at Terrell.

  'Mummy has always been stupid about me. She never believes anything I say. I saw them last night.'

  'Angel!' Mrs. Prescott exclaimed with feeble anger. ‘Do what I say! Go in and do your painting!'

  The child lifted her beautiful little hands in a gesture of impatience.

  'That's all she thinks about.., she imagines I'm going to be a famous artist. I have less talent than a cow.'

  'She's really very talented,' Mrs. Prescott said to Terrell.

  'Would you let me talk to her?' Terrell asked gently. 'May I come in?'

  Mrs. Prescott again pushed her hair off her forehead. She looked distracted.

  'Mummy! For goodness sake! Don't be so corny!' Angel said sharply. 'You know you're dying for me to get some publicity.'

  Giving her mother a little shove, she smiled at Terrell. 'Come on in,' and she turned and walked into the shabby sitting room.

  'Well, I suppose you'd better,' Mrs. Prescott said helplessly. 'She's really quite unusual for her age. I'm sure she can't tell you anything, but if you don't mind ...'

  'I don't mind,' Terrell said and entered the room where Angel was already sitting, her hands clasped around her sun-tanned knees.

  'Mummy, would you go away,' Angel said. 'I can't talk to him with you fluttering around like a moth.'

  'You see?' Mrs. Prescott said with pride. 'She isn't like an ordinary child. She ...'

  'Mummy! Please...!'

  Mrs. Prescott hesitated fluttered then said as she was leaving the room. 'She really doesn't know anything. She's always romancing.'

  There was a pause until the door shut, then Terrell took out his pipe and began to fill it.

  'Tell me about it, Angel,' he said. 'What did you see last night?'

  'Do you know what I want more than anything else in this world?' the child asked, staring intently at Terrell.

  Terrell was startled.

  'That's not answering my question. Listen, Angel, it is very important that I should find who killed Mr. Henekey. If you can help me, it's your duty to do so.'

  Angel scratched her left leg.

  'I want a Teddy Bear as big as myself and that growls,' she said. 'That's what I want more than anything else in the world.'

  Terrell shifted. He paused to light his pipe.

  'If you ask your mother nicely, she'll probably give it to you.' he said. 'Now who did you see last night?'

  'Mummy never gives me anything. She hasn't any money. I'll never get a Teddy Bear as big as myself and that growls from her.'

  'Let's forget about the Teddy Bear,' Terrell said firmly. 'Who did you see last night? Was it someone going into Mr. Henekey's cabin?'

  Angel scratched her right leg while she stared at Terrell, her blue eyes innocent and wide.

  'Yes, that's right. There were two of them.'

  'Do you remember the
time when you saw them?'

  'It was five minutes to one. I have a dock by my bed. I woke up suddenly and the first thing I did was to put my torch on and look at my clock.'

  'Then what did you do?'

  The child smiled at him.

  'I don't remember.'

  'You looked out of the window,' Terrell said patiently, 'and you saw two men go into Mr. Henekey's cabin. That's right, isn't it?'

  'I don't remember.'

  Terrell puffed at his pipe while he regarded the child, then he said, 'Why did you say you could help me, Angel?'

  'Oh, I can help you.' She got to her feet and walked over to the radio. She switched it on.

  While waiting for the sound to come up, she said, 'The thing I want more than anything else in the world is...'

  'I know,' Terrell said. 'You've already told me, but can't do anything about that. You must ask your mummy.'

  Dance music came over the air and Angel began to move her beautiful little body in time with the music.

  'Goodbye,' she said. 'I'm busy now.'

  'Now, listen, young lady,' Terrell said sharply. 'You have to tell me about these two men. Turn that off!'

  Rather to his surprise she did so immediately and went back to her chair. She sat down and arranged her golden hair, lifting herself a little so she could see herself in the mirror on the opposite wall.

  'What I want more than anything else in the world...' she began, stopped and smiled at Terrell who looked helplessly at her.

  'Where do you sleep?' he asked.

  'In the next room. Go and look.'

  He got up and left the room Mrs. Prescott was standing nervously in the kitchen doorway.

  'May I go in?' Terrell said, pausing outside Angel's room. She nodded and Terrell entered the tiny room. He crossed to the window and saw that he was looking straight at Henekey's cabin.

  The child's bed was close to the window. He saw that if she had sat up and looked out of the window she could have seen anyone entering Henekey's cabin.

  Mrs. Prescott came to the door.

  'Please don't take Angel seriously. She is too advanced for her age and she does romance. You really shouldn't listen to her.'

  'That's all right,' Terrell said. 'Don't worry about it,' and he went back into the sitting room and shut the door.