1975 - Believe This You'll Believe Anything

by James Hadley Chase

  I found Rhoda watching TV.

  ‘You’re late!’ she exclaimed, her eyes not moving from the lighted screen. ‘Don’t talk now . . . this is exciting.’

  I went into the kitchen and looked around. There was no sign of any food.

  ‘Did you get anything?’ I called.

  ‘No, I forgot. Don’t interrupt!’

  I fixed myself a whisky and soda, strong enough to knock over a horse. Then I opened a can of beans and not bothering to heat them, I ate them cold from the can.

  I finished as the TV programme finished.

  Rhoda came into the kitchen. I could tell by the way she stood, her hands on her hips and her face set that I was heading for trouble.

  ‘So Slinky answers the telephone for you,’ she said. ‘You must feel flattered.’

  I was expecting this. I never underestimated Rhoda’s shrewdness.

  ‘Mrs. Vidal happened to be in the office,’ I said, rinsing my glass. ‘I was on the telex so she answered.’

  ‘Mrs. Vidal happened to be in the office? Who do you think you’re conning? You told me that whore was away!’

  I held on to my rising temper, but only just. I put the glass down.

  ‘Try not to be more vulgar than you can help, Rhoda. I told you Mrs. Vidal is away a great deal. She’s not away right now. She came in to see if I approved of the office.’

  ‘Don’t you dare call me vulgar!’ Rhoda screamed. ‘If anyone’s vulgar it’s your precious Slinky with her money and her jewels! If she’s not a whore, she looks like one!’

  ‘Have it your own way. I’m going to bed. I’m tired.’

  I made to pass her but she blocked my exit.

  ‘Tired! I bet you are!’ she shrilled. ‘Working until now! Do you think I’m that wet behind the ears? I bet you’ve been screwing that whore!’

  I shouldn’t have drunk so much whisky. I did something that was completely out of character and beyond my control.

  I slapped her face so hard she went staggering into the living room, overbalanced and sat down hard on the floor.

  She sat there, staring up at me, her mouth open, her eyes dazed.

  I stepped around her and went into the bedroom. I was shaking and sick with myself. I sat on the bed and put my hands to my face.

  After some minutes, she came in and keeping away from me, she began to undress. Every now and then a dry little sob escaped her.

  These sounds didn’t touch me. I was too absorbed in my own despair. The fact that I now fully realised I couldn’t make love to Val in Vidal’s house and that I would have to plot and plan to get her somewhere safe where I could, gave me such a feeling of suffocating frustration that Rhoda just didn’t exist.

  Suddenly she said in a snivelling little voice, ‘I shouldn’t have said that Clay. You were right to hit me. I deserved it.’

  I suppose I should have taken her in my arms then and told her I was also sorry, but I didn’t. Instead I said wearily, ‘Let’s forget it,’ and getting up, I began to undress.

  ‘You did hurt me. Really you did.’

  ‘Do you imagine you didn’t hurt me?’ Reaching for my pyjamas, I moved to the bathroom. ‘Let’s forget it.’

  Later, when we were lying side by side in the dark, she reached for me, but I pushed her hand away.

  ‘Go to sleep,’ I said. ‘I’m tired even if you’re not.’

  A callous thing to have said, but I was still smouldering with frustration and I didn’t give a damn if I hurt her or not.

  I didn’t sleep much that night. I thought with dread of the work to be done tomorrow, of Val’s pecking and hunting, of looking at her and not being allowed to touch her.

  Rhoda was soon asleep. The soft little snorts she always made when sleeping got so badly on my nerves I was tempted to wake her, but I didn’t.

  At 06.30, I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her. I took my clothes into the bathroom, shaved, showered and dressed. She was still sleeping when I tiptoed into the kitchen. I made myself a cup of coffee. There was no bread for toast. I saw a pack of cigarettes on the table. She hadn’t forgotten her cigarettes.

  As I was putting the cup and saucer in the sink, she appeared, looking doleful and in a mess.

  ‘Why are you up so early?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m going to the office. I have a load of work still to do. Will you try to remember to get in some bread and cream? If I’m going to be late, I’ll call you.’

  ‘Oh, Clay, I wish you hadn’t taken this job. I really do. I’m sure it is a mistake.’

  I had a sudden uneasy feeling she was right, but I was committed.

  ‘You like your car, don’t you? See you tonight,’ and I left her.

  * * *

  Val didn’t come to the office until 10.15. There was a guilty expression in her eyes as she shut the door.

  ‘I’m sorry to be so late, darling,’ she said and quickly sat down behind her desk. ‘I had a hell of a night with those two old bores and I overslept.’

  I had been working steadily since 07.30. In that time I had completed six briefs, typed the schedules, arranged the flights, but I had four visas still to cope with.

  ‘We’re back on the visa problem, Val. Will you call Lucas and tell him we must have a leg-man pronto?’

  Her eyes widened.

  ‘I can’t do that. I have no authority.’

  ‘Okay, then we’ll get one without authority.’ I called an Employment agency I had dealings with, told them I needed a boy to run messages and I wanted him fast. They said they would send someone over within the hour. The cost would be sixty dollars a week. They had a student on vacation who would welcome the work.

  I then went over to the telex machine and sent a telex to Vidal: Need your authorisation for messenger at sixty per week. Essential, Burden.

  Val just sat there, listening and watching.

  ‘Well, that fixes that,’ I said, returning to my desk. ‘If your husband kicks, then I’ll pay the boy.’

  ‘He won’t like it.’

  ‘Too bad. Tell me, Val, who are all those people travelling at his expense?’

  ‘People who work for him. People he has to bribe. He’s too smart to give them money. They get their vacations free.’

  ‘Why does he have to bribe them?’

  ‘To get information. He lives on other people’s information.’

  ‘Do you know his credit is being cut from six months to mm month everywhere? Is he in trouble?’

  She stiffened.

  ‘Trouble?’

  ‘I heard his empire could crash. It’s no more than talk, but might it?’

  She passed the tip of her tongue over her lips.

  ‘He’s worth millions.’

  ‘Other men have been worth millions. That doesn’t mean a thing. Has he said anything to you? I’m not being curious, Val. I’m thinking of you. If there is a crash, what will you do?’

  ‘He won’t crash. He is far too evil.’ She shook her head. ‘The devil looks after his own.’

  At this moment the intercom buzzed and Dyer told me he was sending up three briefs that were immediate.

  She had heard what he had said so I didn’t have to repeat it.

  ‘Let’s get on.’ I began on another brief.

  She began her peck and hunt routine. After a girl had brought up the briefs and I had studied them, Val’s slow tap-tap-tap stretched my nerves to snapping point.

  Finally, I could stand it no longer.

  ‘Val! This can’t go on! I must have a fast typist! You can see that, can’t you? You’re so out of practice we just can’t go on like this. I don’t mean to be unkind . . .’ I broke off as I saw her face crumple in utter despair and she put her arms across the typewriter and her head on them. Her body began to shake with sobs.

  Alarmed, I went to her, only just restraining myself from taking her in my arms.

  ‘Val, forgive me!’ My frustration and irritation gave way to remorse and pity. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. Don’
t be upset, darling. Let’s talk about it. There must be a solution. Come on, darling, don’t give way.’

  She straightened up. The haunted, desperate expression in her eyes shocked me.

  ‘Can’t you understand what is happening?’ She pressed the palms of her hands hard against her eyes. ‘Do you really believe I have forgotten how to type? Can’t you see the battle that is going on before your eyes?’

  I stared at her.

  ‘Battle? Forgive me but I just don’t know what you are saying.’

  She dropped her hands into her lap with a gesture of despair.

  ‘I’ve explained and explained. You just don’t understand.’

  She leaned forward, staring up at me. ‘He is punishing me! The moment I put my fingers on the keyboard, I feel him taking over, forcing me to make mistakes, paralysing my fingers so every time I touch a key, it is a struggle. It was he who forced me to oversleep this morning so I would be late. It was he who forced me to go to Palm Beach yesterday to buy a dress I didn’t want. He is destroying the confidence I once had in my efficiency deliberately, gleefully to punish me.’

  Trilby and Svengali: devils and spirits . . . they were all back again. Helplessly I stared at her, trying to understand, willing myself to understand.

  ‘But why, Val? Why should he want to punish you?’

  She shuddered, her hands turning into fists.

  ‘I won’t let him make love to me. After that first night . . .never, never again! Oh, Clay! I can’t talk about it.’ She put her hand over her eyes as she whispered, ‘Horrible. . . horrible.’

  The telex began to clatter. I spun around, my nerves crawling.

  She caught her breath in a dry, choking sob.

  ‘That’s him now.’ The fear in her voice chilled me. ‘He always knows when he is succeeding in punishing me. It doesn’t matter how far away he is. He knows.’

  The machine stopped typing.

  ‘Go and look.’

  With my heart hammering I went to the machine and ripped out the paper. It shook in my hands as I read the message.

  Don’t bother me with trivialities. Hire any additional staff necessary. If Mrs. Vidal needs typing assistance, supply it.

  H.V.

  Silently I gave the message to Val. When she had read it, we stared at each other.

  ‘You see?’ Her voice trembled. ‘He knows he has succeeded. Now do you believe me? Do you still think I’m being hysterical? Do you still believe that I am a free agent and not completely in his power . . . that his will hasn’t conquered mine?’

  ‘There must be some way I can help you, Val.’

  ‘But you still don’t believe, do you?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I think he has got you under a hypnotic Influence. It can be the only answer, but how can I help you?’ She shook her head wearily.

  ‘There is nothing you can do. There is nothing anyone can do. I thought I was strong enough to fight him, but I’m not!’ She looked away as she said half to herself, ‘As long as my life lasts, as long as his life lasts, I shall be his slave.’

  Then I remembered what Dyer had told me: that he had snapped his fingers and Val had gone into a trance. Without thinking of the consequences, I lifted my hand.

  ‘Look at me, Val,’ I said, then I snapped my finger and thumb together

  Six

  The hands of my desk clock moved to 13.15. Two hours had gone by since that terrible scene I had with Val. I was at my desk, still shaken and still too shocked to deal with the briefs spread before me.

  What had I done? I kept asking myself. What evil influence had I released by snapping my fingers? Although Dyer had warned me, I never expected to get such an alarming reaction. Val had turned into a zombie. All character seemed to drain out of her face, leaving it blank as if she were dead.

  Her eyes became fixed in the stare of the blind.

  Then she leaned forward, peering past me at the opposite wall. ‘I will kill you!’ she said in a low, fierce whisper. ‘I will never be free until you are dead! Your death is my only hope!’

  As I watched her, unable to move, she slowly stood up.

  ‘You can stand there laughing at me!’ She looked and spoke as if she were seeing someone opposite her, invisible to me. ‘Go on, laugh, you devil! You have destroyed me! Now it is my turn to destroy you!’

  She came around the desk and rushed blindly across the room, her hands like claws, her lips drawn off her teeth. She thudded against the wall, reeled back, threw herself at the wall again, her hands striking blindly.

  ‘Let me go!’ she cried, wrestling as if she had someone in her grasp who was stronger than she and she was being forced back. ‘I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!’

  There was something so macabre and horrible in this scene, I could only stand motionless, feeling the hair on the nape of my neck bristling.

  Then she gave a piercing cry and fell on her knees, her hands trying to tear invisible fingers from her throat.

  The fear contorting her face galvanised me into action. I rushed to her and caught hold of her arms.

  ‘Val!’

  She struck me violently across the eyes, blinding me for a moment. As I staggered back, she straightened up, threw out her hands as if to ward off a blow, then she fell. The back of her head struck one of the claw feet of the desk with a sickening sound, her eyes rolled back and she went limp.

  With my heart hammering, panic rising, I ran to her and bent over her. Her breasts under the white blouse rose and all, but she was unconscious.

  Shaking, I blundered over to the intercom and called Dyer.

  ‘Who is it?’ he demanded petulantly. ‘I’m just going to lunch.’

  ‘Burden. Get help up here!’ I cried. ‘Mrs. Vidal has had an accident. Get a doctor! Hurry!’

  ‘Is she hurt?’ His voice became efficient and alert.

  ‘Get someone! She’s hurt! Get a doctor!’

  ‘At once!’

  As I snapped up the switch, Val moaned and I went to her. She opened her eyes.

  ‘My head! What happened?’

  ‘You fell,’ I said. ‘Just stay still. Help’s coming.’

  She caught hold of my hand. Her grip was so fierce it was painful.

  ‘He was here, wasn’t he? You saw him?’ She shivered. ‘He tried to kill me! Clay, please . . . don’t leave me! Promise?’

  ‘Of course. Stay quiet. The doctor’s coming.’ She gave a little sigh, muttered something I couldn’t hear, then her eyes closed and she seemed to drift off into unconsciousness.

  The door opened and a middle-aged woman with white hair, sharp blue eyes and a hard mouth came in.

  She looked at Val, then as I stood aside, she knelt by Val’s side. She seemed very efficient and calm. She lifted Val’s right eyelid, felt her pulse, then stood up.

  ‘I am Mrs. Clements, Mr. Vidal’s housekeeper,’ she said. ‘It would be more convenient if you would now leave her with me, Mr. Burden.’

  ‘She hit her head on the desk,’ I said as I moved to the door. My voice was unsteady and husky. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?’

  ‘The doctor’s coming. She had better stay as she is until he has seen her.’

  Moving slowly, my legs shaky, I went down the corridor, down the stairs and out into the garden.

  ‘Burden. . .’

  I turned.

  Dyer was coming quickly towards me.

  ‘What happened?’

  I couldn’t keep it to myself.

  ‘She went into a trance and she fell. She hit her head on the desk.’

  He eyed me.

  ‘You look shaken, old boy. What you need is a drink. Come back to my office. Come on,’ and putting his hand on my arm, he led me towards the office block.

  I heard a car coming up the drive and I turned my head.

  ‘Doctor Fontane,’ Dyer said. ‘He’ll take care of her.’ We entered his office and he produced two big whiskies. I drank and was grateful.

  ‘Sit down. You look as if yo
u’ve seen a ghost,’ he said.

  My eyes searched his face. The sneering, jeering expression was gone. His eyes showed genuine concern.

  I sat down, gulped down the rest of the drink and set the glass on his desk.

  ‘Did you set her off?’ he asked quietly. He snapped his fingers.

  I nodded.

  ‘I wasn’t thinking.’ I certainly wasn’t going to tell him the whole truth.

  ‘Yes . . . the way it happened to me. You’ll have to tell Tiny, Burden.’

  I flinched at the thought of speaking to Vidal.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better to let the doctor do it? He’ll be able to say how bad she is.’

  ‘Yes, but Tiny will want it first hand from you. Have another drink?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘Oh, come on. You look as if you need another.’ He made two more drinks. ‘And Burden, a tip . . . don’t tell him nor anyone else about the finger snapping. It wouldn’t go down well with Tiny. I suggest you tell him she came fainted.’

  I never imagined I could get to like Dyer, but I now found myself liking him.

  ‘Yes, you’re right.’

  ‘It’s damned odd, isn’t it? What do you make of it? It’s as If she’s been hypnotised. Do you think she has? You know I’ve wondered about Tiny. He could have hypnotic powers. Once he stared at me and I’ll be damned if I didn’t feel as if I was suddenly floating. A most odd sensation. Do you think he hypnotises her?’

  I hedged.

  ‘Why should he?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about her: the set-up puzzles me. I remember Doctor Rappach, a friend of mine, told me that very often glamorous looking women like Mrs. V. are frigid. Rappach knows what he is talking about. He uses hypnotism in his work.’

  I stared at him.

  ‘You didn’t tell him about Mrs. Vidal?’

  He looked shocked.

  ‘Good God, no! I may be curious, but I don’t gossip. He told me an odd story about a man who had hypnotic powers. His wife was frigid and he used to hypnotise her to release her when they had sex. It was a great success. She didn’t even know she had sex with him but after a while she became neurotic and Rappach had to talk seriously to the husband. I’m only guessing, of course, but it is possible that Mrs. V. isn’t all that satisfactory bed—wise and Tiny releases her.’