1975 - Believe This You'll Believe Anything

by James Hadley Chase

  She didn’t turn nor speak. I frowned at her back, then shrugging, I went into the bedroom.

  A suitcase lay on the bed. I paused, then crossing to the bed, I lifted the lid of the suitcase. The case contained a jumble of Rhoda’s clothes. She was the most godawful packer and when we went away, I packed for her.

  I returned to the living room.

  ‘What’s the idea of the suitcase, honey?’ I asked, feeling suddenly uneasy.

  ‘I’m staying at the hotel until the hurricane is over.’ Her voice was flat and cold and she didn’t turn around. ‘Daphne (she was Rhoda’s boss) says we shall be busy as the old cows will have nothing to do except buy things. She says the streets won’t be safe, so I’m moving in, if it’s of any interest to you.’

  The stiff way she was holding herself, the tone of her voice increased my uneasiness.

  ‘Is something biting you, honey?’

  She turned. Her face was flushed and her eyes were snapping.

  ‘I have something to show you, you two faced jerk!’ she exclaimed. She ran to the table and picked up a copy of Vogue, turned back at a full page coloured photograph. She thrust it at me. Even upside down as she held it in her shaking hand I could see it was a photograph of Val.

  I kept my face expressionless.

  ‘What’s so unusual about that?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t try to con me, you sonofabitch!’ Rhoda screamed. ‘I showed this to Bill Olson and who do you think he said it was: your gorgeous, efficient Val Dart! The tart you have been mooning about for six goddamn years! The whore you went away with, getting what she wouldn’t give you six years ago! You and your cheap diamond and emerald ring!’

  She threw something at me. It struck my face and fell to the floor. I saw it was the box containing the engagement ring I had so hopefully bought Val so many years ago and which I had kept as I had thought safely at the back of my shirt drawer. With the ring, I had kept Val’s letters.

  I picked up the box and put it in my pocket. A crash of thunder rattled the windows.

  ‘You dared to hit me, you stinker, when I said you were screwing that whore and you were screwing her all the time! You pick nose bastard! You . . . you. . .’ She rushed at me, her fingers like claws. I caught her wrists and pushed her gently but firmly into a chair.

  ‘All right, Rhoda, relax. Let’s talk about it. Let’s cut out the screaming and the name calling,’ I said quietly. ‘I want a divorce.’

  She was struggling to get up, but when I said that she went limp and stared up at me.

  ‘You want. . . what?’

  ‘A divorce. Let’s be civilised about this, Rhoda. You must admit we don’t get along. We shouldn’t have married. You know as well as I do that this is a fact. You are young. You’ll find someone who will make you much happier than I do.’

  She drew in a shuddering breath.

  ‘Are you planning to marry that bitch once you get rid of me?’ she demanded, her voice thick with rage.

  ‘I have no plans, Rhoda. I just want to be free, and I think you should also be free.’

  ‘Do you?’ Her lips twisted into a sneer. ‘How very considerate of you! So you divorce me and you’ll be free to screw that bitch whenever she feels like it. That’s the idea, isn’t it?’

  ‘Rhoda. Can’t we discuss this reasonably? I am asking you for a divorce for the good of both of us. Right now you are upset, but when this hurricane is over, when you are in a calmer mood, think about it. I am sure you will realise that it is as much to your advantage as it is to mine.’

  ‘Is that right? How nice to know! Let me tell you, Mr. Hot—pants, I don’t have to think about it! I’ve already thought about it!’ She got to her feet and marched into the bedroom.

  Feeling cold and sick I went to the window and stared out at the storm.

  She came back, carrying her suitcase. She had put on a mac and a plastic rain hat. She looked very immature and pretty as she dumped the case on my desk and faced me.

  ‘Now I’m going to give you something to think about, my dashing Casanova. When this hurricane has blown itself out, I shall come back here still as your wife! In the meantime, you will tell Mr. Henry Vidal that you are not going to work for him any longer. You will go to Massingham and ask for your job back. You do that and I’ll forget your dirty little gambol in sex. From now on, you are going to make me happy instead of that whore. You are not getting a divorce! I’m satisfied as I am. Get all that?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Rhoda. I want out and I am having out. I don’t want to live with you anymore. If you won’t give me a divorce, then we must each go our own ways,’ I said quietly.

  ‘How wrong can you be! And I’ll tell you for why. If you don’t do what I have said - quit working for Mr. Moneybags Vidal, quit sniffing around that slinky bitch, then I will write to Mr. Moneybags and tell him what you are up to. I’ve seen photos of him. He’s no cry baby. When he learns you have been screwing his wife, he’ll give you the beating you deserve and he’ll give her one too. So watch it! You quit by the time I get back or you will land in hospital and don’t come snivelling to me. I won’t care!’

  She picked up her suitcase and left the apartment. The bang of the door coincided with a crash of thunder.

  Eight

  The bell of my alarm clock which I had set to go off at 06.00 woke me with a start. I had gone to bed early and knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep with so much on my mind I had taken three sleeping pills.

  Before the pills had finally bludgeoned me into sleep I had looked at my future with despair. I was sure Rhoda was capable of writing to Vidal. Val had said with conviction that if ever Vidal found out we were lovers he would have us killed. I was sure now this was no idle warning. There was no use in confiding in Rhoda, telling her that if she gave me away I could be killed. She would only think this was an exaggeration to prevent her telling him. She just wouldn’t believe it: a beating, yes, but murder, no.

  Murder?

  This brought me full circle. If I killed Vidal my troubles would be over. Val would be free and Rhoda could no longer blackmail me. Even if Rhoda refused me a divorce, Val and I could go away. Once Val was back to her old efficient self, we could work together. We could disappear to Canada or to England. With our training and experience we were certain to get good jobs in some travel office and later (who knows?) by saving our money, we might even set up as travel agents on our own.

  Under the drowsy influence of the sleeping pills I became more optimistic. Maybe the future wasn’t going to be so black as I had first thought. As I lay there in this half-world of sleep and wakefulness I even felt capable of murdering Vidal.

  I struggled up and turned off the alarm. The sun was shining through the blinds. Sitting on the edge of the bed I ran my fingers through my hair, grimacing as my head began to throb and ache. The strange silence in the room puzzled me. It was as if I had become suddenly deaf, then I realised the wind had died down. For the past twelve hours its screaming and the noise of the wind-lashed palm trees had been deafening. I went to the window and drew up the blind.

  Outside, everything dripped water, but there was no wind and the sun felt strong.

  Maybe, I thought, the hurricane has already blown itself out.

  It seemed strange to have the apartment to myself and not to hear Rhoda singing in the bathroom. Loneliness is a funny thing. When I had her around, she irritated me, but now, I missed her.

  I made coffee and then dressed. At 07.15 I went down to the garage.

  Hank, the night man, was polishing a car. He was a tall, thin black who took too much interest in the occupants of the apartments.

  ‘Morning, Mr. Burden,’ he said, grinning. ‘You’re right early. I see Mrs. Burden’s car ain’t here.’

  ‘She’s staying at the hotel and I’m staying at Paradise Largo until the hurricane passes. Hold any mail for us, will you Hank?’

  ‘Sure will, Mr. Burden. That hurricane is going to be a big nuisance.’

  ‘Looks
as if it has already blown itself out.’

  Grinning, he shook his head.

  ‘No, sir. That little hurricane ain’t blown itself out. It’s gathering its strength. By dusk, it’ll really get going.

  I drove out on to the empty streets. The City now looked as if it were expecting a hostile invasion. The windows of the stores and better shops were boarded up. There was scarcely any traffic. Coming to the hotel belt I saw men trimming the palms and sawing off overhanging tree branches.

  The security guard nodded to me as I showed him my pass.

  ‘I’ll be staying until it’s over,’ I told him.

  He grunted, his expression surly.

  ‘So will I if this goddamn box doesn’t blow away.’

  ‘Has Mr. Vidal arrived yet?’

  ‘Passed through half an hour ago.’

  I found a change in the house when I parked my car. All the windows were boarded up and there were two men on the flat roof, capping the chimneys. A Chinese gardener was staking the standard rose trees. Another was shoring up a leaning palm.

  Entering my dark office, I turned on the lights. On my desk stood a hurricane lamp and a box of matches. I glanced at the boarded up windows, then at my desk clock. The time was 08.00.

  Henriques, Vidal’s accountant, had asked me to prepare the month’s statement giving names, destinations and costs. As I had nothing else to do and needed to keep my mind occupied I got out the various dockets and receipts and began to list them.

  Around 08.45 a tap came on the door and Dyer came in.

  ‘Hello there.’ He had a powerful electric torch in his hand which he placed on my desk. ‘The hurricane is supposed to hit around 21.00. All electricity will be cut off so you’d better keep this handy. It’s going to be damned hot without the air conditioners and with no ventilation.’ He sat on the corner of my desk and lit a cigarette. ‘Tiny arrived about an hour ago.’

  He grimaced. ‘Not in the best of tempers. He’s with Mrs. V. now.’

  ‘Did he say if they were going to stay?’ Dyer grinned.

  ‘He didn’t even say good morning. I’m working in the room immediately below this one. His office is next to mine at the back, overlooking the pool in case he yells for you. There’s a lot of mail come in, probably the last until it’s over.’

  ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘Not right now. My intercom is four. See you,’ and he left me.

  I sat still, wondering what was going on in Val’s room. My nerves were jumpy and I had a sick feeling in my stomach. I opened my desk drawer where I had put my brief case. The outline of the gun gave me no comfort. Shutting the drawer. I tried to concentrate on the dockets, but my mind kept chasing down the corridor to Val’s room.

  Then remembering. I had left my overnight bag in the Plymouth, I got to my feet and went to the door, opened it and stood listening. I heard nothing. Slowly, I moved along the corridor to within ten yards of Val’s door. I paused at the head of the stairs and again listened.

  Suddenly I heard Vidal’s short barking laugh. The sound chilled me.

  ‘You’d better get up.’ His squeaky voice came clearly to me. ‘Does you more harm than good lolling around in bed. Get dressed and find something to do!’

  Seeing the door handle turn, I started swiftly down the stairs. I reached the hall as Vidal reached the head of the stairs.

  ‘Ah, Burden!’

  His voice stopped me as if I had run into a wall. I turned and looked up at him. He was wearing a pearl grey City suit with a white silk shirt and a blood red tie. He came swiftly down the stairs and as he passed me, he went on, ‘I want to talk to you.’ There was a heavy frown on his face and as he walked, he slapped his hands together impatiently.

  Following him, I was again aware of the power and width of his shoulders that seemed to ooze strength.

  He opened a door and bounced into a vast room, dominated by a big Chippendale desk: a room of comfort, luxury and good taste. He went around the desk and sat down.

  ‘I’m pleased you are staying Burden. You never know . . .you could be useful. I have to stay: an important telephone call. Mrs. Vidal has elected to stay with me. God knows why.’

  He shrugged impatiently. ‘She would be better leaving with Mrs. Clements. She says she doesn’t feel like the journey.’ He waved to a chair. ‘Sit down.’

  As I sat down there came a tap on the door and the butler came in with a tray of coffee which he set on the desk.

  ‘Want coffee?’ Vidal asked me.

  ‘No, thank you.’ I felt I would throw up if I took coffee. ‘I’ve had mine.’

  ‘Right.’ He waved the butler away. ‘Harris, you’d better get going. Guilio will look after me.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’ The butler closed the door after him.

  ‘They’re all nervous,’ Vidal said. ‘I dislike having nervous people around me.’ He paused, then went on, ‘your work’s very satisfactory Burden. It couldn’t have been easy with Mrs. Vidal having the vapours. Have you got a secretary?’

  ‘Yes, but I told to keep away until the hurricane’s over.’

  ‘Mrs. Vidal, as I expected, doesn’t want to continue working with you. She found it too hard so you’d better keep this girl you’ve found if you’re satisfied with her. What are we paying her?’

  I told him.

  ‘That’s all right. Now I have a job for you. Get on to it right away. If this hurricane turns out as bad as they say it’s going to be, we’ll lose the telephone: all the lines will be down. Charter an air taxi on standby to be ready to take off the moment the weather permits. Destination San Salvador, three passengers with luggage. I’ll give you the names later, but get the aircraft booked.’ He gave a mirthless grin. ‘Tell that jerk I’ll pay cash.’

  ‘Yes, Mr. Vidal.’ I got to my feet.

  ‘Don’t run away for the moment. When you’ve done that Burden, do me a favour, will you?’

  This was so unexpected, I stared at him for a moment before saying, ‘Of course, Mr. Vidal.’

  ‘Keep Mrs. Vidal amused this afternoon, will you? She gets along with you. Play gin rummy or some goddamn thing with her. She’s nervy and I have a load of work to do.’ I could scarcely believe I was hearing rightly.

  ‘It’ll be my pleasure,’ I said huskily.

  ‘That’s a good fellow.’ He reached for a legal looking document. It was his way of dismissing me.

  My heart thumping with excitement, I moved into the hall, shutting Vidal’s door gently behind me. Coming down the stairs was Mrs. Clements, Harris, the butler and a fat man I assumed was the chef. They were all carrying suitcases. I stood aside to let them pass. Mrs. Clements gave me a curt nod, Harris inclined his head, the chef ignored me. When they had left the house, I went into Dyer’s office.

  He was thumping a typewriter with two fingers. He paused to grin at me.

  ‘The rats gone?’

  ‘Where are they off to?’

  ‘Catching the last flight to Dallas. They’ve all got the jitters about Hermes. Tiny told them to go and we now have no staff except Gesetti. He swears he can cook. I hope he can. You’ll have to make your own bed. Can you type?’

  ‘Fair.’

  ‘You could help out.’ He pushed some papers across his desk. ‘If you will type this lot with two copies I’ll be obliged.’

  ‘Sure.’ I took the papers up to my office, put them on the desk, hesitated, then started from the office towards Val’s room. I had only taken three steps along the corridor when I came to an abrupt halt.

  Coming up the stairs, moving like a ghost, was Gesetti.

  We looked at each other. From under the brim of his white hat, his flat snake’s eyes glittered menacingly.

  The sight of him chilled me.

  ‘Looking for something, buster?’ he demanded and came up the last of the stairs with the speed of a cat.

  I backed away from him. He looked as lethal as a cobra.

  Panic grabbed me. I backed into my office and hurriedly shut th
e door.

  This was the man, Val had told me, who would kill us if Vidal found out that we were lovers. He put the fear of God into me. It was something I couldn’t control. I was furious with myself that I had shown him so clearly I was frightened of him, but there was something so vicious and deadly about him surely anyone would be frightened of him?

  I sat at my desk, wiping my clammy hands with my handkerchief, listening for the sound of his footsteps, but hearing nothing. I was sure he was still outside my door. I had to restrain the urge to rush to the door and turn the key.

  It took me nearly ten minutes to calm down. I now hadn’t the courage to venture out of the office. I still couldn’t be sure that Gesetti wasn’t out there in the corridor so I called Roger Everet of the Florida Air Taxi service.

  ‘Hello, Burden,’ he said when he came to the telephone. ‘What’s it this time? Your dwarf paid up like a lamb by the way.’

  ‘He wants an air taxi: three passengers and luggage for San Salvador on standby. As soon as Hermes has blown itself out he wants to take off.’

  ‘Can do. Same terms?’

  ‘Same terms.’

  ‘Okay, tell him the kite will be at readiness.’

  ‘What do the weather boys say?’

  ‘Could be through in three or four days but it’ll be bad while it lasts. Let’s see, today’s Tuesday. He could take off Saturday with luck.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll tell him.’

  I still had no desire to see Val as yet. Gesetti had acted like a bucket of cold water thrown over me so I began to type the paper Dyer had given me: dull speeches of directors of an oil corporation.

  As I typed I became aware that the wind was hissing. The palm trees began to rustle. Away in the distance came the faint rumble of thunder.

  * * *

  At lunchtime I went down to the darkened dining room.

  On the table were two plates of sandwiches and bottles of beer. I took two sandwiches and a beer back to my office, then completed the work Dyer had given me.