You Find Him – I'll Fix Him

by James Hadley Chase

  We faced each other.

  He crouched, his big hands held out before him, his thick fingers hooked. There was an expression on his face that made him look like something out of the jungle.

  "Okay, you dirty double-crosser," he said softly. "Now you're really going to get it."

  I waited for him.

  He began to move slowly forward, circling a little to my left, his black eyes vicious and intent. I turned slightly, set for his rush, the poker in readiness. I knew I could stop him if I landed one good smash on his head.

  But I underestimated his speed. I knew he was fast, but I didn't realize just how fast he could be until he suddenly dived for my knees.

  His shoulder crashed against my thighs as I brought down the poker which landed across his shoulders, missing his head. I felt as if a house had fallen on me. We went down together with a thump that rocked the room.

  I let go of the poker and drove my fist into his face. I couldn't get much weight behind the punch, but it sent his head back. I aimed another punch at his throat, but my fist sailed past his head as he twisted aside. He caught me on the side of my neck with a clubbing punch that dazed me.

  I got my hand under his chin and heaved him off me. He swung a punch at my head. I blocked it with my right arm, kicked him in the chest and sent him crashing against the settee that shot across the room, mowing down an occasional table and a standard lamp.

  I was on my feet in time to meet his rush. We collided like a couple of fighting bulls. I hung a jolting right on the side of his jaw and took a thump in the ribs, that turned me sick.

  He backed away; his face contorted with savage rage. He showed his teeth in a snarling grimace. I steadied myself and waited for him. As he came in, I shoved my left into his face, jolting his head back. I jumped away as he countered with a punch that swished past my jaw, bringing him forward. I hooked him on the side of his head, catching him too high up to damage him. He crowded me, bashing my ribs with four short-arm jolts that thumped the breath out of me. I broke away from him, jumped behind an armchair, and as he came at me, I shoved the chair at him, spoiling his rush.

  Punch for punch, I knew he was too good for me. He hit with the force of a steam hammer, and every time he caught me, I weakened.

  I began to back away. He moved forward, blood trickling down his chin from a cut lip. As he came within reach, I shot out my left. My fist caught him on the nose, but it didn't stop him. He swung at me. His fist came over my shoulder and exploded against my ear. It was a hell of a punch, and I felt my knees sag. I threw up my hands to protect my jaw and took another punch to the body. I went down.

  I expected him to finish me, but he was too anxious to get at Gina. He left me and charged across the room. He took a flying kick at the bedroom door; his foot landing against the lock. The door split, but the lock held.

  From inside the room I heard the crash of breaking glass and then the sound of Gina's screaming out of the broken window at the top of her voice.

  Somehow I got to my feet. My legs felt like rubber sticks. I reeled forward as he set himself for another kick at the lock. I flung my arm around his neck and dragged him over backwards. I got a lock on his throat. But it was like holding on to a wild cat. He was much too strong for me. He dragged my arm from his throat, drove his elbow into my body, turned, and his fingers closed around my throat. I got my hand under his chin and exerted pressure. For a long moment we remained motionless; his fingers digging into my throat; my hand slowly wedging his head back. My hold hurt him more than his hurt me and he let go, heaved backwards, scrambled to his feet as I got up on to my knees.

  He set himself and swung a punch. I saw it coming, but I was too far gone to get out of its way. Lights exploded before my eyes and I went down.

  I remained out for maybe three or four seconds. The sound of the bedroom door crashing open brought me round. I heard a wild scream and I knew he had got to Gina.

  I staggered up. Near me, on the floor, was the poker. My fingers closed around it. I staggered across the room and into the bedroom.

  Carlo had Gina flat on her back across the bed. One of his big hands gripped her throat. He knelt over her. He was shouting: "Where is it? Come on! Give it to me!"

  I swung the poker. He half-turned, but he was a shade too late. The poker came down on top of his head. His hand slid off Gina's throat. He supped sideways. I hit him again. He spread out on the floor.

  I dropped the poker, stepped over him and leaned over Gina.

  "Did he hurt you?"

  She looked up at me, her face white. She tried to smile.

  "He didn't get it, Ed," she gasped, then, turning her head, she began to cry.

  "What's going on here?" a voice demanded at the door.

  I looked over my shoulder. Two policemen stood in the doorway; one of them had a pistol in his hand.

  "Not much right now," I said, making an effort to keep upright "This guy broke in here and we had a free-for-all. I'm Ed Dawson of the Western Telegraph. Lieutenant Carlotti knows me."

  At Carlotti's name, the policemen's faces brightened.

  "Do you want to charge this man?"

  "You bet I do. Get him out of here, will you? I'll have a clean up and then I'll come down to the station."

  One of the policemen bent over Carlo. He caught hold of his collar and dragged him upright.

  I had already learned the danger of getting close to Carlo and I started to shout a warning.

  Carlo came to life. His right fist shot out and connected with the policeman's jaw, sending him crashing into the other policeman.

  Carlo came to his feet. He gave me a back-hand slap across the face that flattened me on the bed, then he dived out of the room.

  The policeman with the gun in his hand recovered his balance, swung around, lifted his gun and fired.

  I saw Carlo stagger, but he reached the front door as the policeman fired again.

  Carlo dropped on hands and knees. He turned his head, his face a savage mask of pain and fury. Somehow, he hauled himself to his feet and took three tottering steps out on to the landing and stood swaying at the head of the stairs.

  The policeman moved slowly towards him.

  Carlo looked past him at me. His face twisted into a ghastly attempt at a grin, then his eyes rolled back and his knees buckled. He toppled backwards down the stairs, and landed on the floor below with a crash that shook the building.

  IV

  Forty minutes later, I was back in my apartment, fixing my bruises. I had dropped Gina off at her apartment and had telephoned Maxwell to hold everything until I had time to contact him again. The police had told mc that Carlo was still alive, but there was no hope for him. They said he would the within an hour or so. They had rushed him to hospital.

  I had just finished putting a strip of plaster over a cut above my eye when the front-door bell rang. It was Carlotti.

  "Manchini is asking for you," he said. "He's going fast. I have a car outside. Will you come?"

  I followed him down to where the police car was waiting. While we were driving to the hospital, Carlotti said, "You seem to be having some excitement. Grandi telephoned me that it was you who put him on to Setti's hide-out."

  "I've had too much excitement."

  He gave me a thoughtful stare.

  "After you have talked with Manchini, I want to have a talk with you."

  Here it comes, I thought, and told him that I was at his disposal. Nothing more was said until we reached the hospital. Then Cariotti said, "I hope he's still alive. He was in a bad way when I left him."

  We were taken immediately to a private ward where Carlo lay, guarded by two detectives. He was still alive, and as we came into the room he opened his eyes and gave me a twisted grin. "Hello, pally," he said in a hoarse whisper. "I've been waiting for you."

  "What is it?" I asked, standing over him.

  "Get these coppers out of here. I want to talk to you alone."

  "You talk in front of me or not at
all," Carlotti said.

  Carlo looked at him.

  "Don't be a sucker, copper. If you want to know how Helen Chalmers died, you'll get out of here and take these two flat-feet with you. I want to talk to my pal first. Then I'll have something for you."

  Carlotti hesitated, then shrugged.

  "I'll give you five minutes," he said and, beckoning to the two detectives, he went out. They followed him and closed the door.

  Carlo looked at me.

  "You've got guts, pally. I like the way you fight. I'm going to put you in the clear. I'm going to tell them it was me who killed Helen. They can't do anything to me now. I'm not going to last much longer. If I tell them I did it, will you do me a favour?"

  "If I can."

  "Get rid of that film, pally." A spasm of pain ran through him and he shut his eyes. Then, opening his eyes, he grinned savagely. "I'm getting to be a sissy, aren't I?" he said. "Will you give me your word you won't show that film to anyone? It's important to me, pally."

  "I don't think I can do that," I said. "The police must see it if it is anything to do with Helen's death."

  "I'm going to tell them I killed her. The case will be closed," Carlo said. Every word made him sweat. "Look at the film yourself. You'll see what I mean after you've looked at it. It's not evidence. When you've seen it, destroy it. Will you do that?"

  "Okay. If I'm satisfied that it isn't evidence, I'll destroy it."

  "You'll give me your word?"

  "Yes, but I must be sure it isn't evidence."

  He managed to grin.

  "Oksy, shoot them in. I'll give them a confession – the full treatment."

  "So long, Carlo," I said and gripped his hand.

  "So long, pally. I was a sucker to involve you in this. I didn't think you had so much on the ball. Get them in here and hurry."

  I went out and told Carlotti Manchini wanted him. He and the two detectives went into the room and closed the door. I walked down the passage to the entrance hall. I waited there for Carlotti.

  Twenty minutes later, he came into the hall.

  "He's gone," he said soberly. "Suppose we go to your apartment? I want to talk to you."

  Well, at least, he wasn't taking me to the police station. We drove in silence to my apartment.

  "You might like a drink?" I said as soon as we were in ray lounge.

  "I'll have a campari," Cariotti said.

  As I knew he never drank on duty, I felt easier in my mind. I fixed a campari and a whisky and soda for myself and we sat down.

  "Well, now," he said. "Manchini has given me a signed confession that he killed la Signorina Chalmers. I have reason to believe that you were also at the villa at the time of her death. You have been identified by two witnesses. I should like your explanation."

  I didn't hesitate. I gave him the whole story without holding a thing back. The only thing I didn't tell him was that June Chalmers had hired Sarti to watch Helen. I said I thought Sarti's client had been Chalmers himself.

  Carlotti listened without interrupting me. When I had finally finished, he stared at me for a long moment before saying, "I think you have behaved very foolishly, signor."

  It was such an anticlimax that I grinned at him.

  "I guess I have, but if you bad been in my place, I think you would have done the same. As it is, I've lost my new job. All this is bound to come out at the inquest."

  Carlotti stroked his nose.

  "Not necessarily," he said. "Manchini said that he was the man la signorina planned to spend a month with at the villa. I see no reason why I shouldn't accept that story. After all, you gave us the information about Setti and you have always been helpful in the past. I am satisfied that your story is true. I don't see why you should be penalized. Manchini said he caught la signorina taking a film of Setti's villa. Apparently, Setti was on the terrace. Manchini realized that this film could be used as a blackmail weapon against Setti. He got the camera from la signorina and ripped out the film. To teach her a lesson, so he said, he slapped her. She jumped back and fell over the cliff. This explanation will satisfy the coroner if I tell him we are satisfied. I don't think you should suffer for a woman of that kind. My advice to you is to say nothing that will involve yourself with il Signor Chalmers."

  "It's not as easy as that," I said. "Now Manchini is dead, there is nothing to stop Sarti trying to blackmail me again. He could tell Chalmers."

  Carlotti gave a wintry smile.

  "You don't have to worry about Sarti. Manchini gave me enough evidence to put Sarti away for years. He has already been arrested.''

  I suddenly realized that I was in the clear. I was out of the jam I thought was impossible ever to get out of.

  "Thank you, Lieutenant," I said. "All right. I won't say anything to Chalmers. You won't be worried with me for much longer. If I have any luck I'll be going to New York."

  He got to his feet

  "You don't worry me, signor. There are times when it is good to be able to help one's friends."

  When he had gone I took from my pocket the carton of film and turned it over in my hand. What did it contain? I wondered. Why had Carlo been so anxious to make a deal with me? I stood thinking for a long moment. Then, remembering that Giuseppe Frenzi had a 16 mm. projector, I called him and asked him if he would give me the loan of it for an hour.

  "It's all set up in my apartment, Ed," he said. "Go around there and help yourself. The janitor will let you in. I'm up to my eyes in work and can't get away until late or I'd come around and show you how it works."

  "I can manage it," I said. "Thanks, Giuseppe," and I hung up.

  A half hour later, I was in Frenzi's apartment with Helen's film threaded into the projector. I turned off the lights and started the film.

  She certainly knew how to take photographs. The scenes of Sorrento that flashed on the screen were first class.From the busy piazza, the scene changed to the villa, and then to the view from the cliff head. I was sitting forward, my heart thumping, watching the screen fixedly. Then suddenly there was a long shot of Setti's villa. I could just make out two men on the terrace. Then the scene switched to a close-up by Helen's powerful telephoto lens. There was Setti, easily recognizable, talking to Carlo, and, a moment later, Myra joined them. So Carlo had told Carlotti the truth. He must have spotted Helen up on the cliff as she took this shot, come up after her, snatched the camera out of her hand and given her a back-hand slap that had sent her off the cliff. Then why had he been so anxious that I shouldn't show this film to anyone since he had already told Carlotti what had happened?

  I got the answer in the next shot. From the terrace the scene changed once more to the cliff head. Carlo was standing with his back to the camera, looking out to sea. He suddenly turned and his dark, blunt-featured face lit up. The camera moved away from him to the direction where he was looking.

  A girl was coming along the path. She waved to Carlo. He went to meet her and, putting his arms around her, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

  The shot lasted about twenty seconds. I was standing up staring at the screen, scarcely believing my eyes. The girl in Carlo's arms was June Chalmers!

  V

  Sherwin Chalmers and his wife arrived at the Vesuvius hotel on the afternoon of the Friday before the inquest.

  He and I had a two-hour session together. I told him the story of Helen's past and her life in Rome. I let him read some of Sarti's reports, having taken the report concerning myself out of the file. I told him Carlo Manchini was the man known as Douglas Sherrard.

  Chalmers listened and read the reports, a cigar between his teeth, his face expressionless. When I was through, he tossed Sarti's file on the table, got to his feet and walked over to the window.

  "You've done a good job, Dawson," he said. "This has been a shock to me, as you can imagine. I had no idea I had a daughter who could behave like this. She got what was coming to her. The thing to do now is to try to keep it out of the papers."

  I knew how hopeless t
hat was, but I didn't tell him so. "I'll go along and talk to this coroner fella," Chalmers went on. "He can play it down. I'll also talk to the chief of police. Burn those reports. You've done your job here. Will you be ready to come to New York with me after the inquest?"

  "I'll have a few things to tidy up first, Mr. Chalmers," I said. "I can be in New York by Monday week."

  "Do that." He came away from the window. "I'm pleased with you, Dawson. It's better for the punk to have died. I'm going to see this coroner fella now."

  I didn't offer to go with him. I went downstairs with him to where the Rolls was waiting and saw him drive off, then I crossed over to the reception desk and asked the clerk to send my name up to Mrs. Chalmers. He made the call and told me to go on up.