He Won't Need It Now

by James Hadley Chase

  “Okay, what now?”

  “What’s the time?”

  “It’s getting on for ten o’clock.”

  Duffy groaned. “What a hell of a night I had,” he said, resting his head on his hands.

  McGuire went over to the telephone and dialled a number. Duffy watched him curiously. He heard the line connect with a little plop, then McGuire said, “Sam here, honey.” Then, after a pause he went on. “This crazy loon’s got himself into a jam. You ought to see him. Gee! He look’s terrible. Yeah, someone pushed him around. Well, I don’t think he’s capable of taking care of himself, so I’m bringing him right round to you. Fix up the spare bed for him, will you?” He stood listening for quite a while, then he said, “Coming right now,” and he hung up.

  Duffy said heatedly, “If you think you’re going to turn that wife of yours loose on me….”

  “Pipe down,” McGuire said sharply, “you’re doing what you’re told. Listen, you small-time prizefighter, you come on your feet or you come on your ear, it’s all the same to me.”

  “Okay, I’ll come.”

  McGuire had quite a job getting him over to his place, but he did it. The taxi-driver who brought them took an extraordinary interest in Duffy. He helped McGuire get him out of the cab and up the steps. Then he stood there, shaking his head.

  McGuire got a little heated about it. “All right, all right,” he said; “ain’t you seen someone pushed around before.”

  “He ain’t been pushed around,” the taxi-driver said, looking Duffy over, “someone’s been making love to him.”

  McGuire shut the door in his face.

  On the third floor Alice was waiting for them in the passage. A tall, dark girl, with black hair dressed low that set off her olive complexion, and gave her just a slight foreign look. Her large eyes, alight with life, were now large and scared.

  It didn’t matter how low Duffy felt, Alice always made him feel good. When she saw him, she put her hand quickly to her mouth. Her skin went a little paler, so that it looked almost oyster colour in the sunlit corridor. Her eyes filled with tears, but that was as far as she would show her feelings.

  “Bill Duffy!” she said, “how could you?”

  McGuire said, “A real fighting drunk, ain’t he?”

  Duffy tried a grin, but it was so painful to him and to look at, he hastily took it off his face. “This ain’t anything,” he kidded; “you ought to’ve seen me when I put Dempsey to sleep.”

  “He’s light-headed,” Alice said,, but she put her hand on his arm. “Get him inside quickly, Sam.”

  McGuire said, “I’ll be glad to. The way he’s leaning on me, you’d think he’s hurt.”

  They took him into McGuire’s little flat. A pleasant four-room box of a place, bright and comfortable. Everywhere, Alice had left something of herself. The neatness, the sweet-smelling flowers, the shine of the stained boards, showed the woman’s hand. Duffy looked round the sitting-room regretfully. Whenever he saw it, he felt a faint hunger. He had never made a secret about it. If McGuire hadn’t married Alice, he would have. The three of them were close linked.

  When McGuire got him undressed and into the cool sheets, he relaxed, and the pain that was riding his body gradually began to ease. Alice came in a moment later, fixed his pillow, fussed round him with a scent bottle, and Duffy loved it.

  McGuire looked at his watch. “Let the animal sleep,” he said to Alice. “I gotta go and work. Keep away from him. If he gets fresh, call a cop.” Then looking at Duffy, he said, “Take a nap, soldier, I’ll have a little chin with you later.”

  Duffy said, “I’ll steal your wife from you.”

  Alice and Sam exchanged glances, Duffy watched them through his swollen eyes. He thought they looked a swell pair. He shut his eyes for a moment, then found it was too much trouble to open them again.

  Alice looked down at him. “What can have happened to the poor dear?” she said, keeping her voice very low.

  McGuire put his arm round her and they left the room together. “He said three toughs set about him,” he said, when they were in the living-room. “Let him have a good sleep, then we’ll hear something more. I’ll get back early tonight.”

  “Sam!” Duffy’s voice was urgent.

  McGuire went back into the bedroom. “Go to sleep, you big loon,” he commanded.

  “Listen, Sam.” Duffy raised his head. “I want you to find out all you can about a girl called Annabel English, a guy called Daniel Morgan and whoever works for him. Dig in and get the lowdown on them. Don’t miss a thing. Also find out what you can about Cattley the dope-peddler. Get that, and I’ll rest all right.”

  McGuire took out a note-book and jotted down the names. “All right,” he said; “it all sounds screwy to me, and I’m bursting with curiosity, but I’ll get you the dope, but in the meantime, take it easy.”

  When McGuire got back in the evening, Duffy was still sleeping.

  Alice said, “He’s been that way all day.”

  “Sure, that’s the best thing that could happen to him. Suppose we eat, and then maybe he’ll be ready to talk.”

  While Alice was serving up, Duffy woke. He got into a dressing-gown and came out into the sitting-room. He looked a lot worse than he felt.

  Alice said, “Bill Duffy, go straight back to bed!”

  “I wish you two wouldn’t pick on me,” Duffy said, sitting in an easy chair, “I’m feeling good. Hi, Sam, what about a drink?”

  The other two looked at each other helplessly.

  “A hopeless soak,” Sam said sadly. “You better go back.” Duffy shook his head. “You two birds had better be careful,” he said, “I’ve just had a little fast training, and I’ll get tough.”

  McGuire settled the argument by producing a bottle of rum, a squeezer, some fresh limes, and a bottle of absinthe. He set about making up some Bacardi Crustas.

  “Make ’em big and strong,” Duffy said, “I want to get cockeyed tonight.”

  Alice looked round the kitchen door. “I’ve been waiting for that all day,” she said.

  “My wife’s an awful drunkard,” Sam said.

  “You’re telling me?” Duffy stood up to look at himself in the mirror. He took one glance, grimaced and sat down again. “I remember, before you knew her, when she got so stewed that it took ten cops to handle her.”

  Sam poured out the drinks. “That’s old stuff,” he said, “you don’t know what she’s like now. Give her a few shots of rum, and it takes an army to handle her.”

  Alice came in. “When you two loafers’ve finished pulling my reputation to bits, come on in and eat.”

  They followed her into the kitchen, Duffy walking slowly, careful not to touch anything, and Sam with the big shaker in his hands.

  They sat round the table Duffy found it was difficult to eat, but he made a good show. They talked about general things until the meal was over. Both Alice and Sam were burning with curiosity, but they let Duffy have his head. When they had finished, they went back into the sitting-room. Alice sat herself on the arm of Duffy’s chair, and McGuire stood in front of the empty fire-grate.

  Duffy said, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I guess you’d better have it from the start, and then we’ll go into the whys and whats after.”

  He told them everything. How he met Morgan, what Morgan wanted him to do, how he went to the house and took the photographs, how the camera was stolen, how he found Cattley on the lift-shaft, how he got rid of the body, the meeting with the three toughs. He gave them the whole works.

  When he had finished, there was a long silence. Then McGuire said, “You’ve started something this time.”

  “I’ve not only started something, but it’s something I’m going to finish.”

  Alice ran her long fingers through his hair. “I know it’s no good me saying anything, but don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

  Duffy put his fingers tenderly on his face, his eyes were suddenly very bleak. “No one can push me around li
ke this and not know something about it,” he said softly.

  Alice got off the arm of his chair and walked over to the fireplace. She stood looking down at Duffy, her big eyes were sad. “You men are all alike,” she said; there was a faint undertone of bitterness in her voice. “All tough guys, who come home hurt!”

  Duffy looked over at Sam. “Suppose we forget that for a moment,” he said; “tell me what you found out about Annabel English.”

  Sam began to fill a pipe. “That dame’s going to get herself into trouble one of these days,” he said, fumbling around for some matches. Alice took a box off the mantelshelf and gave them to him. “One of these days, she going to be stuck for a sucker, and then she’ll be landed in the cooler.”

  Duffy said, “I want facts, not an extract from True.”

  “Well, in brief, she’s Edwin English’s daughter. I supposed you guessed that?”

  Duffy looked startled. “No,” he said seriously, “I should have thought of that, but I didn’t.”

  “Do you mean Edwin English, the politician?” Alice asked.

  Sam nodded shortly. “Yeah,” he said, “Annabel’s the wild one of the family. English stands for anti-vice, you know all about his racket. Annabel’s his big thorn. I guess she about crucifies the old man. About three years ago they agreed to part. He set her up in a swell apartment, and gave her a big allowance, on condition that she behaved herself, and didn’t give him any cause for getting in bad with his voters.”

  Duffy said, “I’d just hate to be an anti-vice candidate with a daughter like that.”

  Sam nodded. “You bet,” he said, “this little dame’s a nympho-something or other, I forget the word. You know, she’s hot for anything in pants.”

  “You mean nymphomaniac?” Alice said, “isn’t that rather strong?”

  “Strong?” Duffy broke in. “Say listen…” He paused, changed his mind, and went on, “never mind. It ain’t too strong. Go on, Sam.”

  “The old man’s for ever steaming himself in case she breaks out, and stains the family name. You know the type of thing. The other politicians are just praying that she does start something. They all hate English like hell. I don’t wonder at it. That guy’s mind is so narrow, he overbalances everytime he uses it.”

  “Anything more?”

  Sam shrugged. “A lot of hushed-up scandal that won’t help you much,” he said. “English has paid plenty during the last two years, keeping her out of gaol and out of the papers. She goes to every smut night-club in town. She’s on the list for getting smut cine-films for private exhibition. She’s had three or four fancy boys who’ve been mixed up in shady business. And so on. Not a nice little girl.”

  Duffy brooded. “Somehow,” he said, “I guessed as much.”

  “Now you know all this,” Alice said quietly, “you are not going to do anything further?”

  “You’re a swell kid.” Duffy got up and went over to her. Quit worrying, can’t you? I don’t care how bad that dame is, I started this damn business. I was sucker enough to take those photos, and I guess I’m getting them back.”

  Alice sighed. “Worthless women always seem to get help from men,” she said. I suppose it is so easy to fool a really fine man.”

  Duffy exchanged glances with Sam. “Skip it, Alice,” Sam said. “You know what Bill is. You’re holding us up.”

  Alice forced a little smile. “I’m sorry,” she said and sat down in Duffy’s chair. Duffy came and sat on the arm.

  “What about Morgan?”

  Sam blew out a cloud of smoke. “Now Morgan, he’s a cagey bird to nail. He’s got some racket in connection with a chain of night-clubs. I’d say at a guess, he’s a boss behind the scene, and he’s controlling vice in a big way. Anyway, I can’t get a proper line on him, except rumours. They know him down at headquarters, but they’ve never pinned anything to him yet. Still, they’re always hoping. He’s got plenty of dough, runs a big house, and has a tough mob working for him.”

  “If Morgan’s got that sort of a background, I guess he’d want those pictures of that girl. It might give him enough pull to scare English off closing his joints.” Duffy was looking thoughtful.

  Sam nodded. “That’s just it,” he said. “Morgan would be sitting very pretty if he could close English down.”

  “Cattley? Did you find out anything fresh about him?” Duffy asked.

  Sam shrugged. “There’s not much you don’t know about that rat,” he said, “you know what he did. Dope, women, and white slaving. Cattley’s certainly been making plenty of dough these last months. No one’s sure of where he got it. He’s moved up a lot since we knew him. Does, or rather did, everything on a big scale. The cops can’t get a line on him, but they watch him from time to time.”

  “Is he going to be missed?”

  Sam shrugged. “Not unless someone who knows him gets worried and blows to the police. That ain’t likely.”

  Duffy brooded some more. “You done a swell job of work,” he said at last. “What I want to know, is where do I go from here?”

  Sam said, “I’d take it easy for a bit.”

  Duffy shook his head. “I got to get those pictures,” he said, “and I’ve got to get ’em fast.”

  Alice said, “Has Morgan got them, do you think?”

  “No. Morgan hasn’t got them. It was Morgan’s crowd who pushed me around. It looks to me that some other party has horned in and helped themselves. Just as long as Cattley remains in that vault, trouble will stay still. As soon as he pokes up his head, the balloon will go up.”

  “Don’t you run a risk of being made an accessory after the fact or something?” Alice asked, her brow wrinkled.

  Duffy said, “I guess I’ve been in worse spots than accessory charges.”

  Sam got up and began to pile the plates in the kitchen. Alice went out to help him. Duffy sat in the arm-chair and brooded. His body was one dull ache, but he wouldn’t let his mind dwell on it. There was a bitter angry feeling smoldering inside him. Furious with Morgan, revengeful against those three toughs, and determined to get those photos back, he thought of Annabel. Then he got up and went over to the telephone. He dialled a number, after consulting the book.

  He recognized her voice at once.

  “This is Duffy here,” he said.

  “Have you got them?” her voice was eager.

  “Listen, baby,” he said, speaking low and fast, “you don’t know half what happened last night.”

  “What is it?”

  “For one thing Morgan ain’t got those pictures. For another, he wants them mighty bad. When I got home last night, three birds were waiting for me and they beat me silly when I couldn’t give them the camera.”

  She was silent for a moment. “But who has got it?” she said at last.

  “I don’t know,” he had to admit it; “this is a line up against your Pa. Why the hell didn’t you tell me who you were?”

  “Well, who am I?”

  “You’re Edwin English’s daughter.”

  “I prefer to say I am Annabel English.”

  He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “I’ve been looking up your record, baby, it ain’t so hot.”

  “You think so?” She sounded very cool. “I thought you’d appreciate me.”

  “I think you ought to go very slow for a bit,” he said, .”you just lie low, and don’t start anything. It wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to get out of town for a little while.”

  “Oh no,” she was very definite, “I won’t do that.”

  “Okay, but watch your step from now on.”

  “When am I seeing you?”

  He grinned, but he felt no mirth. “Sooner than you think,” he said quietly, and hung up.

  CHAPTER VI

  IT TOOK DUFFY TWO impatient days to shake himself loose. Sam and Alice, their nerves frayed, were at last forced to give way to his insistence.

  In a new suit, his face still battered, his temper vile, Duffy walked into the street. Sam came along at h
is heels.

  “I feel,” said Sam, “that you’re going to run into trouble so fast we ain’t going to have any time to stick you together again.”

  Duffy was walking fast. “You don’t know nothing,” he said shortly; “I feel fine, and I ain’t going to find trouble.”

  Sam swung along at his side. “What’s the hurry, for God’s sake? You got a date with someone?”

  “No, but I got to get me some exercise. Come on, get going.”

  “You ain’t said where you’re going,” Sam said.

  “First I’m going back to my joint, then I’m going to find out something about Cattley.”

  “Why Cattley, for the love of mike?”

  “Just that; I don’t know. Maybe, I’ve got a hunch. Cattley’s at the bottom of this, and I want to find out quite a bit about him. I want to find out why he was rubbed out. When I find that out, I guess I’ll be pretty close to his killer. Okay, when I find his killer, I’ll find the camera.”

  Sam stopped at the corner. “Well, I can’t run around with you all day. I’ve got a living to make. Now, soldier, you’re coming back to us tonight, ain’t you?”

  “Listen, Sam, you’re swell, and Alice’s swell. You’re both swell, but from now on, you keep out of this. I’m going my own little way, without you two popping your heads into anything I might stir up.”

  Sam groaned. “I love you like this; just a big selfish playboy. You have the fun and we’re just to sit round to put on the adhesive tape. Listen, mug, we’re both in this, get it?”

  Duffy grinned. It still hurt him to grin, but he grinned. “I’ll be along,” he said, “I get it.”

  Sam looked pleased. “Bounce ’em, brother, bounce ’em,” he said.

  “They’ll take some bouncing,” Duffy said ruefully, as he watched McGuire’s long frame disappearing through the crowded traffic.

  He walked down the street, conscious of quick furtive glances at his battered face. He felt suddenly angry, his eyebrows coming down, making his face even more unattractive.

  When he reached his apartment he was glad to find the place had been cleaned up. He made a little grimace at the faint stains on the walls. He wandered through the rooms, looking at everything carefully. Then he returned to the sitting-room. He sat on the edge of the table and thought a little while.