1956 - There's Always a Price Tag

by James Hadley Chase

  It was a relief to get under cover of the drive-in of Dester's residence where no one could stare. I pulled up outside the house and got out, opening the car door.

  Dester sat rigid and motionless, his eyes once more fixed in that ghastly glaring stare. I tapped him on his knee.

  'We're home, sir.'

  I might just as well have been talking into a dead mike for all the reaction I got from him.

  I couldn't leave him in the car. I wasn't going to wait out there in the hot evening sunshine. I reached in, caught hold of his coat front, hauled him out and over my shoulder in a fireman's lift.

  He must have weighed over two hundred pounds, but I'm strong and I've lifted heavier things than Erle Dester, but not much heavier. I lurched up the steps, opened the front door, crossed the hall towards the stairs.

  Helen called from the lounge, 'Is that you, Erle? I want you.'

  There was a lilting jeer in her voice that told me she knew he was drunk. For a moment I hesitated, then I turned around and walked into the lounge with him like a sack of wheat over my shoulder.

  She was sitting in a deep chair, a tea tray at her side, a magazine on her lap. She was wearing what is called an afternoon gown of biscuit colour chiffon. She looked very beautiful and at ease as she stared up at me, lifting her sharply arched eyebrows.

  'Oh, it's you, Nash,' she said, ignoring my burden. 'I thought it was Mr. Dester.'

  I was tempted to swing him off my shoulder into her lap, but I restrained myself in time. My role at the moment was to be the perfect servant so she couldn't find any reason to sack me.

  'Yes, madam. I heard you call. I was about to put Mr. Dester to bed. He is a little unwell.'

  'How considerate of you. I was hoping he might be better today. Well, never mind, take him away and do be careful not to drop him. When you have put him to bed, you might come down here again. I want to talk to you.'

  'Yes, madam.'

  I walked out, up the stairs and into Dester's bedroom. I laid him on the bed.

  It took me a little time to undress and get him between the sheets. As soon as his head rested on the pillow, he began to snore.

  I tucked him in, pulled the curtains, put a bottle of drinking water on the bedside table where he could get at it in a hurry, then went out, quietly closing the door.

  I walked down the stairs, aware that my heart was beginning to beat rapidly, and entered the lounge.

  I waited a moment, then said, 'You wanted me, madam?'

  She frowned, made an angry gesture with her hand and went on reading.

  I wondered how she would have reacted if I had taken the magazine away, jerked her out of the chair and mashed my mouth down on hers.

  I waited, my eyes on her in a hard, searching stare. I examined her complexion, the shape of her ears, the colour of her lipstick, the contours of her body the way any farmer will look at any cattle he is thinking of buying.

  I don't think she had bargained for this treatment. I saw the blood rise faintly to her face, and she suddenly threw down the magazine and looked up at me, her eyes glittering.

  'Don't stare at me like that, you damned oaf!' she said furiously.

  'I beg your pardon, madam.'

  'I told you last night you weren't wanted. I'm telling you again,' she said, sitting forward and staring at me with angry eyes. 'You now know what the job consists of. You can't like it; no one could. It is better for my husband to be without help. If he has no one to act as his nursemaid he will pull himself together. I am going to give you two hundred dollars in lieu of wages, and you're to pack and go immediately.'

  I didn't say anything.

  She had risen to her feet. She walked over to the desk, took from a drawer two one-hundred dollar bills and threw them on the table.

  'Take them and get out!'

  That's what I should have done, but, of course, I didn't.

  'I take my orders from Mr. Dester, madam. So long as he needs me, I am staying.'

  I turned and started for the exit.

  'Nash! Come back here!'

  I kept going, reached the hall, opened the front door and walked down the steps into the sunlight.

  chapter three

  With my jacket off and my collar undone, a cigarette between my fingers, I lay on the bed and bent my mind to the situation as I knew it so far.

  It was obvious that Helen was waiting for Dester to die, and she was getting impatient with the wait. I could understand that: seven hundred and fifty thousand was a tantalizing sum to wait for.

  It seemed, if I could believe Simmonds and Jack Solly, that before very long Dester would be in financial trouble if he wasn't there already. The premium of a life policy as big as the one he held would cost a lot of dough: at a guess it would knock his income back something like eight or maybe ten thousand dollars a year. It didn't seem likely that he could continue to dish out that kind of money. I wished now that I had had time to examine the policy and find out when the next premium was due. It was more than probable he wouldn't be able to pay it and if he couldn't, the policy would lapse. Unless there was a special clause in the policy, there would then be no three-quarters of a million for Helen if he died. She probably knew that, and that was why she was so anxious to get rid of me. It seemed to me she was relying on Dester killing himself in a car smash before the premium had to be paid.

  But now she had failed to get rid of me, and the chances of Dester having a car smash were remote, what was she going to do? She had only a certain amount of time before the premium fell due, so she couldn't afford to wait for him to drink himself to death. What I wanted to know was whether she wanted that money badly enough to hurry his death along.

  I remembered what Solly had said: another guy threw himself out of a window because of her.

  I had a hunch that this other guy might give me the key to the present setup. If I could find out who he had been and why he had thrown himself out of the window I might be able to assess better just how far she would go to get her hands on the money.

  How could I find this out?

  Dester had met her in New York. Presumably this other guy had thrown himself out of a window somewhere in New York.

  It looked to me as if I would need outside help on this job. The obvious way to get the dope on this other guy would be to hire an inquiry agent, but inquiry agents cost money.

  I suddenly snapped upright. Why was I all this interested? I asked myself. Why was I suddenly so determined to stick my nose into something that didn't concern me? I knew the answer, of course, but I didn't like admitting even to myself what the answer was.

  When I had found that Helen would collect three-quarters of a million dollars at Dester's death, a gnawing envy had taken hold of me. I began to ask myself if there was any chance to horn in and get a share of this money. I knew I had no claim to it, but it seemed to me that if Helen was planning to hurry Dester's death along, then I had a claim. If I could prove she had hurried his death along, I would have a hold on her. I knew the word for that kind of thing, but I wanted some of that money so badly I didn't flinch from the word.

  At the moment I was on the outside, looking in. I was like a member of a theatre audience. The curtain was up; the actors and actresses were on the stage, the plot was beginning to unfold, but I had no part in it. Somehow I had to get up on to that stage and join in the action.

  It seemed to me that it was time to have a straight talk with myself, to examine my conscience and find out just how far I would go for a share in that money. This was between me and me, and if I couldn't be frank with myself, I couldn't be frank with anyone.

  Everything depended, of course, on the share I was going to get. The bigger the share, the bigger the risk I would be prepared to take. How much could I grab without causing too much opposition? Half? A quarter?

  I remembered one of Solly's many sales slogans: Always ask for twice as much as you expect: you may surprise yourself and get it.

  Then I would go for half: thre
e hundred and fifty grand.

  I lay staring up at the ceiling as I tried to visualize what it would mean to have all that money. The most money I had ever earned in a year was four thousand bucks, and that was in the hey-day of the boom and I had sweated my guts out to earn it.

  Three hundred and fifty thousand!

  It set my heart hammering to think of all that money. It would change my life. How far would I go, how much would I risk to put my hands on that much money?

  A word jumped into my mind and I flinched from it. Then I remembered I was being frank with myself.

  Murder?

  Would I commit murder for such a sum?

  It was one thing to lie on this bed and contemplate murdering Dester for that money, but another thing to do it. Even if I could screw up enough guts to do it, there was the risk.

  If he were murdered, the first person the police would suspect would be Helen. I had a fair idea how a policeman's mind would work on a set up like this. He would reason Helen wanted to get rid of her husband to get the insurance money. He'd figure she was unlikely to do the actual killing herself. He would look around for the other man, and he would spot me.

  Then there was the insurance company to think of. They wouldn't pay out all that dough without a fight. Their own dicks were tougher, smarter and a lot more dangerous than the police.

  No, murder was too risky: straightforward murder that is, but how about murder by remote control? As Helen was planning it? It was easy enough. Dester had only to take the car out when he was full of liquor or walk into a stream of fast-moving traffic and that would be that. That seemed better to me, but suppose he didn't take the car out or walk across a street when he was plastered? How long had I got before the premium was due? That was the vital point.

  Helen must know that time was pressing. Wouldn't it be the smart thing for me to do to wait for her to get rid of Dester, keep clear of it, and then move in and make her part with half?

  That brought me back to the guy who had fallen out of a window. Was this something in her past that I could hook her with? Then I suddenly thought of Solly. He had contacts in New York. He might be able to get me the dope if I could persuade him to take the trip.

  I looked at my watch. It was just after seven o'clock. I couldn't imagine that Dester would be going out this night. The sooner I talked to Solly the better. I picked up the telephone and called his apartment.

  There was a delay before he answered.

  'I want to talk to you, Jack,' I said. 'Can you meet me at Sam's bar in half an hour?'

  'Not tonight I can't. I've got me a heavy date. What's biting you?'

  'Nothing's biting me, but plenty will bite you if you don't hustle over to Sam's bar.'

  There was a pause while he wrestled with himself, then I heard him heave a sigh.

  'Well, okay, if you snap it up I can still keep my date. I don't have to meet her for another hour.'

  'Sam's bar in twenty minutes or faster,' I said and hung up.

  I changed into my suit and started down the drive at a fast clip. I would have liked to borrow one of the cars, but I wasn't going to ask permission, and I knew it would be unsafe if I didn't ask permission.

  Solly was impatiently waiting for me as I came into the bar. I took him to the end booth against the wall where we could talk without being overheard and told the waiter to bring us a couple of highballs.

  'What's this about?' he asked as soon as the waiter had put the drinks in front of us and had moved away.

  'Yeah. Now listen: you remember what you said about Mrs. Dester? About a guy who threw himself out of a window because of her?'

  Solly grimaced. 'Yeah, but what's that got to do with me? Look, if you've brought me here...'

  'Take it easy,' I said, patting his arm. 'Who told you about this guy?'

  'Search me,' Solly said, shrugging. 'People tell me things all the time. I wouldn't know.'

  'Was it true?'

  'I guess so. What are you getting so excited about? What's Mrs. Dester to do with this proposition of yours?'

  'Do you know for certain this guy fell out of a window?'

  He stared at me. 'Does anyone know anything for certain? What is all this about?'

  I sat back, drank some of the highball while I looked at him. 'How would you like to pick up five hundred bucks?' I asked.

  He scratched the side of his beaky nose with a dirty fingernail. 'Are you kidding?'

  'This isn't the time to kid. There's five C's waiting for you if you're prepared to make yourself useful.'

  'Is this some racket?' Solly asked, his eyes hard. 'Now look, you...'

  'I know, I know. Let me do the talking, will you? I'm offering you the chance to get in on something on the ground floor, but you must be prepared to gamble with me and you must also be prepared to do some preliminary work before you cash in.'

  'I don't think I like the sound of this,' he said slowly. 'You can't lay your hands on five bucks let alone five hundred. What the hell gives? Look, I'm passing up a good date because I thought you meant business.'

  'I know,' I interrupted. 'Coming from me it sounds nuts, but it isn't anything like as nutty as it sounds. The point is how much do you want to know about it?'

  He shifted impatiently.

  'How much do I want to know? I want to know the whole works, of course.'

  I stared at him. 'Sure you do?'

  'What are you getting at?'

  'I want some information about Helen Dester,' I said, lowering my voice. 'I think you can get this information. When I've got it, I'll be in a position to pay you five hundred, but not before.' I paused to stare at him again. 'Now do you want to know the whole works?'

  He started to say something, then the nickel dropped and his hatchet face tightened. 'Now wait a minute. That kind of racket is dynamite. A blackmailer.'

  'Shut up, pea brain! Who's talking about blackmail?' I said, keeping my voice down. 'I'm offering you five hundred dollars to dig into Helen Dester's past and to turn over to me what you find. I didn't say anything about blackmail.'

  'I've had one run in with the cops, Glyn,' he said, 'I can't risk another.'

  'Who's talking about the cops?' I said curtly. 'But if that's the way you feel I can get someone else to do the job.'

  He studied me, then shrugged. 'Okay, I could use five C's. Just what do I do to earn it?'

  'I want the complete dope on the guy who fell out of the window, and when I say complete, I mean complete. Who he was, why he fell out, the coroner's verdict, who was with him when he fell out and how he figured in Helen's life. Get it? I want the works. Then I want a detailed picture of Helen's background. You'll have to go to New York and dig, but you won't be wasting your time.'

  'And what's going to happen to my business while I'm in New York?' Solly demanded.

  'You should care. Patsy can handle it. This is important. You know as well as I do it would take you a month of hard grind to make five hundred in your business. I'm offering you that amount for a few days’ work.'

  'Yeah, it sounds fine, but when do I get the dough?'

  'If I pull this trick you'll get it. If I don't pull it, then we're both unlucky.'

  'And in the meantime I've had to pay out for a trip to New York.'

  'For the love of mike! If that's the way you feel about it, then let's skip it.'

  He took a long pull from his glass.

  'I don't like any of it. That sort of racket could land us both in jail.'

  'What sort of racket?' I said, staring at him.

  'You know what I mean. Don't pull a little Eva on me.'

  'What are you worrying about? All I'm asking you to do is to supply me with some information. In return for the information I'll give you five C's, and your fare. You don't know why I want the information or where the five C's have come from. How can it get you into trouble?'

  He turned this over in his mind. It seemed to soothe him. 'But what about you? You could…'

  'I can look after mysel
f. Are you going to handle the job or aren't you?'

  He shrugged.

  'Well, okay, I'll see what I can dig up. If I get you the information I don't want to know how you're going to use it. You've got to keep me out of trouble.'

  'I'll do that. Will you get off tomorrow morning? I want this dope fast, and when I say fast, I mean fast.'

  He finished his drink and got to his feet.

  'You'll get it. I'll call you. What's your number?'

  'No. I'll call you. I'll call you at nine o'clock on Friday morning at your apartment. Okay?'

  'Yeah, but watch your step. I don't think you realize how serious this could be for you. I hope you know what you are doing.'

  I grinned at him.

  * * *

  After Solly had gone, I had a quick supper and then took the bus back to the Desters' residence.

  The Cadillac had gone. With Helen out of the way, I thought it might pay dividends to see how Dester was getting along.

  He was lying in bed. A bottle of Scotch and a glass half-full of whisky stood on the night table. He was looking towards me, his face set, his eyes bloodshot. He had a .38 automatic in his hand. I saw it distinctly before he slid his hand and the gun out of sight under the sheet.

  'What do you want?' he said, his voice harsh. 'Can't you knock before you come in?'

  The sight of the gun rattled me, and I wondered if he knew Helen was waiting for him to die. Was he scared of her? Did he have the gun handy as a protection against attack?

  'I'm sorry, sir,' I said, standing in the doorway. 'I thought you might be sleeping. I just wanted to know if you were going out tonight.'

  I saw him relax. 'Come in, kid,' he said. 'I won't be going out tonight. I'm not feeling too well.'

  I shut the door and moved to the foot of the bed. It gave me a queer feeling to look at this man who I knew, dead, was worth three-quarters of a million dollars.

  'Has Mrs. Dester gone out?' he asked abruptly, reaching for his glass.

  'Yes, sir; at least the Cadillac's gone.'