1956 - There's Always a Price Tag

by James Hadley Chase

  I lit a cigarette and began to pace slowly up and down. My nerves were jumpy, my heart beat heavily.

  I kept trying to think of Marian and trying to imagine us in Rome together. If it hadn't been for her, I told myself, I would have backed out at this last minute, but the only person I was kidding was myself.

  I heard the Rolls pull up outside the house and I went to the window and looked out.

  Helen had timed it to the second. It was two minutes past ten as she got out of the car. She was wearing a pale green summer frock, a small white hat and white gauntlets. She looked lovely as she swung the car door to and came up the steps and into the house.

  A few moments later she entered the room.

  'She's not back yet?'

  I remained at the window looking down the dimly lit drive. 'Not yet.'

  She joined me at the window. 'Well, this is it.'

  She sounded calm, almost casual.

  'Yes.'

  'Are you jumpy?'

  'I'm all right.'

  'You'd better be.'

  I looked at her. Her green eyes were glittering and her face was as hard as stone. 'This was your idea,' she went on. 'You're not so enthusiastic as you were. Get this girl out of your mind!'

  'It's going to be all right, so shut up!'

  'It had better be all right!'

  I turned back to the window. I saw Marian coming up the drive. She walked quickly, swinging her handbag, and as she came under the porch light, I could see she was smiling.

  'Here she is.'

  'All right. I'll go down and talk to her.'

  'Don't let her come beyond the kitchen door.'

  'I know what I have to do.'

  I gave her a few seconds, then I sneaked out and stood in the shadows at the head of the stairs.

  She and Marian were in the lounge. I heard Helen saying, 'I'm taking Mr. Dester to the sanatorium now. I was expecting Mr. Nash back. He went out in the car about an hour ago to get some cigarettes. He may yet be back in time. I can't imagine what's keeping him, but if he isn't back would you be ready to help me? Mr. Dester is very shaky. We may have to support him to the car. If you will stand in the kitchen doorway and keep out of sight, you can come to me if I need you. Don't let him see you. He's sensitive, and he doesn't want help.'

  Marian said, 'Yes, of course, Mrs. Dester.'

  'I expect he'll be all right. I'm going up now.'

  I returned to the bedroom. The time was seventeen minutes past ten. I wished now I had left a bottle of whisky in the room. I wanted a drink pretty badly.

  I heard Helen come up the stairs. She entered the room, leaving the door open.

  'Can you manage, Erle?' she asked in a loud, clear voice. 'Let me help you with that.'

  For a moment I stared stupidly at her, not realizing she was already into the act we had planned.

  'Get on with it, you fool!' she whispered fiercely.

  I pulled myself together.

  'I can manage,' I mumbled, making my voice deep and indistinct.

  'The car's at the door,' she went on. 'You don't have to get fussed. There's no one in the house except me.'

  I mumbled again.

  Helen pushed over the bedside table. It landed on the carpet with a thud. The glass of water and the bedside lamp smashed, adding to the noise,

  'Steady, darling,' she said. 'Look what you've done.'

  I mumbled again.

  We looked at the clock on the overmantel.

  'Yes,' Helen whispered.

  I put on the camel-hair coat and the hat, pulling the hat well down over my face. I turned up the collar of the coat. Helen looked critically at me, then nodded.

  We moved to the door. I paused and mumbled again.

  'But, Erle, if I turn off the hall light, you may fall,' she said, pitching her voice well up.

  'It hurts my eyes,' I said without opening my lips.

  She went to the head of the stairs and turned the two-way switch up. The main light in the hall went out, leaving on only the four wall lights.

  'Give me your arm, Erle.'

  We started down the stairs. I walked heavily and slowly, dragging my feet. My heart was banging against my side. Would Marian recognize me? I hunched my shoulders and slightly bent my knees, attempting to disguise my height. We got down the stairs into the hall.

  The front door stood open. I could see the Rolls under the porch light. Helen had parked the car so that the light from the porch lamp fell only on the back of the car.

  We went slowly down the steps. I could almost feel Marian's eyes watching us.

  'I'll open the car door,' Helen said.

  I put a gloved hand on the side of the car as if to support myself while she opened the door. I got in and she shut the door.

  Then she said, 'I'll just get your case. I won't be a moment.' She turned and went back into the house.

  I bent and pulled off Dester's shoes, ready to slip into my own shoes as soon as she returned with the suitcase. I heard her speaking to Marian. Then she came out, closed the front door, ran down the steps, got in the car, slid the suitcase to me, started the engine and drove quickly down the drive. By the time we had reached the gates, I had changed my shoes and had wriggled out of the camel-hair coat. I got out of the car, took off Dester's suit and took my suit that Helen handed to me through the car window. I struggled into it.

  'I'll be as quick as I can,' I said.

  She turned off the car's lights.

  'Don't let her keep you.'

  That was easier said than done, but I had to show myself to Marian: it was the vital part of my alibi. I ran up the drive and when I saw the lights of the house I slowed to a quick walk. I entered the hall and paused. Marian came out of the lounge.

  'You've got back?' I made out I was surprised. 'I thought you were going to be late. Where's Mrs. Dester?'

  'She's just gone.'

  'Gone? With Dester?'

  'Yes.'

  'Damn it! I was supposed to be here. I've had a hell of an evening. The Buick broke down. I've been all this time, trying to fix it. In the end I took a bus back. I promised Mrs. Dester I'd get back to give her a hand with Mr. Dester.'

  I was aware that Marian was looking intently at me. There was a puzzled expression in her eyes.

  'Did he go off all right?' I went on, stepping back into the shadows so she couldn't get a good view of my face.

  'Yes. He's only just gone. Didn't you see the car?'

  'I must have just missed it.' I took out my cigarette-case, then lit a cigarette. 'Well, I've got to call the sanatorium and tell them he is on his way. Mrs. Dester didn't call them, did she?'

  'I didn't hear her.'

  'Look, you go to bed if you want to. I'll phone from the garage apartment.'

  'Mrs. Dester said she wouldn't be back before one o'clock,' Marian said. 'Won't you stay with me for a little while, Glyn? I want to talk to you.'

  That was just what I had been scared she would say.

  'Not tonight, kid. I've got to fix the car yet. As soon as I've talked to the sanatorium, I'm going back to where I left the car.'

  'I could come with you, Glyn. I don't want to stay here alone.'

  I felt a trickle of sweat run down my face.

  'Better not. She wouldn't want the house left. You stay here, kid. No point in you coming.'

  I tried not to overplay my hand, but I must have done it for a look of alarm jumped into her eyes.

  'Glyn! What is it? Why are you looking like this? Has something happened?'

  Panic just below the surface nudged my temper.

  'For the love of mike! I've been trying to get that goddamn car to go!' I said, aware I was shouting at her but not able to control my voice. 'I've got to go back and get it going! I should have been here when Dester took off and you ask me if something has happened! Look, go to bed! Leave me to handle this, will you?'

  She stepped back. I could see my vehemence had frightened and hurt her.

  'Yes, of course.'
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  She turned and went quickly up the stairs, and a moment later I heard her bedroom door shut.

  I cursed.

  If this was the way I was going to play my hand when I came up against the police and Maddux we were sunk.

  * * *

  Neither of us spoke until we were well clear of the house, then Helen said abruptly, 'Did you have trouble with the girl?'

  I was sitting beside her, sunk down in the seat, the wide-brimmed hat pulled well down over my eyes and the collar of the camel-hair coat turned up. I was still pretty rattled, and during the first quick rush down Hill Crest Avenue, I had been thinking of Marian, wondering what she was doing, wondering what she could be thinking.

  'It was okay,' I lied. 'She wanted convincing, but I did it.'

  Helen looked sharply at me.

  'We could have trouble with her. Why had you to make a fool of yourself over her?'

  'Shut up!' I snarled at her. 'I handled her, and don't drive so fast. Do you want a cop to come after us?'

  She slowed down. 'She could spoil this for us, Glyn. We may have to do something about her.'

  'I tell you I handled her! She loves me. She wouldn't give me away.'

  'I'm not thinking of you. I'm thinking of myself. She doesn't love me. I have an idea she doesn't believe Erle was ever in that room.'

  I felt a cold, spooky sensation run through me.

  'You're crazy! She would have told me if she had thought that.'

  'Did she tell you?'

  'Of course not!'

  Again she looked at me. In the light of the dashboard I could see the glitter in her eyes.

  'We made a mistake having her. I'm sure of it.'

  'We had to have her. Now shut up, will you? I've got things to think about.'

  The highway was almost empty. Every now and then we overtook a big oil truck or a truck hauling oranges to San Francisco. We only met five or six private cars, and they were going flat out, heading towards Los Angeles.

  Then Helen said suddenly, 'There's a speed cop behind us.'

  That really jolted me. My heart skipped a beat and I felt sweat break out on my body. I looked quickly over my shoulder and through the rear window.

  She was right.

  Not more than thirty yards behind us I could see the yellow light of the big motorcycle lamp and the outline of the flat cop cap.

  'Slow down a little and let him pass,' I said hoarsely.

  Helen eased down to thirty-five miles an hour, but the cop hung back.

  'What is he up to?' I said, trying to control my rising panic.

  'He's probably on patrol.'

  She sounded as calm as an evangelist at a tea party.

  'He'll recognize the car. We've got to lose him,' I said. 'We turn off about a mile ahead of us. He mustn't see us do it. Pull up! Let him get ahead.'

  'We can't pull up. He might ask us what we are stopping for and get a good look at you.'

  'We've got to lose him! Don't you realize this is the exact spot where, we're supposed to run into the ambush? If we go another half-mile, we're sunk!'

  She looked into the driving mirror.

  'He's coming up now,' she said and slowed the car slightly.

  The beam of the motorcycle lamp shone in our wing mirror. Then the cop drew alongside us. I sank further down into my seat as he went by.

  'He looked at you,' Helen said softly. 'He must know the car.'

  The cop was pulling ahead now. Suddenly, as if he remembered an appointment, he opened up the throttle and the gleam of his tail lamp disappeared into the darkness.

  'He'll remember us,' I said and looked back over my shoulder at the straight empty road. 'This is the spot where the kidnappers' car is supposed to overtake us. He'll remember there was no traffic on the road.'

  'So what do we do?'

  Her voice was sharp; she sounded as if she were getting jittery.

  'We've got to alter the story. You'll have to tell them the kidnappers drove out of the road from the forestry station and blocked the highway, forcing you to stop. That'll fix it.'

  'Yes.'

  'Don't forget: they drove suddenly out of the concealed road that leads to the forestry station and you had to pull up fast to prevent a pile up. You've got that?'

  'Yes.'

  'Look - there's the turning. Slow down.'

  I looked over my shoulder. There was no sign of any headlights behind us. We were having some luck after all.

  'Okay, now turn off.'

  She swung the Rolls on to the dirt road. I leaned forward to cut the headlights and to turn on the spot lamp.

  A five-minute drive brought us to the barbed-wire gate. She pulled up and I got out, opened the gate and waved her through. Then I shut the gate, and walked beside the slow-moving car, directing her to one of the huts. She pulled up outside the hut, turned off the spot lamp and got out.

  Up on this hill it was dark and still and as quiet as a graveyard. I felt the cool breeze against my sweating face. My heart was thumping and I was feeling slightly sick.

  From my pocket I took a small flashlight and went to the door of the hut. I pushed against it, but it was locked.

  'Wait here,' I said, and moving to the first window, I broke a pane with the butt of the flash lamp, reached inside and slipped back the catch. I pushed open the window, and climbed through into a small room equipped with a desk, a filing cabinet and a chair. I went out into a passage, listened for a moment, then went down to the entrance door. It took me only a few minutes to undo the screws that held the lock and to take the lock off, then I opened the door. 'Come on in,' I said.

  Helen followed me down the passage to a door at the far end. I pushed open the door and sent the beam of my flashlight into the darkness. I could see the room was big. There was a table in the middle of the room and four or five wooden crates stacked against a wall.

  'This'll do,' I said. 'We'd better not put on the light. It might be seen from the highway.'

  Helen stood near me, looking around the room. I could hear her light, quick breathing.

  Around one of the crates was a thin cord. I took out my penknife, cut the cord from it, and cut two short lengths. I put the flashlight on the top of a crate, turning the beam on to Helen. She was watching me. Her face was tense and pale, but she didn't look scared.

  'You'll be okay,' I said. 'The staff will be here early. You won't have more than six hours to wait before you're found. You know the story. You'll be so shaken and hysterical they won't get much from you. They're certain to call the cops.'

  'I know what we planned,' Helen said curtly. 'I'm not scared.'

  I laid the two lengths of cord on the table. My heart was slamming against my ribs.

  'This is it. There'll be no turning back now. Once they find you, we're in it up to our necks. Do you still want to go ahead?'

  She looked at me.

  'Do you still want to go ahead?'

  Did I? I hesitated. I thought of all that money. I thought of going to Rome with Marian.

  'Yes.'

  'Then don't waste time.'

  She crossed her wrists and held them out towards me. I hadn't warned her what I was about to do. That was a small bit of the plan she didn't know about. I didn't want to do it, but I knew I had to. The setup just had to look convincing.

  I moved a little to one side as if I were going to pick up the cords on the table. Then I balled my right fist, set myself and slammed a punch at her jaw.

  The light was bad and I was flustered. Instead of hitting her where I intended to hit her, my fist thudded against her cheekbone, just below her right eye. She went down as if she were poleaxed, but I hadn't knocked her out as I had intended to do. She gave a thin, strangled scream as she rolled over on the dusty floor. Her white hat fell off, her skirts rode up above her knees.

  I felt sweat running down my back and my breath was coming out of my mouth like the hiss of steam.

  'You devil!' she screamed at me.

  Down there on the flo
or she was in the full light of the flash beam. As she got up on hands and knees, her lips drawn off her teeth, she looked as vicious as a wild cat.

  I don't think I have ever been more rattled. She looked as if she were going to kill me.

  I waited until she was rising, then I stepped in, chopped her hands down with my left and hung a right-hand punch on the side of her jaw, hitting her with all my weight behind the punch.

  Her head snapped back and she crashed against the leg of the table, sending the table skidding against the wall. She lay on her side, her legs sprawled, her arms above her head.

  I stood over her, panting, my heart hammering so violently I could scarcely breathe. Then I bent over her, hooked my fingers in the neck of her frock and ripped it down to her waist. I rolled her over on her face, pulled her arms behind her and roped her wrists. All this time I kept on my gloves and it wasn't easy tying the knots, but I didn't take the gloves off. I roped her ankles, then going over to her handbag, I took out the silk scarf I had told her to bring with her and tied it tightly over her mouth.

  She was breathing heavily, her eyes shut, the muscles in her face slack. She looked convincing all right. Already an ugly red patch was showing below her right eye. There was another bruise on her jaw.

  Her ripped dress was crumpled and dusty. In her fall she had torn the knees out of her nylon stockings. I took off one of her shoes.

  That completed the picture. It would be a damned suspicious cop who would imagine that it was she who had engineered the kidnapping of her husband. She looked as I wanted her to look: a woman who had been handled by a couple of vicious thugs.

  I emptied the contents of her purse on the floor. She had about thirty dollars in small bills and I put them in my pocket, leaving the rest of the stuff.

  Time was moving. I didn't like leaving her there to come to in the dark, but I had to. Although I had hit her harder than I had intended, I didn't think she would remain out for more than a few minutes.