1953 - The Sucker Punch

by James Hadley Chase

  I wiped my sweating face with my handkerchief. I had certainly underestimated this cop. I hadn't imagined he would have got on to it so fast.

  "There's no chance of him getting away, is there, sir?" Hargis asked quietly. "I wouldn't like to think he was going to escape punishment after what he did to Miss Vestal."

  "He won't get away," Leggit said grimly. "He's ducked out of sight for the moment, but all roads, the airport and the railroad depot are being watched. He won't get far."

  That was information worth learning. Even as I stood in the dark recess listening to Leggit's cocksure voice, a plan of a way out began to evolve in my mind.

  The cop came back into the hall, passed close to me and entered the lounge.

  "No one's in the servants' quarters, sir. Shall I go upstairs?"

  "Yeah, look around. I don't think he'll be here, but she might. She checked out of her hotel about an hour ago. Mac missed picking her up by ten minutes. Make sure she isn't in her room."

  So they were now after Eve too.

  I moved silently out of my hiding place and slid into Vestal's study. I stood behind the door, listening. I heard the cop cross the hail and mount the stairs.

  On the desk was Vestal's tape recorder. I went over to the desk, picked up the machine and then silently left the study, opened the door to the servants' quarters and walked quickly down the passage to the rear exit.

  I reached the garage. I opened the car door and put the recorder on the front seat. I didn't risk starting the car engine. I knew the sound of the engine might carry to the house. The runway was on a slope. I slid under the steering wheel and released the parking brake. The car rolled down the slope and on to the drive. It continued to roll towards the distant gates. When I was sure the car was out of sight of the house, I turned on the ignition and eased in the clutch. When the engine fired, I shoved my foot down on the gas pedal and drove fast down the drive.

  Once on the cliff road I drove more carefully. I wasn't ready yet to go over that nine-hundred foot drop. I had things to do first.

  I reached the beach hut a few minutes before one-thirty. I parked the car in the thicket at the back of the hut, and then tried the hut door, but it was locked.

  I returned to the thicket and sat down with my back to a tree and waited.

  I knew I had run my course. I knew now I hadn't a hope in hell of escaping the police. I might have stood a chance if I had had more time, but with the roads, the airport and the railway depot sealed off, I was through.

  I wasn't scared anymore. The only time I had been scared was when I had imagined I had something to lose. Now, when I knew everything had slipped through my fingers, I didn't give a damn one way or the other.

  There were two things I had to do: take care of Eve, and then take care of myself.

  It was important to me to settle my score with Eve. No woman had ever double-crossed me before, and I got some satisfaction in knowing she would be the last woman to do it. There would be no more women after her. Come to that, there would be no more me either.

  At one minute to the half-hour after two I saw the little grey coupe coming along the beach road.

  Eve was driving fast. No doubt she was anxious not to keep her lover waiting.

  She pulled up when she reached the hut, reversed the car so it was out of sight of the road, and then, taking a suitcase from the boot, she walked quickly to the hut, unlocked the door and went in.

  I got to my feet.

  The midday sun was very bright and strong, and the sand the hot under my feet.

  I walked silently over to the hut and pushed open the door.

  chapter twenty

  This, Mr. District Attorney, is more or less where you came in. I have been talking solidly for nearly two hours, and I think I have given you a pretty complete picture of the events that led up to the murder of my wife.

  Thinking about it now, I am sure I wouldn't have murdered her if I hadn't fallen in love with Eve. It may seem to you that I'm trying to excuse myself, but I'm not. If it hadn't been for Eve, I wouldn't be dictating, at this moment, a confession of murder. I would have been satisfied to make money out of Vestal, and I would have put up with the inconveniences of being married to her. It was when I found I had to plot and scheme to meet Eve alone that I had to look for another solution.

  Even then, it wouldn't have occurred to me to murder Vestal if it hadn't been for the subtle hints Eve had given me. If anyone is to be blamed for Vestal's murder, it is she.

  I could say now simply and bluntly that I killed Eve, and let it go at that, but that wouldn't be fair to me. If I hadn't killed her, she would have killed me. I admit to murdering Vestal, but Eve's death was in self-defence.

  All along she had been one jump ahead of me, and when I entered the hut she was still one jump ahead of me.

  Maybe she heard me and acted quickly. Maybe she saw me come out of the thicket through the side window. I don't know, but she was waiting for me, her back against the far wall, the .38 automatic in her hand.

  "Hallo, Eve," I said, and closed the door behind me.

  It's funny how fear makes a woman look ugly. Right now as she stood rigid against the wall, she was as ugly as Vestal had ever been.

  There were dark circles around her eyes. There was a bony, scraped look about her face, and her mouth was a thin, vicious line.

  "We're not going to get away," I said, standing still. "The police are looking for us right now."

  "You can't frighten me with your lies," she said breathlessly. "How did you know I was here?"

  "Have I any reason to trust you? I've had you watched for days. Don't kid yourself, Eve; I'm not lying. Leggit is at the house now. He, Blakestone and Hargis are reconstructing the scene. He even knows how we did it. I heard him tell Blakestone. You have to thank yourself for this, Eve. If you had remembered the telephone call, we should have been in Havana by now. I heard Leggit say the roads, the airport and the railroad depot are being watched. We're not going to get away."

  She stared at me for a long moment.

  "You won't get away," she said, "but I shall."

  "Yes, you might. They might not recognize you without your glasses and without that respectable spinsterish appearance of yours. They don't know what Larry looks like, do they? I hadn't thought of that. Yes, Eve, you have a better chance than I have. I admit it. If you had played straight with me, I would have given you your chance to get away, but I'm not going to give it to you. We're both in this. You're as responsible as I am. Tell me something: does Larry know?"

  She shook her head.

  "I had an idea he didn't. You persuaded me to murder Vestal so you could get him back, didn't you? You knew he was slipping through your fingers. You knew if you had thirty million dollars, he would come back to you, so you made out you were in love with me so I would kill Vestal, and you'd get the money. You planned it badly, Eve. You should have kept clear of murder. If you hadn't helped me, I would have thought of some way to get rid of her on my own, and then you would have been sitting pretty. But you were too anxious. Now the police are looking for you. They went to your hotel ten minutes after you had left: tint's how close they are to you."

  While I was talking I noticed she kept glancing out of the window. I knew then I would have to act quickly. She was going to kill me. It was her only way out. Larry, she imagined, would be coming at any minute, and she had to kill me before he came. Having killed me, she would wait outside the hut, get into his car as he drove up and he wouldn't know what she had done. She had a good chance of beating the rap. The police wouldn't recognise her as she was looking now.

  I moved casually towards her. We were separated by some sixteen to seventeen feet: far too risky to jump her.

  "Don't move!" she said sharply. "Get back!"

  “You are going to kill me, aren't you, Eve?" I said. "It's your only way out. It would be a way out for me too. I would rather you did it now than go through a trial and then get the chair. Go ahead and shoot."
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  I could see she was trying to steel herself to pull the trigger. She wanted to, but something held her back. She would do it if I made move, but without that incentive, she hadn't the nerve.

  She wouldn't hesitate for long.

  "You've left it too late," I said, and nodded my head to the window behind her. "Here's your lover now."

  She was expecting Larry, otherwise this old, old trick wouldn't have worked. She was keyed up, knowing she had to kill me before he came. She looked quickly over her shoulder through the window at the stretch of empty sand.

  I jumped forward and sideways, my hand grabbing her gun wrist.

  The gun went off with a crash that rattled the windows.

  She nearly had me. I felt the heat of the gun flash. I snatched the gun out of her hand and threw it across the room. As it hit the floor it went off again.

  She was stronger than I had imagined. She wrenched herself away from me and made a dive across the room for the gun. As she stooped to pick it up. I jumped her, driving my knees into her back and bringing her down. We sprawled on the floor. Her fingers closed around the butt of the gun. I got my hand on hers and slammed her hand down on the floor, knocking the gun out of her grasp.

  She twisted over on her back and drove her clenched fist into my face.

  For a long, fierce moment we fought like a couple of animals. I tried to get a grip on her throat, but she caught hold of my wrists and held them away. She was surprisingly strong, and it was as much as I could do to keep her pinned to the floor.

  She had much more to gain than I had, and desperation gave her a vicious fury. But my extra weight and strength began to tell on her. I felt her resistance slackening. She caught her breath in a gasping sob as I forced her right arm down. I got my knee on it. Desperately she clawed at my face with her left hand, but I just managed to catch her wrist and keep her fingernails out of my eyes. I got both my hands around her left wrist and got her arm down on the floor. I knelt on that too.

  I had her now, pinned flat to the floor.

  She kicked, twisted and snarled at me. She wasn't a woman any more: she was a trapped, desperate animal.

  My hands went to her throat as she opened her mouth to scream. She should have screamed before: not that it would have helped her. There was no one to hear her. Larry wouldn't be here for two hours.

  The feel of her soft flesh under my fingers gave me a feeling of extraordinary elation. I looked down into her blue eyes. She knew now she was but one heartbeat away from death. Her eyes didn't ask for mercy. They blazed with hate.

  "So long, Eve," I whispered. "I'm coming after you. There's no place in this world for either of us. Even if you had got away you couldn't have lived with yourself."

  She arched her back and tried to twist over, tried to break my grip on her throat.

  I dug my thumbs into her windpipe. Her eyes opened wide as she began to suffocate. Her mouth opened.

  I increased the pressure, and because I didn't want to watch her die, I closed my eyes.

  Well, that's the lot, Mr. District Attorney. That covers the whole story from the beginning to almost the end.

  I intend to mail these two spools to you, and I would advise you to act quickly. This hut is as hot as hell, and she's dead. I'm sorry I can't do anything better about her but at least, you won't have to look far for her.

  You'll find me fast enough. Someone will report a burning car, and that's where I'll be.

  I admit I haven't the guts to use Eve's gun and put a bullet through my head. The easiest and simplest way out for me is to get in the Buick and drive up the cliff road to where the broken fencing is and go over after Vestal. I can do that. All I have to do is to drive fast and pull the steering wheel over at the right moment.

  I'm not scared of going like that. At least it will only be a few seconds before I hit something, and when I do, I'll be finished.

  Who knows? Vestal may be waiting for me. It will be a laugh against me if she is, but somehow I don't think she will be.

  I have an idea there'll be nothing where I land: just silence and darkness, and that doesn't scare me.

  Well, so long, Mr. District Attorney, and thanks for giving me so much of your time.

  This is Chad Winters signing off.

  Wish me luck.

  A dusty, much-worn Ford came rattling along the coast road from Eden End.

  Chad saw it coming, and he shoved back his chair and stood up. A hard, fixed grin made his handsome face vicious. He reached forward and picked up the wrench that lay on the table. Then he crossed over to the hut door and took up a position against the wall.

  He waited.

  The noise of the car engine grew louder. Through the open window, he caught sight of the car as it swung to a standstill in front of the hut.

  He heard the car door slam.

  "You there, Eve?" Larry called as he moved over the hot sand to the hut door.

  Chad waited. His right fist held the wrench so tightly his fingers ached.

  The door pushed open and Larry walked in.

  He never knew what hit him.

  The heavy wrench caught him on the top of his head with a bone crushing impact. He was dead before his body hit the floor.

  Chad stood over him, breathing heavily. The shock of the blow had jarred his arm. He knew instinctively he wouldn't have to hit Larry again.

  He put the wrench on the table and knelt down beside the dead man.

  He turned him over on his back and without looking at the dead face he went hurriedly through his pockets. There was a limp wallet containing a driving licence, a few letters, and a twenty-dollar bill. He also found a cigarette case, a handkerchief and a folder of matches which he put on the table. Then moving quickly he began to strip off the dead man's clothes. He left him in his underwear, socks and shoes.

  He pulled off his own white nylon shirt and his navy slacks and put on Larry's check shirt, his worn grey flannel trousers and his sports jacket.

  Then he put his shirt and trousers on the dead man.

  It was a slow, difficult and gruesome task, and he was sweating and shaking by the time he was through. He looked at his watch. It was getting on for six. He had a three hour wait now before it would be dark enough to complete the last move in his plan of escape.

  He didn't intend to spend those three hours in the stifling hut. He looked over at the dead woman on the divan and grimaced. He wasn't going to stay here with her there to haunt him.

  He got Larry up across his shoulders and staggered out with him, across the hot sand to the hidden Buick. He dumped the body on the floor in front of the driving seat.

  He then returned to the hut and with brown paper and string he found in a cupboard he made a parcel of the two tape recorder spools.

  He addressed the parcel to District Attorney John Harrington and marked the parcel urgent

  Taking a last look around, he spotted Eve's suitcase standing against the wall.

  "Goddam it! I nearly forgot that," he said aloud.

  He picked up the suitcase and placed it on the table and opened it. On top of Eve's hurriedly packed clothes was Vestal's jewel case. He grinned as he lifted the lid. Eve hadn't heeded his warning. She had taken the diamonds as well as all the other stuff. There was probably over a million dollars’ worth of jewellery in the case.

  He took the case and the parcel and went back to the Buick. Then he sat down in the shade to wait.

  He had no idea how long it would be before Leggit discovered the body in the Buick wasn't his. He remembered how violently Vestal's car had burned. The body was unrecognizable, but he had no doubt that Leggit would go through what remained of it with his usual thoroughness. It was possible Larry's teeth would give the game away, but the investigation would take time. While it was going on, he would be escaping, so he would have a good start. They wouldn't begin to hunt for him until they were sure the body wasn't his.

  He decided the easiest way was to make his way up the coast to Canada. From Can
ada he might get to England. He had money, and money could buy a passport: money could buy anything. He was sure he had a sporting chance of beating the rap.

  He sat with his back to a tree, smoking and thinking until darkness fell. The next move was to drive to the cliff road and send the Buick over the cliff head. When he had satisfied himself the car was burning, he would return to the hut and take Larry's Ford and start his journey up the coast. It was tiresome that he would have to walk back to the hut. It was some distance from the cliff head, and it would take him an hour or even longer, but there was no alternative.

  He got into the Buick, grimacing as his foot touched Larry's curled up body. As he began to drive along the coast road, he wondered if the police were guarding the cliff head. If they were, he was sunk, but he saw no reason why they should be. They might have left a couple of cops at the house, but there would be no point in keeping a man out all night on the cliff road.

  That was a chance he had to take.

  He drove fast, using only his parking lights. Very soon he began the long, twisting climb up the cliff road, and his heart began to pound as he neared the spot where Vestal's car had taken its plunge.

  In the half-darkness, he spotted the gaping hole in the fence and he pulled up.

  There was no time to lose. He took his suitcase from the car and set it on the grass verge. On top of the case he put the parcel and Vestal's jewel case. Then he got back into the Buick and drove it up the verge, its nose pointing at the hole in the fence.

  He disengaged the gear and got out of the car, leaving the engine running. The next move was going to be tricky. The car had to be found in gear. Leggit would guess what had happened if he found the gear stick at neutral. It would tell him the car had been pushed over the cliff and not driven over it.

  Chad leaned inside the car, keeping the door open with his shoulder.

  He depressed the clutch pedal with his hand, put the gear lever into third, pulled the hand throttle out fully until the engine was running fast, then bracing himself, he released the clutch and threw himself backwards.