by Hank Janson
That shifted her!
She got off me like I was red hot. She shrieked with the pain of it, and in mad fury tried to kick in my ribs. She hurt her toes more than she hurt me. Then she was wrapping herself around me again, tearing with her nails, butting with her head and using her teeth whenever she got a chance.
I had a pretty good idea what was in that cabinet. It was her dope supply. That’s what Frisk had made of her, a dope addict. He’d probably met her when she was an impressionable age, introduced her to dope, gradually built her up so she was dependent on it and dependent on him giving it her.
Dope had become precious to her. It had become life itself. She would fight to defend it as a man would fight to defend his life.
But she’d been drinking, too. And a combination of both of them had turned her into a drunken slut. A dame content to lie around the house all day, alternately drinking and giving herself shots so she remained perpetually in a twilight world. That suited Frisk. She was a dame, ready and waiting, willing whenever he wanted her, because of the supply of life-giving stimulant he brought with him. But he was killing the dame. Three or four years more at most and she’d be a nervous wreck, jittery and ready for the asylum.
Yet this girl could be valuable to me. I could use her trap Frisk. I could use her, that is, provided I could make her understand. The way she was fighting me, struggling ferociously as I held her down and away from me, it didn’t seem like she was gonna be reasonable.
I had her at a real disadvantage now, face down on the bed with her arms twisted up behind her. She couldn’t do much except harmlessly kick her legs.
‘Listen, Jessica,’ I said gently. ‘I wanna talk with you. I wanna talk seriously.’
‘You’re trying to rob me,’ she shrieked. ‘You’re a thief. You’re trying to take it from me.’
‘I don’t want to do anything of the sort,’ I protested gently.
‘They sent you,’ she said. ‘They’re always after me. Trying to take it away from me. You’re one of them.’
I wasn’t sure if it was the booze talking or the drug. It could have been both. But if it was the gin talking, there was one good way I knew to sober her down.
She didn’t come willingly. She struggled every inch of the way. I found the bathroom, put the plug in the bath, turned on the cold water shower and the bath tap at the same time. She was struggling all the time, and it was hard work holding her. When the bath was almost full, I edged her over to it. Maybe she didn’t know what I had in mind. Maybe she didn’t even understand what was happening. She still kept struggling. I chose my moment, waited until the backs of her thighs were against the edge of the bath, and pushed gently, holding her so she wouldn’t fall too heavily.
She went in neatly, arms clawing frantically to save herself as she went down. The water parted beneath her weight, rushed in over the top of her, flooded over the edge of the bath. Her head emerged from the water, and she was spouting water like a porpoise as she grappled for the sides of the bath.
I was getting wet myself, but I didn’t mind. I stood at the head of the bath, pushed her head under the water each time she came up. And that water sure was cold. She was puffing and spluttering, and her face was going blue now. Each time she came up, I gave her a few seconds to get her breath before I pushed her under again.
I kept her in that bath for maybe ten minutes. Ten minutes is a long time to be completely submerged in icy water. At the end of that time, she hadn’t any fight left in her, barely enough strength to climb out of the bath.
I left her weakly clambering over the edge of the bath, looking like a half-drowned rat. I locked the bathroom door from the outside, so she couldn’t get loose, and went back to the bedroom. I used a penknife to break open the cabinet drawer. Inside was a hypodermic and six cellulose capsules containing a colourless liquid. I left the hypodermic, put the capsules in my pocket. Then I went back to the bathroom.
She hadn’t made any attempt to follow me. She’d spent the time stripping off her wet clothes. Now she was completely naked, trying to dry herself and rub warmth into her cold body.
She glared at me viciously, spoke through pale lips and chattering teeth. ‘What the hell d’ya do that for?’
‘I wanted to talk,’ I said. ‘You’d had a skinful, needed sobering up.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What’s it to you if I’m sober or not?’ She hadn’t any modesty, made no attempt to use the towel discreetly. Her thighs wasn’t the only place she’d used that hypodermic. There was another rash of pinpricks on each arm and on her belly. I sighed wearily. ‘I told you a while back that Frisk killed your father,’ I said. ‘It didn’t seem to mean anything to you. Does it now you’re sober?’
Her eyes were hard. ‘What d’you mean? Frisk killed my father?’
‘He shot him,’ I said. ‘Put two bullets in his chest. Then he tried to frame the murder on somebody else.’
Her eyes were still hard. It was as though shutters came down over them. ‘What if he did?’ she said tonelessly, ‘What can I do about it?’
‘Depends,’ I said. ‘What do you want to do about it?’
‘Just leave me alone,’ she said wearily. ‘Just leave me alone.’
She pushed past me, stark naked, padded on bare feet back to the bedroom. I followed her leisurely; she’d gone straight to the cabinet, knew I’d taken the capsules. There were two high spots burning high up on her cheeks. She held out her hand, and her lips were trembling. ‘Give it to me,’ she said fiercely. ‘Give it to me. Let me have it. You can’t take it from me.’
‘I’m gonna let you have it,’ I said. ‘Don’t work yourself up. But you’ve gotta do me a little favour first.’
‘Anything,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Anything you say.’ Her eyes were pleading now, her hands extended towards me. Maybe it wasn’t exactly a romantic moment, but if was certainly a confusing one. I could never have doubted she was a woman.
I cleared my throat awkwardly. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if you ... er ... put something on? Huh?’
‘You’ve gotta give it to me,’ she said fiercely.
‘Sure, sure,’ I said soothingly. ‘I’m gonna give it to you. You can have it all back within an hour. But you’ve gotta take a little trip with me first.’
‘I want it now,’ she said urgently. ‘I’ve gotta have a shot now.’ Her eyes looked towards the clock. ‘I’ve gotta have a shot now. It’s getting late.’
‘Do what I want, and you’ll get it,’ I told her.
Her eyes were panic-stricken. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said. ‘I can’t leave it an hour. It’ll drive me crazy. I’ve gotta have it to keep me steady.’
I thought it over. It wouldn’t be smart to take her with me, find her crack up halfway. A hophead is liable to do anything when they crack. ‘I’ll make a deal,’ I said quickly. ‘You can take a shot now. Don’t overdo it. After you’ve done what I want, I’ll give you the others.’
‘Sure, sure,’ she said eagerly. ‘I’ll do anything. But I’ve got to have a shot now.’
I wasn’t familiar with drugs. I didn’t know what the dose was. If she took too much, she was liable to fold up on me, go off into a drugged sleep. On the other hand, the right amount would keep her level, stop her from blowing her top.
‘Do what I say,’ I said. ‘Stand away from that cabinet.’
She stood away from the cabinet. I got out the hypodermic, took one of the capsules from my pocket and nipped off the end. She watched with eager glistening eyes as I squirted about a quarter of the contents of the capsule into the hypodermic chamber.
She was watching me all the time, her eyes gauging and measuring, calculating and anxious. ‘But what about ...’ she began.
I held up the hypodermic. ‘That’s all you’re gonna get,’ I said grimly.
‘But what about …’ she began again.
I pointed the capsule towards the carpet, crushed it between my thumb and finger so that a thin spray spurted across the floor.
She gave a shriek of wild frenzy, threw herself down on the carpet, rubbed her fingers on the damp patches like she was trying to pick it up. I let the empty capsule drop from my fingers, ground it beneath my heel. She looked up at me with wild, pleading in her eyes. ‘Why did you do that?’ she screamed. ‘Why did you do it?’
I held the hypodermic towards her. ‘You can have your shot,’ I said. ‘You get the other capsules later.’
She wasn’t taking a chance on missing the little that was in the hypodermic. She snatched it from my hand like she’d had plenty of practice, her thumb on the plunger and the needle poised. She inspected herself carefully, decided on the right hip. She rested her right foot on a chair, gathered up a pucker of flesh between finger and thumb and, with a swift, experienced stab, drove the needle under her skin. She took a deep breath that sounded like a gasp of pleasurable anticipation, pressed down the plunger very carefully and slowly, like it was giving her exquisite pleasure and she wanted to prolong it.
‘How long you been doing this?’ I asked.
Her eyes lifted, inspected me sullenly. ‘What’s it to you?’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Just seems a crazy kinda habit to me.’
She carefully dismantled the hypodermic, unscrewed the needle. ‘What do I have to do to get the other?’ she asked sullenly.
‘I told you. We’re gonna take a little trip. It’ll be all over in an hour.’
‘It’d better be,’ she said. She crossed the room, opened up an untidy wardrobe. None of the dresses was on hangers, all hanging untidily from hooks or dropped carelessly on the floor of the wardrobe. She picked up the nearest one to hand, a green silk dress.
‘How much does Frisk give you?’ I asked.
‘What’s it to you?’
‘Just a casual enquiry.’
‘He don’t give me nothing,’ she sneered. ‘Just my supply. Pays the rent, of course.’
‘Is it worth it?’
She worked her arms into the dress, pulled it over her shoulders, down around her waist. It was silk, clinging, and didn’t reach quite to her knees. When it was buttoned, the way her breasts rolled beneath the silk, showed the dress was all she was wearing. ‘Look, fella,’ she asked. ‘D’you know some place I can get some money and some other place I can buy dope? That’s one way I can get square with Frisk. He started me on this. Now I can’t shake free from it.’
‘You could go to hospital, offer yourself for treatment.’
She laughed at me. ‘D’you think I’m that crazy? D’you know what they do? They feed you the dope in little pieces. You go crazy, dying for it. They don’t cure you, they just make you suffer.’
She’d found two shoes now, pushed her feet into them. She looked around, found her handbag, carefully placed in it the hypodermic and the needle.
‘What’s that for?’
‘I want that next shot just so soon as I can get it.’
‘We won’t be more than an hour.’
Her eyes gleamed, her white teeth glistened. ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘Won’t be more than an hour.’
I could tell what she was thinking. She was gonna come back here, needle herself, lie on the bed and drift off into that twilight dream world of hers.
‘I’m ready,’ she said.
I looked at the green dress. I cleared my throat. I said, meaningfully: ‘You sure you feel safe?’
She stared at me in surprise. Then she understood. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Well, if it makes you feel any happier.’
She dug down in the wardrobe again, came up with a pair of briefs. She was completely uninhibited. She climbed into them right there in front of me.
‘Where you taking me?’ she asked, as she pulled them on, wrestled them firmly into position.
I swallowed, flushed and said hoarsely: ‘You’ll find out. You’ll find out.’
‘‘And we won’t be more than an hour,’ she said anxiously. ‘You promise.’ She smoothed her frock.
‘No longer,’ I said huskily. ‘Let’s go.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I took her back to my house. Crossing town, the traffic was thick, and it took more than three-quarters of an hour. When I pulled up outside the front door, she looked around her apprehensively.
‘Say, fella. You ain’t trying to pull something?’
‘What are you scared of?’
There was that desperate note in her voice. ‘You’ve gotta play square with me. You’ve gotta let me have it the way you promised.’
‘Sure, sure,’ I said. ‘You’ll get it. Just do what I tell you.’
She was getting nervous now. When I slammed the door behind us, it echoed through the empty house. She jumped, stared around like she was afraid little green men were gonna spring out on her.
‘This way,’ I grunted, led the way up the stairs. She followed, hesitantly and with obvious suspicion. But I had dope in my pocket. She was more scared of losing that than anything else.
I ushered her into the room, and Helen, who was sitting on the bed reading a magazine, looked up sharply and then narrowed her eyes. I could sense the relief in Jessica when she realized there was another dame in the house. But it took her only a few seconds to realize the significance of the chain around Helen’s waist. She spun around to face me, backed a coupla paces.
By this time, I’d closed the door behind me. I leaned my shoulders against the panels.
There was wild apprehension in her eyes. ‘Look, fella,’ she said in a frightened voice. ‘You ain’t gonna start anything. I’d rather be with Frisk. He’s on the level, gives me my stuff regularly.’ She backed another coupla paces.
‘You ain’t got a thing to worry about,’ I said wearily. ‘You’ve just gotta make a telephone call for me. After that, you get what you want.’
‘Who is she?’ asked Helen.
‘Manton’s daughter.’
Jessica interjected: ‘What d’you want me to do, fella? Let’s get it over with.’
‘You’ve gotta make a telephone call,’ I told her. ‘You’ve gotta say it just the way I tell you.’
‘What are we waiting for?’
‘You’ve gotta do it just right,’ I said. ‘You’ve gotta make it sound convincing. You’ve gotta say the right things, too. I’ll write it down for you.’
I wrote down what she had to say. I made her repeat it again and again until she knew it off by heart. Then she had to practice to get the right tone into her voice. I wasn’t taking any chances. I wanted everything to go off smoothly. That’s why it took her almost an hour to get it just the way I wanted it. By that time, her hands were shaking and her eyes getting out of focus.
‘You’ve gotta let me have another shot, fella,’ she pleaded. ‘Just so I can do it right.’
Visibly she was in need of another small jolt. She’d go to pieces without it. I took another capsule from my pocket. ‘Give me that needle.’
She gave it to me with anxious, trembling fingers. Her fingers trembled so eagerly, she wasn’t even able to screw the needle into the hypodermic.
I allowed her a quarter of a capsule. She watched with shining eyes when I squirted it into the hypodermic chamber. Then she gave a frantic squeal when she realized it was gonna be just a small jolt. She tackled me then, tried to wrestle the capsule from my hand. I wrenched away her clutching fingers, held the hypodermic high, poised like I was going to smash it against the wall. She froze, horrified.
‘Gonna cut it out?’ I rasped.
‘Let me have it, fella,’ she pleaded. ‘Let me have it, will ya?’
‘That’s all you get for now,’ I told her. ‘You’ll get the other later, when you’ve done what I want.’
She was cowed, almost whimpering. When I lowered my hand, held it towards her, she snatched at the hypodermic like a little dog snatching a bone from a Great Dane.
Helen, who’d been watching with wide eyes asked: ‘Lee! You’re surely not going to let her …’ Her voice trailed off as she watched Jessica.
/> With frantic haste, Jessica put one foot on a chair, pulled up her skirt, exposing the rash of pinpricks on the inside of her thigh. High up, she pinched a fold of flesh between finger and thumb. The hand holding the hypodermic was trembling so badly she seemed to jab too deeply. But there was no sign of pain on her face; instead, an expression of serene happiness as she slowly pressed home the plunger, prolonging as long as possible the sensation of the dope flooding into her body.
Helen’s eyes were wide and pained. ‘You shouldn’t let her, Lee. You’ll make her worse.’
Jessica glared at her, moistened her forefinger with her tongue, rubbed away the tiny bead of blood that showed on her thigh, and carefully wiped the needle.
‘How d’ya feel now?’ I asked.
‘Just what I wanted.’ She looked around. ‘Got a drink?’
‘We’ll get this job done first,’ I said grimly. ‘Let’s hear you say your piece once more. Then you can make the call.’
It was Frisk she telephoned. She held the receiver away from her ear so I could listen to him.
‘What the hell d’you mean by telephoning me?’ he demanded.
‘Getting short,’ she told him. ‘You’ve gotta let me have some more. Quick.’
He was irritable. ‘I’m coming tomorrow. I never miss. You know that. And don’t ring me again.’
‘I’ve gotta see you before that,’ she said tensely.
‘Forget it. I’m busy.’
She got a warning note into her voice. ‘You’d better meet me,’ she said. ‘I know something!’
The meaning in her voice got him worried. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘About my father’s death,’ she said. ‘You killed him. I know that now. And I can prove it, too.’
There was a long, frightened silence. Then he said, hoarsely: ‘You’ve had too much dope. Maybe I didn’t ought to bring you anymore.’
‘You can’t scare me that way,’ she told him. ‘Because I’ve got too much on you. I can prove you killed my father.’
‘So you’ve got a crazy idea,’ he mocked. ‘What d’you want me to do about it?’