The Paw in The Bottle

by James Hadley Chase

  “Don’t you worry,” he said, pausing beside a big Chrysler car, parked under a street light. Julie noticed it had “Hackney Carriage’ number plates. “In you get. Where do you live?” keep the car on the road without the cops asking me where I get the petrol from.”

  “Is this your car?” she asked, startled.

  “Course it is. The plates don’t mean anything except I can.”

  She looked at the long, glittering bonnet and the big head-lights. “If he can afford to run a car like this,” she thought, “maybe he has money. He must have. I’ll see what I can get out of him.”

  “Wake up, dreamy. Where do you live?” he asked, and pushed her into the car.

  “Fulham Palace Road,” she said, settling herself on the broad, comfortable seat.

  “What have you got—rooms?” He got in beside her, and trod on the starter.

  “It’s a self-contained flat.”

  “Share it with anyone?”

  “No. You want to know a lot, don’t you?”

  “A proper Nosey Parker I am,” he returned with a laugh, and drove rapidly through the deserted streets. Neither of them said anything until they stopped outside her flat, then he said, “This it? Right. Let’s go in. I could do with a cup of tea.”

  “You’re not coming in and you’re not having any tea,” Julie snapped. “And if you want those rings back you’ll have to pay for them.”

  He twisted round to look at her. He was smiling, but his eyes had hardened.

  “But I want to talk to you. We can’t talk here. Now, be nice and invite me in.”

  “I’m not in the habit of inviting men into my flat at this hour. I want fifty pounds for the rings. You won’t get them until you give me the money.”

  He whistled softly under his breath.

  “Have a heart, kid. Fifty quid! Why, the damn things aren’t worth that.”

  “They’re worth a thousand, and you know it. Bring the money to-morrow morning or I’ll sell them.” She jerked open the car door, ran up the steps, opened the door before he could move.

  “Hey Julie!” he shouted.

  “To-morrow morning or you won’t see them again,” she said triumphantly, and slammed the door.

  IV

  Harry waited long enough to see a light flash up in a room on the ground floor then, smiling to himself, he started the car and drove rapidly down the street. He hadn’t far to go. He knew the district well, and knew there was an all-night garage close by. He left the car there and walked back to Julie’s flat.

  For some minutes he stood outside, looking up and down the street. It was after three o’clock in the morning and only a stray cat attracted his attention. Then, moving with confident ease, he swung himself over the iron railings guarding the basement of the house, caught hold of a stack pipe and climbed on to Julie’s window-sill. He pushed up the window and stepped into the room and closed the window. He had moved with extraordinary speed and quietness. The whole manoeuvre did not take more than a few seconds.

  He pushed aside the curtain. The room in which he found himself was large and shabbily furnished and without much comfort. There was a lamp by the bed that cast a pink glow over the harsh colour of the wallpaper and furnishings.

  Across the room was a door that stood half open. The sound of running water told him it was the bathroom. He could hear Julie humming to herself as she prepared for bed, and he grinned to himself. He took off his hat and coat, sat down in an arm-chair and lit a cigarette.

  After a few minutes Julie came into the bedroom. She had on a pair of emerald-green pyjamas that set off her figure admirably, and her hair was loose to her shoulders. She came to an abrupt standstill when she saw him sitting there, and turned white, then red.

  “Hello, remember me?” he said casually. “Get into bed, Julie. I want to talk to you.”

  She looked wildly round the room, her eyes went to the dressing-table, and she made a quick dash. But Harry was there first. He picked up the two diamond rings she had half-concealed under her handbag as she reached him.

  “Put them down!” she whispered furiously.

  Instead he slipped them into his pocket.

  “Sorry, kid, they’re too important to fool with,” he said gently. “I want to talk to you. Don’t get angry. Let’s be matey, Julie. Get me a cup of tea and let’s talk.”

  “You devil!” she exclaimed furiously. “I did all that for you and now you’re not going to pay me. You rotten stinker !”

  “Who said I wasn’t going to pay you? You want a job, don’t you? Well, I’ve got a damned good one for you. Honest, I’m not fooling.”

  “What kind of job?”

  “Get me some tea and take that scowl off your face,” he said.

  “Go on, Julie, I can’t talk until I’ve had some tea.”

  “You’re the limit, Harry,” she said, weakening. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to make you tea. I won’t be long.”

  He finished his cigarette while she made the tea.

  “It’s just the way you handle ‘em,” he told himself. “I reckon I handled her beautifully. In a little while I’ll have her just where I want her.”

  She returned to the bedroom, set the tray on the table and poured out the tea.

  “What about this job?” she demanded, as she handed him a cup. “And don’t forget you owe me fifty pounds.”

  “What did Sam pay you?”

  “Twelve pounds a week.”

  He whistled softly.

  “You won’t get that again in a hurry unless . . .” He paused, went on : “You wouldn’t have to be too fussy what you did, Julie, and there may be risks.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. How long have you been with Sam?”

  “Oh, six months.”

  “And before that?”

  “In a twopenny library.”

  “And before that?”

  “I worked in a factory,” Julie said, frowning at the memory.

  “So you’ve only been in the money for six months?”

  “Yes, and I’m not going to get out of it if I can help it.” Her eyes hardened. “Until now I’ve never had any fun. Do you think you could find me anything good?”

  “I know I can.”

  He sipped his tea while he studied her.

  “I don’t believe you have a job for me at all,” she said, seeing him hesitate. “You’re just leading me up the garden path. If you are . . . you’ll be sorry! There’s nothing to stop me seeing Dawson and telling him about those rings, is there?”

  Harry nearly dropped his cup. A threat like that wasn’t funny, even if she were bluffing, and he didn’t think she was.

  “Now wait a minute, Julie. You be careful what you’re saying. There’s a word for a girl who squeals to the police and it’s an ugly one.”

  “Words don’t hurt me,” Julie retorted, tossing her head. “What about this job?”

  “One of the big money-making jobs at the moment is being a lady’s maid,” he began cautiously. “A friend of mine runs a domestic agency. She has a vacancy and could fix you up.”

  Julie stiffened, and stared at him.

  “Are you suggesting I’m to become a servant?” she asked.

  “Now, do relax, Julie. You’re forever getting on your hind legs. You don’t care how you earn money so long as it’s big money, do you? What’s wrong in being a maid? After all, you worked in a café. You’re not all that proud, are you? This is a good job. You’ll live in a luxury flat, have time off, good food and money . . .”

  “But a maid . . .” She got up and began to pace up and down. Harry watched her pyjama’d figure, aware that his mind was wandering from business. “No, I really can’t. Hewart paid me twelve pounds a week. I can’t live on less and I’m not going to. A maid doesn’t get anything like that.”

  “This one does,” Harry said with a grin. “This one is special. What do you say to fifteen quid a week and a fifty pound bonus at the end of the job?”

&nbs
p; “But no one would pay that,” she exclaimed, turning to stare at him.

  “Now look, don’t be inquisitive.” There was a slight edge to his voice. “I want you to make a little easy money and not to know too much about the way you’re making it. Are you smart enough to understand that?”

  “Oh, I see.” She was instantly suspicious. “It’s some kind of racket.”

  “Sort of but if you don’t know what it’s all about then you won’t get into trouble, will you?”

  “The same old argument,” she thought, a little wearily.

  “He’s right, of course. Hewart used it. See nothing, know nothing and you’ll be all right. Well, it’s worked up to now.”

  “All you have to do is to work at a certain place for a month or so,” Harry went on. “You’ll get three quid a week and all found. I’ll arrange for you to get twelve quid in addition, and at the end of the job a fifty-quid bonus. What’s more I’ll give you a tenner now if you’ll close with the deal.”

  “But, Harry, I’d like to think about it . . .”

  “All right, tell me to-morrow. Sleep on it. Fifteen quid week and a fifty-pound bonus. That’s not to be sneezed at.”

  “You’re not pulling my leg, are you?” she asked, suddenly suspicious again. “You could walk out of here and leave me flat. I wasn’t born yesterday. I might never see you again. And then what should I do?”

  He levered himself out of his chair, went over to sit beside her on the bed.

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said, and pulled her to him. Whispering in her ear, he said, “I’m not going to leave you to-night.”

  She pulled away and jumped to her feet.

  “Oh, no! I’m not having any of that. I’m not that easy. No, you get out. I’ll chance seeing you again.”

  He laughed at her.

  “You don’t know your own mind, do you? First I’m to stay, then I’m to go. Well, I’m going to make up your mind for you.”

  She made a hasty grab at her dressing-gown, but he caught her in his arms.

  “No!” she whispered, struggling. “Stop it, Harry! You mustn’t!”

  His mouth came down on hers. For a moment she continued to struggle, then her arms went round his neck.

  “Damn you!” she said against his mouth, and then, “Hold me tighter.”

  V

  The morning sunlight came through the dowdy chintz curtains. A milkman shouted angrily to his horse and then set down his bottles with a penetrating clatter. Further up the road the postman rapped sharply on a door.

  Julie stirred, stretched, yawned. Through the half-open bathroom door came the sound of running water. She moved her legs under the sheet and sighed contentedly.

  “Got all you want, Harry?” she called sleepily.

  “I’ll want some tea in a moment. Aren’t you out of bed yet?”

  “I’m just getting up,” Julie said, turned over and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

  “I bet.” Harry came to the door. He had a towel round his middle and she thought he looked like a boxer. He was muscular, hard and tanned. “Come on out before I throw you out.”

  “I’m coming,” Julie yawned, threw off the bedclothes. “It’s not nine yet.”

  “I’ve got a lot to do this morning,” Harry said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  She went into the kitchen and put on the kettle.

  “It’s a funny thing,” she thought, “but it seems as if he’s always been here; as if this has always been part of my life. But I do wish he wouldn’t be so evasive.”

  They had talked during the night, and Julie had tried to find out something about his everyday life, what he thought, what he did with himself, but she came up against a flippant barrier that turned anything serious into a joke.

  Harry was dressed when she returned with the tea.

  “Harry . . . those rings. I’ve been worrying. You can’t get away with that kind of thing for long. You know that.”

  He took the cup of tea she gave him and laughed.

  “For goodness’ sake don’t start worrying about me. You worry about yourself if you have to worry at all.”

  “But I do worry about you.”

  “Now look; I have only a few years on this earth—another forty with luck,” he said. “What’s forty years? Nothing, and then—the worms, the dark and the cold. All right then, I’m going to enjoy myself while I can. I can’t do that without money. Money’s power; it’s fun, food and drink, cigarettes and love. Money’s a motor car, petrol, clothes and shoes. It’s a night out at the White City dog track; it’s a game of poker and a seat at the theatre. It’s everything you can think of. I’ve tried working for a living, but it didn’t come off. l’ve been in the war. I’ve done my little bit, and now I’m going to have a good time. I don’t care how I get hold of money so long as I get it. I help myself. That’s all there’s to it.”

  “But what’s the good of it all if you spend ten years in jail?” Julie demanded, hoping he could give her a satisfactory answer, since his philosophy matched hers.

  “You have to be smart. I’ve kept out of jail for three years and I’m keeping out of it.”

  “If it hadn’t been for me you would have been in jail by now,” she reminded him.

  “Don’t you believe it. There’s always someone around. You’d be surprised. If you hadn’t taken those rings I’d’ve got rid of them some other way. It’s happened before.”

  This annoyed and hurt Julie. She wanted to think she had saved him from prison at a considerable risk to herself.

  “And do you always make love to the woman who’s helped you? Is that your idea of a reward?” she asked tartly.

  “You’re a funny kid.” He laughed at her. “I’m fussy who I make love to. You’ll find that out one of these days.”

  She had never suffered from jealousy before, but now the thought of any other woman knowing him as intimately as she did tormented her.

  “Harry . . . who’s that woman, Dana, who rang you?”

  “My mother,” he said promptly, stretched out his legs. “She’s a wonderful old thing : lavender and old lace, or is it arsenic? Anyway. you’d love her.”

  “I’m not going to be treated like this,” Julie exclaimed, stamping her feet. “You’ve got to stop this silly pose with me. Who is she? I want to know.”

  He pulled a face, then laughed again.

  “Don’t bully me, Julie. She’s just a girl I know. Nothing to get excited about. She isn’t half as pretty as you, and she means nothing to me.”

  “How did she know the police were looking for you?”

  “She’s clairvoyant. Saw old Dawson in the tea leaves.”

  “Are you going to stop playing the fool and tell me or aren’t you?” Julie demanded, thoroughly angry now.

  “Mind your own business,” he said, and smiled at her, but she was quick to see the sudden hard look in his eyes.

  There was a long pause while they looked at each other. Julie’s eyes were the first to give ground. She could see it was useless to press him and she decided to change her tactics.

  right, don’t tell me if you want to make a mystery of it,” she said, trying to sound indifferent. “Have some more tea?”

  He handed her his cup, lit another cigarette and yawned.

  “I’ll have to be off in a moment,” he said, glancing at his watch.

  She felt uneasy again. He could walk out of her flat and she might never see him again.

  “Where do you live, Harry?” she asked, as she poured out the tea.

  “Ten Downing Street. I have a little flat on the top floor. It’s pretty cosy because I share the Prime Minister’s butler.”

  It was no use, she decided, alarmed and angry. Under his flippant pose was a mercurial character that refused to be pinned down. She mustn’t be too possessive. Later, perhaps, when they knew each other better, she might gain his confidence.

  She said lightly : “Are you ever serious?”

  “What do I want to
be serious for? Eat, drink and make money and love for to-morrow the worms will have you. I haven’t time to be serious. Having fun is a full-time job.”

  “So I’m not even to know where you live?”

  “The woman’s living with him,” she thought. “That’s why he won’t tell me.”

  “At times you positively shine, Julie.”

  “All right, be mysterious,” she said crossly, and turned away. The less you know about me the better,” he returned, and picked up his coat. “Well, I’m off. How about that job, Julie?”

  “Well, all right,” she said reluctantly. “I suppose I’d better do it. All I have to do is to be a maid; nothing else?”

  He grinned.

  “That’s all. Of course, you’ll keep your eyes open.”

  She knew at once then that she was to be the inside plant for a robbery. For a moment she hesitated, and Harry, seeing her hesitate, took out two five-pound notes.

  “I promised you something in advance. Here, put those in your pocket.”

  She hesitated no longer. What she didn’t know about she couldn’t get into trouble about. She could look after herself. She took the money.

  “What do I do?”

  “Here.” He handed her a card. “Go to this address. Ask for Mrs. French and tell her I sent you. She knows all about it and will tell you what to do. O.K.?”

  “And there’s no risk? I mean I shan’t get into trouble?”

  “Not a chance,” he returned breezily. “All you have to do is to act like a maid. Simple, isn’t it?”

  “And keep my eyes open,” she said, watching him. He grinned.

  “That’s the idea. Well, so long, Julie.”

  “When am I going to see you again?”

  “Soon. I’ve got a lot of things on at the moment. I’ll get in touch with you.”

  “Just like a man. Get what you want, then cool off,” Julie said angrily.

  He pulled her to him and kissed her.

  “If you want me urgently give Mrs. French a message. I’ll be out of Town for a day or so, but she’ll know where she can get in touch with me. All right?”

  She looked up at him.

  “It’ll have to be.”