The Paw in The Bottle

by James Hadley Chase

  She had always wanted a bank account and for the moment Harry was forgotten.

  “Two hundred and fifty pounds?” she said, staring at him. She took the cheque-book and flicked through the pages. “For me?”

  “I said I’d make you an allowance of a thousand a year,” he reminded her. “This is the beginning of it.”

  “I see.” She stared at him, then she said, “You don’t really care for me, do you? This is because you want to be sure I won’t talk. You’re not fooling me, you know.”

  “I didn’t suppose I was fooling you, as you put it,” he returned quietly. “Your silence is important, Julie. If you want to keep the things I’ve given you, you must keep my secret. No matter what happens you must say nothing. If you do, the flat and your income won’t be yours any more. And it won’t be because I’ll take them away. It’ll be because I should no longer be in the position to give them to you. You see, Julie, if it got out I could see I’d be ruined. I can’t tell you any more than that. I shouldn’t perhaps have told you so much. It was chance you found out, and I am going to do everything I can to persuade you from telling anyone. So if you want your flat and this money, if you want clothes and a good time, say nothing.”

  “I won’t,” Julie said steadily, and gripped the cheque-book tightly.

  “And as far as Harry Gleb is concerned,” he went on quietly, “if you show any weakness now you’ll regret it later. But I must go now. Don’t be frightened, Julie, and good luck. You will go through with it, won’t you?”

  She had to go through with it, she told herself, and remembered what Harry had once said : “I don’t care how I get hold of money so long as I get it. Money is power. I have only a few years on this earth—then the worms, the dark and the cold. I’m going to enjoy myself while I can.” That was her philosophy, too. Money was power. She couldn’t afford to be squeamish, and she told herself Harry wouldn’t have hesitated to do as she was doing if he had been in her place.

  “Yes, I’m going through with it,” she said.

  But the moment Wesley had gone and she heard the front door slam she once more became a prey to her fears. There were another forty minutes yet before Harry arrived and she sat in her room, her fists clenched, sick with apprehension, and her eyes on the clock. As its hands moved slowly towards the hour she became more and more jumpy. Every sound, the creaking of the doors, the ticking of the clock, the soft sound of the passing traflic, and the whine of the lift as it raced between floors, made her nerves tighten.

  But she wasn’t the only one to be strung up. In the Park, under the dark shadow of the trees, Harry Gleb and Theo were watching the lighted entrance of Park Way.

  Harry held a cigarette in his fingers, the glowing end shielded in the palm of his hand. He was also uneasy and nervous, and every now and then he shifted his position restlessly.

  Not so Theo. He leaned against a tree, his hands in his pockets, his hat at the back of his head, callously calm. He wasn’t going to get excited over a job like this. It took a lot to upset Theo.

  “What’s the time?” Harry asked suddenly. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his sweating hands.

  “Twenty past seven,” Theo returned after consulting the luminous face of his wrist-watch. He glanced at Harry, hate in his eyes.

  “Time they left,” Harry said, dropped the cigarette on the grass and stepped on it. “Think we’ve missed them?”

  Theo scratched his ribs, swore softly under his breath.

  “Not a chance. What’s your hurry? We can’t do anything until eight.”

  “I don’t understand why Ma’s dragged Dana into this,” Harry muttered. “We two could have handled it.”

  Theo grinned evilly in the darkness.

  “She’s right,” he returned. “Anyone might spot the car if it remained for long in the alley. It’s better this way. I can get round to the back without anyone seeing me, get the furs together, then when Dana arrives all I have to do is throw the furs in and she’ll be away. It’s a smart idea.”

  Harry grunted. He distrusted any sudden change of plan. “There they go,” Theo said suddenly and pointed.

  They watched Blanche and Wesley get into the waiting taxi. Neither of them said anything but their eyes followed the red tail light until it disappeared.

  Harry lit another cigarette.

  “Well, that starts it,” he said. “I’d like to get in there now. This waiting gives me a pain in the guts.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” Theo sneered. “Got cold feet?”

  “Shut up, you ape,” Harry snarled.

  There was a long silence between them, then Theo again consulted his watch.

  “About time I got going,” he said. “Give me five minutes and then come on. See you in prison,” and he slouched away into the darkness.

  Harry’s face tightened. “The little rat has nerves like steel,” he thought. “See you in prison ! The kind of crack he would come out with on a job like this.” Harry crossed his fingers and stood waiting. While he waited he thought of Julie. He was determined to make her leave the flat with him after he had passed the furs to Theo. He didn’t care how much she protested. She was going with him.

  Deciding that Theo had had time to reach the alley at the back of the building, he turned up his coat collar and walked slowly across the grass out of the Park towards Park Way. His heart was pounding and his throat was dry. Ile had never before felt like this on a job, and it worried him.

  It would have worried him still more if he had known that Detective Inspector Dawson and two plain-clothes men were watching him and moved silently after him as he left the Park.

  He entered the vast lobby of Park Way and went up to the porter’s office.

  “I’m looking for Mrs. Gregory’s apartment,” he said. “Can you direct me, please?”

  He remembered that Julie had told him the top flat was occupied by a Mrs. Gregory. Such information was always useful, and Harry had filed it away in his retentive memory for future use.

  “Mrs. Gregory?” the porter repeated, coming out of his office. “Yes, sir. Top floor. Take the lift on your right. I don’t know if Mrs. Gregory is in. Would you care for me to find out?”

  Harry blew his nose loudly. He had been holding his handkerchief to his face in the hope that the porter wouldn’t get a good look at him.

  “She’s expecting me,” he said. “It’s all right. Top floor? Thanks.” He walked quickly to the lift and pressed the automatic button.

  While he waited he had a creepy sensation that he was being watched, but he didn’t look round. Sweat began to trickle down the back of his neck and he mopped himself with the handkerchief.

  The lift doors opened and he stepped inside. As he pressed the button indicating the top floor he took a quick look round the lobby. It was deserted. The porter had returned to his office. He drew in a quick breath of relief and leaned against the side of the lift as it shot him to the top floor.

  Leaving the lift, he ran down the two flights of stairs that brought him to the landing leading to Wesley’s flat. He looked up and down the deserted passage, then walked to the front door and rang the bell.

  There was a long, unnerving pause before Julie opened the door. She stared at him, white faced, her eyes wide with fear.

  “All right, Julie,” he said, trying to sound brisk. “Let’s go.” He pushed past her into the flat and shut the door. “Come on, kid. Let’s make it snappy.”

  But she could only stare at him. He was wearing a dark overcoat and a slouch hat pulled low over his eyes. A black silk scarf hid his chin. She could see sweat trickling down the side of his face from under his hat and his eyes burned feverishly.

  “Harry!” she exclaimed, backing away. “Please don’t go through with this!”

  He caught hold of her arm and bustled her, protesting weakly, down the passage to Blanche’s bedroom.

  “Now, take it easy,” he said, far from easy himself. “This has got to be quick. In and out, see?
Get the safe open, kid, as fast as you can.”

  She was sick with fright, expecting any moment for the police to appear. She couldn’t move, but stared at him with eyes like holes in a sheet.

  “Harry! Why did you come! I told you to stay away!” she cried, wringing her hands.

  He caught hold of her.

  “Come on; for God’s sake stop talking and get this damned safe open,” he said feverishly, and shook her.

  “But Harry . . .” she wailed.

  “We’ll talk when we get outside.” He was controlling himself with difficulty. “Come on, get it open.” He shoved her before the quilted wall. “Turn off the alarms. There’s one behind the bed, isn’t there? Turn it off.”

  It suddenly occurred to her that if he didn’t take the furs the police couldn’t do anything to him. She could swear that he had come to see her and then they would have no case against him.

  “Harry! Listen, you mustn’t take anything. Please go. I’ll even come with you if you’ll go now.”

  He rounded on her. His own nerves were at breaking point. He had never before wasted so much time on a job.

  “Turn the blasted alarm off!” he shouted at her. “And stop talking!”

  “But Harry, you don’t understand . . .” she began, but cursing under his breath he caught hold of her arm and gave her a stinging slap across her face.

  “Pull yourself together, you little fool!” he exclaimed furiously. “Open that safe!”

  She stepped back, her hand going to her face. She realized at once that he had struck her because he was frightened, but in spite of that she couldn’t forgive him. If he could do that to her after he had told her he loved her, what was his love worth, she thought.

  “All right,” she said bleakly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Harry was now so jittery he nearly struck her again. He had been in the flat for over ten minutes and the safe wasn’t opened yet.

  “Get on with it,” he said frantically. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  She went to the head of the bed, moving like an automaton, and turned off the alarm. Then she went into the bathroom and turned off the second alarm. As she came out of the bathroom he again implored her to hurry.

  Without quite knowing what she was doing she opened the safe. Harry gaped at the row of fur coats when the steel doors slid back. As soon as she had turned off the light that operated the photo-electric cell, he jumped forward, scooped up an armful of the furs and rushed from the room. She heard him push up the panel covering the service lift in the kitchen. Suddenly she felt she was going to faint and clutched hold of a chair to steady herself.

  Harry came in, grabbed another armful of furs and rushed out again. He worked like lightning, not paying her any attention. There was nothing she could do now, she thought, gripping the back of the chair. In a moment or so the police would burst in and that would be the end of Harry.

  Then something happened that rooted her to the floor and sent blood from her heart.

  There was a sudden shrill scream that echoed through the flat, immediately followed by the crash of gunfire.

  Julie found herself at the door, peering fearfully into the passage.

  Harry was standing a yard or so from the front door, which stood open. He was staring down at something at his feet, something his body blocked from Julie’s view. Nearby lay an automatic pistol; smoke drifted lazily from its muzzle.

  “Harry !” Julie cried, and Harry, suddenly galvanized into life, slammed and bolted the front door. As he moved, Julie caught sight of a little doll-like figure lying on the floor. It was Blanche.

  Julie screamed as she saw blood running down the side of Blanche’s face, forming a crimson halo round her fair hair.

  There came a tremendous crash on the front door, which bulged, creaked, but held.

  Harry sprang back, turned and came rushing down the passage towards Julie. His eyes were bolting from his head; his colourless face dreadful to look at.

  Julie shrank away from him.

  “You shot her !” she gasped, throwing out her hands to keep him off. “Harry! keep away!”

  “You know I didn’t!” Harry gasped, grabbing hold of her. “I was in the kitchen. I’ve never carried a gun in my life. Julie! You’ve got to tell them. I—I didn’t do it!”

  Then the front door burst open and three police officers came charging down the passage.

  Harry flung Julie out of his way, darted into the kitchen, but he hadn’t taken a step or two before he was pulled down, his frantic struggles smothered by many hands.

  Julie heard him yell, “I didn’t do it! I swear I didn’t do it. It’s not my gun!” and then everything went dark and she seemed to be falling into a bottomless pit.

  VI

  Theo was hauling himself up in the service lift when he heard the shot and he immediately jammed on the flimsy brake, stopping the lift. He was only a few feet below the service hatch that Harry had left open. The light from the kitchen reflected down the shaft, and by peering through the opening between the shaft and the lift, he could see part of the kitchen ceiling.

  He heard Julie’s wild scream and the crash as the front door of the flat was forced open, and he cursed, knowing that something had gone badly wrong.

  The lift was operated by pulling on a rope from below. It was also possible, but not easy, to operate the lift by pulling on the rope that ran inside the lift. Theo had found it hard work hoisting himself up by hand, but he had kept at it, sweating and swearing, because he knew it was vital to silence Julia. And now this must happen just when he was within a few feet of his destination.

  He suddenly heard the sounds of a violent struggle, then Harry’s voice, strident with panic, yell: “I didn’t do it! I swear I didn’t do it! It’s not my gun!”

  Theo’s face set.

  “Someone’s got shot,” he thought. “This is where I get the hell out of here !”

  Over-anxious to get away before anyone spotted him, he released the brake before getting a grip on the rope. Instantly the lift fell like a stone between the floors. Theo made a desperate grab at the brake and slammed it on, but the impetus of the lift was too much for it and it snapped.

  Theo gave a howl of terror as the lift plunged down; a howl that was heard by the two plain-clothes detectives who were in the alley.

  They saw the lift come down out of the darkness and smash to pieces against its steel bed. They saw a body hurtle out and thud on the damp concrete.

  They ran forward, bent over Theo. One of them shone a torch on to his ghastly face. When he touched Theo, Theo screamed, startling both men. They drew back, staring at him.

  “All right, son,” the taller of the two said. “Just take it easy. We’ll get an ambulance for you.” He could see by the way Theo was lying that he had broken his back, and turning to his companion, he went on in a lower tone : Nip up and get the inspector, George. He’s had it.”

  Sweat ran down Theo’s face.

  “Where’s he gone?” he gasped, seeing the other detective run off down the dark passage.

  “Gone to get Dawson and the ambulance,” he was told.

  “Bet old Dawson will raise a cheer,” Theo said, his face twisting with pain. “He never liked me.” He panted for a moment, trying to get his breath. “Blasted back’s broken. Don’t touch me. It’s all right so long as you don’t touch me.”

  “You take it easy, kid,” the detective said, and squatted on his heels beside Theo. “We’ll fix you up.”

  Theo sneered.

  “Going to get into the papers at last,” he said. “I got a photo of myself in my wallet. Give it to the Press, chum. My old man’ll get a kick seeing me in the papers. It’ll be front-page stuff, won’t it?”

  “That’s right,” the detective said, grimacing.

  “Get it now and keep it by you,” Theo insisted. “They’ll give you a couple of nicker for it. If you don’t have it, Dawson will. You know what he’s like.”

  To
humour him, the detective took the wallet and found the photograph.

  “This it?” he asked.

  Theo peered forward.

  “That’s it. You give it to the Press.” He lay for a minute not saying anything, then he went on : “What was that shooting just now?”

  “I don’t know,” the detective returned. “Gleb wasn’t carrying a gun, was he?”

  Theo didn’t say anything. If he was going to die, and he thought that was what was going to happen to him, he wasn’t going to let Harry get away with it. Harry had hit him, and no one hit Theo without paying for it. But Theo wanted to know more about the shooting before he talked.

  “I’m not saying anything until Dawson comes,” he said. “He’d better hurry. I’m going to croak.”

  “Not you,” the detective said cheerfully. “You’ll live to do your ten years.”

  “They wouldn’t give me ten,” Theo said. “I’d be unlucky to get three.”

  Detective Inspector Dawson materialized out of the darkness and knelt by Theo’s side.

  “Hello,” he said, staring down at the white, pain-lined face. “Got yourself into a proper mess this time, haven’t you?” Theo opened his eyes.

  “I’m all right so long as you don’t move me,” he said. “That ambulance coming?”

  “Yes,” Dawson returned. “Seen this gun before, Theo?” He dangled an automatic pistol before Theo’s eyes, turned the beam of his torch on to it.

  “Was that Harry shooting?” Theo asked. “Did he kill anyone?”

  “We don’t know. It depends if this is his gun.”

  Theo closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “It’s his gun all right. Who did he shoot?”

  “Are you sure?” Dawson demanded.

  “Cos I’m sure,” Theo lied. “I didn’t want him to carry a gun. But he wouldn’t listen. He said he’d kill anyone who got in his way.”

  Will you sign a statement?” Dawson asked quietly.

  Theo nodded. There was a glazed look in his eyes now. “You’d better hurry,” he said. “I ain’t going to last long.” Dawson was already scribbling in his notebook. He got Theo to sign the statement after a little difficulty.