Val shook her head.?‘Oh no, I didn’t,’ she said. ‘I gave you the money to establish the fact that you were blackmailing me. The police and my bank have the numbers of all the bills. The police know I gave you the money. They would have no difficulty in proving you did blackmail me and your assistants had a part in it.’
‘Now, wait…’ Karsh began, sweat breaking out on his face.?‘Will you shut up!’ Hare barked. ‘I think you are bluffing, Mrs. Burnett. Am I to understand you don’t mind your husband being tried for murder?’
‘Oh, yes, I mind,’ Val said quietly, ‘but I am not submitting to blackmail. I’ve thought about it. It is better for my husband to stand trial than to pay blackmail. You hold the only evidence against him: the police will want to know why you didn’t give them this evidence: that, coupled with the fact they know I paid you all this money will send you to prison almost as long as the sentence my husband would get.’
Hare began to feel uneasy.?‘I still think you are bluffing,’ he said. ‘Your husband will spend the rest of his days in a criminal asylum.’
‘It is possible, but we will hire very clever attorneys.’ Val said. ‘He could get off sooner that that. I’m not bluffing.’ She reached across the desk and picked up the telephone receiver. ‘If you think I am, then I’m calling the Chief of Police.’
Karsh shouted, ‘Stop! Don’t do it!’
Val replaced the receiver and looked at Karsh who was glaring at Hare.?‘You fat old fool! I warned you! She’s got us! Now you shut up for a change. I’m going to handle this!’
Hare, livid, started to say something, but Lucille cut in. ‘Let him handle it. I said all along I didn’t like it.’
Hare hesitated, then swung his chair around so his back was to Val. He looked like a man about to have a stroke.
Karsh said, ‘Mrs. Burnett, I want you to believe neither my wife nor me wanted anything to do with this. Look, we’ll give you back the money and the evidence. If we do that, will you forget it? We don’t want trouble with the police and you don’t want trouble for your husband. That’s right, isn’t it?’
Hare snarled. ‘You bird brain! She’s bluffing!’
Val looked at Karsh.?‘Give me the jacket and the lighter and the money.’ Her heart was pounding, but she managed to look straight at Karsh although she was a lot more frightened than he. ‘And I’ll forget I’ve ever been here.’
Karsh hurried to the safe. He took out the parcel containing the jacket. To this he added the gold cigarette lighter. Then picking up the brief-case containing the twenty thousand dollars, he handed the three articles to Val.
When she had gone, Hare threw the remains of his chicken sandwich across the office. ‘Fools! Couldn’t you see she was bluffing? You’ve let half a million dollars walk out of here!’
‘Yeah?’ Karsh sneered, pressing the ice-bag against his aching eye. ‘then why are you wasting good food? If we’re going to be all that poor, you’ll need every crumb you can find.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Moe had remained in the cupboard recess at Fris-Fris’ bar until nine o’clock. In the meantime, Fris-Fris had alerted the boys along the waterfront to report on the activities of the police. A telephone call at a few minutes to nine assured Fris-Fris the search for Moe had moved on and the immediate district was now clear of police.
He hurried to let Moe out of his hiding place.?‘They’ve gone for the moment,’ he said as he led Moe into a back room furnished only with a table and four chairs. ‘So what are you going to do now?’
During the time Moe had been shut up in the darkness he had grieved for Jacko’s loss. His grief had been devastating and genuine. He had adored Jacko. Now life without him was as empty to Moe as a hole in a wall. He just could not imagine what he would do with himself without Jacko. It was as if a shutter had slammed shut, cutting off his future existence. The five thousand dollars he had taken from Hardy’s penthouse meant nothing to him. What was money without Jacko?
Fris-Fris watched him anxiously. He had never seen Moe like this before: uncertain, his face haggard, his eyes sightless.
‘Moe! Baby! What’s the matter?’ Fris-Fris asked nervously. ‘You must think of yourself now. I could get you on a ship. There’s one sailing tonight for Jamaica. You have money, haven’t you?’
Moe sat on one of the chairs. He put the brief-case containing the five thousand dollars on the table. He stared across the room without apparently hearing what Fris-Fris had said.
‘Baby! Come on!’ Fris-Fris urged. ‘They could come back. They knew you and me know each other. We must make a plan.’
Moe suddenly snapped out of his mood. He stiffened, and the blank expression in his eyes changed to a murderous burning hate.
‘I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to get that slob who killed Jacko!’ Fris-Fris flinched.?‘You’re crazy! You must get away I Forget Hardy! You must think of yourself!’ ‘I’m going to fix that slob. I don’t care what happens to me so long as I fix him.’ Fris-Fris wrung his fat hands.
‘We’ll fix him, baby. The boys will take care of him. Every cop in town is hunting for you. You get on this ship. I’ll arrange everything. You don’t have to think of Hardy. The boys will take care of him.’
‘No one’s taking care of him but me!’ Moe shouted, hammering the table with his fists. ‘Anyone who touches that slob is in trouble with me!’
Fris-Fris lifted his hands helplessly.?‘All right, baby, but you will never get him. The heat right now is terrible. Every cop…’ ‘Oh. wrap up! Get me a change of clothes - something dark and snap it up!’
Fris-Fris had a sudden idea. He was desperately anxious that Moe should escape. His black face lit up.
‘I have a girl’s outfit here, baby. It would fit you. How’s about it? I have a bce-hive wig too. I’ll get you up so your own mother wouldn’t know you.’
Moe stared, then nodded.?‘Now you’re talking,’ he said.
Forty-five minutes later, a slim Jamaican girl, her black bee-hive hair like a helmet, her blue and yellow dress caught tight at her waist, her bare feet in yellow sandals, walked out of Fris-Fris’ bar and along the waterfront.
She was carrying a large yellow and blue handbag: in the bag was a .38 automatic.?*****
Gina and Hardy lay on the big double bed. Hardy was a little drunk. They had just made explosive love, and now Hardy wanted to sleep, but Gina was restless and uneasy.
‘Let’s talk,’ she said, stretching her beautiful naked body the way a cat stretches. ‘Lee! I’m worried sick. They can’t do anything to you, can they, for killing that fat beast?’
‘No,’ Hardy said. ‘It’s routine stuff. Harry will take care of it. Don’t keep on about it. It was self-defence. Now, relax, can’t you? Let’s sleep.’
But it’s not ten yet.’ Gina said. ‘How can I sleep? Let’s go somewhere. Let’s go to the
Coral Club.’?Hardy opened his eyes and peered at her.?‘If you imagine I’m going out while that black thug is still loose, you’re nuts,’ he said.
Gina’s eyes opened wide.?‘You mean he might do something to you?’?‘What the hell do you think we have a cop outside the front door for?’ Hardy asked impatiently. ‘What the hell do you think we have two cops planted in the lobby downstairs for? They think he’ll come up here after me. He and Jacko were husband and wife.’ He sat up abruptly. ‘I wish to God I hadn’t shot that fat ape. I don’t know why I did it.’
‘But suppose they don’t find him?’ Gina asked, also sitting up, her eyes alarmed. ‘You mean we have to stay here until he is caught?’
‘Yeah. I’m not going out until they do get him, and they will. Every cop in town is after him.’
Gina got off the bed and walked across the room to where her wrap lay on the floor. Hardy studied her nakedness as she moved and as she bent to pick up the wrap. He had known more women than he could hope to remember. Not one of them excited him as Gina excited him.
‘Get me a drink,’ he said, lying back on the pillow.
Gina went into the kitchen, made two whiskies and added ginger ale and ice. She came back gave one glass to Hardy, then curled up in a chair near the bed.
‘Let’s get married, Lee,’ she said. ‘I’m sick of drifting around this way. Let’s get married. We could even have kids.’
Hardy stared at her in amazement, then laughed.?‘Coming from you that’s a riot. Kids? Who wants kids?’?‘I do,’ Gina said quietly.
After staring at her, Hardy became thoughtful.?‘Well, I don’t know.’ He shook his head, but Gina, watching him, saw the suggestion had made an impression.
‘We needn’t rush it,’ she said. ‘The kids I mean, but let’s get married.’?‘Why can’t you be happy as you are?’ Hardy asked, suddenly on the defensive. ‘Why should we get married?’
‘I’ve already told one lie for you that could get me into trouble,’ Gina said. ‘Now I have to tell another… that Jacko was going to kill me so you killed him first. That could also get me into trouble. I don’t like trouble, Lee. Why should I stick my neck out for you?’ She paused, then went on. ‘I’d cut my heart out for my husband.’
Hardy frowned up at the ceiling. Why not get married? Why not even have a couple of kids?
He suddenly relaxed and grinned.?‘Well, okay. Pekie, if that’s what you want,’ he said. ‘I could do worse. It might be an idea at that. Okay, as soon as this mess has been cleared up, we’ll do it.’
‘Don’t sound so damned enthusiastic,’ Gina said and giggled. This was the moment she had been plotting for now for the past three weeks.
‘What do you expect me to do?’ Hardy asked grinning. ‘Set fire to the joint?’
Gina gave an excited squeal and springing up, she threw herself on him, knocking his glass flying.
At this moment, a slim Jamaican girl walked down the alley at the back of Hardy’s apartment block. She moved quickly and silently, and no one saw her as she gently opened the door that led to the janitor’s office. She stepped into the corridor, shut the door and paused to listen. The janitor’s office was in darkness. A door at the far end of the corridor stood ajar, and a light came through into the corridor. Moving like a black ghost, she edged towards the stairs as a man in the room cleared his throat noisily. She kept on and reached the first floor. Here she paused as she could see the doorman reading a sporting sheet from behind the desk. She edged to the flight of stairs and again succeeded in moving out of sight without being seen.
On the second floor landing, she pressed the elevator button and when the elevator arrived, she entered and pressed the eighth floor button… one floor below Hardy’s penthouse. As the elevator took her swiftly upwards, she opened her bag and took from it a flick knife. She touched the button and a long, glittering blade sprang from the handle. The elevator came to rest and the doors swished open. Holding the knife out of sight by her side, she stepped out of the elevator and paused to listen. Hearing nothing, she again started up the stairs. As she reached the head of the stairs, a short, thickset man with cop written all over him, started down the corridor towards her.
‘You! Where do you think you’re going?’ he snapped, off his guard to see a Jamaican girl face him.
The knife flashed towards him and took him in the throat even as his hand began to move to the gun in his holster. He fell on hands and knees, gurgling. The Jamaican ran swiftly to him and lifting her heavy handbag, slammed it down on his head.
Moe… for it was Moe… stood staring down at the twitching body of the police officer. Then he bent, recovered his knife, wiped the blade clean on the dead man’s coat and returned the knife to the handbag. He then took out the gun and stepping past the dead man, he walked swiftly down the corridor to Hardy’s front door. He rang the door bell and stood, waiting, his bee-hive wig slightly askew, his lips drawn back off his teeth.
‘You dope! Look what you have done to my drink?’ Hardy was saying as the front door bell rang.
Gina stiffened and looked at Hardy. He sat up, then swung his legs off the bed and struggled into his dressing- gown.
‘Who’s that?’ Gina asked, her eyes growing wide.?‘That cop,’ Hardy said in disgust. ‘I bet he’s trying to cadge a drink.’ He started towards the bedroom door.
‘Lee! Don’t go! Let me go!’?‘Oh, relax!’ Hardy said irritably. ‘What are you worrying about? We are surrounded by goddamn cops.’
He went out into the lobby as the bell rang again.?‘Lee!’ Gina screamed as Hardy unlocked the front door. ‘Lee!’
The sound of three revolver shots crashed through the penthouse. There was a moment of silence, then the thud of a falling body.
Gina shut her eyes. With an agonised cry, she threw herself face down on the bed.
The two police officers on guard in the lobby were waiting for Moe as he came out of the elevator. It took five bullets to kill him and he died grinning, his bee-hive wig at the back of his head and his flowered dress rucked up around his black thighs.
A little before eight the following morning, Val surprised the hall-porter at the Spanish Bay hotel by coming on to the terrace, wearing slacks and a halter and carrying a heavy beach bag. He hurried towards her and she gave him a tight, forced smile.
‘I thought I’d have an early swim,’ she said as he took the bag. ‘It’s nice to have the beach to one’s self.’
The hall-porter, used to the idiosyncrasies of the rich, agreed. He watched her drive away, then shrugging, he returned to his post at the entrance to the hotel.
Val drove along the deserted beach road until she was out of sight of the hotel. She parked the car off the road, then carrying the beach bag, she walked down to the sea, slithering down the high sand dunes until she reached a secluded spot where no one could possibly see her.
She dumped the bag and walked around collecting dry wood that littered that part of the beach. In a while she had made a big pile of wood. From the beach bag she took a large bottle of lighter fuel and a newspaper. She soaked the paper with the fuel, pushed it under the pile of wood. Then she took from the beach bag, Chris’ blood-stained jacket. This she also soaked with the lighter fuel. She put the jacket on to the wood pile and striking a match, she tossed the match on to the jacket.
She jumped clear as the whole thing went up in a roaring mass of flames. She stood, watching. Within a few minutes the jacket was reduced to grey ashes which the mild wind coming from the sea began to scatter along the beach.
Satisfied that there was nothing left of the jacket, she took off her slacks and ran down, in halter and briefs, to the sea.
She swam for ten minutes, then she came out of the sea and again looked at the funeral pile of the jacket. Again satisfied that there was nothing left of it, she stripped off her bathing things, hurriedly dried herself with a towel, slipped into a light sweater and slacks and fifteen minutes later, she was back in the hotel.
She remained in her suite until eleven o’clock, then wearing a simple white frock and sandals, she drove to the sanatorium.
Dr. Gustave received her in his office.?‘I have news for you,’ he said. ‘Dr. Zimmerman will be arriving this afternoon. You may not have heard of him, but he is the best brain specialist in the world. I have been in correspondence with him about your husband. He seems to think he can do a lot more for him than I have been able to do. In actual fact, your husband is much better. He is making steady progress, but Zimmerman thinks a small operation on the brain might very easily complete the cure. He is optimistic, but I would rather you weren’t. One never knows when dealing with a case like this. Anyway, I am satisfied that Zimmerman can’t do any harm: he can only do good.’
Val sat motionless, her hands tight in her lap.?‘Am I to give a decision?’
Gustave smiled.?‘No, I have talked to your husband. He wants the operation done. Naturally, I am consulting you, but as he wants It, I think you are relieved of any responsibility.’
‘I’m not afraid of responsibility,’ Val said. ‘What happens if the operation isn’t successful?�
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‘According to Zimmerman… nothing. I am ready to accept his opinion. It is not a kill or cure thing. Your husband will either make a complete recovery or else he will continue more or less as he is now.’
‘Then of course, he must have it,’ Val! said. ‘There would be no danger to him?’ ‘None at all. Zimmerman has performed the operation successfully a number of times.’ ‘But you are not optimistic?’?‘I didn’t say that. I don’t want you to be optimistic.’?‘And when will it be?’?‘Dr. Zimmerman arrives here tomorrow afternoon. The operation will take place the following morning.’
Val got to her feet.?‘I’ll talk to Chris now. Is he in the garden?’?‘You’ll find him there.’
She looked anxiously at him.?‘Still guarded?’
Dr. Gustave smiled his professional smile.?‘Guarded isn’t the right word, Mrs. Burnett. Shall we say he is still being supervised?’?‘If this operation is successful, he won’t have to be supervised?’?‘Of course not.’?‘But how will you know it is successful?’?‘There will be various signs.’ Dr. Gustave’s expression became vague. ‘It may take a few months before we can be absolutely certain of the cure. We can expect to find a marked change once he is up and about again.’
They spent a few more minutes talking, then Val went out into the garden.
Chris Burnett was reading under the big tree. The nurse, sitting a few yards from him, was knitting. She nodded and smiled at Val as she saw her coming along the path. Chris looked up, closed his book, after slipping a paper marker into the place where he had been reading. He put the book down and got to his feet. He didn’t come towards her, but his smile was a little warmer than the last time they had met and he had taken the trouble, Val noted, to get to his feet.
‘Did you hear the news?’ he asked, pulling a chair nearer his. ‘About Zimmerman?’?‘Yes.’ She sat down, longing to touch him. ‘How do you feel about it, Chris?’?‘I’m rather excited.’ He slumped down into his chair. ‘I’m getting pretty bored with myself here. If I could only get back to the office again! It’s dull just sitting here with her watching me all the time.’
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