The Guilty Are Afraid

by James Hadley Chase

  The match-folder was still there.

  I hooked it out and, sitting back on my heels, I opened it. The loose match that I had wedged in between the others fell out and I had to scrabble among the pillow feathers to find it. If someone had been looking for this folder, I thought, they had gone away without it. But suddenly I stopped feeling pleased as I turned the match over. There were no ciphers along its back! A quick check showed me that there were no ciphers on the back of the other matches either.

  I straightened up.

  Someone had taken away Sheppey’s folder and had left another, probably hoping I hadn’t spotted the ciphers on the back of the original one.

  I sank down on my ripped-up bed, too tired even to care.

  Chapter 7

  I

  I slept until eleven-fifteen the following morning.

  When I had telephoned down to the night clerk to tell him I couldn’t use the room I was in and why, he had promptly called the police, and I had had yet another visit from Candy.

  I didn’t tell him about the match-folder. I let him see for himself what had happened, and when he had asked if there was anything missing, I had said, as far as I could see, nothing was.

  I then moved into another room, leaving him and his fingerprint men to check for clues. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t find anything.

  As soon as I got into bed I went out like a light. It was the hot sun, coming through the chinks in the blind making me uncomfortably hot, that finally woke me. I telephoned down for coffee and toast, went into the bathroom, took a shower, shaved and then lay on the bed, waiting for the coffee.

  I had a lot to think about. There were a number of loose ends to this investigation that needed to be followed up.

  Was there any connecting link between the Musketeer Club and Hahn’s School of Ceramics? Was this link something that Sheppey had been working on? Did Marcus Hahn figure in the case? Had Creedy hired Sheppey to watch his wife, and had Sheppey stumbled on something quite away from this assignment? What had he been doing in the bathing cabin with a girl like Thelma Cousins?

  The coffee arrived before I could attempt to answer any of these questions. While I was drinking it, the telephone bell rang.

  It was Rankin.

  “I hear you had visitors last night.”

  “Yes.”

  “Any idea who they were?”

  I stared up at the ceiling as I said, “I’d have told Candy if I had. They went through Sheppey’s things, now they’ve given me the same treatment.”

  “Watch out they don’t give you an icepick.”

  “There’s that.”

  “I thought I’d check with you. Candy didn’t find a thing. You have no ideas?”

  “Not at the moment. I’m bending my brain on it now. If I come up with anything I’ll tell you.”

  There was a pause, then he said, “I’ve talked to the priest. Hahn wasn’t lying. This girl was just what he said she was. She didn’t go out with men, and the priest said she would never associate with any strange man. He’s quite convinced about that.”

  “She associated with Sheppey.”

  “Yeah. Well, I have work to do. I’m trying to get a line on that icepick.”

  “I was going to ask you about that. No prints?”

  “No. You can buy a pick like that at any hardware store. I have men asking around. If I get anything I’ll let you know.”

  I thanked him. At least I was getting more cooperation from him than I had expected.

  He reminded me I would have to attend the inquest on Sheppey’s death that would be held in the late afternoon, then he hung up.

  I finished my coffee, then called Ella at the office. I asked her how Sheppey’s wife had taken the news. She said she had had a bad time with her, but she thought she would be over the shock by now.

  “She’ll have my letter this morning. Keep the cash box locked, Ella. It’s my bet she’ll be around asking for some dough before long. Tell her I’ll be mailing her a cheque tonight.”

  Ella said she would do that.

  We talked business for a few minutes. Two cases had come in: both of them sounded lucrative and interesting but I wasn’t even tempted.

  “See if Corkhill will handle them on a fifty-fifty basis,” I said. “I’m staying here until I’ve cracked this one. Can you manage?”

  “Of course.”

  And I knew she would manage. She was as sharp and as smart as anyone I could hope to have working for me. We talked some more, then I said I’d call her in a day or so and hung up.

  By now my room was unpleasantly hot.

  I still felt a little under the weather and decided I’d go down to the beach, take a swim and then plan out a campaign with the sun to inspire me.

  I got dressed, dug out my swimming trunks from my bag and stuffed them into my pocket, then I took the elevator to the ground floor.

  Brewer, the fat reception clerk, took my key.

  “Mr. Brandon,” he said, looking confused, “I’m afraid that . . .”

  “I know: don’t tell me,” I said. “You have a sudden rush of business and you could use my room.” I smiled at him. “I don’t blame you. Okay, I’ll find somewhere else. Just give me until tonight.”

  “I’m sorry, but we are getting a lot of complaints.” He actually looked sorry. “We have had the police here four times in twenty-four hours since you’ve been here.”

  “Yes, I know. I can imagine how you feel about that. I’ll move out tonight.”

  “That’s very nice of you, Mr. Brandon.”

  I went out to the Buick and drove down to the beach. By then it was just after twelve noon, and the beach was crowding up. I managed to find a place to leave the Buick, then I made my way to a bathing station. The umbrellas were out. The boys and girls were already at play: some were throwing the medicine ball, some swimming, some starting on the round of before-lunch cocktails from silver flasks, some were just lying and letting the sun burn them up.

  I changed into my trunks, stepped over muscular, brown bodies, picked my way past blondes, brunettes and redheads, wearing the minimum, before I could get to the sea.

  I swam out for about a quarter of a mile at my fastest clip. I felt in need of the exercise. Then I turned around and came back more leisurely. The sun was hot now, and there were even less places on the beach.

  I came out of the sea and paused to look around, trying to find a place where I needn’t rub shoulders with anyone else, but it wasn’t easy. Then I saw a girl, sitting under a blue and white umbrella, waving at me.

  She was wearing a white swimsuit and she had on a pair of doughnut-sized sun goggles. I recognized her silky blonde hair and her shape before I recognized what I could see of her face.

  Margot Creedy was inviting me to join her.

  I picked my way over the bodies until I reached her.

  She looked up at me, her lovely face wearing a slightly cautious expression, and she gave me the same small smile she had given me when we had first met.

  “It’s Mr. Brandon, isn’t it?” she said, and she sounded slightly breathless. “It is Mr. Brandon?”

  “Well, if it isn’t, someone has stolen my skin,” I said. “Is that Miss Creedy behind those big, big goggles?”

  She laughed and took the goggles off. Make no mistake about this fact: the girl was quite a dish. Apart from her shape which, in that swimsuit, was sensational, there wasn’t a flaw in her.

  “Won’t you sit down or are you tied up or something?”

  I dropped down on the hot sand right by her.

  I said I wasn’t tied up or anything, and went on, “Thank you for being helpful last night. I wasn’t expecting you to do that for me.”

  “I just happened to be at the club.” She hugged her knees, staring over the top of them at the sea. “Besides, I was curious. There’s something intriguing as well as morbid about a murder case, isn’t there?” She put on her goggles again. I was sorry because they were so big they blotted out half
her face. “I was quite sure when you asked me if your friend had been to the club that he hadn’t. I just had to check to see if I were right. It is very difficult now for a non-member to get in.”

  “Have you seen the papers this morning?” I asked, stretching out on the sand. By turning my head I could still have an exciting view of her.

  “You mean the second murder? Do you know who the girl is? Was she the one who met your friend: the one he went with to the bathing cabin?”

  “That’s her.”

  “Everyone is talking about her.” She reached for her big beach bag and began to hunt around in it the way women do. “It’s most mysterious, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but there’s probably a very simple explanation.”

  The heat of the sun was beginning to bother me a little so I turned on my face and moved my body a little more into the shade made by the umbrella. Lying that way I could look directly up at her face. It was something that I would be happy to do any time of the day or night: she really was quite a dish. Possibly the loveliest girl I’ve ever seen.

  “Could she have committed suicide?”

  “She could have, I suppose, but it is very unlikely. Why stab yourself with an icepick? There are simpler ways.”

  “But suppose she killed your friend? She might have felt a need to atone for what she had done. The papers say she was very religious. She might have felt the only way to atone was to die the way he had died.”

  This startled me.

  “For the love of mike! Did you think that up yourself?”

  “Well, no. I was talking to some people. One of them said it and I thought it could be right.”

  “I wouldn’t worry my brains how she died if I were you,” I said. “That’s a job for the police. She worked at this place out at Arrow Point. The School of Ceramics they call it. Have you ever been there?”

  “Why, of course. I go there a lot. I’m just crazy about some of the designs that man Hahn makes. He really is wonderful. Last week I bought a statue of a little boy he made. It was enchanting.”

  “Did you ever see the girl there?”

  “I can’t remember her. There are so many girls working there.”

  “From what I’ve heard, I was under the impression the place was just a tourists’ junk shop.”

  “Well, in a way, I suppose it is, but Hahn has a room at the back where he keeps all his newest and best work. Only his very special customers can get in there.”

  “So he does pretty well?”

  “Of course, and he deserves to. He really is a great artist.”

  Watching her, I could see she meant it. Her face was alight with enthusiasm.

  “I must go out and take a look one of these days. Maybe you would come with me, Miss Creedy? I’d like to look at his best stuff. I’m not a buyer, of course, but good pottery interests me.”

  There was a pause. I wasn’t sure if she were hesitating or thinking or what.

  “Yes,” she said. “The next time I go I’ll let you know. Will you still be at the Adelphi Hotel?”

  “That reminds me. How did you know I was staying there when you called last night?”

  She laughed.

  She really had beautiful teeth. They were just the right size, even and as white as orange pith. And she didn’t just make a hole in her face the way some girls do when they laugh. Her laugh sent a little prickle up my spine. This girl was certainly getting me worked up. I hadn’t felt this way since my first serious date, fifteen-odd years back into the past.

  “I asked Mr. Hammerschult. You must have met him. He knows absolutely everything. I’ve never asked him a thing that he couldn’t answer.”

  “That had me a little foxed. I wondered how you knew. To return to the Adelphi: I won’t be there. They’ve asked me to leave. The police have been in and out of my room so often, the management are afraid someone will think there’s a continuous raid on. I’ve got to find a place before tonight.”

  “That won’t be easy. It’s right in the season.”

  “Well, I’ll have to look.”

  I didn’t much like the idea. Usually Jack found our rooms. He had a natural talent for knowing the hotel that had a vacancy. I would call on ten hotels and be told there wasn’t a room to be had. He would pick one and we’d move in straight away.

  “You wouldn’t know of any little place that isn’t expensive?” I said, then remembered who I was talking to and laughed. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. That’s not quite in your line, is it?”

  “How long are you planning to stay?”

  “Until this case is cleared up. It could be cleared up in a week or it may take a month. I don’t know.”

  “Could you look after yourself?”

  “Why, sure. You don’t imagine I go in for staff back home, do you? Have you something then?”

  “It may not be what you want. I have a little bungalow out at Arrow Bay. I had to take it on a two-year lease. I don’t ever go there now. The lease has still a year to run. You could have it if you like.”

  I stared at her.

  “No kidding?”

  “If you want it, you can have it. It’s furnished and there’s everything there. I haven’t been out to look at it for a month or so, but last time I went it was all right. All you need do is to pay the light bills. Everything else is taken care of.”

  “That’s pretty nice of you, Miss Creedy.” I was knocked back on my mental heels. “I’ll take it like a shot.”

  “If you’ve nothing better to do, we could go out there tonight after dinner. I have a dinner date, but I’ll be free after ten. I’ll have the water and light turned on between now and then, and I’ll bring the key with me.”

  “Honest . . . you embarrass me, Miss Creedy. Such service for a stranger. Look, I don’t want to trouble you . . .”

  “It’s no trouble.”

  I wished I could have got a glimpse of her eyes behind those big goggles. I had a sudden idea I would like to have seen the expression in them. There was something in her voice that told me I was missing something by not seeing her eyes.

  She looked at her watch.

  “I must go. I’m having lunch with Daddy. He hates to be kept waiting.”

  “Better not tell him you’re providing me with a home,” I said, getting to my feet. I watched her slip a short-sleeved dress over her swimsuit. “I have an idea I’m not exactly his favourite man. He might discourage you.”

  “I never tell Daddy anything,” she said. “Would you meet me outside the Musketeer Club at ten: then we’ll go on to the bungalow.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Then good-bye for now.”

  There was that small smile again that had me practically rolling on my back with my hands and feet in the air. She moved away across the sand and I stood there looking after her.

  I thought I had got long, long past the stage of being excited over a girl, but watching the way she moved, the sway of her hips and the way she held her head really did things to me.

  II

  After I had had a snack lunch, I returned to my hotel and packed my suitcases. I got Joe, the bellhop, to arrange for Sheppey’s things to be sent to Sheppey’s wife. I then wrote her a brief note and included a cheque for a couple of hundred bucks, stressing that this amount would come off the amount I would finally pay her.

  By then, it was time for me to attend the inquest. I had my things taken to the Buick and I settled the account. Brewer again apologized for needing my room, but I told him I’d got something else and he needn’t bother his head about me.

  I went down to Greaves’s office, where I found him polishing his shoes with a duster.

  “You coming to the inquest?” I asked.

  “I’ve been told to.” He tossed the duster back in his desk drawer, adjusted his tie and reached for his hat.

  “You going to give me a ride down or do I take a bus?”

  “Sure, come on.”

  On the drive down to the Coroner’s court, I
asked him if he had been along to look at Thelma Cousins’ body.

  “I wasn’t asked,” he said. “Rankin hasn’t any time for me. Brewer saw her: that’s a laugh, isn’t it? He wouldn’t be able to identify his own mother if they showed her to him on a slab. Not that it would be easy to identify the girl. That hat and the sun goggles she wore made her just any woman in a dark wig.”

  I didn’t tell him that he had been wrong about the wig. He wasn’t the type to be told he could be wrong. There were only nine people attending the court. Five of them were the obvious timewasters you always see at inquests, but the other four attracted my attention.

  One of them was a girl with rimless glasses with the hard, poker face of an efficient secretary. She was smartly dressed in a grey linen frock set off with a white collar and cuffs. She sat at the back of the court and took down the whole proceedings in rapid shorthand. Then there was a youngish man in a pearl-grey, loose-fitting suit. He had a lot of blond hair that had been crimped in places by a curling iron. Sunglasses completely obscured his eyes.

  He sat on one side of the court and looked around as if he were something pretty intellectual. Every now and then he yawned so prodigiously that I thought he would dislocate his jaws. The other two who caught my eye were a couple of glossy, smooth, well-fed men, immaculately dressed, who sat facing the Coroner. I noticed he nodded to them when he came in and again when he finally went out.

  The Coroner seemed pretty bored with the whole proceedings. He hurried me through my evidence, listened with a faraway stare in his eyes to Brewer’s stammering statement, didn’t call Greaves and was pretty curt with the attendant of the bathing station. It wasn’t until Rankin got up to say the police were still making inquiries and he would like a week’s adjournment that the Coroner became remotely human. He said hurriedly that he would grant an adjournment, then whisked himself out of sight through a doorway behind his chair.

  After I had given my evidence, I had returned to my seat beside Greaves. I asked him if he knew who the two glossy-looking men were.

  “They’re from Hesketh’s office,” he told me. “The biggest and smartest attorney on the Pacific Coast.”