You Find Him, I'll Fix Him

by James Hadley Chase

  I dropped the poker, stepped over him and leaned over Gina.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  She looked up at me, her face white. She tried to smile.

  “He didn’t get it, Ed,” she gasped, then, turning her head, she began to cry.

  “What’s going on here?” a voice demanded at the door.

  I looked over my shoulder. Two policemen stood in the doorway; one of them had a pistol in his hand.

  “Not much right now,” I said, making an effort to keep upright “This guy broke in here and we had a free-for-all. I’m Ed Dawson of the Western Telegraph. Lieutenant Carlotti knows me.”

  At Carlotti’s name, the policemen’s faces brightened.

  “Do you want to charge this man?”

  “You bet I do. Get him out of here, will you? I’ll have a clean up and then I’ll come down to the station.”

  One of the policemen bent over Carlo. He caught hold of his collar and dragged him upright.

  I had already learned the danger of getting close to Carlo and I started to shout a warning.

  Carlo came to life. His right fist shot out and connected with the policeman’s jaw, sending him crashing into the other policeman.

  Carlo came to his feet. He gave me a back-hand slap across the face that flattened me on the bed, then he dived out of the room.

  The policeman with the gun in his hand recovered his balance, swung around, lifted his gun and fired.

  I saw Carlo stagger, but he reached the front door as the policeman fired again.

  Carlo dropped on hands and knees. He turned his head, his face a savage mask of pain and fury. Somehow, he hauled himself to his feet and took three tottering steps out on to the landing and stood swaying at the head of the stairs.

  The policeman moved slowly towards him.

  Carlo looked past him at me. His face twisted into a ghastly attempt at a grin, then his eyes rolled back and his knees buckled. He toppled backwards down the stairs, and landed on the floor below with a crash that shook the building.

  IV

  Forty minutes later, I was back in my apartment, fixing my bruises. I had dropped Gina off at her apartment and had telephoned Maxwell to hold everything until I had time to contact him again. The police had told mc that Carlo was still alive, but there was no hope for him. They said he would the within an hour or so. They had rushed him to hospital.

  I had just finished putting a strip of plaster over a cut above my eye when the front-door bell rang. It was Carlotti.

  “Manchini is asking for you,” he said. “He’s going fast. I have a car outside. Will you come?”

  I followed him down to where the police car was waiting. While we were driving to the hospital, Carlotti said, “You seem to be having some excitement. Grandi telephoned me that it was you who put him on to Setti’s hide-out.”

  “I’ve had too much excitement.”

  He gave me a thoughtful stare.

  “After you have talked with Manchini, I want to have a talk with you.”

  Here it comes, I thought, and told him that I was at his disposal. Nothing more was said until we reached the hospital. Then Cariotti said, “I hope he’s still alive. He was in a bad way when I left him.”

  We were taken immediately to a private ward where Carlo lay, guarded by two detectives. He was still alive, and as we came into the room he opened his eyes and gave me a twisted grin. “Hello, pally,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “What is it?” I asked, standing over him.

  “Get these coppers out of here. I want to talk to you alone.”

  “You talk in front of me or not at all,” Carlotti said.

  Carlo looked at him.

  “Don’t be a sucker, copper. If you want to know how Helen Chalmers died, you’ll get out of here and take these two flat-feet with you. I want to talk to my pal first. Then I’ll have something for you.”

  Carlotti hesitated, then shrugged.

  “I’ll give you five minutes,” he said and, beckoning to the two detectives, he went out. They followed him and closed the door.

  Carlo looked at me.

  “You’ve got guts, pally. I like the way you fight. I’m going to put you in the clear. I’m going to tell them it was me who killed Helen. They can’t do anything to me now. I’m not going to last much longer. If I tell them I did it, will you do me a favour?”

  “If I can.”

  “Get rid of that film, pally.” A spasm of pain ran through him and he shut his eyes. Then, opening his eyes, he grinned savagely. “I’m getting to be a sissy, aren’t I?” he said. “Will you give me your word you won’t show that film to anyone? It’s important to me, pally.”

  “I don’t think I can do that,” I said. “The police must see it if it is anything to do with Helen’s death.”

  “I’m going to tell them I killed her. The case will be closed,” Carlo said. Every word made him sweat. “Look at the film yourself. You’ll see what I mean after you’ve looked at it. It’s not evidence. When you’ve seen it, destroy it. Will you do that?”

  “Okay. If I’m satisfied that it isn’t evidence, I’ll destroy it.”

  “You’ll give me your word?”

  “Yes, but I must be sure it isn’t evidence.”

  He managed to grin.

  “Oksy, shoot them in. I’ll give them a confession — the full treatment.”

  “So long, Carlo,” I said and gripped his hand.

  “So long, pally. I was a sucker to involve you in this. I didn’t think you had so much on the ball. Get them in here and hurry.”

  I went out and told Carlotti Manchini wanted him. He and the two detectives went into the room and closed the door. I walked down the passage to the entrance hall. I waited there for Carlotti.

  Twenty minutes later, he came into the hall.

  “He’s gone,” he said soberly. “Suppose we go to your apartment? I want to talk to you.”

  Well, at least, he wasn’t taking me to the police station. We drove in silence to my apartment.

  “You might like a drink?” I said as soon as we were in ray lounge.

  “I’ll have a campari,” Cariotti said.

  As I knew he never drank on duty, I felt easier in my mind. I fixed a campari and a whisky and soda for myself and we sat down.

  “Well, now,” he said. “Manchini has given me a signed confession that he killed la Signorina Chalmers. I have reason to believe that you were also at the villa at the time of her death. You have been identified by two witnesses. I should like your explanation.”

  I didn’t hesitate. I gave him the whole story without holding a thing back. The only thing I didn’t tell him was that June Chalmers had hired Sarti to watch Helen. I said I thought Sarti’s client had been Chalmers himself.

  Carlotti listened without interrupting me. When I had finally finished, he stared at me for a long moment before saying, “I think you have behaved very foolishly, signor.”

  It was such an anticlimax that I grinned at him.

  “I guess I have, but if you bad been in my place, I think you would have done the same. As it is, I’ve lost my new job. All this is bound to come out at the inquest.”

  Carlotti stroked his nose.

  “Not necessarily,” he said. “Manchini said that he was the man la signorina planned to spend a month with at the villa. I see no reason why I shouldn’t accept that story. After all, you gave us the information about Setti and you have always been helpful in the past. I am satisfied that your story is true. I don’t see why you should be penalized. Manchini said he caught la signorina taking a film of Setti’s villa. Apparently, Setti was on the terrace. Manchini realized that this film could be used as a blackmail weapon against Setti. He got the camera from la signorina and ripped out the film. To teach her a lesson, so he said, he slapped her. She jumped back and fell over the cliff. This explanation will satisfy the coroner if I tell him we are satisfied. I don’t think you should suffer for a woman of
that kind. My advice to you is to say nothing that will involve yourself with il Signor Chalmers.”

  “It’s not as easy as that,” I said. “Now Manchini is dead, there is nothing to stop Sarti trying to blackmail me again. He could tell Chalmers.”

  Carlotti gave a wintry smile.

  “You don’t have to worry about Sarti. Manchini gave me enough evidence to put Sarti away for years. He has already been arrested.’’

  I suddenly realized that I was in the clear. I was out of the jam I thought was impossible ever to get out of.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” I said. “All right. I won’t say anything to Chalmers. You won’t be worried with me for much longer. If I have any luck I’ll be going to New York.”

  He got to his feet

  “You don’t worry me, signor. There are times when it is good to be able to help one’s friends.”

  When he had gone I took from my pocket the carton of film and turned it over in my hand. What did it contain? I wondered. Why had Carlo been so anxious to make a deal with me? I stood thinking for a long moment. Then, remembering that Giuseppe Frenzi had a 16 mm. projector, I called him and asked him if he would give me the loan of it for an hour.

  “It’s all set up in my apartment, Ed,” he said. “Go around there and help yourself. The janitor will let you in. I’m up to my eyes in work and can’t get away until late or I’d come around and show you how it works.”

  “I can manage it,” I said. “Thanks, Giuseppe,” and I hung up.

  A half hour later, I was in Frenzi’s apartment with Helen’s film threaded into the projector. I turned off the lights and started the film.

  She certainly knew how to take photographs. The scenes of Sorrento that flashed on the screen were first class.From the busy piazza, the scene changed to the villa, and then to the view from the cliff head. I was sitting forward, my heart thumping, watching the screen fixedly. Then suddenly there was a long shot of Setti’s villa. I could just make out two men on the terrace. Then the scene switched to a close-up by Helen’s powerful telephoto lens. There was Setti, easily recognizable, talking to Carlo, and, a moment later, Myra joined them. So Carlo had told Carlotti the truth. He must have spotted Helen up on the cliff as she took this shot, come up after her, snatched the camera out of her hand and given her a back-hand slap that had sent her off the cliff. Then why had he been so anxious that I shouldn’t show this film to anyone since he had already told Carlotti what had happened?

  I got the answer in the next shot. From the terrace the scene changed once more to the cliff head. Carlo was standing with his back to the camera, looking out to sea. He suddenly turned and his dark, blunt-featured face lit up. The camera moved away from him to the direction where he was looking.

  A girl was coming along the path. She waved to Carlo. He went to meet her and, putting his arms around her, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

  The shot lasted about twenty seconds. I was standing up staring at the screen, scarcely believing my eyes. The girl in Carlo’s arms was June Chalmers!

  V

  Sherwin Chalmers and his wife arrived at the Vesuvius hotel on the afternoon of the Friday before the inquest.

  He and I had a two-hour session together. I told him the story of Helen’s past and her life in Rome. I let him read some of Sarti’s reports, having taken the report concerning myself out of the file. I told him Carlo Manchini was the man known as Douglas Sherrard.

  Chalmers listened and read the reports, a cigar between his teeth, his face expressionless. When I was through, he tossed Sarti’s file on the table, got to his feet and walked over to the window.

  “You’ve done a good job, Dawson,” he said. “This has been a shock to me, as you can imagine. I had no idea I had a daughter who could behave like this. She got what was coming to her. The thing to do now is to try to keep it out of the papers.”

  I knew how hopeless that was, but I didn’t tell him so. “I’ll go along and talk to this coroner fella,” Chalmers went on. “He can play it down. I’ll also talk to the chief of police. Burn those reports. You’ve done your job here. Will you be ready to come to New York with me after the inquest?”

  “I’ll have a few things to tidy up first, Mr. Chalmers,” I said. “I can be in New York by Monday week.”

  “Do that.” He came away from the window. “I’m pleased with you, Dawson. It’s better for the punk to have died. I’m going to see this coroner fella now.”

  I didn’t offer to go with him. I went downstairs with him to where the Rolls was waiting and saw him drive off, then I crossed over to the reception desk and asked the clerk to send my name up to Mrs. Chalmers. He made the call and told me to go on up.

  June Chalmers was sitting by the window, looking out over the harbour. She turned her head as I entered the small sitting-room and her eyes looked steadily at me.

  “Mr. Chalmers has just told me he is pleased with me,” I said, closing the door and moving over to join her at the window. “He wants me back in New York as quickly as possible to take the foreign desk.”

  “My congratulations, Mr. Dawson,” she said. “But why tell me?”

  “Because I need your approval.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “Why should I approve?”

  “For the obvious reason that, if you don’t approve, you could prevent me taking the job.”

  She looked away, opened her bag, took out a cigarette and before I could get out my lighter she had flicked her own alight.

  “I don’t understand, Mr. Dawson. I don’t have anything to do with my husband’s business affairs.”

  “Since you know I am the man called Douglas Sherrard, I’m anxious to know if you intend to tell your husband.”

  I saw her hands turn into fists.

  “I mind my own business, Mr. Dawson. Helen meant nothing to me. I have no interest in her lovers.”

  “I wasn’t her lover. Does that mean you are not going to tell him?”

  “Yes.”

  I took the carton of film out of my pocket.

  “You will want to destroy this.”

  She turned quickly. Her face drained of colour.

  “What do you mean? Why should I want to destroy it?”

  “If you don’t, then I will. Carlo asked me to get rid of it, but I thought it would be more satisfactory to you if you did it yourself.”

  She drew in a deep breath.

  “So the little devil did take another film.” She got to her feet and began to move around the room. “Have you seen what is on it?”

  “Yes. Carlo told me to look at it.”

  She turned, her face the colour of old ivory, but she managed to smile.

  “So we now know something about each other, Mr. Dawson. I’m not going to give you away. What are you going to do about me?”

  I again offered her the film.

  “You’ll have trouble in destroying it. It doesn’t burn easily. I’d cut it in pieces and flush it down a drain.”

  She took the carton.

  “Thank-you. I’m very grateful to you.” She sat down. “My husband tells me Carlo confessed

  to killing Helen.”

  “That’s right.”

  “No one killed her. He only said that to keep me police from investigating further. I suppose you have guessed that we were lovers?” She looked at me. “I want you to know about this. I believe I was the only person in the world that he treated decently. We knew each other in New York when I was a singer at the Palm Grove Club. I had known him long before I met my husband. I know he was crude, brutal and dangerous, but he did have his decent side. He meant a lot to me. I was crazy about him. I wrote him stupid letters which he kept. You remember Menotti got rid of Setti? Carlo told me he would have to go back to Rome with Setti. I didn’t think I would ever see him again. Sherwin Chalmers fell in love with me. I married him because I was sick of singing in a cheap night club and of always being short of money. I’ve regretted it ever since, but that’s my aff
air, and it doesn’t come into this.” She smiled bitterly, “As they say, the job’s rotten, but the pay’s good’. I’m one of those weak, wretched people who can’t be happy without a lot of money, so at the moment my husband is important to me.” She paused, then asked, “I hope this doesn’t make you feel sick? It does me often.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “You know Helen was Menotti’s mistress,” she went on. “Carlo found out she was on drugs. He told Setti that he could get at Menotti through Helen. Setti sent him back to New York. Foolishly, I couldn’t keep away from him. Helen saw us together. When Carlo approached her to sell Menotti out, she agreed. She went to Carlo’s apartment while she was negotiating her price. I don’t know how she did it, but she got hold of four of my letters to him. We only found this out much later. For two thousand dollars she let Carlo into Menotti’s apartment. I want you to believe that I didn’t know anything about this until I met Carlo weeks later on the cliff head where Helen died. It was she who told me.”

  “You don’t have to go into all this, Mrs. Chalmers,” I said. “All I want to know is how Helen died.”

  “It doesn’t make sense without the dirty details,” she returned. “Helen began to blackmail me. She told me she had four of my letters to Carlo, and if I didn’t give her a hundred dollars a week, she would hand them to her father. I could afford a hundred dollars a week, so I paid up. I was sure Helen was leading a rotten life, and it occurred to me that if I could get something on her, I could force her to return the letters to me. When she went to Rome, I instructed an inquiry agency to watch her and report back to me. When I learned that she had taken a villa in the name of Mrs. Douglas Sherrard, and was going to live there with some man, I decided this was my chance. I planned to go there, confront her and threaten to tell her father if she didn’t give me my letters. I told my husband I wanted to do some shopping in Paris. He loathes shopping and, besides, he was very busy. He said he would join me later. I went to Paris, then on to Sorrento. I went to the villa, but Helen wasn’t there. While I waited for her, I took a walk along the cliff head and I ran into Carlo. Helen must have been up there too, out of sight, with her camera. She must have taken pictures of our meeting. Is that what this film contains?”