1951 - In a Vain Shadow

by James Hadley Chase

  ‘Just give me time, baby. It’ll all work out.’

  ‘Are you going to stay here until the deal goes through?’

  ‘I’d like to, but there are things I have to do. I have a little job in Manchester that might come to something. I’m going up there tomorrow.’

  ‘What kind of job, Frankie?’

  ‘Just a job. Something you wouldn’t understand. Business.’

  She stroked my face.

  ‘I wish you didn’t look so worried, Frankie.’

  ‘I’m not worried. Well, perhaps I am Netta, I don’t like asking you thing you this but if I could borrow a little money of you I’d be grateful.’

  She sat up so she could look right at me.

  ‘Why, darling, of course. You know you have only to ask. I’ve always wanted to help you, but you never would let me.’

  ‘I’m pretty short right now, but I’ll be getting something soon. I’ll pay you back, Netta, at the end of the month.’

  ‘How much do you want, darling? Would a tenner do? I have a tenner in my bag.’

  ‘Well, I thought a little more than that. Would fifty cripple you?’

  She looked startled.

  ‘I’d have to get it out of the bank.’

  ‘You could do that, couldn’t you?’ I tried to make a joke of it, but I wasn’t feeling particularly proud of myself. ‘Or won’t your bank manager let you have so much out at a time?’

  ‘It’s all right, Frankie. Of course you can have it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind having it now.’

  She got of my lap.

  ‘Let’s go to the bank right away. Frankie. Then we’ll have lunch out and come back here. Would you like that?’

  ‘That sounds fine. We might take in a movie tonight.’

  She sat down to write the cheque.

  ‘Frankie...’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘You’ve never mentioned her. What is Mrs. Sarek like?’

  I looked at the top of the blonde head and wondered. She appeared engrossed in making out the cheque, but I wasn’t fooled. She had been thinking about Mrs. Sarek ever since I had landed the job.

  ‘I suppose she’s all right. She makes Sarek a good wife.’

  ‘Is she pretty, Frankie?’

  ‘I suppose she was twenty years ago. I wouldn’t know. She might have been.’

  ‘Oh, she’s old then?’

  ‘She’s in the prime of life, baby: about fifty, and she has a mole on her chin with three cute little hairs sticking out of it. She plays a good game of chess, and she can talk about intellectual things. Sarek seems to like her.’

  She blotted the cheque and then stared at me.

  ‘Is it true about the mole, Frankie?’

  ‘Why, yes. Lots of people have them. They’re very useful.’

  ‘Are they? Why?’

  ‘Well, if you get run over your next of kin can identify you by them for one thing, and your husband can be sure other men won’t run after you for another!’

  ‘I’ve got a mole, Frankie.’

  ‘I know, but it’s a very nice mole.’

  I slid the cheque of the table and folded it carefully ‘Let’s have lunch.’

  We went to see a Gregory peck film at the Empire Cinema, Leicester Square. Netta had a crush on Gregory Peck.

  She said he looked like me. She cried towards the end of the film, and rested her head on my shoulder, and when she came out she said she thought it was a lovely film and she could see it again.

  ‘Not with me you won’t. Now, come on, let’s have a drink.

  Looking at that hunk of manhood has given me an inferiority complex.

  ‘But he’s like you in lots of ways, darling. The way he walks and the way he does his hair.’

  ‘Better not tell him, baby, he mightn’t like it.’

  We went to a pub in Charing Cross Road and had some beer. I always start with beer when I’m heading for a thick night. Beer; then gin, then whisky, and back to beer again.

  I had two pints to Netta’s half, and then we went to another pub in Cambridge Circus and had a couple of gins.

  ‘Do you ever see anything of his secretary - what was her name: Miss Pearl?’

  I wasn’t expecting that. I had forgotten Emmie. I had even forgotten Sarek, and that idle, silly remark brought them into my mind again and spoilt my drink.

  ‘Look, baby, will you cut this drivel out? Don’t think you’re being clever. You’re not. You’re being pinheaded, and I don’t like pinheads. You are saying as plainly as if you used the actual words that you are jealous of Miss Pearl and you’re jealous of Mrs. Sarek. Well, don’t be. They both mean as much to me as that cat over there: less.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Frankie. I was just making conversation. I was - honest.’

  ‘Well, if that’s your idea of conversation, don’t make it. Think about Gregory Peck or let me do the talking.’

  It took three gins in a row to get me into a good temper again, but at the back of my mind, whenever there was a lull in drinking or we were walking to another pub, I found myself thinking of Sarek.

  ‘Let’s eat, Frankie; I’m getting tight.’

  ‘All right. Where shall we go?’

  ‘I know a place. It’s at the top of Athen Street. I know the manager.’

  ‘Does that mean he’ll give us something not on the menu?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He’ll give us steaks.’

  He gave us steaks. It was the best dinner I have had since before the war. We had oysters too, and a vintage claret that was worth every shilling they charged for it.

  I was having a good time. Netta was having a good time too. She talked about what she was going to buy for her trousseau and what we would do in New York.

  ‘I want to drive in an open taxi down Broadway with you, Frankie, and see all the lights. I want to go to the movies and the theatres and dance at the Stork Club. Do you think we’ll be able to go to the Stork Club?’

  I didn’t hear a word. I sat as still as a stone man with a piece of steak on the end of my fork, and a creepy cold, shuddery feeling going up my spine.

  Emmie Pearl had walked in. She was wearing the hat with the crumpled pheasant’s feather and the rabbit-skin coat.

  With her was a short, fat Jew in a black coat and striped trousers. He was built on the same lines as Emmie and looked like her, only uglier. He could have been her brother. He had to be her brother. No man except her brother would be seen out with her.

  ‘What’s the matter, Frankie?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You’ve gone white.’

  ‘Shut up!’

  Emmie and her brother sat down about fifteen yards from our table. I had my back to her, but I could see her in the mirror. Netta faced her.

  ‘Frankie, darling ..’

  ‘Leave me alone, can’t you? I’m feeling sick. I’ll be all right if you’ll get on with your meal and leave me alone.’

  ‘Have a brandy, Frankie.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, shut up

  Emmie was looking round the restaurant while her brother was ordering the meal. She looked in our direction, glanced at Netta, and then her gaze wandered to another woman at the table next to ours. I was beginning to hope she hadn’t recognized Netta, when her eyes suddenly swivelled back and a puzzled expression came on her fat face.

  I felt a trickle of sweat run down my face. If she recognized Netta as the girl in the photograph: the girl who was supposed to have gone off with Sarek, I would be in a hell of a mess.

  A waiter passed, and Netta caught his sleeve.

  ‘A large brandy, please, and quickly.’

  ‘I don’t want it!’

  ‘But, darling you look terrible.’

  The waiter must have thought so too, for he came back at once with the brandy. I swallowed it. It was like drinking water.

  ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  I knew it was dangerous to move, but I was frightened Emmie would recognize me and come over. She wa
s eating now, the puzzled expression still on her face, but her interest centred on her food.

  ‘Let me have a bill, waiter.’

  ‘Is there anything wrong, M’sieur?’

  ‘No. I’m not feeling well.’

  He gave me the bill and I paid.

  I didn’t have to pass her. She was behind me. All I had to do was to get up and walk out. I took Netta’s arm and we walked out, but I felt I was being watched all the way. I didn’t dare look round. I wanted to, but didn’t dare. What a mad fool I had been to have taken Netta out. What a madder fool I had been to have used her photograph. She was a model. Her picture appeared in hundreds of periodicals. She had a well-known face. I must have been right out of my mind to have palmed that photograph of on Emmie as the picture of the girl who had run away with Sarek. I was in such a panic out there in the darkness, I nearly threw up.

  ‘Frankie, whatever is the matter?’

  ‘Just leave me alone, will you?’

  I was thinking that was how people got themselves hanged: making a stupid slip like that. But maybe Emmie hadn’t recognized Netta as the girl in the photograph. I tried to remember the photograph. Netta hadn’t been wearing any clothes, neither had she worn a hat and her hair was down to her shoulders. She was always changing her hair style. Tonight she was wearing a beaver-fur coat and a hat and her hair was rolled up. Perhaps I was getting into a panic for nothing.

  A taxi crawled by and Netta stopped it.

  She had to support me as I got in. The taxi driver didn’t get down and help. He stared sightlessly down the long dark street ahead of him and didn’t say anything. He didn’t seem to think much of either of us.

  For the first time since it happened I dreamed about Sarek.

  I dreamed he and I were playing chess. We were sitting in the moonlight, cross-legged on the top of the well. The chess board lay on the zinc well cover between us. He was wearing the awful coat and it was soaking wet, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  He was also wearing the bandage round his face, and he looked very horrible in the Bright light of the moon.

  I was beating him at long range: a queen, a castle and a bishop. I had only one move to make, but before I could make the move there came a sudden muffled knocking under the well cover.

  ‘Take no notice,’ Sarek said. ‘Is only the frog. He wants to get out.’

  The knocking got louder and louder until the chessmen began to jump about the board. I felt the cover of the well lift a little and then slam back, lift again and suddenly I lost my balance and toppled over, cringing with fear, and shouting, ‘Don’t let him out! Don’t let him out!’

  And I found myself sitting up in bed, hearing the bang-bang-bang of my heart against my side and sound of my voice in my cars.

  The light was on and Netta was hanging on to my arm.

  ‘Frankie, darling! Oh, Frankie, what is the matter?’

  I dropped back on the pillow. Sweat was running of me.

  The awful pounding of my heart frightened me.

  ‘I was dreaming: a nightmare. Turn out the light. I shouldn’t have drunk that beer.’

  ‘You’re sure you’re all right?’

  ‘Turn out the light!’

  She turned out the light and put her arms round me. I was glad to feel her close to me.

  ‘You sounded so frightened, Frankie. There’s nothing wrong, is there? Nothing worrying you?’

  ‘I was dreaming, I tell you.’

  ‘Go to sleep, darling. You won’t dream if I hold you.’

  I didn’t go to sleep. I was afraid to.

  chapter eighteen

  Slowly I climbed the four flights of stairs, pausing several times on the way up to get back my breath I seemed very short of breath this morning, and my heart was racing.

  I knew I shouldn’t be going to see her. I knew I was making a dangerous mistake, but murder breeds mistakes. I had already made so many, one more or less wasn’t going to make much difference. Besides, I couldn’t keep away from her. I had to know if she had recognized Netta I wouldn’t sleep nor rest nor stop worrying nor lose the empty, sick feeling I had until I knew one way or the other.

  I had made up my mind, if she showed the slightest suspicion or gave the slightest hint she knew the girl in the photograph was Netta, I would bolt. I would clear out with Netta, using her money to get us out. I would be gone long before Emmie could tell the police: at least, I hoped I would.

  The typewriter wasn’t going as I walked softly down the long passage. I wondered if she was there, behind the frosted-panelled door listening to the sound of the traffic and the aircraft circling overhead, and waiting for Sarek to ring her.

  I gripped the door handle with moist fingers, turned it and pushed the door open.

  She was there, sitting alone by the electric stove, staring out of the window. She wore her rabbit-skin coat, and her tiny feet hung a few inches from the floor.

  Her battered desk was dusty and bare. The well-worn cover was on the typewriter. Modern Enterprises had come to a standstill. There was no work to do, no letters to write, no telephone to answer: no nothing.

  She looked round and stared at me.

  ‘So you’re still here. I wondered if you would be. How are you?’

  ‘What do you want’’

  I was watching her. Nothing showed on the ugly, fat face; even the weak little eyes were without expression. I moved farther into the room and closed the door.

  An idea was growing at the back of my mind to murder her. There was only one other office on this floor, and it was at the far end of the passage. I could kill her and leave her in Sarek’s room, and she might not be found for weeks. I wish I had killed her now, but at that moment I was squeamish about sinking my hands in her greasy fat throat. So instead of walking up to her and strangling her as I should have done, I watched her like the fool I was, and tried to match my wits against hers.

  ‘I thought I’d look you up for old time’s sake. I was passing, and I wondered if you had any news of him. Didn’t I see you out last night with your boyfriend?’

  There was no change of expression.

  ‘You may have done.’

  ‘Didn’t you see me? I smiled at you.’

  ‘No, I didn’t see you.

  Was she lying? I had no way of telling: the blank, fat face told me nothing. But I had a feeling she hadn’t spotted Netta. Surely it was impossible for her not to have shown a spark of triumph, suspicion or hatred if she had known, I began to breathe more easily,

  ‘Well, you looked as if you were having a good time. Was that your brother?’

  ‘It’s none of your business who it was.’

  ‘What a lovely nature you have. You can’t let bygones be bygones, can you?’ I looked pointedly at the desk. ‘So it’s true then?’

  ‘What’s true?’

  ‘I ran into Mrs. Sarek the other day. She told me he had skipped with a woman. I didn’t believe it.’

  ‘It’s not your business.’

  Well, at least, she didn’t deny it.

  ‘I suppose it isn’t.’ I sat on the edge of the desk and lit a cigarette, ‘But after all I did work here. I have a certain interest.’

  She continued to look blankly at me and said nothing.

  ‘Can’t be much fun for you sitting here alone. What are you living on or did he provide for you?’

  Her thick lips tightened.

  ‘He didn’t provide for me; now you can get out.’

  ‘You mean to tell me after working for him for ten years, he’s left you high and dry? Well, I’ll be damned! I wasn’t surprised when Mrs. Sarek told me he’d left her without a bean, but you well, you’re different.’

  She suddenly became watchful.

  ‘What do you mean? Why am I different?’

  ‘Didn’t you know? They had a row before he left. I heard them yelling at each other. He found out she wasn’t going to have a kid after all. He was livid, and she told him she didn’t intend ever having a child. It
’s my bet that’s why he left her. He wanted a son more than anything else in the world. Maybe this other girl’s going to give him one.’

  She was sitting forward on the edge of her chair now, staring at me.

  ‘He didn’t tell me. Why wouldn’t she have a child?’

  ‘How do I know? Some women don’t like children. Some are scared to have them. I haven’t the foggiest idea. Maybe she hated him. All I can tell you is I heard her say she wasn’t having a child. She was yelling at the top of her voice.’

  She looked away, half turning to the window so I couldn’t see her face, but I saw her hands clench into fists.

  ‘But you weren’t really expecting to see him again, were you?’

  ‘Yes; I was.’

  ‘Well, I hope you won’t be disappointed. Perhaps he’ll send you a little donation.’

  She didn’t say anything nor did she look round.

  ‘I told Mrs. Sarek I didn’t think he had any money. After all he was just a small-time chiseller, wasn’t he?’

  That flicked her on the raw as I hoped it would. She turned, her weak eyes glittering.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong. He had a lot of money.’

  ‘I wonder. Depends on what you call a lot of money.’

  ‘Standards differ. How much did he have?’

  ‘That’s not your business!’

  ‘You see what I mean? Just a cheap little crook. He had so little, even you can’t boast about it.’

  Her face turned red and her fat chin began to tremble.

  ‘He had more than you’re ever likely to have!’

  ‘That’s not saying a fat lot. I have plenty of time. I bet he hadn’t more than a couple of hundred.’

  ‘He had more than fifty thousand pounds! And he promised me ten thousand for all I’ve done for him, and I’ve done so much. He couldn’t have made all that money if it wasn’t for me.’ She began to snivel. ‘Ten thousand! And I haven’t a penny of it!’

  ‘Well, don’t get excited. He couldn’t have smuggled all that money out of the country. You know where it is, don’t you? Why don’t you pinch some of it?’

  She was crying now, her handkerchief hiding her face.

  ‘He took it with him! It was in diamonds! Now, get out!’

  I had trouble in controlling my breathing. I had trouble too in controlling my voice. This was it. A little more pressure, and I’d have what I wanted.