1953 - This Way for a Shroud

by James Hadley Chase

  It was possible, he now reasoned, that Conrad had told her where Frances was, or at least let her know where she could get into touch with him, and he regretted having dropped her so quickly.

  He decided it wouldn’t be safe to call on her until it was dark, and he hoped she would be in. He had an idea that if he telephoned her he would get a rebuff, and he preferred not to warn her he intended to see her that night.

  To make certain he didn’t lose touch with her, he detailed one of his men to watch the house, and when darkness came, he was relieved to learn she was at home.

  He left his car at the end of the street and walked down to the house. It was a dark night, with a hint of rain in the air, and he passed no one on the way.

  There was a light on in one of the upstairs rooms, but the rest of the house was in darkness.

  His man had reported that the coloured maid had left about half an hour ago, and Seigel was satisfied that Janey was in the house alone.

  He dug his thumb into the bell push and waited.

  After a delay, he heard her running down the stairs, then the front door opened and she was staring up at him.

  She was wearing a yellow silk wrap, and her hair was loose around her shoulders. She looked pretty and desirable, but she raised no desire in Seigel.

  “Hello, baby,” he said, and stepped forward, riding her back into the hall, closing the front door with his foot.

  Janey’s eyes flashed angrily as she recognized him.

  “You can’t come in here! Have you gone crazy?”

  “Why not? you’re alone, aren’t you? I’ve been lonely for you, baby.”

  “You must go at once!”

  “That’s a nice way to talk to me,” he said, smiling at her, turning on a charm that had never failed him as yet. “Don’t be that way. It’s all right. No one saw me come in.”

  “It isn’t all right.”

  He sidestepped her and walked into the sitting room, switching on the lights.

  “Gee! This is nice. How do you like being left all alone? Weren’t you lonesome for me?”

  Janey followed him in. She was flustered and angry.

  “If Paul came back . . .”

  “Why should he?” Seigel dropped into an armchair and smiled up at her. “Relax. He’s gone away, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes, but he might come back. You can’t stay here, Louis.”

  He reached up and caught her hand.

  “Where is he then?” he asked, pulling her towards him. She struggled for a moment, then reluctantly let him draw her down on to his knees. “That’s better,” he went on. “Gee! I’ve missed you. Haven’t you missed me?”

  “Well, I have. You might have . . . Why haven’t I seen you before this?” Janey asked angrily.

  Seigel laughed.

  “I bet you thought I’d thrown you over. You did, didn’t you?”

  “What if I did?” Janey snapped, sitting bolt upright on his knees. “Do you think I care? There are plenty of other fish in the sea.”

  “That’s right, so there are.” He ran his finger down her spine, and grinned as she shivered in ecstasy, pulling away from him.

  “Don’t do that!”

  “I’ll do something more than that in a moment.”

  “You won’t!” She got off his lap. “You must go.”

  “Okay, but you’re coming with me. I have my car at the end of the street. We’ll go to Hank’s Bar and have a seafood dinner and champagne.”

  “No.”

  But there was no conviction in her voice.

  “Go and put on your prettiest dress. I’ll wait here.”

  “I don’t think I should.”

  He got up.

  “Do you want me to carry you upstairs?”

  “You’ll do nothing of the kind!”

  “That’s fighting talk, baby.”

  He swept her off her feet, holding her against him as she struggled and kicked.

  “Let me down this minute!”

  “We’re going upstairs.”

  He carried her into the hall and started up the stairs.

  “Louis! You’re not to! I’ll get angry. You must put me down!”

  “All in good time.”

  He reached the head of the stairs, spotted a light coming under a door, pushed the door open with his foot and walked into a big, airy bedroom with twin beds, one of which was cluttered up with dresses, coats and underwear.

  He set her down, his arm still around her, holding her against him.

  “You get out of here!” Janey said angrily. “I’m not standing any more of this nonsense!”

  Seigel had trouble in keeping his temper. He never allowed his women to talk to him like this, but he decided it was too soon to get tough with her.

  “I must always keep you angry, baby,” he said softly. “You look even prettier when your eyes flash like that.”

  Janey softened a little. She never could resist a compliment.

  “Now, please, Louis, go downstairs. If Paul comes back . . .”

  Seigel sat on the bed.

  “Where is he?”

  “That’s none of your business. Now run along and wait for me downstairs.”

  “Don’t you know, then?”

  “Of course I know, but it’s none of your business.”

  Seigel grinned.

  “Seriously, is he likely to come back tonight?”

  “I don’t suppose he is, but I’m not taking any chances. Now please go downstairs.”

  He got up and went over to her, putting his arms round her.

  “Kiss me, Janey.”

  She hesitated, then lifted her face to his. He crushed his mouth down on hers, and for a long moment he held her like that, his body hard against hers, his arms tight in the small of her back.

  She tried to resist him, but he held her easily, and slowly he felt the resistance go out of her.

  “Oh, Louis . . .” she sighed, leaning against him.

  He manoeuvred her over to the bed, and she shook her head, but the resistance had gone completely out of her. She lay flat on her back, looking up at him, her eyes cloudy, her face flushed. “We shouldn’t . . .”

  “Where is he, Janey?” he asked, bending over her.

  “Where is who?” she asked, frowning.

  “Your husband. Where is he?”

  The cloudy look went out of her eyes.

  “Why are you so interested?” Then she sat up abruptly, pushing him away. “Of course! What a fool I am! Of course!”

  He eyed her warily.

  “Of course – what?”

  “So that’s why you’re suddenly interested in me again,” she said, her eyes furious. “You want to know where that Coleman woman is, don’t you? Of course! Paul said you were one of Maurer’s thugs. What a stupid fool I’ve been!” She jumped to her feet. “Get out! Get out before I call the police!”

  Seigel grinned at her. His smooth charm had gone, and the cold, ferocious expression in his eyes frightened her.

  “Take it easy, baby,” he said softly. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish. You know where he is, and you’re going to tell me, or I’ll damn well beat it out of you! Where is he?”

  Janey backed away, quaking.

  “I don’t know. Get out!”

  Seigel stood up.

  As Janey opened her mouth to scream he crossed over to her with two quick strides and hit her across her face with his open hand so heavily that she went down on hands and knees, momentarily stunned.

  He bent over her, dragged her upright and holding her by her elbows he shook her, rocketing her head backwards and forwards. Then he gave her a violent shove that sent her reeling across the room to fall flat on the bed. She lay gasping, feeling as if she had been caught by the blast of a bomb.

  He went over to her, knelt on the bed, caught her wrist and turned her over on her face. He twisted her arm, driving it up and screwing her wrist as he did so.

  She screamed frantically, but his left hand pus
hed her face into the bedclothes, drowning her scream.

  “Where is he?”

  Janey wasn’t cut out for a heroine. The pain in her arm made her feel faint. She began to cry.

  He wrenched her arm back again.

  “No! Don’t! I’ll tell you!” Janey screamed.

  “Well, come on, damn you! Where is he?”

  “I don’t know where he is, but I’ve got his telephone number,” Janey sobbed.

  He turned her and stared down at her white stricken face.

  “What is it?”

  “Barwood 99780.”

  “If you’re lying it’ll be the last lie you tell, baby!”

  “Leave me alone,” she sobbed. “Oh, you’ve hurt me, you beast!”

  “We’ll go downstairs and you’ll call that number. You’ll talk to him. Tell him you’re lonely: tell him anything so long as I know for sure he’s there.”

  “I’ll do it,” Janey gasped, so eagerly Seigel knew at once she had been telling the truth.

  “Come on,” he snarled, jerking her to her feet.

  She staggered across the room to the door, holding her aching arm. He followed her along the short passage to the head of the long flight of stairs. He was just behind her as she put her hand on the banister rail, and he braced himself as she groped for the first stair. Then he lifted his foot, aiming at the small of her back, and drove his leg forward with all his strength.

  The flat of his foot hit her like a battering ram, projecting her violently into space. Her wild, terrified scream as she hurtled down the stairs, set his nerves on edge.

  Her body twisted around as she fell, and he caught a glimpse of her terrified eyes and wide open mouth before she crashed to the floor below, landing on the back of her head with a thud that shook the house.

  chapter ten

  I

  Ten days had passed since Janey’s death, and by now Conrad had absorbed the first shock. At first it had seemed unbelievable that she was dead, and it was only at the funeral that he finally realized the unhappy partnership was ended.

  The Coroner had returned a verdict of death by misadventure. The high heel of one of Janey’s slippers had been found to have caught in the hem of her wrap. It was obvious to the Coroner that as she was descending the stairs she had tripped and had fallen heavily, breaking her neck.

  Conrad had left all the arrangements to Janey’s father, and had stayed with Frances in the new hideout. There was nothing he could do for Janey now, and the responsibility of Frances’s safety lay on him like a dead weight.

  He had puzzled over O’Brien’s last cryptic words: It wasn’t an accident. Ferrari . . . my kid . . .

  Conrad, like every other police officer in the country, knew of Vito Ferrari. Had O’Brien meant that Weiner had been murdered and that Ferrari had been responsible? Conrad had warned McCann that Ferrari might be in town, and had asked him to alert his men, but McCann had reported back that there was no sign of the Syndicate’s executioner.

  Conrad worried about this. If Ferrari had been responsible for Weiner’s death, then Frances was in serious danger. He took every possible precaution to guard her.

  He had moved her to the Ocean Hotel at Barwood, a small town fifteen miles from Pacific City. The hotel was a ten-storey building, built on the edge of the cliffs, overlooking the sea.

  Forest had taken over the whole of the top floor of the hotel. A special steel door now sealed off the approach to the top floor, and twenty of McCann’s picked men were on constant patrol on the landing and in the grounds.

  As Conrad improved the defences, he slowly satisfied himself that it was virtually impossible for anyone to get at Frances.

  Madge Fielding and two police women never let Frances out of their sight, and it was agreed that until the trial, she should not leave her room.

  During the past days, Conrad had seen Frances constantly. The more he saw her the more in love with her he became, and he was encouraged when he found she looked forward to his visits, and seemed disappointed when other duties made him late or prevented him from making his regular daily visit.

  Although they found an easy companionship together and impersonal conversation came without effort, Conrad was conscious of a barrier that excluded any intimacy between them.

  It was her father’s terrible record that stood between them, and it was this barrier Conrad knew he had to break down before he could hope to give her the personal protection he so much wanted to give her.

  Madge had told her of Janey’s death, and Frances’s few words of sympathy had made Conrad uncomfortable.

  “It’s been a great shock to me,” he told her seriously, “but Janey and I didn’t get along together. Our marriage would have broken up sooner or later. It’s not the same as losing someone one really loves, is it? I’m sorry for her. She enjoyed life so much, but I’m not sorry for myself.”

  On the evening of the tenth day of Janey’s death, Conrad found the opportunity of making the first move towards a more intimate understanding between Frances and himself.

  He had been to Pacific City to give evidence in a case he had worked on before June Arnot’s murder, and had been away from Barwood for a day and a night. He had left Van Roche in charge, and was quite easy in his mind that Van would look after Frances as well as he could look after her himself.

  He returned to the hotel soon after seven o’clock and went immediately to the top floor.

  Madge was off duty, and she came to his room.

  “No alarms?” he asked, as he unpacked his overnight case.

  “No,” Madge said, “but I’m worried about her, Paul. She’s very unhappy, and I think she’s getting frightened.”

  He paused in putting away his handbag and looked at her sharply.

  “Frightened?”

  She nodded.

  “Yes. She doesn’t say anything, but since you’ve been away she seems depressed and nervy. If anyone knocks on the door, she nearly jumps out of her skin. She’s been brooding too, and she doesn’t seem to settle to anything. I’ve noticed it before, but I think it’s getting worse.”

  Conrad lit a cigarette.

  “It’s pretty extraordinary she’s been as calm as she has been. Time’s running out. She has a horrible experience before her.”

  “Yes, of course she has, but I think there’s more to it than that. I think she’s brooding about Weiner. She was never completely convinced that he died accidentally.”

  “I thought she had got over that.”

  “I’m afraid she hasn’t.”

  “Who’s with her now?”

  “Van.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” Conrad said, realizing this might be the opportunity he was waiting for. If he could only break down the barrier. If he could only get her on his side and keep her there.

  He went along to Frances’s room, noting the alertness of the four guards who paced the long corridor. He paused outside the door, tapped and entered.

  Van and the two police women were reading novels. Frances stood before the open bay window that overlooked the sea.

  She didn’t look around when Conrad came in. He made a sign to the others to leave. When they had gone, he shut the door and joined Frances at the window.

  Far below was the rock-strewn beach. The tide was going out and the stretch of sand was golden in the sunshine.

  “I bet you’d give anything for a swim,” he said quietly. “It worries me that you have to be cooped up here. Are you getting restless?”

  She shook her head, not looking at him.

  “No, I don’t mind,” she said indifferently.

  “I’ve been thinking about you, Frankie,” he said after a long pause. “Have you thought at all what you are going to do after the trial?”

  “There doesn’t seem much point in thinking about that,” she returned in a flat tired voice.

  “Why do you say that ?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Pete said they would never let me give evidence, so why sho
uld I bother to think of the future?”

  He stared at her.

  “For goodness sake, Frankie! You mustn’t talk like that! You’re safe here. No one can get near you, and you’ll be safe at the trial.”

  “Am I safe?” she asked, leaning out of the window to look down at the golden sands. “You said Pete would be safe, and yet he’s dead.”

  “I wouldn’t be talking to you the way I am talking if I thought for one moment you weren’t safe,” he said quietly.

  She looked round quickly, her eyes searching his face.

  “I don’t understand . . .”

  “No, I guess you don’t.” He moved away from her. “I promise you no one will touch you. I give you my word.”

  She turned so her back was to the window and watched him as he moved slowly about the room. There was an interested and puzzled expression in her eyes.

  “You’ve got to get this idea that Maurer is a superman out of your mind,” Conrad went on. “I don’t say he won’t try to get at you, he will, but I assure you he won’t succeed. This place is too well guarded. There’s nothing I haven’t thought of.” He stopped and faced her. “You don’t know how I’ve sweated on this thing. Don’t you feel safe?”

  “No.”

  “Tell me why you don’t.”

  “I can’t forget what Pete said.” She sat down abruptly. “I wish now I hadn’t told you what happened. Pete said no power on earth could save me if I told you. He said no power on earth could save him either, and he’s dead.” An hysterical note crept into her voice. “Pete said his time was running out. My time’s running out too! He said Maurer could buy any of the policemen who guarded him. How do I know Maurer hasn’t bought those women who stay with me?”

  Conrad was both startled and shocked to learn how her mind was working.

  “You must stop talking like this.” He went to her and caught hold of her arms. “Look at me, Frankie. I love you. Can’t you see I love you? I promise you you’re safe. I promise you there’s nothing to worry about.” She was staring at him.