1975 - Believe This You'll Believe Anything

by James Hadley Chase

  I had never thought about evil spirits. To me, Vidal was just an arrogant, self-opinionated tycoon.

  ‘I don’t know, but go on. What happened?’ I said.

  ‘When he returned from London he came to the office nearly every day, on some pretext or other. I even changed lunch hours with Bill so I could avoid him, but it made no difference. But why go on? I fought him for two dreadful months, but he was too much for me. I finally gave up and he took possession of me.’

  ‘Are you telling me that he forced you to marry him?’ I asked, staring at her.

  ‘He didn’t force me. He took possession of me. I knew that unless I submitted to him, I would never have any peace nor rest again. I was so tired and so frightened. It was easier to marry him than to continue the struggle.’

  ‘But why didn’t you tell me what was happening? I would have come back and helped you.’

  ‘No one could help me. When you are faced with that kind of struggle you either save yourself or you go under. This was a personal battle which I lost. Besides, Clay, I loved you as I love you still. I knew he would sweep you away if you tried to interfere. You would have had no weapon against his power. I did think of telling you, then I thought. Why spoil two lives? I told myself I wasn’t worth putting you in danger. So I wrote to you and returned your ring.’

  I looked at her, baffled. How could anyone be expected to believe this rigmarole?

  ‘You still don’t understand, do you Clay? He is evil! He is a devil! You don’t believe in devils, do you?’

  Her fear and the wildness in her eyes alarmed me.

  ‘Surely devils went out in the last century,’ I said. ‘No. I don’t believe in devils nor evil spirits, but I can understand a man of his energy and power sweeping you off your feet. I grant you he is dynamic, but this talk about being hypnotised, possessed. . . about spirits. . . no. I can’t go along with mumbo jumbo like that.’

  She nodded as if telling herself this was what she expected me to say.

  ‘All right Clay, let us say he swept me off my feet. Let us agree about that. It is much less complicated, although it is not fair to me. Never mind. Don’t let’s waste time. I once asked him why he married me. I remember his exact words: “I am going to be rich,” he said, staring at me with those frightening eyes. “Money is power and I want power. You are going to help me. I have chosen you as my partner because you have a quick, intelligent mind and you are thoroughly efficient. You also have looks. The moment I saw you I knew you were the ideal woman I was looking for. Together, we will work and achieve.”’ She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes cloudy. ‘In four years, with me by his side, he has become what he is. He has unlimited power and unlimited money. There is in him a ruthless evil drive that won’t ever let him stop. He will go on amassing money and power until he dies. A year after I married him he made his first million. It didn’t even give him pleasure, let alone satisfaction. “This is just the beginning,” he said. “This is nothing!” How we worked! We never stopped travelling, meeting people, bribing people. How I hated it! But I was a Trilby to his Svengali. He told me what to do, I did it.’

  There was a long pause while she continued to stare up at the ceiling,

  ‘And now . . . after six years?’ I was depressed. I couldn’t accept this extraordinary story. Trilby and Svengali! (What did she mean?) Spirits. Devils. I would much rather she told me that she had fallen madly in love with Vidal and now that love had turned sour. I could have accepted that but not this nonsense about being possessed and hypnotised.

  ‘My life is becoming my own again,’ she said. ‘He has less use for me. I have become redundant. He is too busy to entertain much, but when he does, then I have to arrange everything. He spends weeks locked in his office. He has many people working for him. For a year now he hasn’t told me what he is doing, what he is planning. He likes to have me around. I am an ornament . . . nothing else. He doesn’t need my help anymore and I am thankful. I have leisure now. This has given me time to think, and my thoughts, Clay, have been of you. You don’t know how I have regretted sending your ring back, but please try to understand, at that time, I was half out of my mind. Even when life was most hectic and we were rushing from one city to another, one country to another, I found time to think of you. Then last month I saw in the papers that A.T.S. were opening at the Spanish Bay hotel and you were to be in charge. I went to Dyer. He is nervous of me He isn’t sure if I have influence or not. He knows I once worked for the A.T.S. It wasn’t difficult to persuade him to transfer the account to you. I said I wanted to do my old firm a favour. He accepted that, and made no difficulty about the change. Then when I heard Henry was going on a business trip here, I persuaded him to let me come with him. I hadn’t been on a trip with him for some time. I said I wanted a change, that I would have a guide and see the country while he worked. I told Dyer you were to be the guide.’ She patted my hand. ‘You resisted, didn’t you? I got my way in the end and here we are.’ She rolled towards me, sliding her arms around me. ‘Forgive me for hurting you, darling, and do try to understand how it happened.’ I gently stroked her hip.

  ‘Although I have never forgotten you, Val I really believed I had lost you for good. You know I’m married?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Dyer told me. Does she make you happy Clay?’

  ‘We are married.’

  ‘I’ve been honest with you Clay, please be honest with me. Does she make you happy?’

  ‘No. We get along. We have really nothing in common. You’ve met her. She works at The Trendie Miss.’

  ‘Rhoda? Is she your wife?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But she’s pretty and so gay. Have you been married long Clay?’

  ‘Two years. It was a mistake.’

  She looked searchingly at me.

  ‘You don’t love her?’

  ‘I love you.’

  She rested her face again mine.

  ‘You don’t know how good it is to hear you say that. I don’t think I can live without you now Clay.’

  ‘I thought about you all last night. I can’t bear the thought of losing you again. What can we do!’ Would he divorce you?’

  I felt her stiffen.

  ‘No! I wouldn’t dare even ask him. If he thought I wanted to leave him for you, God knows what he would do!’

  ‘But what can he do?’ I said impatiently. ‘Tell him you love me and I’ll tell Rhoda I love you. They must give us a divorce.’

  ‘Clay! I told you he is evil. I told you he is a devil. He has thugs working for him. He has only to give them instructions and they follow out those instructions. A man once tried to cheat him. That man was attacked by these thugs. He is going about in a wheelchair now. He is half an idiot.’ I stared at her.

  ‘Didn’t the police. . .’

  ‘A dark night, a vicious blow . . . what can the police do? If he found out we are lovers he would turn his thugs loose on you and on me. There was a stupid, greedy girl who tried to threaten him with a paternity case. She hoped to get money out of him. She was crazy. One of his thugs threw acid in her face. She is now blind.’

  Fear laid cold hands on me.

  ‘So when I said God knows what he would do to you and to me if I asked him for a divorce I’m stating a fact. He might even have us killed.’

  ‘I can’t believe . . .

  ‘I’m telling you!’ Her voice became shrill. She half sat up, glaring at me, the fear in her eyes was chilling. ‘He’ll have us killed!’

  Her fear was so real I could only stare helplessly at her.

  ‘Does that mean. . .’

  ‘There is a way. I’ve been thinking and thinking for the past week and I have found a solution that would be safe. Always providing you really don’t want to be parted from me as I can’t bear the thought of being parted from you. It is a solution that won’t even interfere with your marriage.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I will persuade him to employ you to look after his t
ravel affairs. You would be like Dyer, a member of the staff. You would have an office in the house. When he is away; there would be no danger.’ She looked questioningly at me. ‘What do you think?’

  I shook my head doubtfully.

  ‘Why should he be persuaded?’

  ‘He would agree for two reasons. He would save agency fees and I would be occupied. He is continually telling me to find something to do. You see darling, we would work together, I would again be your secretary,’ She gripped my arm, her eyes shining. ‘Of course we would have to be careful, but we would have moments like this again when he goes away.’

  I was still doubtful but I could see the possibility of such a plan.

  ‘But what about Dyer?’

  ‘He is overworked as it is. He would be glad to be rid of the travel business. There would be no problem with him.’ I was beginning to get excited.

  ‘It sounds too good to be true!’

  ‘It’s better than that. What are you earning now?’

  I told her.

  ‘He would pay you twice as much and even then save money. You would work office hours. You would return home as you always do.’ She brushed my cheek with her lips. ‘Neither he nor Rhoda would ever know.’

  And stupidly, I believed her.

  Four

  The next four days followed a pattern. Every morning we set off sightseeing with Rivera. It was irritating that we had to be separated in the car, but we both agreed that it would be unwise to sit together. A change like that might make Rivera suspicious.

  We toured the city and visited the Mercado central which was swarming with Indians: their multi-coloured produce black beans, water melons, yellow corn, scarlet tomatoes and pink, sticky cakes - making an exotic carpet on the dusty, litter strewn street. Rivera drove us to Acajalta to see the Port where liners from Panama disgorge tourists into waiting buses for a brief glimpse of the city. We visited a coffee beneficio where we watched the turning of the red berries into cafe de oio, the final drying out of the bean before sacking. He took us to the village of Ilobasco where elderly craftsmen made microscopic dolls of clay: a dying art. Rivera told us sadly.

  ‘The young have no patience for such exact work.’

  Each day we returned to the hotel in time for a light lunch. Then Val joined me in my room. From time to time I caught a brief glimpse of Vidal as he hurried into or out of the elevator. He gave me the impression of a man trying to cram thirty-six hours into twenty-four hours and just succeeding.

  I had the evening to myself. Val and Vidal with business associates did the night club rounds: a chore, Val told me that drove her nearly crazy with boredom. During the evenings, after a solitary dinner, I took long walks around the city. I was free to think over Val’s proposed plan. Providing Vidal agreed, it seemed to me to be a solution, although not a lasting nor entirely satisfactory one. But after some thought, I decided it was certainly better than nothing. As Val seemed sure that we ran no risk of detection, I was prepared to be convinced too. I wondered what Massingham would say when I told him I was leaving the firm to work for Vidal.

  Would he think it unethical? Could he make difficulties for me? Val had said she would persuade Vidal to give me a three year contract. If she succeeded, then I needn’t worry about Massingham’s reaction. How would Rhoda react? I would have to compensate her by giving her extra money for her lunches and buy her a small car so she could get to and fro now she wouldn’t have me to drive her. I doubted if she would give a damn one way or the other.

  Val had warned me that I must have patience.

  ‘I have to catch him in the right mood and when he is less busy,’ she said, as we lay on the bed together. ‘I’ll watch for my chance as soon as we get back.’

  Although I thought often of her claim to be possessed by Vidal, I didn’t broach the subject with her again. She seemed willing to accept my disbelief and I dismissed the spirits and the devils as an hysterical phase that was, I hoped, now in the past.

  Then something happened that made me wonder if, perhaps, she hadn’t been exaggerating.

  On our last afternoon at the hotel, we had made love and were lying side by side on the bed in my room. Val’s hand rested lightly on my arm. I was completely relaxed and drowsy. Every now and then the thought that tomorrow we would be leaving San Salvador kept edging into my mind.

  The past days had a dream-like quality. Although San Salvador had been disappointing as a city, it would still remain a shrine to me of the four most wonderful days in my life. Tomorrow I would be back to face Rhoda’s careless sluttishness. I wondered in what mess I would find the apartment. The cleaning woman didn’t come in on Saturdays or Sundays. It was my job to keep the place reasonably decent over the weekends. I was fully expecting to return to chaos, but I was too relaxed and happy to give this more than a moment’s thought.

  Then suddenly without warning, Val’s fingers gripped my arm so violently, her nails cutting into my flesh, that I gave an involuntary cry.

  ‘Val! What is it?’

  I jerked my arm free and stared at her.

  There was an expression of terror in her eyes that frightened me. She had turned pale, her lips were trembling and I could see she was shivering.

  ‘Val!’

  She scrambled off the bed, and with desperate haste, began pulling on her stretch pants.

  ‘He’s here!’ she gasped. ‘He’s come back! I always know! I get this awful pain when he is near!’ She dragged her shirt over her head, thrust her feet into her sandals, then ran over to the mirror.

  ‘He can’t be here!’ I said, but her panic was infectious. I too began to throw on my clothes. ‘It’s not four o’clock. Rivera told me he wouldn’t be back until eight.’

  ‘He’s here!’ She dragged my comb through her hair, then paused, bending double, her hands pressed to her sides. ‘God! It hurts!’

  I was dressed now.

  ‘Stop being hysterical!’ I exclaimed, angry that she was frightening me. ‘He can’t be here! Sit down! You have a cramp!’

  ‘He’s here I tell you!’ She moaned, pressing her sides. ‘Go down! Stall him until I get to my room. Quick!’

  The panic in her voice flustered me. With by heart thumping, I left the room, ran to the elevator and pressed the call button. As I stood waiting, I told myself she was dramatising a situation that didn’t exist. Rivera had told me that Vidal had gone to Santa Rosa de Lima to visit the owner of a sugar plantation. Rivera had been gloomy. ‘It is a very long, hot drive, Senor Burden,’ he had said. ‘Poor Jose He will miss his siesta. He won’t be back before eight.’

  As the elevator door swished open and I moved into the lobby, I saw Henry Vidal. He was standing by the reception desk, collecting a thick packet of mail.

  The sight of him gave me such a jolt, I stood rooted, a cold sick sensation developing in the pit of my stomach.

  As if sensing my presence, he turned abruptly. Then he came towards me, his short, thick legs taking bouncing strides.

  ‘How is the sightseeing?’ he demanded in his squeaky voice. His hard little eyes searched my face. ‘Nothing much I am sure. Well, she had to come. I warned her. Women are obstinate. No sightseeing this afternoon? Too hot for her, I suppose. She wilts in the heat. It’s never too hot for me. I thrive on it. She is in her room, resting, of course, when she should be exercising in the pool. She hasn’t enough to do.’

  He began to flick through the envelopes. I tried to think of something to say, but my mind was a panic-stricken blank.

  ‘We leave tomorrow.’ His little eyes lifted to my face, then back to the envelopes. ‘We will be down here at 07.45. Handle everything, Mr. Burden. Tips. . . baggage . . . I don’t have to tell you.’ He looked up. ‘Accept two hundred dollars for your service. My wife tells me you have been most helpful. Thank you,’ and moving around me, he entered the elevator and was whisked out of sight.

  Val would be back in the suite by now. Would she give herself away? I thought not. It had been a narr
ow escape . . .too narrow.

  There were a few people around the pool. A number of small children splashed and yelled. I went down the steps and into the sunshine and walking as far from the pool as I could get. I sat down under a sun umbrella.

  My mind was crawling with alarm. How had Val known Vidal had returned? Could she be psychic? I recalled how her face had been contorted with pain as she had pressed her hands to her body. I get this awful pain when he is near. I had read about mediums and spirit sessions in the newspapers but I had dismissed these odd people either as fakes or cranks. I was sure Val wasn’t a crank.

  Possessed?

  When at school I had studied the Bible. Now I remember reading of people being possessed of the devil. Val had said Vidal was a devil.

  I recalled what she had said: Evil spirits do try to possess people. He is evil! He is a devil!

  I now wanted to question her and to listen, without scoffing, to her answers. But I would have no opportunity to talk to her until we returned to Paradise City. Then another thought occurred to me: a thought that turned my mouth dry.