She looked steadily at him.
“How was she, Harry?” she asked quietly. “Was she up to expectations?”
He stiffened, a hot surge of rage running through him.
“What do you mean?”
“Did she make love to your satisfaction? Did she please you?”
Harry started to his feet.
“Shut up!” he snarled. “I'm not listening to that kind of talk.”
“Why not? You've always prided yourself on your so-called love making, haven't you? Why shouldn't I ask if she pleased you?”
“I'm telling you to shut up, so shut up!”
“Don't tell me you have fallen in love with her,” Glorie said. “That's something I'll find hard to believe. I should have thought the only person you'll ever love is yourself. She's just someone new and fresh and young, isn't she, Harry? Someone who makes a change from me. A cheap, willing little whore who's caught your attention for the moment. Isn't that it?”
Harry's open hand struck her on the side of her face, rocking her head back. She didn't move, but sat huddled up, staring at him, her face like a death mask.
“I told you to shut up,” he said, standing over her. “You asked for it and you've got it. Now listen, I was going to let you down lightly, but after this, I don't give a damn. We're through. You can pack and get the hell out of here. I'm through with you for good. I mean it. I'm giving you a thousand dollars, and you're getting out of here. Do you understand?”
She looked at him, her eyes glittering.
“I'm not going, Harry,” she said, her voice no more than a whisper.
“Yes, you are,” he said. “You've got to face up to it. You and I are washed up. There's no point in you staying here any longer. Besides, it'll be safer for you to leave. If Borg is after us, you're better away from me and I'm better away from you. If you'd rather stay here tonight, that's okay with me. I'll get another cabin, but tomorrow you leave Miami. I don't care where you go, but you're going. Some other guy will come along and look after you. You'll have a thousand bucks to hold you until he does take care of you.”
The muscles in her face tightened.
“You're not going to get rid of me,” Glorie said in a low fierce whisper. “I'm not going.”
He stared down at her. The hard glitter in her eyes made him uneasy.
“Don't be a fool. You wouldn't want to stay here when you know you're not wanted, would you?”
She didn't say anything.
“Listen, can't you see I'm through with you, you fool?” he said, raising his voice.
“You're not through with me, Harry.”
He could see the red marks of his fingers slowly appearing on the side of her face. It made him fed ashamed to look at her.
“I am,” he said. “What's the matter with you? Don't you understand English?”
“You may think you are, but you're not!”
“Now look, I don't want to lose my temper with you. This is the finish. I'll leave you here for tonight. First thing tomorrow morning you're to clear out. I've got my life to think of now. You've no place in it.”
“I did have a place in it, didn't I?”
“Don't start that!” he said impatiently. “The past is past. Don't pull that slop on me, Glorie. I gave you a good time; you gave me a good time. Now we're quits. Why make an agony of it? This isn't the first time you've had the brush off, is it? Your pal Delaney got fed up with you. There've been others, haven't there? This isn't a new experience for you, and you know it. You're through, so accept it and shut up!”
She surprised him by saying, “May I please have a cigarette? I've smoked all mine while I was waiting for you.”
He tossed his pack into her lap.
“I'm getting out of here,” he said and turned to the wardrobe, opened the door and took out his two suits.
“I shouldn't do that,” she said. “You'll only have to put them back again. You're not leaving here tonight.”
He paused, puzzled.
“You mean you want to go?”
“No, I'm not going either. We're going to stay here. We're going to get married, Harry.”
He felt the blood drain out of his face. He was so angry he could have struck her. He just managed to hold on to himself.
“What are you talking about? Have you gone crazy?”
“We're not only going to get married, but we're going to be partners in this air-taxi business of yours. For the first time in your selfish life you're going to do what you're told!”
He stood motionless.
“You must be nuts to talk to me like this,” he said, his voice husky. “We're through. I never want to see you again!”
She smiled, and the smile sent a chill crawling up his spine.
“You don't seem to understand, Harry. You have no choice. Unless you do what I say I’ll call the police and tell them where they can find Harry Green.”
II
Glorie's voice came clearly to Borg who leaned against the cabin wall in the shadows and by the open window that was screened by a thin curtain.
Unless you do what I say I'll phone the police and tell them where they can find Harry Green.
So he had been right, he thought, shifting his bulk to a more comfortable position. He hadn't come all the way to Miami for nothing. This tall, good-looking punk was Harry Green. He would never have guessed it, although he had been watching him all day. His fat, cruel face twisted into a wolfish smile.
This, he thought, was a most satisfactory ending to a long and exacting day. Early that morning he had left his hotel near the airport and had hired a car. From the telephone book he had found out where the Graynor girl lived. He had driven over to the Graynor's residence on Franklin Roosevelt Boulevard and had parked near the gates. He had a long wait. The blue-and-grey Bentley didn't appear until twenty minutes to twelve. He had had no trouble in following it. He had watched the meeting between Harry and Joan, had followed them at a safe distance, had observed their love-making through a pair of powerful field glasses and had stayed near them all day. When they had eventually parted, Harry had led him to the motel and to the cabin.
He had listened to every word that had been said. He wished he could have pushed aside the curtain and seen Harry's face when Glorie had turned on him. It was a sight, he thought, that would be worth seeing.
For a long moment Harry was paralysed, his mind stunned by what Glorie had said. Then very slowly he returned the two suits to the wardrobe and closed the doors. He sat down on the bed as if his legs hadn't the strength to support him. He stared at Glorie, his eyes burning, sweat on his face.
She didn't look at him. She was shaking and her face was taut and white. She had trouble in lighting a cigarette she took from the pack he had tossed into her lap.
“For years now,” she said in an unsteady, quiet voice, “I have behaved like a weak-kneed fool. I've tried to find happiness by giving my love to a number of men. I did everything I could think of to keep their love, but sooner or later they got bored with me and left me. It must have been my fault. I suppose it was because I never considered myself. I did everything possible to make them happy, to put them first, to put myself last. I see now it was a fatal thing to do. They didn't appreciate me. They thought I was a weak fool to be picked up and dropped when they felt like it. When I met you, I couldn't believe it would last. I waited for you to throw me over as the others had done. Then when you told me about your plans for this robbery and you let me help you, I began to think that you were sincere and that you meant to stick with me. I thought after what I did for you, after going to Ben and facing his insults, after helping you to turn yourself into Harry Green, I deserved some consideration. When you told me you were wanted for murder I didn't hesitate to stay with you. You were mine and I was yours. That's the way I looked at it. No matter what you had done, I'd stick with you. Then that blonde came along. The moment I saw you grinning at her I knew you didn't really give a damn about me. You had taken everything I h
ad to give, and now you were ready to walk out. You left me here all day without giving me a thought. For all I knew you might have gone for good. I guess I got a little worked up, and when one gets worked up one sees things differently. It suddenly occurred to me, Harry, that for the first time in my life I was in the position to dictate to a man. I realized you were the first man who could not walk out on me and there was nothing you could do about it. It was a pretty exciting feeling. You're on the hook, and no matter how hard you wriggle, you can't get off. That's something that has happened to me for the past ten years. Now you're on it, and it gives me a lot of pleasure to sit back and watch you wriggle. You promised to marry me. I would like that. I know it won't be much of a marriage, but it will give me security, which is something I have never had before, and it's something I want very badly. You swindled Ben out of fifty thousand dollars. Well, as I am going to be your partner, I want twenty-five thousand of those dollars. I could ask for more, and you couldn't refuse me, but I don't want to be unfair. I want half and I intend to have it. That's the position. If you had been decent to me this wouldn't have happened. We could have been happy together. We could have gone to London and Paris and Rome as you promised. Now we will work together on this air-taxi business as equal partners. You will tell the Graynor girl you have decided you and your wife have enough money to start in a small way and you don't want her help nor her love nor her father's influence. I think I can still make something of you, Harry. You are selfish, unkind and rather stupid, but I think I can change all that. You're going to be told what to do, and you'll do it. If you don't I’ll turn you over to the police. That's not a threat—it's a promise.”
For the first few seconds while she was talking, Harry's fury nearly suffocated him. But he made an effort and fought down his rage. By the time she had finished, he was thinking again, and he was cold and alert. Okay, he told himself, so you're on the hook. What a fool he had been to think it could have worked out otherwise! He had been so used to Glorie doing just what he had wanted her to do, it had never crossed his mind that she would blackmail him.
“You can't do this to me, Glorie,” he said desperately. “It just won't work. I'd hate you for it. You wouldn't want to live with me, knowing I hated you, would you?”
“Why not?” she said, staring at him. “Why should I care? I'm considering myself. You don't love me anyway. I've got beyond thinking of what I want and what I don't want. This is my life: my future. I'm going ahead with this, and you can't talk me out of it. Hate me if you want to. It won't hurt me as much as it will hurt you. I intend to marry you because it will increase my security. If you go off with another woman, I'll divorce you, but I shall get alimony and damages from you and I shall keep the twenty-five thousand. I'm thinking of myself for a change. Something I've never done before.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, making an effort to keep control of himself. “Well, it looks like you're sitting pretty, doesn't it? Are you quite sure you're going ahead with this?”
She looked steadily at him.
“I'm quite sure.”
“Suppose I give you thirty thousand ? Will you get out of here and leave me alone?”
“No. I'm not changing my terms. Tomorrow morning you must arrange for the marriage licence; It'll take a week or so before we can get married, but I can wait. In the meantime go ahead and look for someone who'll sell you a partnership in this air-taxi business. I'll look too. If we can't find anything here, then we must move on until we do. I want you to transfer twenty-five thousand dollars to the West National Bank in my name and I want that done tomorrow. I don't think there is anything else for the moment. I think we should leave this motel and find somewhere cheaper to live. We might rent a furnished bungalow. I'll look into that tomorrow.” She got to her feet. “Shall we have dinner now? I think you said you were hungry.”
Harry tried his last shot.
“If you gave me away to the police, you would be in the soup too. They'd slap an accessory rap on you: you'd draw ten years.”
She moved past him to the door.
“Do you think I'd care? The only life I have before me is with you. If I haven't you, I wouldn't care what happened. Ten years in prison doesn't frighten me. At least I wouldn't be alone, not knowing where the money Was coming from to pay my rent. I'd know too they wouldn't put me in the death house as they would you.” She opened the door. “Are you coming?”
“You can't do this to me!” Harry shouted, losing control of himself. “I’ll make you damn well pay if you do. I'm warning you, Glorie! If you go ahead with this I'll fix you somehow!”
“There's no need to shout,” she said quietly. “Unless, of course, you want everyone to know you're on the hook and you don't like it.”
“I’ll fix you for this if it’s the last thing I do!” Harry shouted, glaring at her.
“It probably will be,” she said. “So long as you know what the consequences will be, you must please yourself.”
“Okay, but don't expect any mercy from me. It may take time, but you'll get what's coming to you. Make no mistake about that.”
“The window's open,” she said coldly. “They will hear you.”
She went out and shut the door after her.
Borg slid into the shadows as Glorie came out of the cabin.
She passed within a few yards of him, not seeing him and walked across to the brightly lighted restaurant.
He pushed his hat to the back of his head. The simplest thing to do would be to walk in and give it to the rat, but perhaps it was too simple. Borg had taken a liking to Miami, he was in no hurry to leave. He decided to wait a little longer. He was interested to see what Harry would do. Maybe he would think up a way of getting off the hook.
Inside the cabin, Harry remained motionless, sweat on his face, his heart hammering. He remained like that for several minutes, then he reached for his pack of cigarettes, lit one and stretched out on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, his face hard, his mind busy.
What was he to tell Joan? He must gain time. It would be fatal for Joan to talk to her father at this stage of the setup. If Glorie thought she could stand in his way like this, she was making a fatal mistake. No one was going to stand in his way now. The prize was too great. He loved Joan: there was a chance of marrying her. She would come into most of her father's money.
His life would be completely changed. He would have a business, a lovely wife and as much money as he could handle. Glorie wasn't going to block that. There was only one obvious solution to this, he told himself. Glorie would have to be silenced. Either that or he would have to knuckle under to her for the rest of his days and he wasn't going to do that. He didn't flinch from the thought of killing her. There was too much in the balance to think of flinching. After all, he was already wanted for murder. One more murder meant nothing to him now. It was her life or his future. He had already made up his mind about that while she had been talking.
She held all the tricks except one, and he held that: the winning trick. He would silence her. She had asked for it and it served her right.
For five minutes or so he lay still, his mind busy, then abruptly he swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He crushed out his cigarette, walked to the door, turned off the light and went out into the hot night.
Across the way was the brightly lit restaurant. He could see Glorie sitting at one of the tables in the bay windows. A waiter was serving her and she was speaking to him.
Harry walked down the path that led to the office, pushed open the door and made his way to a row of pay booths. He found Howard Graynor's number in the book, shut himself in a booth and dialled the number.
A man's voice said, “Graynor residence.”
“Will you tell Miss Graynor, Mr. Griffin is calling?”
“If you will hold on a moment, sir.”
Harry held on. He stared through the glass panel of the door at the tall, willowy redhead who leaned over the counter, making an entry in a ledger. From where
he stood he could see down the front of her dress. He wasn't in the mood to appreciate What he saw.
“Hello, Harry. . .”
He straightened, turning his back on the redhead.
“Hello, Joan.” He tried to make his voice sound animated, but it didn't come off. “You were right. I've got trouble here. She isn't playing ball for the moment.”
“Oh, darling, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“No. I can handle it, but I won't be able to rush it. She's after more money. Look, don't talk to your father just yet. I may have to give her more than I had planned and I may be short by the time I get rid of her. She's on to us, Joan. We'd better not meet until she's gone. I don't want to antagonize her. You understand, don't you?”
“I knew it, Harry. Look, couldn't I talk to her? I knew she would make trouble.”
“No. You must keep out of it,” Harry said. “I can take care of her. It's just a matter of money. She'll give me up if I pay her enough.”
“All right, darling. I won't say anything to Father until you're ready. When are we going to meet?”
“I’ll call you the moment she has gone. It may take a day or so, but I'm thinking of you and loving you. You know that.”
“Yes, Harry. I know it, and you know I'm thinking of you too. You're sure there's nothing I can do?”
“Nothing. I'll fix it. Give me a couple of days. I'll call you the moment I've got rid of her. I love you, Joan.”
“Oh, darling, I'm sorry about this. Don't do anything reckless, will you?”
He grinned mirthlessly.
“Of course not. It's just a matter of shelling out. I’ll get rid of her even if it costs me all I've got.”
“You mustn't do that, Harry. You'll want your money.”
“I’ll fix it: don't worry. I'll call you, sweetheart.”
He left the pay booth, walked down the path, across the road and on to the sands. He sat down under a palm tree, lit a cigarette and folded his hands on top of his knees.
Borg, who was sitting in his car twenty yards away, took his gun from its holster and laid the sight at Harry's head. It was a tempting target and he had to make a conscious effort not to squeeze the trigger.
1955 - You've Got It Coming Page 17