What's Better Than Money

by James Hadley Chase

  I played the piano in his bar from eight o’clock in the evening to midnight for thirty bucks a week. It suited me all right. The money paid for my room, my cigarettes and my food. Rusty kept me in liquor.

  Every so often he would ask me how much longer I was going to stay with him. He said with my education I should be doing something a lot better than thumping a piano night after night. I told him if it suited me, it was none of his business what I did. Every so often he would ask me again, and I would give him the same answer.

  Well, that was the setup when Rima walked in out of the storm. That’s the background. I was twenty-three and no good to anyone. When she walked in, trouble for me walked in with her. I didn’t know it then, but I found out fast enough.

  A little after ten o’clock the following morning, Mrs. Millard who ran the rooming-house where I lived, yelled up the stairs that I was wanted on the telephone.

  I was trying to shave around the claw marks on my face which had puffed up in the night and now looked terrible. I cursed under my breath as I wiped off the soap.

  I went down the three flights of stairs to the booth in the hall and picked up the receiver.

  It was Sergeant Hammond.

  ‘We won’t be wanting you in court, Gordon,’ he said. ‘We’re not going ahead with the assault rap against Wilbur.’

  I was surprised.

  ‘You’re not?’

  ‘No. That silver wig is certainly the kiss of death. She’s fingered him into a twenty year rap.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘A fact. We contacted the New York police. They welcomed the news that we had him like a mother finding her long lost child. They have enough on him to put him away for twenty years.’

  I whistled.

  ‘That’s quite a stretch.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ He paused. I could hear his heavy slow breathing over the line. ‘She wanted your address.’

  ‘She did? Well, it’s no secret. Did you give it to her?’

  ‘No, in spite of the fact she said she just wanted to thank you for saving her life. Take my tip, Gordon, keep out of her way. I have an idea she would be poison to any man.’

  That annoyed me. I didn’t take any advice easily.

  ‘I’ll judge that,’ I said.

  ‘I expect you will. So long,’ and he hung up.

  That evening, around nine o’clock, Rima came into the bar. She was wearing a black sweater and a grey skirt. The black sweater set off her silver hair pretty well.

  The bar was crowded. Rusty was so busy he didn’t notice her come in.

  She sat at a table right by my side. I was playing an étude by Chopin. No one was listening. I was playing to please myself.

  ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘How’s the arm?’

  ‘It’s all right.’ She opened her shabby little bag and took out a pack of cigarettes. ‘Thanks for the rescue act last night.’

  ‘Think nothing of it. I’ve always been a hero.’ I slid my hands off the keys and turned so I faced her.

  ‘I know I look terrible, but it won’t last long.’

  She cocked her head on one side as she stared at me.

  ‘From the look of you, you seem to make a habit of getting your face into trouble.’

  ‘That’s a fact.’ I turned and began to pick out the melody of It Had To Be You. Remarks about my face embarrassed me. ‘I hear Wilbur is going away for twenty years.’

  ‘Good riddance!’ She wrinkled her nose, grimacing. ‘I hope I’ve lost him for good now. He stabbed two policemen in New York. He was lucky they didn’t die. He’s a great little stabber.’

  ‘He certainly must be.’

  Sam, the waiter, came up and looked enquiringly at her.

  ‘You’d better order something,’ I said to her, ‘or you’ll get thrown out.’

  ‘Is that an invitation?’ she asked, lifting her eyebrows at me.

  ‘No. If you can’t buy your own drinks you shouldn’t come in here.’

  She told Sam to bring her a coke.

  ‘While we are on the subject,’ I said to her, ‘I don’t reckon to have attachments. I can’t afford them.’

  She stared at me blankly.

  ‘Well, you’re frank even if you are stingy.’

  ‘That’s the idea. Frank Stingy, that’s the name, baby.’

  I began to play Body and Soul.

  Since I had got that lump of shrapnel in my face, I had lost interest in women the way I had lost interest in work. There had been a time when I went for the girls the way most college boys go for them, but I couldn’t be bothered now. Those six months in the plastic surgery ward had drained everything out of me: I was a sexless zombie, and I liked it.

  Suddenly I became aware that Rima was singing softly to my playing, and after five or six bars, I felt a creepy sensation crawl up my spine.

  This was no ordinary voice. It was dead on pitch, slightly off-beat on the rhythm as it should be, and as clear as a silver bell. It was the clearness that got me after listening for so long to the husky torch singers who moan at you from the discs.

  I played on and listened to her. She stopped abruptly when Sam came with the coke. When he had gone I swung around and stared at her.

  ‘Who taught you to sing like that?’

  ‘Sing? Why, nobody. Do you call that singing?’

  ‘Yes, I call it singing. What are you like with the throttle wide open?’

  ‘You mean loud?’

  ‘That’s what I mean.’

  She hunched her shoulders.

  ‘I can be loud.’

  ‘Then go ahead and be loud. Body and Soul. As loud as you damn well like.’

  She looked startled.

  ‘I’ll be thrown out.’

  ‘You go ahead and be loud. I’ll take care of it if it’s any good. If it isn’t, I don’t care if you are thrown out.’

  I began to play.

  I had told her to be loud, but what came out of her throat shook me. I expected it to be something, but not this volume of silver sound, with a knife edge that cut through the uproar around the bar like a razor slicing through silk.

  The first three bars killed the uproar. Even the drunks stopped yammering. They turned to stare.

  Rusty, his eyes popping, leaned across the bar, his ham-like hands knotted into fists.

  She didn’t even have to stand up. Leaning back, and slightly swelling her deep chest, she let it come out of her as effortlessly as water out of a tap. The sound moved into the room and filled it. It hit everyone between the eyes: it snagged them the way a hook snags a fish. It was on pitch; it was swing; it was blues; it was magnificent!

  We did a verse and a chorus, then I signalled to her to cut it. The last note came out of her and rolled up my spine and up the spines of the drunks right into their hair. It hung for a moment filling the room before she cut it off and let the glasses on the bar shelf settle down and stop rattling.

  I sat motionless, my hands resting on the keys and waited.

  It was as I imagined it would be. It was too much for them. No one clapped or cheered. No one looked her way. Rusty picked up a glass and began to polish it, his face embarrassed. Three or four of the regulars drifted to the door and went out. The conversation started to buzz again, although on an uneasy note. It had been too good for them; they just couldn’t take it.

  I looked at Rima and she wrinkled her nose at me. I got to know that expression of hers: it meant: ‘So what? Do you think I care?’

  ‘Pearls before swine,’ I said. ‘With a voice like that you can’t fail to go places. You could sing yourself into a fortune. You could be a major sensation!’

  ‘Do you think so?’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘Tell me something: where can I find a cheap room to live in? I’m nearly out of money.’

  I laughed at her.

  ‘You should worry about money. Don’t you realise your voice is pure gold?’

  ‘One thing at the time,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to economise.’

&nbs
p; ‘Come to my place,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing cheaper, and nothing more horrible. 25 Lexon Avenue: first turning on the right as you leave here.’

  She stubbed out her cigarette and stood up.

  ‘Thanks. I’ll go and fix it.’

  She walked out of the bar, her hips swaying slightly, her silver head held high.

  All the lushes up the bar stared after her. One of them was stupid enough to whistle after her.

  It wasn’t until Sam nudged me that I realised she had gone without paying for the coke.

  I paid for it.

  I felt it was the least I could do after listening to that wonderful voice.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I

  I got back to my room just after midnight. As I unlocked my door, the door opposite opened and Rima looked at me.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘You see: I’ve moved in.’

  ‘I warned you it wasn’t much,’ I said, opening my door and turning on the light, ‘but at least it’s cheap.’

  ‘Did you really mean that about my singing?’

  I went into my room, leaving the door wide open and I sat on the bed.

  ‘I meant it. You could make money with that voice.’

  ‘There are thousands of singers out here starving to death.’ She crossed the passage and leaned against my door post. ‘I hadn’t thought of competing. I think it would be easier to make money as a movie extra.’

  I hadn’t been able to work up any enthusiasm about anything since I had come out of the Army, but I was enthusiastic about her voice.

  I had already talked to Rusty about her. I had suggested she should sing in the joint, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He had agreed she could sing, but he was emphatic that he wasn’t having any woman singing in his bar. He said it was certain to lead to trouble sooner or later. He had enough trouble now running the bar without looking for more.

  ‘There’s a guy I know,’ I said to Rima, ‘who might do something for you. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.

  He runs a night club on 10th Street. It’s not much, but it could be a start.’

  ‘Well, thanks…’

  Her voice sounded so flat I looked sharply at her.

  ‘Don’t you want to sing professionally?’

  ‘I’d do anything to make some money.’

  ‘Well, I’ll talk to him.’

  I kicked off my shoes, giving her the hint to go back to her room, but she still stood there watching me with her big cobalt blue eyes.

  ‘I’m going to hit the sack,’ I said. ‘See you tomorrow sometime. I’ll talk to this guy.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She still stood there. ‘Thanks a lot.’ Then after a pause, she said, ‘I hate to ask you. Could you lend me five dollars? I’m flat broke.’

  I took off my coat and tossed it on a chair.

  ‘So am I,’ I said. ‘I’ve been flat broke for the past six months. Don’t worry your head about it. You’ll get used to it.’

  ‘I haven’t had anything to eat all day.’

  I began to undo my tie.

  ‘Sorry. I’m broke too. I haven’t anything to spare. Go to bed. You’ll forget to be hungry when you are asleep.’

  She suddenly arched her chest at me. Her face was completely expressionless as she said, ‘I must have some money. I’ll spend the night with you if you will lend me five bucks. I’ll pay you back.’

  I hung up my coat in the closet. With my back turned to her I said, ‘Beat it. I told you: I don’t have attachments. Get out of here, will you?’

  I heard my bedroom door shut and I grimaced. Then I turned the key. After I had washed in the tin bowl on the dressing-table and changed the plaster on my face I got into bed.

  I wondered about her, and this was the first time for months that I had even thought about a woman. I wondered why she hadn’t got going as a singer before now. With a voice like hers, her looks and her apparent willingness, it was hard to imagine why she hadn’t become a success.

  I thought about her voice. Maybe this guy I knew who ran the Blue Rose night club and whose name was Willy Floyd might be interested.

  There was a time when Willy had been interested in me. He had wanted me to play the piano in a three piece combination, working from eight to three o’clock in the morning. I couldn’t bring myself to work with the other guys, and that was why I had thrown in with Rusty. Willy had offered me twice as much money as Rusty paid me, but the thought of having to play with the other guys choked me off.

  Every now and then I got a violent itch to make more money, but the effort to get it discouraged me. I would have liked to have moved out of this room which was pretty lousy. I would have liked to have bought a second-hand car so I could go off on my own when I felt like it.

  I wondered now, as I lay in the darkness, if I couldn’t pick up some easy money by acting as this girl’s agent. With a voice like hers, properly handled, she might eventually make big money. She might even make a fortune if she could break into the disc racket. A steady ten per cent of whatever she made might give me the extra things I wanted to have.

  I heard the sudden sound of sneezing coming from her room. I remembered how soaked she had been the other night when she had come into Rusty’s bar. It would be her luck and mine too if she had caught cold and couldn’t sing.

  She was still sneezing when I fell asleep.

  The next morning, a little after eleven o’clock, when I came out of my room, she was right there in her doorway, waiting for me.

  ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘I heard you sneezing last night. Have you caught cold?’

  ‘No.’

  In the hard light of the sun coming through the passage window, she looked terrible. Her dark ringed eyes were watery, her nose was red and her face was white and pinched looking.

  ‘I’m going to talk to Willy Floyd right now,’ I said. ‘Maybe you’d better rest up. You look like something the cat’s dragged in. Willy won’t be interested if he sees you like this.’

  ‘I’m all right.’ She passed a limp hand across her face. ‘Could you spare me half a dollar for some coffee?’

  ‘For the love of Mike! Cut it out, will you? I told you: I have nothing to spare.’

  Her face began to sag. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  ‘But I’ve had nothing to eat for two days! I don’t know what I’m going to do! Can’t you spare me something… anything…?’

  ‘I’m broke like you!’ I yelled at her, losing my temper. ‘I’m trying to get you a job! I can’t do more than that, can I?’

  ‘I’m starving!’ She leaned weakly against the wall and began to wring her hands. ‘Please lend me something…’

  ‘For Pete’s sake! All right! I’ll lend you half a buck, but you’ve got to pay me back!’

  It had suddenly occurred to me that if she was to make any kind of impression on Willy, if she was to get a job with him, and if I were going to pick up ten per cent cut, I’d have to see she didn’t starve.

  I went back into my room, unlocked my dressing-table drawer and found half a dollar. In this drawer I kept my week’s wages I had just received from Rusty; thirty dollars. I kept my back turned so she couldn’t see what was in the drawer, and I was careful to close and lock the drawer before giving her the half dollar.

  She took it and I saw her hand was shaking.

  ‘Thanks. I’ll pay it back. Honest I will.’

  ‘You’d better pay it back,’ I said. ‘I’ve just enough to live on, and I don’t reckon to finance anyone and that includes you.’

  I moved out of the room, shut the door and locked it and put the key in my pocket.

  ‘I’ll be right in my room if you want me,’ she said. ‘I’ll just go down to the café across the way for a cup of coffee, then I’ll be back.’

  ‘Try to brighten yourself up, will you? If Willy wants to see you tonight, he’s got to see you looking a lot better than you are now. Sure you can sing?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I can sing all right.’

 
; ‘Be seeing you,’ I said and went down the stairs and out into the sunshine.

  I found Willy in his office with a pile of twenty dollar bills in front of him. He was counting them: every now and then he would lick a dirty finger to get a better purchase.

  He nodded to me, then went on counting while I propped up the wall and waited.

  His office wasn’t much, but neither was the night club.

  Willy was always a loud dresser. His pale blue flannel suit and his hand painted tie with the phony diamond stick pin set my teeth on edge.

  He put the money in his desk drawer, then leaned back and looked at me inquiringly.

  ‘What’s biting you, Jeff?’ he asked. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve found a girl who can sing,’ I said. ‘You’ll rave about her, Willy. She’s just what you’ve been looking for.’

  His round pasty face showed boredom. He was fat, short and going bald. He had a small mouth, small eyes and a small mind.

  ‘I’m not looking for any dames who can sing. If I wanted them they are a dime a dozen, but I don’t want them. When are you going to play the piano for me? It’s time you got wise to yourself, Jeff. You’re wasting your life.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m all right where I am. You’ve got to hear this girl, Willy. You could get her pretty cheap and she would be a sensation. She’s got looks and she’s got a voice that will stand your lousy customers right on their ears.’

  He took a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end and spat it across the room.

  ‘I didn’t think you went for women.’

  ‘I don’t. This is strictly business. I’m acting as her agent. Let me bring her around tonight. It won’t cost you a dime. I want you to hear her, then we can talk business.’

  He shrugged his fat shoulders.

  ‘Well, okay. I’m not promising anything, but if she’s as good as you say she is I might possibly find something for her.’

  ‘She’s better than I say.’

  He lit his cigar and blew smoke at me.

  ‘Look, Jeff, why don’t you get smart? When are you going to throw up this way of living? A guy with your education should be doing something better…’

  ‘Skip it,’ I said impatiently. ‘I’m happy as I am. See you tonight,’ and I walked out.