1946 - More Deadly than the Male

by James Hadley Chase

“Well, I don’t know,” he said. “I thought something like you’re wearing.”

  She laughed. “Of course, that’s why you picked on me, wasn’t it? I think I’ve got something that’ll do. I don’t mind parting with clothes. It’s money I hate parting with. You see, Daddy pays for my clothes, and gives me pocket-money for extras. He doesn’t seem to mind how many clothes I have, but he just won’t part with any more cash.”

  George drove on, bewildered.

  “We’re just here,” she called after a few minutes. “The gate’s on the right.”

  George hesitated. Should he drive in? Should he risk a trap? Before he could make up his mind, he had reached the gates and had turned into a long, winding drive. But when he sighted a vast house through the trees, he slowed down and stopped the cab.

  She jumped out.

  “Stay here,” she said. “I won’t be long.”

  “All right,” he said uneasily, and watched her walk swiftly towards the house.

  As soon as she was out of sight, George left the cab and moved off the drive into the garden. He couldn’t afford to trust her. He would give her ten minutes, and then he’d go. From where he stood, in the shadow of a big magnolia tree, he could see the house. He could see her run up the broad, white steps, open the door and go in. The ground floor was in darkness, but the windows of both the wings on the two upper floors showed lights.

  He stood still, watching the house, his hand on the butt of his gun. A moment or so later a light sprang up in one of the centre windows, and he caught a glimpse of the girl as she passed to and fro before the window.

  He relaxed slightly. Anyway, she wasn’t telephoning, he thought. How astounding! He was sure if anyone had tried to hold him up, he would have given them over to the police at the first possible opportunity.

  Scarcely ten minutes had gone by before he saw her coming down the steps again. She held a bundle under her arm, and George, convinced of her sincerity at last, went to meet her.

  “I bet you had a bad ten minutes,” she said, smiling at him. “I hope I haven’t been too long. You’ll find everything there. I duplicated the underclothes. The hat’s the only thing I wasn’t sure about. Does she wear hats?”

  George blinked. “No,” he said. “How did you know?”

  “I somehow felt she didn’t.” She pressed the bundle into his arms.

  George stood gaping at her, a prickly sensation behind his eyes. “I—I don’t know how to thank you. I don’t really.”

  “I’ve got to get in now. Good night, and please don’t hold up any more girls. You know, we don’t really like it.”

  He watched her go, then he turned and stumbled back to the taxi. People were kind! he thought. He would never have believed it. Never! To think that a girl like that, so rich, who had everything, should have been so damned decent, especially after the fright he had given her. It was terrific of her! It really was marvellous.

  Driving back across the Heath, George had this girl Babs more in his mind than Cora. Cora had never been kind to him. She had always jeered at him. Babs was the only girl who had ever been decent to him—except, of course, Gladys; but Gladys didn’t count. It was her job to be decent to everyone. But Babs— why, she could have called the police, she could have trapped him easily enough; but instead, she had given him the impossible.

  She had done more for him—a complete stranger—than Cora would ever do for him, even though Cora knew he loved her.

  He wouldn’t wait for the morning, he decided. He would go into her bedroom and wake her up and lay the clothes on the bed for her to admire. He would stand over her and grin. It was something to grin about, wasn’t it? “You cheap bluffer!” she had called him. Well, this would show her whether he was a bluffer or not.

  A sudden stab of desire caught him. She might be so pleased that—well, it was no good thinking along those lines just yet. But she might feel that she could be nice to him. She might be very nice to him. After all, few people would have done what he had done. He wouldn’t tell her about Babs. He’d just say he kidnapped a girl and stripped her of her clothes. That’d startle her. That’d show her he had guts!

  He was so excited at the thought of bursting into Cora’s room that he threw caution to the wind and drove right through the West End to Hanover Square. There was no difficulty in leaving the cab on the cab rank there. It was nearly one o’clock and the Square was deserted.

  He hurried down George Street, across Conduit Street and into Clifford Street. He ran up the stairs to the top flat.

  There was a light on in the hall„ and he could hear Eva’s voice coming from the sitting-room. A moment later, Little Ernie answered. He wondered if Cora was with them; then he remembered she said she was going to bed. Well, he’d look in her bedroom first. He went down the passage very quietly, and opened the door.

  The room was in darkness, but the heady, exciting smell of sandalwood greeted him.

  “Cora?” he called softly. “Are you awake?”

  “Who is it?” Cora’s voice asked sleepily, then she said more sharply, “What is it?”

  “It’s me, George.”

  “What do you want?” She sounded irritable, and a moment later she snapped on a light over her bed.

  George looked at her, feeling a great rush of love and tenderness to his heart.

  She’s wonderful, he thought, looking at her. She was wearing a pair of satin, peach-coloured pyjamas he guessed she must have borrowed from Eva.

  “What is it?” she repeated, looking at her wrist-watch. “Why, it’s after one. Haven’t you been to bed?”

  “May I come in?” George asked, still standing awkwardly in the doorway. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  Instantly a quick, calculating expression jumped into her eyes.

  “A surprise? What is it?”

  “I’ve got you some clothes,” George said, showing her the bundle. Now he was in the light he saw that Babs had put the clothes in a pillowcase.

  “Are you mad?” she said blankly. “What clothes?”

  “You wanted an outfit,” George said patiently. “I—I’ve got you one.”

  Cora sat up in bed. “You’ve got me one?” she repeated.

  It was just as George had hoped it would be. He had staggered her. She was excited. She had never looked at him like this before.

  He nodded. “I said you had only to ask and I’d get it for you.”

  “But how?” Cora demanded. “Don’t stand there like a dummy. Come in, shut the door.” She slid out of bed, now thoroughly awake and excited. “How did you do it?”

  This was George’s moment. This was the sweetest moment in George’s life.

  “Well, it wanted a bit of thinking out,” he said, coming into the room and shutting the door. “I couldn’t rob a store. I hadn’t any money. So I decided to take the clothes off someone about your size.”

  Cora gaped at him—actually gaped at him! “You didn’t!” she exclaimed.

  George nodded. Tears of elation pricked his eyes. “I had to pinch a taxi. That wasn’t too easy, and then I cruised around the West End until I spotted a well-dressed girl. I offered her a lift. She lived in Hampstead somewhere and—and I took her up on the Heath and made her take her clothes off and—well, here I am.”

  “George!” Cora gasped. “I don’t believe it.”

  But she believed it all right; he could see the look of startled admiration in her eyes.

  “You did that for me?” she said, jumping up. “Why, George! Why, it’s wonderful!”

  For a moment he thought she was going to throw her arms round his neck, but instead, she ran past him to the door and threw it open.

  “Eva! Ernie! Come here! Come here at once!”

  He didn’t want the other two. He wanted to hear Cora say over and over again that he was wonderful. He wanted her to be very nice to him in that lovely peach-coloured suit. He wanted to be able to hold her in his arms and feel her hair against his face.

  Eva and Littl
e Ernie appeared in the doorway. They looked startled.

  “Wot’s hup?” Little Ernie asked, looking from Cora to George.

  “You must hear this,” Cora exclaimed, excitedly. “I asked George to get me a complete outfit of clothes. Of course, I was fooling. I knew he couldn’t get them at this time of the night, but I wanted to pull his leg. I pretended to be dead set on having some clothes for tomorrow—”

  “Well, I could have fixed you up,” Little Ernie said, leering at her. “I’ve got tons of clothes. It’s me job to keep my girls smart, ain’t it, Eva?”

  This was a triumph for George. Well, he’d beaten the little rat! In the morning Cora would have gone to him, and George would have had the humiliation of seeing her wear clothes from a pimp.

  “Shut up, Ernie,” Cora said sharply. “George has actually done it! It’s the most fantastic story I’ve ever heard. He pinched a taxi, picked up a girl, took her on the Heath and pinched her clothes.”

  George could feel Eva’s admiring gaze. Even Little Ernie’s mouth fell open.

  “For Gawd’s sake!” Little Ernie said. “The old Chicago stuff! Wot ‘appened to the girl? Cor luv me! I’d given me eyes to ‘ave seen ‘er. She must ‘ave been ‘opping mad.”

  George smirked uneasily. “I didn’t bother my head about her,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I told her to scram, and she scrammed!”

  “I bet she did,” Little Ernie giggled. “And pinching a taxi! Wot an idea! That’s brains! Lolly Cheese! I wouldn’t ‘ave thought of that one meself.”

  “Let’s look at the clothes,” Eva said. “What has he got you?”

  “Of course!” Cora cried, snatching the bundle from George. “Let’s see if his taste is good.”

  George giggled with excitement. He couldn’t help it. Suddenly it seemed he was one of them. They were smiling at him, nodding at him. They said he had brains. Cora was like a kid in her excitement.

  The two girls took the pillowcase over to the bed, while Little Ernie sidled up to George.

  “Wot was she like, palsy?” he whispered. “Orl right?”

  George winked. He suddenly quite liked this red-headed little man, and when Little Ernie nudged him in the ribs and put the obvious question, George shoved him off playfully and said, “That’s telling.”

  There was a sudden silence that made him turn his head. Cora and Eva were looking at him. They were no longer smiling. There was a look of suppressed rage and disappointment in Cora’s eyes that startled him.

  “Do you like them?” he asked, with a catch in his voice.

  Little Ernie moved forward. “Wot’s hup?”

  “Nothing,” Cora said viciously. “I might have known the fool was pulling my leg. What are you trying to do, George? Get even?”

  George suddenly went cold.

  “What do you mean?” he said, feeling the blood leave his face.

  “What I say,” she said, pointing to the bundle on the bed.

  He pushed past her and turned the things over. At first he couldn’t believe what he saw. He held up one garment and stared at it stupidly. It looked like a pair of black combinations, only it had a long tail. He dropped it as if it had bitten him and stared down at the rest of the stuff.

  “It’s a Mickey Mouse outfit,” Eva cried suddenly. “My God! It’s Mickey Mouse!”

  Little Ernie started to laugh. Eva joined him. Together they shrieked at George and Cora.

  “Wot a card!” Little Ernie spluttered. “In the middle of the night! Stone me! ‘Ad our Cora properly. Oh dear, oh dear, this’ll kill me!” He collapsed howling in an armchair.

  George turned away. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to die.

  He heard Cora say in a voice hoarse with frustrated rage, “Get out! Do you hear! Get out, both of you!”

  And when Little Ernie and Eva, roaring with hysterical mirth, had stumbled out of the room, Cora turned on George.

  “You rotten rat!” she said. “Do you think that’s funny? Do you think you can make a fool out of me?”

  George wasn’t listening. He picked up a scrap of notepaper that he had just noticed lying on the bed. It seemed to be a letter written in small, neat handwriting:

  Dear Dick Turpin,

  You really shouldn’t trust a woman, and you should never threaten if you can’t go through with it. I hope the girlfriend likes the costume. From the sound of her, I shouldn’t trust her either. It’s not April 1st yet, but remember this when it comes round. You did frighten me, you know. And I don’t like people frightening me.

  He became aware that Cora was standing at his elbow, reading over his shoulder. He screwed up the note and turned away, crushed and dazed.

  Cora suddenly burst out: “So you weren’t lying! You did it! And she made a fool out of you! God! What a sucker you are! What a damn, stupid, dim-witted fool!” And she suddenly went into peal after peal of jeering laughter. “Go away, you chump,” she cried, throwing herself on the bed and rolling backwards and forwards, holding her sides. “Oh, it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. You sucker! You big tough, stupid sucker!”

  George opened the door and went slowly down the passage to his room.

  eighteen

  The following night the first of Three robberies took place at a garage on the Kingston By-pass. The police stated that the robberies were the work of one man, described by the three garage attendants as a big, powerful fellow with shoulders like an ox. They could give no better description than this, since the man had masked his face with a white handkerchief.

  This fellow had walked into the Kingston garage just after midnight. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He threatened the attendant with a Luger revolver, and before the attendant could gather his startled wits together, the man had given him a crushing punch on the jaw. When the attendant recovered consciousness, he found the till had been rifled and nearly twenty pounds were missing.

  The following night a similar crime was committed at a garage on the Watford By-pass. The big man again succeeded in getting away, this time with thirty pounds.

  Another attendant was attacked the next night in a garage on the Great West Road by the same man, and forty-five pounds were taken.

  Then, as abruptly as they had begun, the garage robberies ceased.

  George, with a net gain of nearly a hundred pounds, decided for the time being, not to tempt Providence further.

  He had told no one what he had done; but Cora, reading of the robberies, knowing that the man who had been responsible for them was big and had carried a Luger, looked at George questioningly.

  She was uneasy about George. Since the night she and the other two had laughed at him there had come over him a subtle change. He was hard now, and his temper inclined to fly up. There was a cold, bitter, brooding look in his eyes that Cora didn’t like.

  He had left Eva’s flat before anyone was up on the morning following the scene with the Mickey Mouse costume. Cora, awakening to find him gone, hoped that she had seen the last of him, but he returned in the afternoon just as she was going out.

  She was wearing a silk frock, silk stockings and high-heeled shoes borrowed from Little Ernie’s wardrobe. Little Ernie and Eva had gone off to the dog-racing at Wembley, and she was alone in the flat.

  George came in and stood looking at her, the brooding expression in his eyes.

  “What do you want?” she snapped, uneasy, and wondering why he had come back.

  “Her?,” he said, thrusting an envelope at her, “buy yourself some clothes.”

  She took the envelope, and found inside five ten-pound notes. She knew the wise thing to do was to throw the money at him and tell him to go to hell, but fifty pounds impressed her, and she could not give up such a sum, no matter what the consequences might be.

  “Where did you get this from?” she asked.

  “I’ve had that sum by me,” he returned, watching her. “I got it out of the post office for you. There’s more where that came from.”

  �
��Well, thank you,” she said, wondering just how much there was. Perhaps it would be as well, she thought, to wait a little while before getting rid of him.

  “Now, come on,” he said; “you’re going to get yourself some clothes.”

  They went together, and when they returned, having spent all the money except for a pound or two, George pointed to the bedroom.

  “Get out of that outfit,” he said grimly. “You’re not wearing ‘ clothes from a pimp.”

  She showed a flash to temper. “Who do you think you are?” she snapped. “I’ll wear what I like.”

  Before she could stop him, he had reached out and had laid hold of the front of her dress in his thick fingers. He jerked her forward, and with a twisting movement he ripped the dress right down.

  “Get out of those things or I’ll tear them off you,” he said, white as clay.

  “You must be cracked,” she gasped, startled out of her temper, but she went into the bedroom and changed into the clothes he had bought her.

  When Little Ernie returned, he told them that he had a flat for them.

  “How much?” George asked, staring with hot, intent eyes at the little man.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Ernie said, shooting a quick glance at Cora. “You’re my pal . . .”

  George walked over to him and caught him by his coat-front.

  “I ask no favours from you,” he said between his teeth. “And listen, I don’t like the way you look at Cora. She’s my girl. If you try anything with her, I’ll kill you. I shan’t warn you again.”

  And Little Ernie, looking into the brooding eyes, suddenly went cold.

  The flat that Little Ernie rented them was on the top floor of a block of offices in Holies Street, off Oxford Street. It was secluded and, after business hours, as lonely as a shepherd’s hut on a Welsh mountain. It was vacant only because it was some distance from the usual haunts of the street-prowlers.

  George liked the place. It was his first proper home, and he took pride in it. He did everything in the house, including the cooking.

  Cora, still in two minds as to whether she should stay or not, was influenced by the money that George had so suddenly acquired. She could ask him for anything and she got it. At first, it was clothes, and then it was jewellery. She was already brooding about a car; but she hadn’t quite made up her mind what kind of a car to have.