1958 - Hit and Run

by James Hadley Chase

  ‘This is the Captain’s idea,’ he said. ‘Maybe it’s not so lousy. This certificate clears your car from this date. If you dent your fender or damage your car in any way, you don’t have to bother to report to us. If you get stopped, all you have to do is to show the certificate. This is quite a job; checking every damn car in town.’ He pushed the form at me and I took it. ‘Don’t lose it. It might save you a headache.’

  ‘I won’t lose it,’ I said and put the paper away in my wallet as if it were a million dollar bill.

  ‘The Captain’s full of bright ideas,’ West went on. ‘That’s why he’s a Captain, but then, of course, he doesn’t have to do the work. He sticks his fat backside into a chair and keeps it there. Not that I blame him, you understand. I dare say I’d do the same if I were a Captain. Right now he has every man on the force hunting for this hit-and-run joker. Can you imagine? Everyone on the force, calling on houses, turning over garages, setting up roadblocks, going around in circles until they don’t know their brass from their oboes, if you will pardon my French.’ He was staring sightlessly at me, not seeing me, half taking to himself. ‘Know what our Captain is? He’s a newspaper cop. He loves publicity. He thrives on it. Did you read the crap he handed out to the press this morning? About O’Brien?’ He suddenly got me into focus and his eyes looked into mine. ‘Between you and me, O’Brien was the worst man on the force and we have a few choice specimens, believe you me. He was lazy and a no-good and spent most of his time trying to dodge his work. He took bribes and he wasn’t above a little blackmail if he thought he could get away with it. He was a punk right through. The Captain knew it. Only last week, he told me he was going to get rid of him. And instead, the punk has to get himself run over, and we have to run ourselves ragged to find the guy who killed him. Know how much sleep I’ve had since he was killed? Exactly one hour and ten minutes, and that’s only because I took a nap in the car, and I’ll be lucky if I get any more tonight.’

  I stood in the hot sun, listening to this. As I had never hear a police officer talk this way before, I was as bewildered as I was surprised.

  West suddenly grinned, showing his big white teeth.

  ‘You don’t have to take me too seriously, Mr. Scott,’ he said. ‘Every now and then I sound off. It does me good. Although I know O’Brien was a no-good punk, and although I know when he died it was good riddance, I intend to find the guy who killed him. It’s a bad thing for the force when one of its men gets killed. An effort has to be made, and we’re making it, and we’ll find him. It’ll probably take time, and it won’t be easy, but we’ll find him, and then I’ll be able to relax again.’ He dropped his cigarette on the ground and put his foot on it. ‘Now let’s go and look at your boss’s cars, not that they had anything to do with it, but I have to give him a clearance certificate. Just where are they?’

  ‘By the swimming pool, just around here,’ I said.

  ‘A swimming pool, huh? How the rich live!’ West shook his head and started to walk along the drive while I trailed after him. ‘You like working for a rich man, Mr. Scott?’

  ‘I can take it or leave it,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, I guess that’s the only way. He could be a bastard. There’s that look in his eyes the Commissioner has. Money gives a guy an inflated feeling of power. I don’t like guys with power. I don’t like guys with a lot of money. When they get that way, they have to throw their weight around. I bet Mr. Aitken leans on people pretty heavily every so often.’

  I didn’t have to think up a suitable remark to this as we turned the corner and came upon the four-car garage and the swimming pool.

  Standing poised on the high dive board was Lucille. She was sideways on to us and she didn’t see us. She wore a white bikini that just concealed the parts of the body not suitable for public viewing. The rest of her body was a golden brown and her thick chestnut hair lay around her shoulders and reached nearly to her waist. She made a picture standing up there that brought West and me to an abrupt stop as if we had walked into a brick wall.

  She raised up on her toes, swung her arms wide, then launched herself off the board.

  She went down in a graceful, perfect dive and hit the water with scarcely a splash and came up, shaking her hair out of her eyes. She turned on her back with her hair floating out around her and swam slowly towards the steps leading out of the bath.

  ‘Well,’ West said and drew in a slow breath.

  He removed his hat, took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat band while he watched Lucille climb out of the bath, and then walk along the side of the bath, the water glistening on her brown skin, the white bikini plastered to her body like a second skin.

  We stood there like stone men, watching her until she disappeared into one of the cabins.

  Then West turned and looked at me. His small grey eyes were sleepy and his thin, hard mouth was curled into a small incredulous smile.

  ‘That his daughter?’

  ‘That is Mrs. Aitken.’

  ‘Mrs. Aitken?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You mean she’s that old punk’s wife?’

  ‘She is Mrs. Aitken.’

  He blew a long silent whistle.

  ‘She doesn’t look more than twenty.’

  I was losing patience as well as getting jittery with these remarks.

  ‘Well, that’s scarcely my fault, is it?’

  He stared at me, momentarily surprised, then he nodded. ‘That’s right, it’s not your fault. Well, well, the guy certainly makes use of his money, doesn’t he?’

  Leaving me, he strolled over to the garage, swung up the tilt-up doors and went in to examine the cars.

  I stood in the sun and waited.

  Lucille came out of the cabin. She was now wearing a scarlet halter, white shorts and pair of sandals. She carried the two little pieces of wet rag that made up her bikini and she walked quickly around the bath towards me.

  I realized the effect West would have on her unless I warned her before she ran into him, and I went towards her.

  She looked up and saw me.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw West come out of the garage. I quickened my pace and reached her as West shut the garage doors.

  ‘This man is a police officer,’ I said, speaking fast. ‘He’s not looking for you. He’s only checking the cars. There’s nothing to worry about.’

  Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped it on her like this, but I hadn’t much time. Anyway, she went as white as a fresh fall of snow, and for one awful moment I thought she was going to faint.

  Her eyes grew large and dark and, under her heavy tan, the change of colour gave her an odd mottled look.

  Then I heard the gentle slapping of West’s feet as he came towards us. He didn’t seem in a hurry, but he reached us quicker than I would have thought possible.

  He came up beside me, his breath whistling down his thick nose, and I knew he was staring at Lucille, and when I turned, that was what he was doing.

  She stared back at him like a rabbit staring at a snake.

  My voice sounded husky as I said: ‘This is Lieutenant West. Lieutenant, this is Mrs. Aitken.’

  West said in his slow drawl, ‘Good afternoon, madam. I’ve just been checking the cars, I expect you’ve read ...’ but that was as far as he got.

  Lucille turned abruptly and walked away. She didn’t exactly run, but her slim brown legs took her over the ground at quite a pace.

  West turned and watched her go. Neither of us said anything until she had run up the steps and out of sight.

  ‘Sort of snooty, huh?’ he said, cocking his head on one side. ‘High-hat, would you say?’

  ‘What’s a police officer to her?’ I said, trying to sound casual. ‘After all she’s a rich man’s wife.’

  ‘That’s right.’ He took off his hat and wiped the sweat band with his handkerchief. It seemed to be a habit of his. ‘Now I wonder what was on her mind. Did you see how she changed colour?’

  ‘Did she?’
>
  I began to move towards the terrace, my heart bumping unevenly against my ribs.

  West fell in step beside me.

  ‘Yeah. She changed colour. Quite a doll. With a shape like that it seems a waste to have married an old guy like Aitken.’

  ‘If it worries you all that much, why don’t you take it up with him?’ I said curtly.

  West glanced at me and smiled a tired smile.

  ‘I’m not all that in love with my job, but I don’t aim to lose it. Would she have a lover, do you think?’

  ‘Why not ask her, if it’s any of your business?’ I said, turning to glare at him.

  He rubbed his big hand over his sweating face and sniffled a yawn.

  ‘I’d like to, but I don’t imagine she’d tell me. Does she ever use any of Aitken’s cars?’

  My heart skipped a beat.

  ‘Did you find any of them damaged?’

  ‘No. The chauffeur keeps them nice. He probably has to.’

  ‘Then it’s no business of yours if she uses them or not. But if it will set your mind at rest, she hasn’t a driving permit so the answer is she doesn’t use them.’

  He squinted at me.

  ‘Just because she hasn’t a driving permit,’ he said slowly, ‘doesn’t mean she doesn’t take a car out sometimes. Some people take chances. How come she doesn’t drive?’

  I was suddenly scared I had said too much.

  ‘Maybe you’d better ask her,’ I said. ‘What business is it of yours?’

  ‘Look, friend,’ he said quietly, ‘you don’t have to get touchy. It’s my job to ask questions. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have to. I’m a cop. When something happens out of the way, I wonder why. I’m wondering why she turned into a ghost when she saw me. A girl with her looks and her shape usually has plenty of confidence. It should take more than a cop to faze her, but she was fazed all right. Why? What’s on her mind? You don’t turn that colour at the sight of a cop unless your conscience is taking a beating. What’s biting her, I wonder?’

  ‘How should I know?’ I said through stiff lips.

  He patted my arm absently.

  ‘That’s right. How should you know?’

  He moved past me and headed towards the terrace.

  I went after him, but kept far enough behind him so as not to enter into another conversation with him.

  He gave Aitken four certificates, clearing his cars.

  Aitken took the certificates and tossed them contemptuously on the terrace table. West then gave Hackett a certificate for his car.

  ‘I guess that’s about all,’ he said, looking around at us. ‘Thanks for your help, sir.’ This to Aitken. ‘And for yours too.’ His small eyes moved to me. Then in a silence you could lean on, he plodded across the terrace, went down the steps to the waiting police car.

  ‘Well, I must say that’s a wonderful way of wasting taxpayers money,’ Aitken growled. ‘Of all the damned nonsense I’ve run into ...’

  ‘Would you say that?’ Hackett asked, lifting his heavy eyebrows. ‘They’re trying to find the man who killed a policeman. To them it is important. They know the killer’s car is damaged. This is the surest way of finding his car,’ he waved his certificate. ‘Sooner or later, they will come across a car that is damaged and hasn’t a certificate, then they will have found the killer. Personally, I think it’s a smart idea.’ He turned to me. ‘Well, we’re holding you off from your golf.’ He stretched his massive frame. ‘And I’ve got to be running along too.’ He looked over at Aitken. ‘The wife will be wondering where I’ve got to. So long, R.A., this venture of ours is going to be a lot of fun,’ and he shook Aitken’s hand.

  ‘I hope so,’ Aitken said. ‘A lot depends on Scott.’

  Hackett slapped me on the shoulder.

  ‘He’ll handle it. Well, I’ll get off. Look after that leg, R.A. The sooner you’re up and about again the better.’

  There was more talk before Hackett and I crossed the terrace together and walked down the steps to where our cars were parked.

  ‘You won’t forget to come over to my hotel,’ Hackett said. ‘I’d like you to meet the wife.’

  ‘That’s nice of you,’ I returned. ‘The trouble is R.A. expects me to come here every night and that limits my time.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that. But try and find time.’ He paused beside his Buick, looking over at the Pontiac. ‘I see you’re still using Jack’s car.’

  I kept my face expressionless with an effort.

  ‘Yes, but not for much longer. I should have my car back soon.’

  The shrewd eyes moved over my face.

  ‘What did you say was the matter with it?’

  ‘It’s leaking oil.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Cars can be hell. Coming down here, I blew a gasket. It doesn’t seem to matter how much one spends buying a car, something or other goes wrong sooner or later.’

  I wasn’t kidding myself he was talking because he liked the sound of his voice. I was sure a punch line was coming and I tensed myself, waiting for it.

  ‘Have you met R.A.’s wife?’ he asked abruptly and his eyes were sudden searchlights on my face.

  I hadn’t expected that punch to be quite so direct nor so hard. I flinched. There was nothing I could do about it. It had been hard enough to get under my guard.

  ‘I – I’ve seen her.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I’ve seen her too.’ He looked away from me as he opened his car door. ‘Some girl. I’ve often wondered why R.A. married her. She’s a young man’s girl. He’s much too old for her. When a girl that young marries a man nearly forty years older than she, she becomes rank poison to any young fella who happens along.’ He grinned cheerfully at me. ‘Though why I’m sounding off like this to you I can’t imagine. A sensible guy like you wouldn’t go for rank poison, now would you?’ He patted my arm and got into the car. ‘Don’t forget to come and see us when you have time,’ he went on, poking his genial face out of the car window. ‘So long for now: hope to see you soon.’

  I remained motionless as a shop-window dummy and watched him drive away.

  I knew then he had recognized Lucille as she had come out of my bungalow last night, and in his odd, kindly way, he was waving a red light in my face.

  I was aware my breathing was coming fast and hard as walked over to the Pontiac and got in. For several tense seconds I sat staring through the windshield, then leaning forward, stabbed at the starter button and drove fast down the drive and headed towards my bungalow.

  chapter eight

  I

  During the afternoon I had a long, lonely session with my thoughts. Hackett’s hint bothered me, but as he didn’t seem ready to make trouble for me, I felt I had to get that out of my mind and concentrate on the main problem, which was the Cadillac. I was sure that if I could think of a way to get the car repaired, I could cope with the rest of my problems.

  It wasn’t until late in the evening that I suddenly saw how I could do this in safety. I happened to take from my wallet the certificate Lieutenant West had given me, and on examining it, I suddenly realized he had unwittingly handed me the solution.

  In completing the form, he had put down only the licence number and had omitted the make of the car. I saw then that if I put the Pontiac’s number plate on the Cadillac, the certificate would clear me if I were stopped while taking the Cadillac to my local garage to get the damage repaired.

  For several seconds I stared at the certificate, scarcely believing the solution could be this simple. There was a risk that if I were stopped by a policeman he might check my licence tag against the number plates. If he did that, I’d be sunk, but I decided I would have to take this risk.

  I decided it would be too risky to change the number plates before dark. I had still a couple of hours ahead of me before sunset, and it occurred to me, while I was waiting, to call Lucille and tell her I had found a possible solution. I knew her nerve had been badly shaken by West’s unexpected appear
ance and I wasn’t going to take the risk of her losing her nerve at the last moment just when it looked as if I had the problem licked.

  I crossed over to the telephone and called Aitken’s house.

  Lucille herself answered.

  ‘Ches here,’ I said. ‘Can you talk?’

  I heard her catch her breath sharply.

  ‘Yes. What is it?’

  ‘I wanted you to know I’ve found a way out,’ I said. ‘I think it’s going to be all right, I think I’ve really got it fixed.’

  There was a pause. I could hear her quick breathing.

  ‘Do you really mean that?’ she asked finally.

  ‘Yes. It’s going to be all right. We’re both going to be in the clear.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘I can’t talk over an open line. I wanted you to know right away. It’s going to be fixed, and you don’t have to worry anymore.’

  ‘I see.’ Her voice sounded curiously flat, ‘Well, all right.’

  ‘You can relax now,’ I said. ‘You just take it easy.’

  ‘All right,’ and the line went dead.

  I put down the receiver, frowning. Her reaction puzzled me. I had expected her to have been pleased and relieved. It was almost as if she were disappointed that I had found a solution.

  As it was still too light to go out to Seaborne’s place, I sat on! my terrace and brooded, waiting impatiently for the sun to go down. It wasn’t until half past eight that I got the darkness I had been waiting for.

  I left the bungalow and went down to the Pontiac. Then I drove over to Seaborne’s house.

  It took me a little time to get the licence plates off the Pontiac. I had to work by my flashlight and the screws had rusted in, but I got the plates off finally. Then I went up the drive to Seaborne’s garage, unlocked the doors and shut myself in before turning on the overhead light.

  The rear number plate on the Cadillac came off easily enough and I put on the Pontiac’s plate. Then I came around to the front of the car. There I found the screws on the front pi were badly rusted in and I had a struggle to shift them.

  I was lying on my back, half under the car, struggling with the screws when suddenly I heard a faint noise outside.