1981 - Hand Me a Fig Leaf

by James Hadley Chase

I stared at her blonde, boyish haircut. She looked like a replica of the late Jean Sebourg.

  I smiled at her.

  "Hello, Johnny Jackson," I said "So I've found you at last."

  The hum of heavy trucks on the distant highway was the only sound in the neat, comfortable living-room.

  Wally Watkins sat as if turned to stone. The girl was also motionless. She looked at me, then at him.

  I let the silence hang, then Watkins said gently, "I think, Johnny dear, we should give Mr. Wallace an explanation."

  "Oh, go ahead!" she exclaimed, grabbing the wig out of my hand. "Tell him!" And she ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Watkins regarded me.

  "Perhaps you will join me in a little Scotch, Mr. Wallace? Perhaps you would be so kind as to fix the drinks. My knee is playing up."

  "Sure, but what about your dinner?" I went to the liquor-cabinet and poured two drinks. "I'm sorry about this, Mr. Watkins."

  "Oh, dinner can wait. It is nothing grand." He took the glass, eyed the colour of the Scotch and nodded. "You make a good drink, Mr. Wallace."

  I carried my glass to the armchair and sat down.

  "You don't have to tell me anything, Mr. Watkins. I have found Johnny Jackson and that ends my assignment," I said.

  "I wish it were as simple as that," he said and sipped his drink. "I want you to hear the story of Johnny Jackson, then I hope you will be more understanding towards her."

  I lit a cigarette and relaxed back in the chair.

  "Okay. So tell me."

  "I will be as brief as I can. Both Kitty and I have been in on this sad story from the beginning. We were disappointed with our son. I don't have to go over that again. We love children. When Johnny first came to Searle and came to our store, we both took a great interest in her. We both thought she was a boy. We knew how old Fred lived and we asked Johnny if he would like to have a weekly bath at our place. Old Fred never took a bath. In fact, there was no bath at his cabin. Johnny loved that. So we saw him regularly and we grew to love him. Mr. Wallace, I now regard Johnny as my own daughter. It was when Johnny reached the age of fourteen that Kitty suspected he wasn't a boy, but a girl. By then, Johnny loved us, but not as much as she loved that dirty, rough old man. One evening when she was here for her bath, she confided in us." Watkins paused to sip his drink, then went on, "His mother Stella Costa met Mitch Jackson just before he was drafted. There was something about Mitch that fascinated women. Stella became pregnant with Johnny. She begged Mitch to marry her and he told her, providing the child was a boy, he would marry her on his return from Vietnam. This woman longed to marry Mitch. It's something I don't pretend to understand. So when the baby was born and was a girl, Stella realized Mitch now wouldn't marry her. In desperation, she registered the baby's birth as Johnny Jackson, a boy, and sent Mitch a copy of the certificate, reminding him that he had promised to marry her on his return. Now, it appears, the Jacksons were very odd. They were only interested in male heirs. Neither of them had time for female heirs. Mitch wrote back, delighted, and renewed his promise to marry Stella on his return. Stella brought her child up as a boy. She was having a hard time as Mitch sent her no money. She found Johnny, now eight years old, a hindrance. She decided to send him to his grandfather. She explained the sordid story to Johnny, instilling into him or her that he or she must never tell old Jackson he was a girl, and at that age Johnny liked being a boy. Old Jackson was delighted to have a grandson. In his rough way, he treated Johnny well, and Johnny came to love and admire this old man. She told us how, at nights, old Jackson would tell her tiles about his life, about his alligator fights, and he would talk about Mitch. So the years passed. Then, of course, Johnny became more girl than boy. Often, old Jackson would talk about girls, and his talk was crude and brutal, and Johnny realized that if he found out she was a girl she would lose him." Watkins looked at me. "It's sad, isn't it? By then Johnny really worshipped this old man, but she became more and more aware that soon he would realize she was a girl. By then, my Kitty was dead, but Johnny came regularly once a week for her bath, and we would talk. She was binding her chest flat to deceive old Jackson, but the tension of discovery became too much for her. I advised her to leave him and come and live with me. Rather than face his fur: when he discovered the truth, she did this. Neither of us expected old Jackson to write to Colonel Parnell. Then you came investigating and you have found out the sad truth. Now you know Mr. Wallace. We have nothing to be ashamed of. It now doesn't matter because Johnny is going away. I have fixed her -up with a job in Los Angeles. My nephew runs a dress-shop there and he is willing to have her. She'll be off tomorrow and I hope she will happy.” He smiled sadly. "I will miss her."

  "That I can understand, Mr. Watkins." I stared thoughtfully at him. “There are still a lot of loose ends. There's the money for instance."

  His expression showed surprise.

  "Money? What money?"

  "Old Jackson's money."

  "Did he have money? I know nothing about that."

  I decided he was telling the truth.

  "Johnny left her grandfather about two months ago," I said, "and she came to live with you. What did she do?"

  "She told me she had work in Miami at some club. It wasn't my business. She only stayed with me weekends. One should never inquire too deeply in the affairs of the young, Mr. Wallace."

  "I guess that's right. I have to talk to Johnny, Mr. Watkins. There are loose ends still to be tied up. I'm hoping she'll be frank with me, but she won't if you're around. Do you mind?"

  He thought about this, then shook his head.

  "I've no business to mind. I just ask you to be kind to her. She's had a rough life, Mr. Wallace, and I love her."

  I got to my feet.

  "Let me fix you another drink. I'll try not to be long, then you two can get on with your dinner."

  "Thank you."

  I fixed him another drink and moved to the door.

  "Be kind to her," he said again.

  I went down the passage, knocked on the second bedroom door and went in. She was expecting me.

  She was half lying on the bed, holding the cuddly bear. She was wearing the blonde wig and her expression was sullen.

  "Let's talk," I said, closing the door. I went to a chair and sat astride it. "What happened to your grandpa's money?"

  She tightened her grip on the bear.

  "I took it."

  "Will you tell me about it, Johnny?"

  She hesitated, then shrugged.

  "He wanted Mitch to have it, then when Mitch was killed he wanted Mitch's son to have it, and if Mitch didn't have a son he wanted it to go to the Disabled Veterans fund."

  "I know that. As you were his granddaughter you have no claim on the money."

  "That's right. I took it because that bastard Weatherspoon was trying to steal it."

  "Let's slow the pace, Johnny. Do you know about the drug-ring and the frog-factory?"

  "I knew. My mother told me."

  "You knew your father, Weatherspoon and Stobart worked together?"

  "My father was dead when those two creeps got together. So okay, my father was a drug-pusher, but what the hell? He died saving seventeen little creeps, and he won the Medal of Honor."

  I wasn't going to tell her Mitch went into that jungle to try to save his big weekly pay-off.

  "What have you done with the money, Johnny?"

  She stared at me, her eyes flashing.

  "What do you think I did with it? Listen to me, Shamus, I loved my grandfather. He was the only one in my life who treated me like a human being! I'm not counting Wally or Kitty who have done so much for me, but Grandpa was different. I loved to sit and listen to him talk. What a man! I made him tell me over and over again about his fight with the alligator and how he lost his legs. Okay, he was a little crazy in the head. He hated women. He never told me why. He used to say, 'Johnny, we men must stick together. Women cause more trouble in this world than alligators.' H
e was crazy about money. He had no use for money. He saved and saved, and he put the money in a hole under his bed. 'When I have gone, Johnny,' he told me, 'you take it. I don't need it. Maybe you will need it. As my grandson, I want you to have it when I've gone.' I knew as I was his granddaughter he wouldn't want me to have it. If he knew I was a girl, he would have thrown me out. Then when the news came that Mitch had been killed this man Stobart came to see Grandpa. I was in the back room of the cabin and heard what he said." She stroked the bear, not looking at me. "He said he was Mitch's buddy. He said Mitch and he had been in business together and Mitch had said if anything happened to him his father was to get his share of the business and when his father died Mitch's son Johnny was to get the money. My grandpa said he didn't want anything, but Stobart insisted. 'Mitch and I were real buddies. A deal is a deal,' he said. 'Maybe you don't want it, but the kid will.' So every month a letter came for the next six years. Grandpa didn't know I had been listening. He didn't even bother to open the envelopes, but put than in the hole with his savings."

  "Have you counted it, Johnny?"

  "It was too much to count. I gave up when I got to five hundred thousand."

  "And you have all this money?"

  She looked at me.

  "Not now. It didn't belong to me. I put it all in a box and sent it to the Disabled Veteran people in New York as an anonymous gift. That's what grandpa wanted, and that's what I did."

  I regarded her in awe.

  "But you could have kept all this money, Johnny."

  Her eves flashed.

  "What do you think I am . . . a goddamn thief?"

  "Sorry. I think you are goddamn nice girl."

  "Don't feed me that crap. My grandpa was the world to me. If his grandson didn't have the money, then the Disabled Veterans were to have it. I wasn't his grandson. I was his granddaughter. You would have done the same, wouldn't you?"

  Would I?

  "I hope so, Johnny. I really hope so."

  "Have you finished? I want to get Wally his dinner."

  "Not quite. Tell me about Weatherspoon."

  Her eyes turned cloudy and again she stroked the bear.

  "What about him?"

  "He murdered your grandpa."

  "Yes."

  "Tell me."

  She hesitated, then said, "I had left Grandpa and was working at the Skin Club. My mother got me the job. I went to Wally every weekend. I used my mother's car. All the time, I thought of Grandpa. Often I would sneak up there and watch him at the frog-pond. I longed to talk to him, but I knew he wouldn't want me anymore. I went up there the day he was murdered. That bastard Weatherspoon was talking to him in the cabin as I came from the frog-pond. He was shouting something about money, then I heard a shot." She closed her eyes and her hands tightened on the bear. "Weatherspoon came out of the cabin, a gun in his hand. He looked in a panic, then he heard your car coming up the lane. He bolted into the shrubs. I knew something awful had happened and I was scared stupid. You came and went into the cabin. Both Weatherspoon and I, in our hiding-places, watched you. When you drove away, Weatherspoon ran into the cabin and came out without the gun. He got on his motorcycle, which he had left at the back of the cabin, and went off. I went into the cabin." She shuddered. "Grandpa was dead. I took the money from the hole under the bed, my father's medal and all Grandpa's papers and I drove back to Wally. I didn't tell Wally what had happened or what I had seen. That's all. Now will you go away and let me get Wally's dinner?"

  I got to my feet.

  "Thanks, Johnny, I guess that about clears it up."

  She got off the bed, reluctantly letting go of the bear.

  "You won't worry us again, will you?"

  I stared directly at her, then asked, keeping my voice low. "What did you hit him with, Johnny?"

  She stiffened and her face turned white.

  "I don't . . . what are you saying?"

  "You killed Weatherspoon," I said, still speaking in half a whisper. "When he went to the cabin in the final and desperate search for your grandfather's money, you were there. You watched him hack the place to pieces. You followed him to the frog-pond and you hit him. He fell into the pond and drowned and, as he fell, he grabbed your wig. It was in his hand when they got him out."

  Her knees buckled and she sat down abruptly on the bed. She reached for the bear and held it tight against her breasts.

  "That's how it happened, didn't it, Johnny?"

  She seemed to draw strength from the bear. Colour came back to her face, her eyes lit up. She leaned forward.

  "Yes, I killed him! I'm glad! Do you hear? I'm glad! He killed my grandpa! I loved my grandpa! Do you hear? I don't give a damn what happens to me! Go ahead, tell the cops! It was the greatest moment in my life when I watched that devil drown! Get out! Call the cops!" Tears began to trickle down her face.

  She brushed them aside impatiently. "Go on, leave us! I'll wait here for the cops. I've had enough of running away."

  "The inquest on Weatherspoon's death was held today," I said quietly. "The verdict was accidental death. That's fine with me. A man who corrupts people with drugs doesn't deserve to live. You did a good job, Johnny."

  She stared at me, her eyes widening. She began to say something, then stopped.

  "I wish you luck, Johnny," I said. "I hope you find a better life." I smiled at her. "You are young. Your life is ahead of you. Make a success of it and keep away from Searle."

  She began sobbing, waving me away.

  "Go shake your goddam tambourine someplace else," she gasped out.

  I left her sobbing over her cuddly bear. I didn't stop to say goodbye to Wally Watkins. I left the little house, walked to my car. I lit a cigarette and sat for some minutes, thinking.

  Tomorrow, I would give Colonel Parnell my report, but it would be amended. He would turn my report over to the Drug Enforcement people who would raid the frog-factory and Syd Watkins's luxury house. They would find enough evidence to put Watkins and Raiz away for a long stretch. I wondered about Stella. Her future would be bleak and at her age I wondered what would happen to her. She was tough and would probably survive.

  I started the car engine.

  I would tell the colonel that, although I had uncovered a drug-ring, I hadn't succeeded in finding Johnny Jackson. I would ask him if he wanted me to continue the search. Knowing the colonel, I was sure he wouldn't want to spend any more money. Exposing a drug-ring would be enough rot him. He would take care that the publicity would reflect well on the Agency.

  As I drove towards Searle, I realized, by covering up on Johnny Jackson, it was now my turn to hand out a fig-leaf.

  THE END

  Table of Contents

  chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight