Read 1945 - Blonde's Requiem Online

Authors: James Hadley Chase

1945 - Blonde's Requiem (17 page)

BOOK: 1945 - Blonde's Requiem
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This is the biggest moment in my life! We

ll get along fine.

Marian said she hoped they would and looked a little embarrassed.

Don

t confuse the girl,

I said.

You don

t need to look as if you want to eat her.

Reg scowled at me.

Lay off, can

t you?

he said.

Stop ribbing me.

He turned back to Marian.

You

ll be along tomorrow?

She nodded.

I

m not so good at typing,

she confessed,

but I

ll get used to it if you

ll have patience.

He drew in a deep breath.

You take your time,

he assured her.

I

m in no hurry. Anything you want to know, just ask me.


And be careful what you ask him,

I said.

Where

s Esslinger?


He dropped me and went on home,

she returned, moving to the door.

I won

t interrupt you now, but don

t you think you ought to be in bed?


I

m going,

I lied.

Glad you had a good time. See you tomorrow.

Reg opened the door for her.

Good night, Miss French,

he said, making eyes at her.

You don

t know how I

m going to enjoy working with you.

Marian threw an amused glance at me, thanked Reg and left us.


Like her?

I asked casually.

Reg closed his eyes.

That

s the dame who haunts my dreams,

he said.

Where did you find her?

I told him.

He suddenly looked suspicious.

What

s this stuff about Esslinger? Was she out with him?


She was.


Gee! It gives me a pain the way Esslinger finds

em,

he growled.

That guy has every dame in Cranville running around with him.


Well, what of it?

I asked, smiling at his annoyance.

Esslinger

s a good-looking kid, bright, and he

s a free spender . . . why shouldn

t they run around with him?


I don

t like the guy,

Reg said.

He

s pinched too many dames from me. He

s only got to look at a dame and she flops for him.


I used to be like that when I was his age,

I grinned, going over to the bureau for the Scotch bottle.

All the other kids hated my guts too, but that didn

t bring me out in a rash.

Reg sniffed and looked sour.

It doesn

t bring him out in a rash either,

he said.

I poured two fingers of Scotch into a glass.

You

re too young to drink, aren

t you?


Not when it

s free,

Reg returned with unnecessary eagerness.


Maybe you

d better watch me,

I said, sitting down again and swirling the amber coloured liquor round in the bottom of the glass.

You want a steady hand tonight. A lot depends on this picture.

I took a long drink, sighed and closed my eyes.

Reg got to his feet with a snort of disgust.

When do we go?

he demanded.

I squinted at him.

Maybe we

d better slide off now. We

ll have to be careful Marian doesn

t spot us. Looks like she wants to keep me in cottonwool.

I finished the drink, lit another cigarette and stood up.

Okay?


Sure.

Reg opened the door and looked into the passage.

No one around,

he said, and together we went down the passage into the lobby.

Nora looked up from her magazine.

Don

t you ever sleep?

she said to me as I went past.


I have my moments,

I said, waving to her.

Didn

t I tell you I

m tough?


That doesn

t prove anything,

she said, with a sneer.

I know plenty guys who

re tough, but where did it get them?


You tell me about it some other time,

I said, not stopping. I followed Reg out into the dark, sweltering night.

We got into a battered Ford coupe and Reg drove away from the hotel.

Put that dame alongside Marian French,

he said,

and what have you?


Get your mind off women for a moment,

I urged.

We

ve got a job to do. How far is the morgue?


Four blocks and first on the right,

he said, shouting to get above the roar of the car engine.

I looked at my watch in the light of a street lamp as we passed. It was eleven-thirty.


Who

s in charge?


Johnson does the night shift. No one else

s likely to be there. Maybe we could bust in the back way unless you want to tell Johnson what you

re going to do. But photographing corpses ain

t permitted, so maybe we

d better go in the back way.


What sort of a guy is Johnson?


Little geezer. We could take him without getting in a lather,

Reg said, slowing down as the traffic light changed to red. He stopped the car and we both lit cigarettes.

Breaking into a morgue isn

t my idea of fun,

he went on as he flipped the match out of the window.

I wasn

t looking forward to the job either, but I didn

t say so. My shirt clung to my back and chest and my head throbbed.

As the light changed Reg started the car rolling again.

Anyway,

he said,

it

ll be cold in the morgue. We might even freeze to death.


I hope to God we can get in without making a noise,

I said.

I don

t want any trouble with this Johnson guy. Even if he is a little guy it

s too, hot for fighting.


He won

t fight,

Reg said with a laugh.

He

d fall over if you spit in his eye.

We turned right at the next corner and Reg parked the car under a street lamp.


It

s only a hundred yards or so down the street,

he said, taking out his camera outfit and tucking it under his arm.

Better walk, huh?

I stood on the sidewalk, feeling the heat of the brick pavement through my shoes.

Jeese!

I said.

It

s hot!

We went down the street together, not saying anything and not hurrying. Reg paused after we had walked a while and nodded to a narrow alley, wide enough to take a car.

This is it,

he said, lowering his voice.

I glanced up and down the deserted street and then together we ducked down the alley. It was dark. There was a curious smell about the air: sweet, musty, sickish; a smell of slow decay.


You could use this air as a bed,

I whispered to Reg.

I

ll come here for my next vacation.

He giggled a little hysterically.

If you mean your last vacation,

he said,

you

ll come here whether you like it or not.

We walked softly, keeping to the middle of the alley. The blackness around us was like an enveloping blanket and we couldn

t see anything, not even the sky.


Creepy, isn

t it?

I said, feeling spooked.

It only wants someone to spring out on me and I

ll cry like a child.


Yeah? I

ll run,

Reg said with conviction.

Can

t you stop talking? You

re giving me the heebies.

Then without warning a sudden high-pitched scream came to us out of the darkness. It swelled, cut through the thick stifling air like the sweep of a sickle, and died away in a horrible, slobbering gurgle.

We stood still and clutched each other.


What in hell

s that?

I said, feeling the hair stiffen on the nape of my neck.

I heard Reg breathing like a badly winded horse. My own heart was going thump, thump, thump.


There

s a psychopathic hospital over that way,

he said in a breathless, uneven voice.

Maybe it

s one of the nuts letting off a little steam.

I took off my hat and wiped my face and the back of my neck with a damp handkerchief.

I hope to God she doesn

t let off another like that,

I said fervently.

That nearly ruined me.

We stood listening and then, hearing nothing except the faint roar of distant traffic, we walked on. The alley curved to our right and turning the bend we saw ahead a red light burning faintly over a double door.

BOOK: 1945 - Blonde's Requiem
13.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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