1953 - The Sucker Punch (8 page)

Glorie came out of the bathroom in the gaudy red nightdress "Was that Vestal Shelley you were calling just now?" she asked, stretching out on the bed.

"It was," I said as I dialled Blakestone's home number.

"Was she the one you took to the fights instead of me?"

"She was."

Blakestone's voice growled, "Hallo?"

"Chad here." I said. "Listen, Ryan, we can go ahead. I'm arranging for a quarter of a million of bonds to be cashed tomorrow, and I'm opening a special account in Miss Shelley's name at the Western California Bank. Your job is to turn this money over and make her a monthly profit. We have a twenty thousand margin of loss. Go beyond that and you lose the account."

"I certainly won't go beyond a five thousand loss," Blakestone said. "I'll treat this account as if it were mine. Looks like you and I are going to make a little money."

"That's the idea. One more thing, Ryan. I want a weekly statement from you showing exactly what you are doing and intend to do. I'll leave the moves to you, but I want that statement every Monday morning. Is that clear?"

"Sure, you'll have it."

"Right. Start tomorrow. When you want any money, let me know."

"Leave it to me, Chad."

As I hung up, Glorie said, "Chad, darling..."

I sighed.

“I had forgotten about you. What is it?"

"Were you putting on an act just now or was that the McCoy?"

I looked over at her and grinned.

She was half sitting up, her pert little face alert, her baby blue eyes popping.

"You shouldn't have listened."

"You mean you have a quarter of a million?"

Glorie might be a nuisance sometimes, but the big thing about her is she can keep her mouth shut. I suddenly had a need to talk to someone about Vestal.

"Since the last time you were here,” I said, "I have become Miss Shelley's financial adviser. With any luck I might make myself a little dough."

"I've always heard she was a bit of a terror," Glorie said, lying back on the bed again.

"So she is," I said lightly, "but apparently my manly charms have made quite a hit with her. She very nearly seduced me tonight."

Glorie lifted her head to stare at me.

"You wouldn't joke about a thing like that?"

"Certainly not. It was as much as I could do to hold her off. If she hadn't been such a hideous little monkey I would be in her silken couch by now, but fortunately, I'm not as hard pressed as all that."

"Why, you big, silly jerk!" Glorie exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. "I thought at least you had some brains in that handsome head of yours."

I was so surprised I nearly dropped the glass of whisky.

"What do you mean?"

"If a man worth millions tried to seduce me I wouldn't stop him," Glorie said. "Not if he had a wooden leg and buck teeth. I know she's skinny, but she isn't all that bad. Exactly how much is she worth?"

"I don't know. At least seventy millions, possibly more."

"Pheeee! Seventy millions! Did you say you talked her into letting you have a quarter of a million?"

"Yes; what's wrong with that? Now, move over I'm coming to bed."

"Not yet. Don't let's get off this subject, Chad. It fascinates me." Glorie said, climbing off the bed. She began to wander aimlessly around the room. "What exactly happened tonight? Tell me about it."

I told her about the fight, about Vestal's reactions, what had happened in the dimly lit passage and how she had run out on me.

Glorie perched herself on the table and folded her arms around her knees. She listened intently and without interruption.

"You called her just now?"

"I couldn't get past her secretary."

"You couldn't have tried very hard."

"I didn't. I left a message. That was enough, wasn't it?"

"A message? For Pete's sake! When will you learn a girl doesn't want a message? She wants something more tangible than a message. Never mind. You must send her some flowers. A box of white violets to open before she gets up will do."

"You think that's a good idea? Well, I don't. She might imagine I'm physically attracted to her, and that's the last thing on earth I'll ever be."

“What's the matter with you, Chad?" she asked, staring at me. "You slipping or something?"

"What's going on in that dopey brain of yours?"

"Not so dopey, darling." She reached for a cigarette and lit it. "I could use some of her money. I would love to have a luxury apartment on Park Avenue where you could come for a little relaxation when you've got her millions."

"Have you gone nuts?" I asked, staring at her.

"Don't you realize, Chad, that when you get to her age, when you're ugly and lonely and unloved as she is, and when a big, handsome, dashing guy like you comes along, she falls and falls and falls? Play your cards right, darling, follow my advice, and you will be married to her within a month."

"Married to her!" I yelled. "She's the last woman on earth I would ever marry. Marry her? Not on your life! Imagine being tied to that dried up, bad tempered little monkey for the rest of my life! You're crazy!"

Glorie stared steadily at me.

"Imagine being married to seventy million dollars for the rest of your life," she said softly. "Imagine that."

I started to say something, then stopped.

"Ah! The nickel is beginning to drop," Glorie said, watching me. "Suppose you are tied to her? It doesn't mean you can't get your fun elsewhere, does it? There'll always be me in a luxury apartment waiting to amuse you. Look at it this way; how long do you imagine you will control that quarter of a million? If you don't make love to her, she'll turn sour and frustrated. Then she'll give you hell. She'll snatch the money away from you at the first excuse. But marry her, Chad, and you'll be right in the gravy. Be nice to her; pet her, and there won't be anything you can't get out of her. I know you. You're irresistible once you get going."

"Shut up," I said. "I want to think about this."

Glorie obediently sat still, not speaking, but watching me.

I sat staring up at the ceiling for maybe ten minutes. Then I suddenly got up.

Glorie said, "Made up your mind, Chad?"

"I guess so," I said and grinned. "There's not much difference between one woman and another in the dark, but seventy million bucks is seventy million bucks whichever way you look at it."

chapter six

I
'm not going to waste time giving too many details of how I set about marrying Vestal. It is now common knowledge that I did marry her as Glorie had predicted, within a month of her giving me the idea.

Vestal played right into my hands. It was as Glorie had said. She was lonely and unloved. I happened to be the first good-looking, husky young man she had ever had personal contact with. The fact I wasn't scared of her also weighed tremendously in my favour.

I managed to dig up enough business queries to give me the excuse of seeing her at least once a day.

For the first four or five days it was strictly business, with a little relaxing when business was over—a drink or a short wander in the garden with her before I said I had work to do and left her.

Then very gently and almost imperceptibly, I began to increase the pressure.

I took her to Joe's restaurant out on Cape Point; a little dive that specialized in seafood. She had never been to a place like that before, and I could see she got a big bang out of it.

I drove her home in the moonlight with the car radio playing something soulful from Schubert. But I was very careful to treat her as if she were my sister.

No sister ever looked at a brother the way she looked at me when I said good night, and I knew I could have rushed my fences if I had wanted to, but I held back.

Ten days crawled past: ten of the dullest days of my life. We went out together every night. She was calling me Chad now, and I was calling her Vestal.

During those ten days I didn't see a sign of temper from her. She was really rather pathetic; trying so damned hard to rise above her physical disadvantages.

But why go on? All this isn't interesting, and it isn't important. I'm only telling you a little of it so you shouldn't imagine that all I had to do was to wave a wand and she married me.

Glorie and I discussed it after twenty long days had dragged by.

"I'm turning on the heat tomorrow night," I said. "We're going to the Barbecue restaurant, and on the way home, heaven help me, I intend to kiss her."

Glorie giggled.

"I wish I could see you do it."

The next night Vestal was like a seventeen-year old bobbysoxer with me. Glorie had said when she fell, she would fall and fall and fall, and that's what she did.

I pulled up at the cliff head about three hundred yards from the tall iron gates guarding the estate. We had had a good dinner, md I had been drinking double whiskies all the evening. The moon was shining on the sea. There wasn't a sound to disturb us.

Vestal was gay and excited and adoring. She didn't even want me to go home.

I slid my arm around her and when she looked up, I kissed her. It was an effort and a bit of a failure, but at least it was a kiss. She held my hand in her cold little claws while she looked at me as if I were a Greek god.

"Can't we stay here and watch the moon all night?" she asked.

"I have work to do tomorrow. It's all right for you. You can be in bed all the morning. I have to earn a living."

"You don't have to," she said eagerly. "I have enough money for us both, Chad. You must leave that dreary old bank. I want to see more of you."

Well, here it was; just the way Glorie had said it would happen.

"You don't know what you're saying," I told her. "Now stop talking before you say something you'll be sorry for later. I shouldn't have kissed you."

"I wanted you to." Her brittle arms slid around my neck. "Be kind to me, Chad. I'm so lonely."

I held her against me.

"I'm crazy about you. If I had position and money, maybe it would be different, but I haven't." I pushed her away. "We'll cut this out. I'm taking you home."

"I must talk to you, Chad," she said feverishly.

"Okay, but we won't get anywhere. We shouldn't have started this."

“You must tell me the truth. Do I mean anything to you?"

"I don't know what you have done to me," I said, not looking at her. "I can't think of anything or anyone but you. You're in my blood. I'm crazy about you."

I had to stop. My mind boggled at the drivel I was talking, but it wasn't drivel to her. She sat looking at me, her eyes shining, her pinched little face transformed. They say love can make a woman look beautiful. Well nothing could make Vestal look beautiful, but right at that moment, in the soft light of the moon, she at least managed not to look ugly, and that was quite an achievement.

"You mean you—you want to marry me?" she said huskily.

"How can I?" I said curtly. "Let's stop this, Vestal." I started the car engine. "Marriage between us just wouldn't work. No matter how much I love you, I'll be damned if I will live on you."

I had got that line out of a soap opera Glorie and I used to listen to. I remember how we had howled with laughter when the big ham had come out with it. But Vestal didn't howl with laughter. She put her hand on mine and squeezed it lovingly.

"I hoped you would say that. I'm so proud of you, Chad. It is really me you want, isn't it?"

"Let's stop talking about it, Vestal."

She shook her head.

"We're not going to spoil our happiness because my money stands in the way," she said. "I'll think of a way out. Come and see me tomorrow. You must leave this to me."

I certainly would leave it to her so long as she didn't put her seventy million dollars in a big sack and sink it in the ocean.

"Well, all right, I'll come and see you tomorrow," I said, shrugging. "I'll come because I can't keep away from you. But let's forget about it, Vestal; at least we can be friends."

The big ham on the radio had said that too.

"You must leave this to me, Chad," she said and leaned towards me. "Kiss me, darling."

Ugh!

By the following afternoon the thing was settled.

Vestal wasn't taking any chances. She had the whole thing cut and dried when I called on her just before lunch.

I'm not going to say I was completely successful, but without raising her suspicions, I couldn't press for more.

If it hadn't been for the fact that I was now obsessed with the idea of getting complete control of those seventy million dollars, I should have considered I had done pretty well for myself. As it was I drove back to my apartment, slightly dissatisfied and feeling I hadn't played my cards as well as I might.

I stretched out on my bed and thought it over.

She must have been damned eager to marry me. Knowing her reputation for meanness, her offer was really handsome, and as I have already said, if it hadn't been for those seventy million dollars that were haunting me, I should have been completely set back on my heels by her generosity.

She proposed to give me complete control of the quarter of a million she had already agreed to put at my disposal for investment purposes. She realized, she went on, that I wouldn't want to accept the money as a gift, and to get around that difficulty she proposed to regard it as a loan. To make me easy in mind (those were her words, not mine) I should pay her the usual bank interest on the loan, but any profit I might make investing the money should go to me instead of to her.

That was fair enough. It was a bit of a letdown that she imagined I was so high minded that I wouldn't have accepted a loan without paying interest, but there it was.

A quarter of a million wasn't bad for a start. She then proposed that I should open offices and take over the whole of her affairs. She didn't want me to work office hours or anything like that. I was to engage a competent staff and I should just keep check on them; a couple of hours a day or something like that. The rest of the time (heaven help me!) I was to spend with her.

Having control of her estate meant that I should be able to make a nice income on the side for myself. It also meant that although I wouldn't have complete control of those seventy millions it would be possible to use them as stock and long term as securities against loans.