1955 - You've Got It Coming (22 page)

For the first few seconds while she was talking, Harry's fury nearly suffocated him. But he made an effort and fought down his rage. By the time she had finished, he was thinking again, and he was cold and alert. Okay, he told himself, so you're on the hook. What a fool he had been to think it could have worked out otherwise! He had been so used to Glorie doing just what he had wanted her to do, it had never crossed his mind that she would blackmail him.

“You can't do this to me, Glorie,” he said desperately. “It just won't work. I'd hate you for it. You wouldn't want to live with me, knowing I hated you, would you?”

“Why not?” she said, staring at him. “Why should I care? I'm considering myself. You don't love me anyway. I've got beyond thinking of what I want and what I don't want. This is my life: my future. I'm going ahead with this, and you can't talk me out of it. Hate me if you want to. It won't hurt me as much as it will hurt you. I intend to marry you because it will increase my security. If you go off with another woman, I'll divorce you, but I shall get alimony and damages from you and I shall keep the twenty-five thousand. I'm thinking of myself for a change. Something I've never done before.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, making an effort to keep control of himself. “Well, it looks like you're sitting pretty, doesn't it? Are you quite sure you're going ahead with this?”

She looked steadily at him.

“I'm quite sure.”

“Suppose I give you thirty thousand ? Will you get out of here and leave me alone?”

“No. I'm not changing my terms. Tomorrow morning you must arrange for the marriage licence; It'll take a week or so before we can get married, but I can wait. In the meantime go ahead and look for someone who'll sell you a partnership in this air-taxi business. I'll look too. If we can't find anything here, then we must move on until we do. I want you to transfer twenty-five thousand dollars to the West National Bank in my name and I want that done tomorrow. I don't think there is anything else for the moment. I think we should leave this motel and find somewhere cheaper to live. We might rent a furnished bungalow. I'll look into that tomorrow.” She got to her feet. “Shall we have dinner now? I think you said you were hungry.”

Harry tried his last shot.

“If you gave me away to the police, you would be in the soup too. They'd slap an accessory rap on you: you'd draw ten years.”

She moved past him to the door.

“Do you think I'd care? The only life I have before me is with you. If I haven't you, I wouldn't care what happened. Ten years in prison doesn't frighten me. At least I wouldn't be alone, not knowing where the money Was coming from to pay my rent. I'd know too they wouldn't put me in the death house as they would you.” She opened the door. “Are you coming?”

“You can't do this to me!” Harry shouted, losing control of himself. “I’ll make you damn well pay if you do. I'm warning you, Glorie! If you go ahead with this I'll fix you somehow!”

“There's no need to shout,” she said quietly. “Unless, of course, you want everyone to know you're on the hook and you don't like it.”

“I’ll fix you for this if it’s the last thing I do!” Harry shouted, glaring at her.

“It probably will be,” she said. “So long as you know what the consequences will be, you must please yourself.”

“Okay, but don't expect any mercy from me. It may take time, but you'll get what's coming to you. Make no mistake about that.”

“The window's open,” she said coldly. “They will hear you.”

She went out and shut the door after her.

Borg slid into the shadows as Glorie came out of the cabin.

She passed within a few yards of him, not seeing him and walked across to the brightly lighted restaurant.

He pushed his hat to the back of his head. The simplest thing to do would be to walk in and give it to the rat, but perhaps it was too simple. Borg had taken a liking to Miami, he was in no hurry to leave. He decided to wait a little longer. He was interested to see what Harry would do. Maybe he would think up a way of getting off the hook.

Inside the cabin, Harry remained motionless, sweat on his face, his heart hammering. He remained like that for several minutes, then he reached for his pack of cigarettes, lit one and stretched out on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, his face hard, his mind busy.

What was he to tell Joan? He must gain time. It would be fatal for Joan to talk to her father at this stage of the setup. If Glorie thought she could stand in his way like this, she was making a fatal mistake. No one was going to stand in his way now. The prize was too great. He loved Joan: there was a chance of marrying her. She would come into most of her father's money.

His life would be completely changed. He would have a business, a lovely wife and as much money as he could handle. Glorie wasn't going to block that. There was only one obvious solution to this, he told himself. Glorie would have to be silenced. Either that or he would have to knuckle under to her for the rest of his days and he wasn't going to do that. He didn't flinch from the thought of killing her. There was too much in the balance to think of flinching. After all, he was already wanted for murder. One more murder meant nothing to him now. It was her life or his future. He had already made up his mind about that while she had been talking.

She held all the tricks except one, and he held that: the winning trick. He would silence her. She had asked for it and it served her right.

For five minutes or so he lay still, his mind busy, then abruptly he swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He crushed out his cigarette, walked to the door, turned off the light and went out into the hot night.

Across the way was the brightly lit restaurant. He could see Glorie sitting at one of the tables in the bay windows. A waiter was serving her and she was speaking to him.

Harry walked down the path that led to the office, pushed open the door and made his way to a row of pay booths. He found Howard Graynor's number in the book, shut himself in a booth and dialled the number.

A man's voice said, “Graynor residence.”

“Will you tell Miss Graynor, Mr. Griffin is calling?”

“If you will hold on a moment, sir.”

Harry held on. He stared through the glass panel of the door at the tall, willowy redhead who leaned over the counter, making an entry in a ledger. From where he stood he could see down the front of her dress. He wasn't in the mood to appreciate What he saw.

“Hello, Harry. . .”

He straightened, turning his back on the redhead.

“Hello, Joan.” He tried to make his voice sound animated, but it didn't come off. “You were right. I've got trouble here. She isn't playing ball for the moment.”

“Oh, darling, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I can handle it, but I won't be able to rush it. She's after more money. Look, don't talk to your father just yet. I may have to give her more than I had planned and I may be short by the time I get rid of her. She's on to us, Joan. We'd better not meet until she's gone. I don't want to antagonize her. You understand, don't you?”

“I knew it, Harry. Look, couldn't I talk to her? I knew she would make trouble.”

“No. You must keep out of it,” Harry said. “I can take care of her. It's just a matter of money. She'll give me up if I pay her enough.”

“All right, darling. I won't say anything to Father until you're ready. When are we going to meet?”

“I’ll call you the moment she has gone. It may take a day or so, but I'm thinking of you and loving you. You know that.”

“Yes, Harry. I know it, and you know I'm thinking of you too. You're sure there's nothing I can do?”

“Nothing. I'll fix it. Give me a couple of days. I'll call you the moment I've got rid of her. I love you, Joan.”

“Oh, darling, I'm sorry about this. Don't do anything reckless, will you?”

He grinned mirthlessly.

“Of course not. It's just a matter of shelling out. I’ll get rid of her even if it costs me all I've got.”

“You mustn't do that, Harry. You'll want your money.”

“I’ll fix it: don't worry. I'll call you, sweetheart.”

He left the pay booth, walked down the path, across the road and on to the sands. He sat down under a palm tree, lit a cigarette and folded his hands on top of his knees.

Borg, who was sitting in his car twenty yards away, took his gun from its holster and laid the sight at Harry's head. It was a tempting target and he had to make a conscious effort not to squeeze the trigger.

Unaware that he was but a heartbeat away from death, Harry told himself that he now had to think of a foolproof plan to get rid of Glorie. The circumstances favoured him. They had only just arrived in Miami and no one knew them. Joan would be under the impression that Glorie had left town. Glorie had no relations nor friends who would want to know what had happened to her. That was important. It was usually an inquisitive relative who started a police enquiry. Glorie was alone. There was no one to care if she were alive or dead.

But he would have to be careful. He had beaten one murder rap. He must be sure not to make a mistake with this one. How was he to get rid of the body? That presented the greatest problem. He sat smoking for more than an hour while he considered what he had to do. At the end of the hour, he stood up, slapped the sand off his clothes and walked back to the motel. He went to the quick-snack bar, ordered a sandwich and a double whisky, and while he ate the sandwich, he went over in his mind the plan he had decided upon. There was an element of risk in it, but that was to be expected. At least it was simple and uncomplicated. But would she be on her guard? Would it occur to her that he might try to silence her? He would have to be careful how he handled her for the next twenty-four hours. His first move would be to lull any suspicions she might have. If he could do that, the rest was easy.

He asked the barman if he could lend him a large-scale map of the district. The barman found him one, and for twenty minutes or so, Harry studied the map. Then he finished his drink, returned the map, tipped the barman and walked over to the cabin.

There was a light showing in the window and he could see Glorie's shadow against the blind. As he walked in, closing the door behind him, Borg heaved himself out of his car and moved silently back to his post by the cabin window.

Glorie was slipping into her nightdress as Harry came in. For a brief moment he saw her white, well-made body before the silk garment covered it.

She didn't look at him, but walked over to the dressing table and began to brush her hair.

He took off his coat, undid the top button of his shirt and pulled off his tie.

“Glorie . . .”

“Yes?”

She didn't look around, but went on brushing her hair.

“I want to apologize,” Harry said. “I've acted like a heel. I'm sorry: I'm really sorry.”

She paused, the hairbrush stranded in midair, while she looked at him. Her big, dark eyes stared steadily at him. He had to make the effort to meet her gaze without flinching, but he did it.

“What exactly does that mean?” she asked, her voice low and cold.

“I've been sitting out there thinking,” he said and lit a cigarette. “I don't know what got into me to talk to you the way I talked to you, nor do I know what got into me to treat you as I have treated you. You are right, Glorie. I do owe everything to you. I've treated you damned badly and I'm sorry. I guess I've always been a fool about women. This kid knocked me off balance. There's been no other woman but you until she turned up. You know that. Now I've had time to think about her I realize what a fool I've been. You're right: she's only a kid. I was dazzled by her money, but I know now her old man would never let me get near her nor the money even if I wanted to, which I don't now.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, frowning. “You gave me a jolt, Glorie. It was what I wanted. I know now we two will be much better off working on this thing together without any outsider to help us. I might even teach you to fly. I've been making plans out there for us, Glorie. I want you to forgive me. I can't say how sorry I am to have treated you like this. It won't happen again.”

There, you smart bitch, he thought, swallow that lot, and if that's not enough to convince you, I've still got some more soft soap to feed you with.

“All right, Harry,” she said, still not looking at him. I’m glad you feel that way about it. You gave me a jolt too. Perhaps that's what we both needed.”

“Yeah.” He had to stifle the spark of anger that threatened to flare up. It had cost him a lot to make this speech; the effect on her was disappointing. He had expected to see her melt, but her face remained as set and as cold as before. “Well, what are we going to do? You're not going to keep me in the doghouse forever, are you? I'm sorry, and I mean it. It won't happen again: I promise you that.”

She put down the hair brush and stared at herself in the mirror.

“And I'm sorry and ashamed I had to threaten you,” she said. “I love you. You mean more to me than any other man can ever mean. I hate myself for holding this thing over your head, but for both our sakes, Harry, I've got to do it. You have had the chance to be the boss of this partnership. You haven't done very well, have you? Now it's my turn to see what I can do.”

“That's right,” Harry said. He had to fight the urge to get up, cross the room and slap her face. “I'm glad in a way you're taking charge, Glorie. You've always been just that bit smarter than I've been. But look, I've been doing some thinking out there and it seems to me we'd be sensible if we left Miami instead of staying on here. I’m going to be frank with you. I want to get away from temptation. This girl may try to hang on to me. Anyway, we're bound to run into her if we stay on here and I don't ever want to see her again. Let's clear out tomorrow. I'll buy a car and we can chuck our things in it and go. I thought we might have a look at New Orleans. What do you say?”

That was his trump card and he watched her closely, waiting for her reaction. Surely this should prove to her that he was sincere, he told himself. She was looking at him. He could see she was still a little doubtful, but she was melting. He could tell by the expression in her eyes.