then it was taken to the Horsham mortuary and destroyed by fire
before Bradley could see it. Got all that?”
“Complicated, but smart,” Ullman said, nodding his head. “Then
what?”
Bix groaned. “You’re a whale for punishment,” he said, sneaking
my whisky and drinking it before I could stop him. “Me—I’ve had
about enough.”
“The next bit’s interesting,” I promised. “It shows how clever I
am.”
“We’d better stay for that,” Bix said to Crystal, “otherwise he’ll
stick us for the check.”
“Bradley had given Netta five thousand pounds’ worth of bonds as
a wedding present,” I went on. “He was anxious to get the money
back. Frankie had been into the flat and had hunted for the bonds but
had failed to find them. I found them, and suspecting that I had them,
Frankie attacked me, but I beat him off.”
“You can imagine how pleased Corridan was when I presented
him not only with the bonds but also with the Luger,” I continued. “He
cooked up a yarn about the bonds being forgeries, and that the Luger
belonged to a guy called Peter Utterly. Fred checked all this, found
there was no such person as Utterly, and more important still that
there was no such person as Anne Scott, although Corridan had told
me her record was in Somerset House.”
“I have two profound observations to make at this point,” Harry
Bix broke in. “The first is that Corridan seems to have made a
complete monkey out of you, and the second is that Fred seems to
have done all the dirty work.”
I nodded, grinned. “Correct,” I said. “Applause for Mr. Ul man.”
Crystal was so carried away that she kissed Ullman, who blinked
at her, wiped off the lipstick, said, “Well, that’s quite an experience.
Perhaps I’ve been missing things. The only woman who ever kissed
me was my mother.”
“You ought to be sorry for her,” Crystal said. “But I do like the
taste of your shaving-cream.”
“Shut up, you two,” Bix said, scowling.
“To continue,” I said firmly. “The real give-away as far as Corridan
was concerned was the murder of Madge Kennitt. I saw him after I
had left Madge’s flat to get her a bottle of whisky. I spotted Corridan
outside the house, then when I returned I found Madge dead. She had
written Jacobi’s name in the dust, hoping it would give me a clue,
which, of course, it did. Corridan arrived with his dicks, spotted the
writing and blotted it out, hoping I hadn’t seen it.”
“But you had,” Bix said. “Let’s have some more whisky. The
excitement is making me feel faint.”
“I’d seen it all right,” I went on, ignoring him, “and Fred put me on
to the facts of the Jacobi case. Merryweather, the private dick I had
hired, told Corridan that a black and yellow Bentley car had been seen
at the cottage. I’ve traced the car to Corridan. He realized that he’d
have to get rid of it, and sold it to a guy called Peter French. I
happened to call on French and see the car, and Corridan found out
that I’d seen it. He got Netta to try to persuade me that French was
the killer of Madge Kennitt and I nearly fell for it.
“Well, the pace was getting too hot for Corridan. He decided to
get the loot out of the country. I could help there, and Netta was the
obvious choice to carry the stuff. Corridan had a showdown with
Bradley, told him Netta was alive, and she was to take the loot to
America. Bradley didn’t like the idea, but Corridan had too much on
him to raise objections. The loot was handed over to Netta, and she
began to work on me. I played into their hands by taking Bradley’s
rings, and then getting myself hooked up with Littlejohns’ murder.
Cole helped by pretending to blackmail me, and I played it to look as if
I was being stampeded to leave the country.”
“I believe the end’s in sight,” Crystal said, sighing with relief.
“It is,” I said. “I arranged with Harry to kid Netta into thinking he
would fly us to the States . . .”
“And a very fine job I made of it, too,” Bix said, beaming.
“I gave O’Malley the facts and he nabbed Cole, and laid a trap for
Corridan. As luck would have it, Corridan heard that Cole had been
arrested and guessed something had gone wrong with his plans. He
about to leave for the airport. I think his idea was to knock me off and
get Netta to persuade Harry to take her and Corridan to the States.”
“As if I would,” Bix said scornfully.
“Anyway, O’Malley was listening in and Corridan walked into the
trap,” I concluded. “If those two don’t swing, I’ll be surprised.”
“You mean you thought all that out without any help?” Crystal
said, gazing at me with unconcealed admiration. “I’m proud of you,
precious. I should never have thought it of you.”
“Come on,” I said, signalling the waiter, “let’s get out of here. If
you two fellows haven’t anything better to do, amuse yourselves;
Crystal is going to amuse me—alone.”
“Give me five minutes, precious,” she said, getting to her feet.
“I’m going to powder my nose and then I’ll be very amusing.”
When she had gone Ullman glanced at his watch, got to his feet.
“I’ve got to write this story,” he said. “You two guys keep each other
company. Say good-bye to Miss Godwin for me, will you? So long and
thanks for the details.”
Bix made a move to follow him, but I grabbed his arm.
“Listen, lug,” I said, “you stick around where I can see you. I want
you to stay right here until Crystal comes back, then I want you to
fade quietly away.”
“What makes you think she cares for you, you sap?” Bix
demanded heatedly. “Why, I’ll have her eating out of my hand if I can
get her alone for two minutes.”
“It may surprise you to know she’s not that kind of a girl,” I said
with dignity. “Moreover, she eats off a plate, and if you start anything
I don’t like I’ll make you think the war’s started again.”
We sat glowering at each other for half an hour, then we both
became uneasy.
“Now I wonder where she’s got to,” I said, looking towards the
grill-room door. “No sign of her. She can’t be powdering her nose all
this time.”
I saw suspicion and alarm in Bix’s eyes.
“You don’t think that rat . . . ?” he began.
I jumped to my feet, made a dash into the lobby with Bix on my
heels. There was no sign of her out there. I went up to the hall-porter,
asked him if he had seen her.
“Miss Godwin left about twenty minutes ago, sir,” he said, “with
Mr. Ullman. I believe Mr. Ullman was saying something about showing
her his Press cuttings.”
“And I was going to show her my tattoo marks,” Bix wailed.
I tapped him on the chest. “It was the bags under that rat’s eyes
and his talk about his mother that did it,” I said savagely. “The gir
l’s
dissolute.”
“I like ‘em that way, don’t you?” Bix asked, leading me towards
the bar.
I said I did.
THE END
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Document ID: b9810947-216b-48a3-9f41-a047ef1f9f29
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Document creation date: 4.10.2013
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James Hadley Chase
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