One Bright Summer Morning
- Автор: Чейз Джеймс Хэдли
- Год: 1963
- Язык: английский
- Год: Robert Hale
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «One Bright Summer Morning». Краткое содержание книги:
By now Chita had lifted the hood of the car. She was wearing a blue and white cotton dress, bought with Kramer’s money for this occasion and her dyed hair was tied neatly back with a piece of blue ribbon. She looked like any average American girl you see in their thousands.
Unlike Moe and her brother, Chita had entered into this affair with complete confidence. Already she was planning what they would do when they had the ten thousand dollars promised them. It never occurred to her, in spite of Riff’s uneasiness, that the job could turn sour.
As Zelda got out of her car to open the gate, she stared enviously at Chita. She saw by the hard nipples pushing against the cheap material of Chita’s dress that this girl wasn’t wearing these wretchedly uncomfortable “falsies” that she was forced to wear.
“Can you help me?” Chita asked, her smile wide and friendly. “There’s something wrong with the ignition. Is there a garage near here?”
Watching and listening, Moe nodded his head with approval. Chita was giving a natural and acceptable performance.
Zelda liked the look of this girl. She was from a world in which she never had the chance of mixing. The girl interested her.
“There’s a garage along the highway. I’ll take you there... get in.”
It was as easy as that.
As Chita slid into the car, she said, “Gee! What a beaut! Is it yours?”
Zelda nodded as she pressed the starter.
“Yes... you like it?”
“I bet it does over a hundred.”
This was the wrong thing to have said for Zelda was a showoff. With her foot gently squeezing the gas pedal, Zelda slid through the gears. The car surged forward, and within seconds the speedometer needle was flicking around one hundred and thirty-five miles an hour.
Moe who was about to get into the Lincoln saw the Jag literally vanish from sight. Cursing, he started the Lincoln and swung out on to the highway.
Realizing that Moe couldn’t possibly catch up with them at this speed, Chita put her hands to her face and screamed, “It’s too fast! Please! It’s too fast!”
Zelda laughed. She delighted in scaring anyone with speed. She slowed down until they were moving at a sedate seventy miles an hour.
“Did it really scare you? I often drive as fast as that... I adore speeding!”
“I thought I did,” Chita said and looked over her shoulder through the rear window. There was no sign of Moe. “But... that was too fast!” She paused, then went on. “It’s some car! You wouldn’t be going to San Bernadino, would you? I have a date... I’m late already.”
“That’s where I am going,” Zelda said, “but we can stop off at the garage and get them to fix your car. They can drive it to San Bernadino for you.”
Chita could see the Shell sign ahead of them. Quickly she said, “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get a taxi back. I really want to get to S.B. as soon as I can. I’m late already.”
Zelda shrugged and zipped the Jaguar past the service station. Then, glancing in the driving mirror, she exclaimed, “Oh hell! Not again!”
“What is it?” Chita asked sharply.
“A damn speed cop,” Zelda said in disgust. “Sorry, but I’d better stop,” and she slowed, pulled to the side of the road and stopped. A moment later, a big, red-faced cop pulled up beside the car.
Chita sat motionless, her hands clenched tightly between her knees. She kept her face turned slightly away from the cop as he got off his motor-cycle and leaned into the car.
“Morning, Miss Van Wylie,” he said with a beaming smile. “You were clocking a hundred and thirty just now. Sorry, but I’ve got to book you.”
“Oh the hell with you and your wife and your children!” Zelda snapped. “Go ahead and book me! I hope you fall off your lump of iron and break your neck!”
The cop laughed.
“Sure, Miss Van Wylie, but for Pete’s sake relax with the gas on this highway.” He scribbled on a pad and gave her a ticket. “Your Pa okay, Miss Van Wylie?”
“As if you care,” Zelda said and made a face at him. “He’ll hate you worse than he does already when he hears of this.”
The cop laughed again. It gave him a kick to hand a speeding ticket to one of the richest girls in the world. He knew Zelda well. He gave her a ticket at least once a week. His small, cop eyes shifted to Chita and they hardened. He stared for a long moment and Chita turned her head slowly and looked directly at him. For a brief moment, she felt suddenly small and naked under the probing, hard eyes, then forcing down this feeling of fear, she looked away.
The cop stepped back, giving an elaborate salute.
“Sorry to have stopped you, Miss Van Wylie, but you know how it is.”
“Oh, go jump in the sea, Murphy,” Zelda said and smiled. As she pulled once more on to the highway, Moe, in the Lincoln, came upon them. He kept going, driving past them, seeing the cop and feeling a clutch of fear at his heart.
Zelda said sharply, “That looks like your car.”
They were now moving at a sedate forty miles an hour. Chita shook her head.
“My car? How could it be?”
Zelda looked puzzled, then she shrugged.
“I thought it looked like your car. What a bore about that cop! He’ll follow me now all the way to S.B. I know him. He’s a damned sadist. He loves booking me.”
They were now climbing the hill to San Bernadino.
Chita hesitated. She looked back. In the distance she could see the cop was following them; this could be dangerous. Maybe the cop would turn back once they reached the city. She opened her handbag and took out the flat flask Kramer had given her.
Zelda said, “What have you got there?”
With a sudden vicious note in her voice, Chita told her.
For several seconds Vic Dermott stared down at his bloodstained shoe, then with a little grimace of disgust, he flicked the shoe off his foot.
Carrie had sat down abruptly on the bed.
“It’s blood, isn’t it?” she asked in a tremulous voice.
“It could be... I don’t know. Come on, Carrie, don’t just sit there! Let’s get going!”
The note of urgency in his voice forced Carrie to her feet.
“I’m nearly ready... Vic... it is blood, isn’t it?”
Vic put on another pair of shoes. He was trying to remember where he could have picked up the blood that had stained his shoe. He was sure he would have noticed the blood if it had been out in the open. It must have been in the cabin, he told himself. Had Di-Long been hurt?
“Yes, I think so. Let’s not talk about it now. Let’s...” He stopped as he heard a sound that set him alert. It was the unmistakable sound of the door of the refrigerator closing.
“Did you hear that?” Carrie whispered, her eyes growing round. “There’s someone in the kitchen!”
Vic hurriedly completed lacing his shoe, then he straightened. They looked at each other.
“Sounded like the refrig door shutting,” he said, a little unnerved.
“It was! Oh, Vic! Someone’s in the house!”
“All right... all right,” Vic said. “Now don’t get scared. You wait here. I’ll go and see.”
“No... you mustn’t! Stay with me!”
“Darling... please...”
Moving silently, he went to the door of the bedroom which stood ajar. He listened, heard nothing, then looking over his shoulder, he said softly, “Stay with Junior,” and then walked quickly and silently across the lobby to the kitchen door.
He paused in the doorway, his heart skipping a beat. The sight of Riff Crane in his shabby leather outfit and his scarred face, as he sat on the kitchen table gnawing at the leg of a chicken would have shaken men with much better nerves than Vic possessed.
Vic stood motionless, his heart now thumping and a cold wave of blood crawling up his spine.