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:
Vic and Carrie exchanged glances, then controlling his anger, Vic sat down. He reached for a cigarette, lit it as he eyed the big, red-faced man.
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’m in need of an explanation.”
“I’ve been lucky enough to have kidnapped one of the richest girls in the world,” Kramer said, his face splitting into a wide grin. “I reckon she is worth four million dollars to her father. This place struck me as the ideal headquarters to negotiate the ransom and an excellent place in which to hide the girl. I am being as brief as I can, Mr. Dermott. I have picked on you to talk to the girl’s father and to convince him to pay up without a fuss. You will also collect the money and bring it to me.”
Vic stiffened. He began to say something but stopped as he saw Kramer’s evil little eyes staring fixedly at Carrie.
After a pause, Kramer went on, “I understand you have a baby... a boy?” He looked across the room where Junior was sleeping. “I like babies. The last thing I want is for kids to run into trouble. Know what I mean?”
Carrie put her hand on Vic’s. Her skin felt hot and dry.
“I think so... if I don’t do what you want,” Vic said evenly, “you’ll take it out of the baby... that’s it, isn’t it?”
Kramer smiled expansively.
“I like dealing with a man like you, Mr. Dermott. You’re quick, intelligent and reasonable. This fellow, Riff... he’s dangerous, and he’s a little out of my control. I’m afraid he pushed you around.” There was a threatening pause, then Kramer went on, “He doesn’t give a damn who he pushes around: a man, a woman or even a baby.”
Vic thought of Riff. He was one of those morons spewed up from the gutter capable of anything. All he was now concerned about was to keep Carrie and Junior safe.
“If I think I can persuade Van Wylie to pay up, I’ll try,” he said evenly.
Kramer’s eyes narrowed.
“Who said anything about Van Wylie?” There was a dangerous snarl in his voice.
“I recognized the girl,” Vic said impatiently. “She’s a well-known personality. What do you want me to do?”
“No, Vic!” Carrie said. “You...”
Vic shook his head at her. The expression in his steady eyes brought her to abrupt silence. He turned once more to Kramer who was easing his bulk in his chair.
“You won’t have any trouble,” Kramer said. “All you have to do is to talk to Van Wylie and convince him that if he doesn’t pay up, he’s not seeing his daughter again. I have an idea he’ll be pretty easy to convince. I want him to give you ten certified cheques for four hundred thousand dollars each. Signed by a man of Van Wylie’s financial weight there’ll be no difficulty in cashing cheques for that amount. It will be your job, Mr. Dermott, to go to various banks and cash these cheques. I’ll give you a list of the banks: they are well spread out and you will have no trouble. Then you will hand the money to me. I will immediately release Miss Van Wylie and you will be free to get on with your play.” He grinned. “Not very difficult, is it?”
“I suppose not,” Vic said quietly.
Kramer stared for a long moment at him, his face a sudden ugly, hard mask.
“If you fail to convince Van Wylie that he must pay up, that he is not to bring the police into this, that he will never see his daughter again if he tries anything smart, then your wife and baby will land in real trouble. I want you to understand this. The money is important to me. I need it. I am in a position that does not allow for any sentiment. I assure you if things go wrong whether through your fault or Van Wylie’s obstinacy, the first persons to suffer will be your wife and baby.” Kramer leaned forward, his eyes bloodshot and cold. “I want you to imagine what a slob like Riff would do to a baby. He likes handling someone who can’t hit back. You are a man of imagination. You should know what I am driving at. I assure you if we fall down on this plan, I will simply withdraw and leave you all to Riff. So be very careful, Mr. Dermott. Understand?” He got to his feet. “I’ll leave you two to talk it over. Tomorrow morning I expect you to see Van Wylie. It will take you three days to collect the money. Then you will return here. If all goes well, you won’t see us again. If there is trouble...” He shrugged his shoulders and started to the door.
Vic said, “Wait. What’s happened to my servant?”
Kramer paused, his hand on the door handle.
“Nothing’s happened to him. He’s all right.”
“I don’t believe it,” Vic said, getting to his feet. “There’s blood in his sleeping quarters... he’s disappeared.”
Kramer’s face hardened. He opened the door.
“Riff!” His deep, heavy voice resounded through the ranch house.
There was a moment’s delay, then Riff lounged into the lobby. He eyed Kramer.
“You want me?”
“The Vietnamese? What’s happened to him?” Kramer demanded.
Riff jerked his thumb towards the staff cabin.
“He’s in there,” he said.
“He’s lying!” Vic exclaimed. “He is not there!”
Riff grinned evilly at him.
“You want another poke in your puss, palsy?”
“Belt up!” Kramer snapped. He went out of the room. After staring at Vic for a long moment, Riff followed him. Out in the lobby, Kramer said, “What happened to the yellow-skin?”
“He got excited,” Riff said casually. “I had to give him a little poke. He bled a bit, but he’s okay now.”
Kramer grunted. He had too much on his mind to worry about a Vietnamese servant.
Moe came from the living room and Kramer beckoned to him.
“I’ll stay the night. There’s room for me, isn’t there?”
“Sure,” Moe said. “There’s plenty of room.”
“Where’s the Van Wylie girl?”
“Chita’s taking care of her.”
“No chance of her getting away?”
“It’s a fifteen-mile walk to the highway. No chance at all. This is the perfect setup.”
As the two men walked into the living room, still talking, Riff wandered out onto the veranda and sat down. He stared bleakly at the spot, some hundred yards from where he was sitting, where he had buried Di-Long.
It was not until after midnight that the Cranes got together alone for the first time since the kidnapping.
Riff was sitting in the bamboo lounging chair at the far end of the veranda where he could watch all the windows of the rooms where the Dermotts and Zelda were sleeping.
Chita came out of the shadows and joined him. She sat on the floor at his feet and took the cigarette he handed to her.
“What’s biting you?” she asked as she moved her head forward to light the cigarette from the match flame he had struck alight. “That girl?”
Riff moved uneasily. It always irritated him that Chita could probe into his most secret thoughts. He made a sneering grimace.
“Think she worries me?”
“Yes... I think she might.”
“Screw it! No skirt has ever worried me.”
There was a long silence while they both smoked. Knowing something was wrong, Chita waited. Her brother always got around to his troubles in his own time. She never attempted to rush him. But after some ten minutes had gone by in silence, she said, “Well, I guess I’ll turn in. Zegetti’s relieving you, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Riff hesitated then as Chita began to move, he went on, “That yellow-skin. .”
Here it comes, Chita thought, as she sank back on the veranda floor.
“Shouldn’t we give him something to eat?” she said. “I’ve forgotten about him. He must be hungry.”
“Think so? I don’t.” Riff eased the neckband of his shirt with a dirty finger. “He’s dead.”