The Paw in the Bottle
- Автор: Чейз Джеймс Хэдли
- Год: 1949
- Язык: английский
- Год: Jarrolds
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «The Paw in the Bottle». Краткое содержание книги:
‘Hey, miss, is this fella annoying you?’ asked a hard voice from the bottom of the stairs.
They looked into the lobby. A big man in a slouch hat and raincoat was looking up at them. Harry recognized him as a plain-clothes man from Savile Row station and he hurriedly released Julie.
‘It’s all right,’ Julie said, scared. She ran down the stairs, passed the detective and on into the street.
‘Watch it, fella,’ the detective said to Harry. ‘Or you and me’ll take a little walk.’
Harry said, ‘I’ll watch it,’ and went back into the club.
III
While Harry was trying to persuade Julie that he loved her, Mrs. French was discussing the last details of the robbery with Theo. She was sitting at her desk by the window. The waning sunlight reflected on her ear-rings, making dancing patterns on her blotter.
Theo sprawled in the arm-chair facing her, his furry hat crushed down over his ears. He never seemed conscious of his looks. It didn’t cross his mind that he could improve his appearance if he made an effort. He seemed to go out of his way to make himself look as moronic and hideous as he could. Sitting there, his ears bent down under the hat, a long greasy strand of hair across his eyes, a sullen, hateful expression on his fat, spotty face, he looked like an exaggerated cartoon of a gangster.
Mrs. French had already arranged about what car should be used for the robbery, and now a sudden silence fell between them. Mrs. French brooded out of the window, a cold look in her eyes. Theo picked his nose, twisting his mouth out of shape as he dug a dirty finger-nail into his nostril.
‘There’s nothing else, is there?’ Mrs. French asked suddenly without looking round.
Theo grinned to himself.
‘There’s the girl — Julie Whatshername,’ he said, and stretched his legs out and regarded his dusty shoes thoughtfully. ‘Harry’s soft on her.’
‘I wonder if she’ll talk.’ Mrs. French said as if she were thinking aloud. ‘This is a big job. It’ll be worth eight thousand apiece. If she talks...’
‘You’re not going over all that again, are you?’ Theo asked sharply. ‘I said I’d fix her: I will.’
Mrs. French watched a car draw away from the kerb opposite. The girl who was driving had a cigarette-holder nearly a foot long clenched between her teeth. Mrs. French thought she looked ridiculous.
‘But now Harry’s gone soft on her I’ll need help,’ Theo went on.
Mrs. French turned her head, surveyed him with bleak eyes.
‘What kind of help?’
‘The way I figure it,’ Theo said, ‘is like this.’ As he spoke, he undid his waistcoat, pushed his hand through the opening of his shirt and scratched his ribs viciously. ‘Harry pulls the job and sends the furs down to me by the service lift. Then he ties the girl up and leaves her. He comes down the front way with the sparklers. I’ll put the furs in the car, but Dana must do the driving. It’s a three-handed job now, see?’
Mrs. French saw all right, but she made out she didn’t.
‘I don’t want Dana mixed up in this,’ she said brusquely. ‘You’ve always driven before.’
Theo stared at her.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ he demanded crossly. ‘I’ve got to look after the girl, haven’t I?’ His nails clawed at his ribs again.
‘And just how are you going to look after her?’ Mrs. French inquired.
‘I’ll come up the service lift, wait until Harry gets out, go in there, untie her and shove her in the safe. When they find her they’ll think she got trapped like it says in that paper she gave us.’
Mrs. French continued to look out of the window. ‘That’s murder, Theo,’ she said, as if to herself.
Theo picked his nose.
‘It’ll be an accident,’ he said after a little thought. ‘Anyway that’s how it’ll look.’
‘I’m not saying it isn’t a good idea,’ Mrs. French said. ‘I think it’s smart. There isn’t any other way we can be sure she won’t talk. But I don’t stand for murder, Theo.’
Theo wasn’t impressed. He took off his wreck of a hat, peered into it, found a crumpled packet of Player’s Weights inside, selected one that was less greasy than the others, lit it, put his hat on again.
‘I want to spend some of that dough,’ he said, blowing a long stream of smoke down his nostrils. ‘Like you said, if she talks I won’t ’ave a fat lot of time for spending: nor will you or Dana.’
‘Or Harry,’ Mrs. French said generously.
‘I don’t care a lot what happens to Harry,’ Theo said. ‘I’d like to get even with that—’
Mrs. French flinched.
‘I won’t listen to such language. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.’
‘Oh, I am,’ Theo said, and began to scratch himself again.
There was another long pause, then Mrs. French said: ‘He’s going to the States, anyway.’
Theo sneered.
‘Can’t you get your mind off Harry? We’re talking about the girl.’
Mrs. French shook her head.
‘I don’t want to know anything about her. I don’t stand for murder.’
Theo eyed her a little doubtfully. He wasn’t quite sure if she were serious or not.
‘Don’t I keep telling you it’ll be an accident?’ he persisted, swore under his breath as his skin began to irritate again.
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Mrs. French said shortly, added after a pause: ‘You’ll have a bigger share than Harry and Dana. Another fifteen hundred.’
Theo brightened and grinned to himself.
‘Make it two thou while you’re about it. It’s worth that.’
‘Fifteen hundred,’ Mrs. French said obstinately. ‘I’ve got to explain to Harry.’
‘No you ’aven’t. We’ll make the new split after I’ve done the job. He can’t object then: it’ll be too late.’
‘All right; two thousand,’ Mrs. French said.
Theo nodded.
‘And Dana to drive?’
‘I don’t see why you can’t drive.’ Mrs. French avoided Theo’s eyes. ‘But if you say you can’t I suppose Dana will have to do it.’
‘What are you going round the point for? We’ve got no witnesses. You want me to do it, don’t you?’
‘I said it was a smart idea,’ Mrs. French said cautiously. ‘I said it seemed to me it was the only way to stop her talking, but I also said I didn’t stand for murder. Let’s drop it, Theo.’
‘I still get the two thousand and Dana drives?’
Mrs. French nodded.
‘All right,’ Theo said, getting to his feet. ‘You drop it. I’ll think about it.’
When he had gone, Mrs. French sat for a long time, staring out of the window. Then Dana came in.
‘All alone?’ she asked. ‘Theo gone?’
Mrs. French grunted.
‘Got it fixed?’ Dana went on, looking at her mother with questioning eyes.
‘Everything,’ Mrs. French said abruptly.
‘That Holland girl worries me,’ Dana said, sitting on the edge of her mother’s desk. She massaged the red mark where her garter had bitten into her flesh above her knee.
‘Don’t let her worry you,’ Mrs. French returned, without turning from the window. ‘You’ll have to drive the car.’
Dana’s eyebrows shot up.
‘Why? Can’t Theo drive the car? Isn’t that what was arranged?’
Mrs. French got to her feet.
‘Theo says he’s got something more important to do,’ she said and ear-rings bobbed in the sunlight. ‘I don’t know what he’s got to do and I’m not going to ask and I don’t want you to ask either.’
Dana stared at her for a moment, then she lost some of her colour.