She looked at me.
‘Do you still want to go ahead?’
Did I? I hesitated. I thought of all that money. I thought of going to Rome with Marian.
‘Yes.’
‘Then don’t waste time.’
She crossed her wrists and held them out towards me. I hadn’t warned her what I was about to do. That was a small bit of the plan she didn’t know about. I didn’t want to do it, but I knew I had to. The setup just had to look convincing.
I moved a little to one side as if I were going to pick up the cords on the table. Then I balled my right fist, set myself and slammed a punch at her jaw.
The light was bad and I was flustered. Instead of hitting her where I intended to hit her, my fist thudded against her cheekbone, just below her right eye. She went down as if she were pole-axed, but I hadn’t knocked her out as I had intended to do. She gave a thin, strangled scream as she rolled over on the dusty floor. Her white hat fell off, her skirts rode up above her knees.
I felt sweat running down my back and my breath was coming out of my mouth like the hiss of steam.
‘You devil!’ she screamed at me.
Down there on the floor she was in the full light of the flash beam. As she got up on hands and knees, her lips drawn off her teeth, she looked as vicious as a wild cat.
I don’t think I have ever been more rattled. She looked as if she were going to kill me.
I waited until she was rising, then I stepped in, chopped her hands down with my left and hung a right-hand punch on the side of her jaw, hitting her with all my weight behind the punch.
Her head snapped back and she crashed against the leg of the table, sending the table skidding against the wall. She lay on her side, her legs sprawled, her arms above her head.
I stood over her, panting, my heart hammering so violently I could scarcely breathe. Then I bent over her, hooked my fingers in the neck of her frock and ripped it down to her waist. I rolled her over on her face, pulled her arms behind her and roped her wrists. All this time I kept on my gloves and it wasn’t easy tying the knots, but I didn’t take the gloves off. I roped her ankles, then going over to her handbag, I took out the silk scarf I had told her to bring with her and tied it tightly over her mouth.
She was breathing heavily, her eyes shut, the muscles in her face slack. She looked convincing all right. Already an ugly red patch was showing below her right eye. There was another bruise on her jaw. Her ripped dress was crumpled and dusty. In her fall she had torn the knees out of her nylon stockings. I took off one of her shoes.
That completed the picture. It would be a damned suspicious cop who would imagine that it was she who had engineered the kidnapping of her husband. She looked as I wanted her to look: a woman who had been handled by a couple of vicious thugs.
I emptied the contents of her purse on the floor. She had about thirty dollars in small bills and I put them in my pocket, leaving the rest of the stuff.
Time was moving. I didn’t like leaving her there to come to in the dark, but I had to. Although I had hit her harder than I had intended, I didn’t think she would remain out for more than a few minutes.
I took the flashlight and went quickly out of the room, closing the door behind me. I went down the passage, pulled the entrance door shut and hurried over to the Rolls. I put the camel-hair coat and the hat in the suitcase which already held Dester’s shoes and suit. I dumped the suitcase in the boot, then I took from my pocket one of those clip-on moustaches you buy at a novelty store and attached it to my upper lip. I had a check cap in my hip pocket. This I put on and pulled well down over my eyes. I took a look at myself in the driving mirror.
Then I headed for the highway.
At twenty minutes past one o’clock I drove through the gateway of Dester’s residence and parked the Buick outside the garage. I looked towards the house. One lone light showed in Marian’s bedroom window. I got out of the Buick and went up to my apartment. I washed my face and hands, then poured myself out a stiff shot of whisky. I was feeling pretty bad, shaking and scared, but I had had a lot of luck. I had passed only two cars on the way back to Hollywood, and they were going fast. I had ditched the Rolls in a side street not too far from the street where I had left the Buick and no one had seen me leave the car. I had taken the suitcase to a bus station and had left it in the left-luggage office. The guy who gave me the ticket was sleepy and scarcely looked at me. He had tossed the suitcase on a shelf alongside a dozen other cases, and by the time he had turned, I was halfway to the door. I had torn up the ticket and had thrown it away.
On my way back to the Buick I had dumped the check cap in a trash bin and dropped the moustache down a drain.
The car-park attendant had gone home and the parking lot was deserted. There were only three other cars, besides the Buick there, and no one saw me drive the Buick away.
I felt better after the drink, and better still when I had had another. I sat down in an armchair and waited.
While I waited I thought about Helen out there in the hut, the cords biting into her wrists and ankles, her face aching like hell and I felt pretty low. Maybe I shouldn’t have hit her. I could have roughed her up a little instead of slamming into her as I had done. But I knew it had to be convincing. I was sure when she had got over it, she would agree I had done right, but I worried all the same.
I sat there, sweating it out until half past two. Then just as I was getting out of the chair to go over to the house, the telephone bell rang.
The sound of the bell pretty nearly made me hit the ceiling. For a long moment I stared at the telephone, my heart thudding and my skin toning clammy. Then I walked over to it and lifted the receiver.
‘Glyn?’
I recognized Marian’s voice.
‘Yes. I was just coming over.’
‘I’m worried. Mrs. Dester hasn’t come.’
‘I know. I dozed off, then woke up and went down to see if the Rolls was in the garage. I’m coming over.’ I hung up, took another shot of Scotch, then leaving the apartment, I went over to the house.
I found Marian in a dressing gown waiting for me in the lounge.
‘Do you think there’s been an accident?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. She’s probably staying the night at the sanatorium.’
‘But she said she would be back tonight.’
‘She may have changed her mind.’
Marian moved restlessly about the room. I tried to appear casual, and I crossed over to the bar for a cigarette.
‘Don’t you think you should call the sanatorium, Glyn? Something may have happened to Mr. Dester. He was pretty shaky.’
‘You saw him then?’
My heart was thudding again. I was careful not to look at her as I lit my cigarette.
‘Yes, I saw him. Please call the sanatorium. I have a feeling something’s wrong.’
‘Okay.’
I put the call through. I got the night supervisor who told me that although they were expecting Dester, he hadn’t shown up. I thanked him and replaced the receiver.
‘They haven’t arrived?’ Marian asked, alarm in her eyes.
‘No. It looks as if they’ve either had a breakdown or an accident.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘This is tricky. I don’t know what to do. Dester’s supposed to be in New York. If it gets out he is going into a sanatorium, his creditors will move in. He owes thousands.’
‘But you must tell the police. They may know something.’
‘We should have heard if they had.’
‘They may be lying somewhere on the road. You must call the police, Glyn.’
‘There’s certain to be some damned newspaper man who’ll pick it up.’
‘You must call them! You just can’t do nothing!’