Nothing to Lose But My Life Read online

  The front door was on latch. I went in, locking the door and slipping on the night chain carefully. Enid called out, “I’m in the tub, Lowry. There’s a drink on the bar.”

  I got it. “Want one?”

  “Not tonight.” She sounded cheerful, chipper. “Not after last night.”

  I went into the bath on her insistence. She was up to her neck in bubbles. I sat down and fumbled out a cigarette. “Hung over?” I tried to sound sympathetic.

  She smiled with a faint sadness. “No, but I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?”

  “That’s an unfair question.”

  “But I did chase you away—acting like I did?”

  “Let’s say counsel moved for a postponement,” I said.

  “As long as he doesn’t move for adjournment,” she answered.

  I set my drink down and leaned forward, kissing her lightly. I backed off before a pair of foam-covered arms could catch me. “Enjoy your bath,” I admonished her.

  She wriggled under the bubbles. “This is fun.”

  Here we go again, I thought. I wished she would stick to being one person, and I preferred she be Enid Proctor, gambling shill, to Enid Proctor, college girl with a crush.

  “You said you wanted to talk. I still have a cab waiting, remember?”

  She pouted. “I thought you might stay and let me cook you dinner.”

  “Too much to do,” I said. “I had it in mind to buy you a steak later tonight.”

  “Oh, and then say good night from the front porch?”

  This was it. I said, “No, nor from the bedroom door either.”

  That was what she wanted. She wriggled some more. “All right, I’ll be as quick as I can. Light a cigarette and give me a puff, Lowry.”

  I did, holding the cigarette to her lips. She blew a fat smoke ring, lifted one slim leg from the water and stabbed the hole in the ring with her big toe. She let the leg flop back and giggled.

  I didn’t say anything. Finally she started talking. Then it was all right. Everything came out in one piece, coherently. “Nikke called me this afternoon, and he called me again about a half hour ago.”

  A half hour ago. That would be just after I talked with Hoop. “What did he want?”

  “I’m telling you. The first time he wanted to know how my contact with you came out. I told him that things were working out fine but that I needed more time.”

  “Good girl.”

  She wriggled like a seal. “He told me to keep on the way I was.”

  “And how was that supposed to be?”

  “You know, to soften you up and get information from you on what you intended to do here. That’s what Jake told me to do.”

  “And pass this on to Nikke?”

  “Yes.” She nodded as if to herself and went on, “The second time he called, I had had time to think. He wanted to know if you were here and I said, no, that you’d called and told me someone from the club had tried to beat you up and you didn’t think you’d meet me tonight. Then I asked Nikke how he expected me to learn anything if his men kept frightening you off.”

  I grinned and sipped my drink. I could see what she had in mind. It was a real dilly of an idea if it worked out. She smiled back at me.

  “So I made him promise he’d see you weren’t bothered.”

  I wondered how much good Nikke could do considering that Perly had hijacked Nikke’s man last night. Maybe, I thought, the Syndicate didn’t like it when Nikke tried to play soft pedal. I liked the idea of a break between them. It might make it easier for me to get what I was after.

  “Then,” Enid said, “I’d try to get you to the club but he’d better let you win and not have anyone bothering you if you did go. He said he would!”

  She was so pleased with herself that I couldn’t help laughing. I bent down and kissed her again. Longer this time. “That was perfect, Enid.”

  She looked like a schoolgirl excited by an intrigue. “So tonight we’ll see.”

  Tonight we would see. By now, I was sure that Hoop had started doing a little thinking. It would be interesting to find out whose orders concerning me would take precedence. Because as I saw it, Hoop would want me messed up, would want me beaten until I’d be glad to leave town. And Nikke—if he couldn’t get me out in a more gentle fashion—would want me left alone so he could keep tabs on me through Enid.

  I thought that it would be a very interesting evening.

  Enid caught the side of the tub and stood up. She was quite a sight all draped with bubbles. She drew the shower curtain. “Stand back, Lowry, it splashes.”

  I stood back. I was about to retreat to the living room when she turned off the shower and stepped casually onto the bathmat. There were no more bubbles.

  “Dry me, Lowry.”

  I said, “Honey, I have something to do before I go to the club tonight. And that cab is still waiting. We have steak coming up, remember?”

  She reached for a towel. “All right,” she said pouting. “Just so it isn’t as underdone as it was last night.” Then she stepped forward and threw wet arms around my neck and kissed me. She let loose, giggling. “You have to change your suit anyway. And it isn’t really very wet.”

  I left with a grin to let her know that I thought it was all very cute. Once in the cab, I leaned back and sighed. Of all the people I had to deal with, why did one so important to me have to be such a prime screwball?

  I was, I told myself firmly, playing this part strictly for business. Still, I had to admit that she was definitely nice to look at. And she could be very pleasant company. I didn’t think of Tanya once all the way down the Slope to the motel.

  Chapter VI

  IT WAS shortly after six when I reached the motel. The clerk was apologetic about not having relayed the telephone messages to me. He had just come on duty when I called and hadn’t checked my box. There went an unfounded suspicion, and I was glad to get rid of it. I had enough people on my tail without someone hiring motel clerks to hamstring me too.

  The clerk gave me a handful of call slips and the keys to a car. I signed for the car, deposited a bond, and then went off to my bungalow.

  There were six call slips from Enid, so she hadn’t lied. I tossed them aside and started laying out my evening clothes. It was a little early for them but the tentative schedule I had for myself wouldn’t allow me to run back here to change. I stripped down and examined Tanya’s bandage. It looked fine.

  I was about to start dressing when the telephone rang. I picked it up. “Curtis here.”

  “Mr. Curtis, this is Sofia Conklin.”

  I remembered to put Texas into my voice. “How do you do, ma’am. Pleasant to hear from you.”

  She had a laugh something like Enid’s, only more controlled. She said, “I’m afraid we were all rather abrupt last night. Certainly not hospitable. But hearing Malcolm’s name after so long was a shock.”

  I said, yes I could understand that. “I learned more about him today,” I told her. “And I must say he didn’t get such a character from the Lowry side of the family.”

  She laughed again. “Then we’re forgiven? I hope so, because I called to ask you to a last course party this evening.”

  “Last course, ma’am?”

  “Yes, you come after dinner and take dessert and coffee with us. It’s just an informal way of getting together. I know it’s awfully short notice, but say you’ll come.”

  I most definitely would say it. I felt as if someone had dropped a nice juicy apple in my lap. And I didn’t much care whether the apple had worms or not. “I’d be delighted,” I assured her. “I’d like to meet you-all again.”

  “Yes,” she said, “everyone you met last night will be here. Shall we say nine o’clock, Mr. Curtis?”

  We said nine o’clock and hung up after an exchange of civilities. I sat there and smoked for a moment, bemused by the invitation. Since I couldn’t imagine Junior-League-Sofia having any personal interest in me, the question was, who had put her up to this? And
why? But thinking got me nowhere except to make me realize that my tentative schedule for this evening was definitely shot. There was no point in chasing people when they had practically invited me into their laps.

  Humming, I put on gray flannels, chose a tie that I knew would offend Colonel Hoop, and turned again to the telephone. I called Enid, hoping she might know something about the reason for the invitation. There was no answer. I tried Tanya. Also a blank. I went outside to see what kind of car I had drawn. It was a Lincoln, not too new but definitely smooth running.

  With a car at my disposal, I felt more free. I liked the idea of being mobile now that circumstances had changed. Things could pile up so that I might have to cut and run at any moment. I wasn’t rock-headed enough to think I could buck everyone at once. If matters got too tough, I’d duck for a while and return when the air was calmer.

  I headed the nose of the Lincoln south, turned off the highway at the foot of the Hill, and started climbing. A quarter of the way up was the turn-off, the road on the left going to Nikke’s, that on the right continuing upward to the crest.

  About halfway to the top was the sprawled, ugly mansion that housed Colonel Hoop. Although I would see him at nine, I also wanted to get in a few private licks. I parked openly under the porte-cochere and went up to the door. My ring brought a long-faced butler.

  I said, “Tell Colonel Hoop that Lowry Curtis would like to see him on business.”

  His nose went up a notch. “Colonel Hoop is engaged, sir.”

  I looked at my watch. Sevenish, I said, “I can wait if he won’t be too long.”

  “Colonel Hoop went into his study some while ago, sir. He asked that he not be disturbed.”

  I could have argued about it but something told me that I wouldn’t get far with Chief Long Face. I returned to the car and started off. At the foot of the driveway there was a nice wide space cleared in the pines and cypress that cut Hoop and a number of other Hill residents from the gazes of the vulgar who might be passing on the roads below. I parked in the space and walked back.

  This time I wasn’t so open about it. A long time had passed since my last visit here but I still knew my way around. I followed a dimly remembered pathway through the woods and came out at the side of the house where a beautifully manicured lawn sloped away from French windows. One set was lighted and I made my way through darkness, walking silently on the spongy turf. As I approached the lighted windows, I swung to one side, muddled my way through a flower bed as carefully as I could, and came up against the wall of the house.

  The sill of the windows was on a level with my shoulder. I found a spot where drawn draperies had parted slightly, and peered in. It was the Colonel’s study. A small fire burned in a grate at one end of the room. There was a portable bar by the doors opposite, and by the windows where I was stood a desk twice the size of Hoop. It was neatly piled with papers. There was no one sitting at it. In fact, for a moment I thought the room was empty, but soon someone moved toward the fireplace and into my line of vision.

  It was Tanya Mace, looking both regal and exotic in another sheathe-style dress, this one white. Her blond hair was just enough out of place to look good on her. She had a half consumed drink in her hand. She was obviously talking to someone, her full, senuous mouth twisted in anger. Stopping before the fireplace, she turned to face whoever it was that I could not see and began to speak rapidly.

  She stopped and gulped at her drink and started to talk again. Then she gave a shrug and half turned away. She was definitely a beautiful woman and angered she was something to watch.

  I continued to wait, hoping to see whoever it was she was arguing with. Finally a man moved toward the bar and into the range of my vision. It wasn’t, as I had expected, the Colonel at all. It was Charles Conklin, looking sleekly pink and composed. He made himself a whiskey and splash and then turned toward Tanya Mace. He was obviously not angry. I could almost hear the smooth way in whatever he was saying came out. Conklin had a knack for soothing ruffled feelings. That was one reason for his success as a bond salesman.

  But tonight his knack didn’t seem to be working, not on Tanya at least. She shook her head and anger came up, coloring her cheeks and twisting her mouth. She said something, very quick, very brief.

  Conklin stepped up to her and with no change of expression reached out and slapped her across the mouth with the back of his hand. This was a side of him I had never seen. It was not the kind of thing I expected from him. Nor was Tanya’s reaction what I expected of her. Although I had known her only a short while, I had already formed definite opinions about her temperament, and my ideas certainly didn’t include what came next.

  Her eyes wide, she put one hand to her mouth, stepped away from Conklin, and began to cry. He looked at her and now there was obvious contempt on his features. Without a word, he turned and started walking away.

  Tanya stopped crying, reached up to the mantel and took down a carved wooden statuette. She made two long strides and brought the butt of the statuette neatly and skilfully down behind Conklin’s ear. That, I felt, was more like what I expected of the lady.

  Conklin was in the process of walking when she hit him and he kept on for one more step. Then he plunged forward, his drink going off to one side. He lit with his face in the carpet and lay quite still.

  Returning the statuette to the mantel, Tanya went back to Conklin, drew up her skirt so that she could crouch, and ran a hand underneath his body. I thought at first she was trying to find out whether or not she had killed him, but apparently that was no concern to her. She came up with a gun in her hand, looked it over carefully, ejected a clip which she made disappear somewhere about her person, and replaced the gun. She acted as if she knew how to handle it. She fished again and this time there was a wallet in her hand.

  Still crouched, she opened the wallet and leafed through all the compartments. She finally drew out something that was obviously not money, replaced the wallet as she had the gun, and rose. Then, returning to the fireplace, she lifted a picture from the wall at one side of the mantel, worked on a safe that was revealed, and swung open the door. She put whatever it was she had taken from Conklin in the safe and started to shut the door.

  Conklin chose that moment to groan and stir. Tanya swung the door shut, stabbed at the dial with a fingertip, and hastily replaced the picture. She was at Conklin’s side, a water carafe in her hand, when he managed to sit up. Solicitously, she took out his breast pocket handkerchief, wet it, and began to swab his face. He took it for a moment and then thrust her away. He got to his feet, swaying slightly, and as she must have expected, drew out his gun.

  I didn’t know what it was all about but I was rooting for Tanya. I gave a silent cheer for her having had the sense to empty the gun. Because Conklin looked ugly. I had never known such ugliness could come out of a mild, pink man like Charles Conklin. But then I would never have suspected him capable of slapping a lady, either.

  Tanya looked at the gun, said something, turned and walked to the door and out of the room. Conklin stood hesitant a minute, checked the gun, thrust it savagely into his pocket, and stalked after her. I continued to stand where I was, staring now into an empty room.

  From the direction of the garages on the far side of the house, came the sound of a powerful motor starting, then another. In a moment two cars went barreling down the driveway, both of them revved up painfully. I decided that this was as good a time as any, although I would have preferred the Colonel to be a witness to what I was about to do. Had I known it, I could have saved myself a lot of trouble if I’d waited just a few more moments.

  I tried the French windows. It took only a slight pressure from the thin steel picklock I carried to spring the catch, and I was hoisting myself inside. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking of Chief Long Face. The room was now definitely empty. If Hoop was in conference here, he was playing invisible man.

  I made straight for the fireplace and the safe. As I had hoped, Tanya’s desperati
on flick of the knob had locked nothing. The door swung open for me as I removed the picture. I reached in, took out a small manila envelope that lay on top of a metal box and then the box itself. There was nothing else inside.

  I put the envelope in my pocket. It could wait. The box was what I wanted, what I had intended Hoop to hand over to me. It was locked and I took it to the desk and started looking for the key. It was absurdly easy to find, lying under a false bottom in the center desk drawer. I lifted the lid.

  Always, I knew, Hoop had kept large sums of money about. In the old days it had been potential getaway money. Now that he was respectable, I was willing to bet, it was from force of habit. There was nearly a hundred thousand dollars in used hundreds, fifties, and twenties on top of twice that much in negotiable securities. This was more than just getaway money; it was a reserve fortune.

  I counted out exactly fifty thousand, one hundred dollars and replaced the remainder. Before shutting the box, I wrote a brief note:

  This is to acknowledge receipt of $50,100 (fifty thousand, one hundred dollars) which pays in full your cash debt to me, including interest for a period of five years and four months.

  I dated and signed it, using the name Malcolm Lowry, put it on top of the money, locked the box, replaced it in the safe, and returned the key to the desk drawer. That done, I went out as I had come in. Chief Long Face apparently took his orders seriously. I was not disturbed.

  I was back at the motel and in my room by eight o’clock. It was then that I remembered the envelope I had taken from the safe. Fishing it out of my pocket, I examined it. It was the kind that photographers use to mail three-by-two identification photographs in, only there was no printing on the face. The flap was folded down but not sealed. Lifting it, I reached in and drew out what I had expected to find—photographs. There were two, glossy, very clear, obviously the work of someone who knew how to handle a camera.

  I looked at them for quite a while. I’m not given to enjoying pornographic photos—and especially did I dislike these. They were both of Tanya. In one she was bent over the body of a man. He was sprawled on his back and there was a knife in his chest. Tanya had one hand about the knife. Her clothing was torn, her hair mussed, and I could see a bruise on one cheekbone. Despite her appearance, she looked terrific. It looked as though she had been in a fight and had had her clothing nearly ripped from her. She was wearing a peasant skirt and blouse. The skirt was ripped to the point where it was little more than a waistband and a few shreds, and the blouse was one puffed sleeve and a rag about her neck. It must have been warm weather because she had nothing else on. She had a small but clearly defined mole on the swell of her left breast.