Read Online 1953 - The Sucker Punch by James Hadley Chase - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Hadley Chase
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suddenly struck me.
It struck me so violently, it brought me to a dead stop.
Had she expected me to make love to her in that sordid passage? Had that look of abject misery meant that she knew how unlovely she was and that she had sensed my disgust?
You're nuts, I told myself. You're crazy to think like that. Just because most women fall for you, that's no reason to think she has fallen for you.
Not her, with her seventy million bucks and her power. She wouldn't be such a mug as to fall in love with a bank clerk—or would she?
I went up the aisle at a run, but when I got to the passage there was no sign of her.
I went down to the exit, pushed open the door and stepped out into the still, hot night.
Leggit was walking towards me. I waited for him.
"Miss Shelley's gone home," he said, staring at me inquisitively from under the brim of his slouch hat. "She seemed upset."
"I guess the excitement and the heat..." I said and let the rest of the sentence trail away.
Could she have fallen in love with me? I was asking myself. Or had it been a sudden animal desire that had taken hold of her; a physical urge raised in her by the sight of two men slugging each other?
"Some fight," Leggit said, standing close to me, still staring.
"Some flop. I wouldn't have believed Slade would have fallen for that sucker punch," I said. "A guy with his experience."
Leggit took out a pack of cigarettes, offered me one and then lit mine and his.
"It's when a guy gets full of confidence he's wide open for a punch like that," he said. "I've seen it happen again and again in my racket. Some guy commits murder. He takes a lot of trouble and thought to cover up; fakes himself an alibi or maybe makes it look like it's been done by someone else. Then he imagines he's safe. But he isn't, Mr. Winters. A guy who thinks he's safe is wide open for a sucker punch. Just when he least expects it—wham! and he's down on his back, only he has something a damn sight worse coming to him than a busted jaw."
"I guess that's right," I said, not paying much attention. "Well, I'll be moving along, Lieutenant. Good night."
It wasn't until this morning that I remembered that conversation.
I realize now that Leggit had been talking sense.
A killer who thinks he is safe is wide open for a sucker punch. I should know. Just when I thought I had this whole thing neatly packaged with no loose ends—wham! Just the way he said it would happen.
When I got back to my apartment after the fight I found Glorie (never mind her other name), my blonde date who I had stood up and forgotten about when Vestal had invited herself to the fights, waiting for me.
She sat in an armchair, in scarlet underwear pants, a brassiere, and fishnet stockings, held up by frilly sky blue garters.
If you like them stacked like Jane Russell, as I do, then you would like Glorie. Her blonde silky hair was cut in a pageboy bob; her pert little face was no prettier than the average showgirl’s, and equally as vacant and attractive.
"I've been waiting hours, darling," she said plaintively. "I'm afraid I've drunk nearly all your whisky."
"Well, give me what's left," I said, "and get into bed and keep quiet. I have some business to do first."
I went over to the telephone and called Vestal's number.
While I waited for the connection, Glorie strutted over to my wardrobe and selected from the half-a-dozen nylon nightdresses I always kept handy, a red one she had added to the collection herself.
"Not that for Pete's sake," I said. "It makes you look like a fireman."
She looked over her shoulder and leered.
"That's why I'm going to wear it. I'm going to act like a fireman tonight."
A voice came over the wire: "Miss Shelley's residence."
"This is Mr. Winters calling. Put me through to Miss Shelley."
"Hold on a moment, sir."
While I waited I watched Glorie cross the room to the bathroom and shut herself in.
The line crackled and Miss Dolan's voice said, "Yes, Mr. Winters?"
"I wanted Miss
It struck me so violently, it brought me to a dead stop.
Had she expected me to make love to her in that sordid passage? Had that look of abject misery meant that she knew how unlovely she was and that she had sensed my disgust?
You're nuts, I told myself. You're crazy to think like that. Just because most women fall for you, that's no reason to think she has fallen for you.
Not her, with her seventy million bucks and her power. She wouldn't be such a mug as to fall in love with a bank clerk—or would she?
I went up the aisle at a run, but when I got to the passage there was no sign of her.
I went down to the exit, pushed open the door and stepped out into the still, hot night.
Leggit was walking towards me. I waited for him.
"Miss Shelley's gone home," he said, staring at me inquisitively from under the brim of his slouch hat. "She seemed upset."
"I guess the excitement and the heat..." I said and let the rest of the sentence trail away.
Could she have fallen in love with me? I was asking myself. Or had it been a sudden animal desire that had taken hold of her; a physical urge raised in her by the sight of two men slugging each other?
"Some fight," Leggit said, standing close to me, still staring.
"Some flop. I wouldn't have believed Slade would have fallen for that sucker punch," I said. "A guy with his experience."
Leggit took out a pack of cigarettes, offered me one and then lit mine and his.
"It's when a guy gets full of confidence he's wide open for a punch like that," he said. "I've seen it happen again and again in my racket. Some guy commits murder. He takes a lot of trouble and thought to cover up; fakes himself an alibi or maybe makes it look like it's been done by someone else. Then he imagines he's safe. But he isn't, Mr. Winters. A guy who thinks he's safe is wide open for a sucker punch. Just when he least expects it—wham! and he's down on his back, only he has something a damn sight worse coming to him than a busted jaw."
"I guess that's right," I said, not paying much attention. "Well, I'll be moving along, Lieutenant. Good night."
It wasn't until this morning that I remembered that conversation.
I realize now that Leggit had been talking sense.
A killer who thinks he is safe is wide open for a sucker punch. I should know. Just when I thought I had this whole thing neatly packaged with no loose ends—wham! Just the way he said it would happen.
When I got back to my apartment after the fight I found Glorie (never mind her other name), my blonde date who I had stood up and forgotten about when Vestal had invited herself to the fights, waiting for me.
She sat in an armchair, in scarlet underwear pants, a brassiere, and fishnet stockings, held up by frilly sky blue garters.
If you like them stacked like Jane Russell, as I do, then you would like Glorie. Her blonde silky hair was cut in a pageboy bob; her pert little face was no prettier than the average showgirl’s, and equally as vacant and attractive.
"I've been waiting hours, darling," she said plaintively. "I'm afraid I've drunk nearly all your whisky."
"Well, give me what's left," I said, "and get into bed and keep quiet. I have some business to do first."
I went over to the telephone and called Vestal's number.
While I waited for the connection, Glorie strutted over to my wardrobe and selected from the half-a-dozen nylon nightdresses I always kept handy, a red one she had added to the collection herself.
"Not that for Pete's sake," I said. "It makes you look like a fireman."
She looked over her shoulder and leered.
"That's why I'm going to wear it. I'm going to act like a fireman tonight."
A voice came over the wire: "Miss Shelley's residence."
"This is Mr. Winters calling. Put me through to Miss Shelley."
"Hold on a moment, sir."
While I waited I watched Glorie cross the room to the bathroom and shut herself in.
The line crackled and Miss Dolan's voice said, "Yes, Mr. Winters?"
"I wanted Miss
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