Read Online 1956 - There's Always a Price Tag by James Hadley Chase - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Hadley Chase
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doesn't get it.
I very nearly gave myself away.
What did he mean?
'Let's go back to the house,' he went on and moved off across the tarmac.
I turned off the garage light, ran upstairs, snatched up my pyjamas and shaving kit, then went after him.
Together, we entered the still, silent house.
As we came up the stairs, Helen appeared in the doorway of her bedroom.
The sight of Dester with me behind him jolted her. Her face lost colour and her hand went up to her throat.
'Nash's sleeping in my dressing room,' Dester said. 'He's keeping an eye on me. You might like to know in case you felt you should see how I am during the night.'
He moved past her into his bedroom.
I paused at the head of the stairs to look at her.
We stared at each other for a long moment. I could see the naked hatred in her eyes. Then she turned and shut the bedroom door in my face.
* * *
I didn't sleep much that night. I kept thinking of what he had said about making sure Helen wouldn't get the insurance money. That had me worried for he had spoken with conviction. Was it possible that the premium was already overdue? It would be a joke on me if the policy wasn't worth anything now: and a joke on her too.
There seemed no way I could find out what he had done. I wondered if I should go to Helen and put my cards on the table. She might know more than I did, but I finally decided this wasn't the time to show her what my game was going to be.
Although I spent most of the night worrying my brain crooked, it didn't get me anywhere, and I was glad when I could get up and stop thinking.
I drove Dester down to the studios as usual. He didn't say much on the way down, and he didn't refer to what had happened the previous night, but as he got out of the car, he said, 'I want you to move into the house, kid. Use my dressing room from now on. Get your things over. I want you to keep close to me all the time I'm in the house. Do you understand?'
'Yes, sir,' I said.
I kept clear of the house all that day, and at four I went back to the studios to pick him up.
I could see he had been drinking heavily, and he seemed in a depressed mood. He got into the car without a word and I took him back to the house.
He told me he was going out for dinner, and I was to be ready at eight o'clock.
The house felt empty. There was no sign of Helen. As I lay on my bed, smoking and waiting for eight o'clock to come around, the only sound I could hear was Dester lurching about in his bedroom while he changed.
When I brought the car to the front door, he came down the steps, heavy footed and slow. He was in evening dress, and in spite of his puffy, raw face and his bloodshot eyes, he still looked an imposing figure.
'The Crescent Club,' he said, 'and stick around, kid. I'll have to be carried to bed tonight. I'm going to celebrate.'
I didn't ask him what he was going to celebrate, and he didn't tell me. I had a book with me and I sat in the car in the club's parking lot and read.
Around one o'clock one of the swank doormen came out of the shadows.
'Come and pick up your drunk,' he said. 'We've got him propped up against the wall, but he's not going to stay like that for long.'
I put my book away and drove around to the side door with the doorman trotting beside the car.
Dester was about as drunk as I had seen him, and it took the doorman and I all we could do to get him into the car.
'I hope this is the last time I see this lush,' the doorman said, stepping back and wiping his face with the back of his hand. 'I hear he's been kicked out of the Pacific.'
'Why should you worry?' I said, getting back into the car. 'Your joint sells him the liquor, doesn't it?'
I drove back to the dark, silent house. Passing the garage I saw Helen had taken the Cadillac out. I wondered where she had gone.
I had to carry Dester up to his bedroom. As I laid him on his bed, he grunted, then passed out.
I made sure he was asleep before I went over to the wall safe. I gave the
I very nearly gave myself away.
What did he mean?
'Let's go back to the house,' he went on and moved off across the tarmac.
I turned off the garage light, ran upstairs, snatched up my pyjamas and shaving kit, then went after him.
Together, we entered the still, silent house.
As we came up the stairs, Helen appeared in the doorway of her bedroom.
The sight of Dester with me behind him jolted her. Her face lost colour and her hand went up to her throat.
'Nash's sleeping in my dressing room,' Dester said. 'He's keeping an eye on me. You might like to know in case you felt you should see how I am during the night.'
He moved past her into his bedroom.
I paused at the head of the stairs to look at her.
We stared at each other for a long moment. I could see the naked hatred in her eyes. Then she turned and shut the bedroom door in my face.
* * *
I didn't sleep much that night. I kept thinking of what he had said about making sure Helen wouldn't get the insurance money. That had me worried for he had spoken with conviction. Was it possible that the premium was already overdue? It would be a joke on me if the policy wasn't worth anything now: and a joke on her too.
There seemed no way I could find out what he had done. I wondered if I should go to Helen and put my cards on the table. She might know more than I did, but I finally decided this wasn't the time to show her what my game was going to be.
Although I spent most of the night worrying my brain crooked, it didn't get me anywhere, and I was glad when I could get up and stop thinking.
I drove Dester down to the studios as usual. He didn't say much on the way down, and he didn't refer to what had happened the previous night, but as he got out of the car, he said, 'I want you to move into the house, kid. Use my dressing room from now on. Get your things over. I want you to keep close to me all the time I'm in the house. Do you understand?'
'Yes, sir,' I said.
I kept clear of the house all that day, and at four I went back to the studios to pick him up.
I could see he had been drinking heavily, and he seemed in a depressed mood. He got into the car without a word and I took him back to the house.
He told me he was going out for dinner, and I was to be ready at eight o'clock.
The house felt empty. There was no sign of Helen. As I lay on my bed, smoking and waiting for eight o'clock to come around, the only sound I could hear was Dester lurching about in his bedroom while he changed.
When I brought the car to the front door, he came down the steps, heavy footed and slow. He was in evening dress, and in spite of his puffy, raw face and his bloodshot eyes, he still looked an imposing figure.
'The Crescent Club,' he said, 'and stick around, kid. I'll have to be carried to bed tonight. I'm going to celebrate.'
I didn't ask him what he was going to celebrate, and he didn't tell me. I had a book with me and I sat in the car in the club's parking lot and read.
Around one o'clock one of the swank doormen came out of the shadows.
'Come and pick up your drunk,' he said. 'We've got him propped up against the wall, but he's not going to stay like that for long.'
I put my book away and drove around to the side door with the doorman trotting beside the car.
Dester was about as drunk as I had seen him, and it took the doorman and I all we could do to get him into the car.
'I hope this is the last time I see this lush,' the doorman said, stepping back and wiping his face with the back of his hand. 'I hear he's been kicked out of the Pacific.'
'Why should you worry?' I said, getting back into the car. 'Your joint sells him the liquor, doesn't it?'
I drove back to the dark, silent house. Passing the garage I saw Helen had taken the Cadillac out. I wondered where she had gone.
I had to carry Dester up to his bedroom. As I laid him on his bed, he grunted, then passed out.
I made sure he was asleep before I went over to the wall safe. I gave the
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