1955 - You've Got It Coming (21 page)

Joan didn't seem convinced.

“Don't you think I should come with you? I have an idea she is going to be difficult.”

“Glorie?” Harry forced a laugh. “Of course she isn't. She knows how it is with me and her. She isn't kidding herself. I'll handle her. I'll meet you right here tomorrow morning at eleven. We'll go and talk to the agent about the land. Okay?”

“I’ll be here at eleven. You're sure it's going to be all right?”

“Of course I'm sure.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “I love you, Joan. This has been a wonderful day. You're the first woman who has ever meant anything to me.”

She touched his face.

“You're the first man who's ever meant anything to me,” she said. “We're going to have fun, Harry.”

He stepped back and watched her reverse the big car, then, as she drove away, he waved.

He stood in the middle of the road watching the car until it was out of sight, then he took out his pack of cigarettes and lit one.

He had had a wonderful day. He couldn't remember ever having had a better one. They had gone to look at the future airport and he had seen at once her choice was right. The ground could be inexpensively converted into an airfield, and it was only four miles from the centre of the town. She told him he could get it cheap. It had been earmarked as a building site, but the company that was going to develop the land had gone smash and no one else seemed to want it.

They had had lunch together at a smart restaurant on Bay Shore Drive. During the meal they had gone into facts and figures. He had been impressed by her level business head. She had plans for an advertising scheme. She knew where he could buy two good-looking secondhand cars cheaply. He would have to have these cars, she pointed out, to pick up clients from their hotels and drive them to the airport. She said her father was the president of an aircraft factory that would supply Harry with the kind of aircraft he would need at a reduced price. She knew a company in which her father had a controlling interest who would lay the runways.

“Your job will be to organize the flights, look after the staff and the aircraft,” she had said. “The rest you can leave to me. I'll get the passengers. I know everyone here, and I know the managers of all the hotels. We'll get a monopoly on this business in time, Harry, and that's the only way to handle it.”

They had talked and talked. When they had left the restaurant, they had sat in the car and talked. It wasn't until the sun was sinking below the horizon that Joan had remembered her father was entertaining that evening and she was expected to act as hostess.

When she had driven away and Harry had started to walk down the beach towards the motel he began to have doubts. He had been glib enough when talking to Joan about Glorie, but he realized he had now to handle her, and not talk about handling her, and she might not be all that easy.

She must understand, he kept telling himself. This was his chance. There was no place for her. She must see that. He would have to be careful not to let her suspect that Joan and he were lovers. There was no need to rub her nose in it, he thought, slowing his pace. He would explain that this was a business deal.

There was nothing in it for her. It would be safer for her to clear out because of Borg. He must stress Borg. She was sensible. She would understand it would be safer not only for herself but also for him if they parted.

As he walked up the drive that led to the cabins, he saw with relief that his cabin was in darkness. She must have gone out somewhere, he thought. Well, it would give him more time to get the whole thing clear in his mind. He wasn't too sure how he was going to tackle her.

He reached the cabin, turned the door handle and opened the door. He stepped into semi-darkness, shut the door and groped for the light switch.

“Please don't turn the light on,” Glorie said from out of the darkness.

He saw her then, sitting in the armchair facing the window.

He could just make out the shape of her head against the white The tone of her voice gave him a creepy feeling. It didn't sound like Glorie's voice. It might have been a stranger speaking “What do you think you're doing—sitting in the dark? he said. He turned down the switch and kicked the door shut. If she was going to make a scene, he'd meet her halfway, he told himself. The one who got in the first punch won the battle.

The lamp above the mantelpiece sprang alight. Harry looked at her. In spite of his rising anger, the sight of her shocked him. She was as white as a fresh fair of snow. Her eyes had sunk into her head so that, against the light, he couldn’t see them. Her skin seemed to have shrunk, giving her a scraped, bony look.

He was about to ask her what was the matter, but checked himself, It would be fatal to give her the opportunity to start a row, he told himself.

“I'm sorry I didn't get back sooner,” he said, “but I got held up.” He lit a cigarette and flicked the match into the fireplace. “I've had a lot to do.”

She didn't say anything.

He suddenly wished the room wasn't so small, and that he wasn't so on top of her. He had to edge around her to get to the other armchair. He sat down and yawned elaborately. He realized this wasn't the moment to break the news to her that they were going to part. He had never seen her looking like this before It worried him. He swore in his mind. The best thing to do now was to be nice to her, to soften her up a little. He could break the news to her after dinner.

“We'd better get something to eat,” he said. What have you been doing with yourself all day? Did you go for a swim?”

She turned her head and her eyes met his. Again he felt a creepy sensation run through him. She had never looked like this at him before. The love he had always seen in her eyes wasn’t there. It was as if a stranger were looking at him.

“No, I didn't go for a swim,” she said in a cold, hard voice.

“You should have. It would have done you good. Let's go and eat. I'm hungry. Aren't you?”

She looked steadily at him.

“How was she, Harry?” she asked quietly. “Was she up to expectations?”

He stiffened, a hot surge of rage running through him.

“What do you mean?”

“Did she make love to your satisfaction? Did she please you?”

Harry started to his feet.

“Shut up!” he snarled. “I'm not listening to that kind of talk.”

“Why not? You've always prided yourself on your so-called love making, haven't you? Why shouldn't I ask if she pleased you?”

“I'm telling you to shut up, so shut up!”

“Don't tell me you have fallen in love with her,” Glorie said. “That's something I'll find hard to believe. I should have thought the only person you'll ever love is yourself. She's just someone new and fresh and young, isn't she, Harry? Someone who makes a change from me. A cheap, willing little whore who's caught your attention for the moment. Isn't that it?”

Harry's open hand struck her on the side of her face, rocking her head back. She didn't move, but sat huddled up, staring at him, her face like a death mask.

“I told you to shut up,” he said, standing over her. “You asked for it and you've got it. Now listen, I was going to let you down lightly, but after this, I don't give a damn. We're through. You can pack and get the hell out of here. I'm through with you for good. I mean it. I'm giving you a thousand dollars, and you're getting out of here. Do you understand?”

She looked at him, her eyes glittering.

“I'm not going, Harry,” she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

“Yes, you are,” he said. “You've got to face up to it. You and I are washed up. There's no point in you staying here any longer. Besides, it'll be safer for you to leave. If Borg is after us, you're better away from me and I'm better away from you. If you'd rather stay here tonight, that's okay with me. I'll get another cabin, but tomorrow you leave Miami. I don't care where you go, but you're going. Some other guy will come along and look after you. You'll have a thousand bucks to hold you until he does take care of you.”

The muscles in her face tightened.

“You're not going to get rid of me,” Glorie said in a low fierce whisper. “I'm not going.”

He stared down at her. The hard glitter in her eyes made him uneasy.

“Don't be a fool. You wouldn't want to stay here when you know you're not wanted, would you?”

She didn't say anything.

“Listen, can't you see I'm through with you, you fool?” he said, raising his voice.

“You're not through with me, Harry.”

He could see the red marks of his fingers slowly appearing on the side of her face. It made him fed ashamed to look at her.

“I am,” he said. “What's the matter with you? Don't you understand English?”

“You may think you are, but you're not!”

“Now look, I don't want to lose my temper with you. This is the finish. I'll leave you here for tonight. First thing tomorrow morning you're to clear out. I've got my life to think of now. You've no place in it.”

“I did have a place in it, didn't I?”

“Don't start that!” he said impatiently. “The past is past. Don't pull that slop on me, Glorie. I gave you a good time; you gave me a good time. Now we're quits. Why make an agony of it? This isn't the first time you've had the brush off, is it? Your pal Delaney got fed up with you. There've been others, haven't there? This isn't a new experience for you, and you know it. You're through, so accept it and shut up!”

She surprised him by saying, “May I please have a cigarette? I've smoked all mine while I was waiting for you.”

He tossed his pack into her lap.

“I'm getting out of here,” he said and turned to the wardrobe, opened the door and took out his two suits.

“I shouldn't do that,” she said. “You'll only have to put them back again. You're not leaving here tonight.”

He paused, puzzled.

“You mean you want to go?”

“No, I'm not going either. We're going to stay here. We're going to get married, Harry.”

He felt the blood drain out of his face. He was so angry he could have struck her. He just managed to hold on to himself.

“What are you talking about? Have you gone crazy?”

“We're not only going to get married, but we're going to be partners in this air-taxi business of yours. For the first time in your selfish life you're going to do what you're told!”

He stood motionless.

“You must be nuts to talk to me like this,” he said, his voice husky. “We're through. I never want to see you again!”

She smiled, and the smile sent a chill crawling up his spine.

“You don't seem to understand, Harry. You have no choice. Unless you do what I say I’ll call the police and tell them where they can find Harry Green.”

II

G
lorie's voice came clearly to Borg who leaned against the cabin wall in the shadows and by the open window that was screened by a thin curtain.

Unless you do what I say I'll phone the police and tell them
where they can find Harry Green.

So he had been right, he thought, shifting his bulk to a more comfortable position. He hadn't come all the way to Miami for nothing. This tall, good-looking punk was Harry Green. He would never have guessed it, although he had been watching him all day. His fat, cruel face twisted into a wolfish smile.

This, he thought, was a most satisfactory ending to a long and exacting day. Early that morning he had left his hotel near the airport and had hired a car. From the telephone book he had found out where the Graynor girl lived. He had driven over to the Graynor's residence on Franklin Roosevelt Boulevard and had parked near the gates. He had a long wait. The blue-and-grey Bentley didn't appear until twenty minutes to twelve. He had had no trouble in following it. He had watched the meeting between Harry and Joan, had followed them at a safe distance, had observed their love-making through a pair of powerful field glasses and had stayed near them all day. When they had eventually parted, Harry had led him to the motel and to the cabin.

He had listened to every word that had been said. He wished he could have pushed aside the curtain and seen Harry's face when Glorie had turned on him. It was a sight, he thought, that would be worth seeing.

For a long moment Harry was paralysed, his mind stunned by what Glorie had said. Then very slowly he returned the two suits to the wardrobe and closed the doors. He sat down on the bed as if his legs hadn't the strength to support him. He stared at Glorie, his eyes burning, sweat on his face.

She didn't look at him. She was shaking and her face was taut and white. She had trouble in lighting a cigarette she took from the pack he had tossed into her lap.

“For years now,” she said in an unsteady, quiet voice, “I have behaved like a weak-kneed fool. I've tried to find happiness by giving my love to a number of men. I did everything I could think of to keep their love, but sooner or later they got bored with me and left me. It must have been my fault. I suppose it was because I never considered myself. I did everything possible to make them happy, to put them first, to put myself last. I see now it was a fatal thing to do. They didn't appreciate me. They thought I was a weak fool to be picked up and dropped when they felt like it. When I met you, I couldn't believe it would last. I waited for you to throw me over as the others had done. Then when you told me about your plans for this robbery and you let me help you, I began to think that you were sincere and that you meant to stick with me. I thought after what I did for you, after going to Ben and facing his insults, after helping you to turn yourself into Harry Green, I deserved some consideration. When you told me you were wanted for murder I didn't hesitate to stay with you. You were mine and I was yours. That's the way I looked at it. No matter what you had done, I'd stick with you. Then that blonde came along. The moment I saw you grinning at her I knew you didn't really give a damn about me. You had taken everything I had to give, and now you were ready to walk out. You left me here all day without giving me a thought. For all I knew you might have gone for good. I guess I got a little worked up, and when one gets worked up one sees things differently. It suddenly occurred to me, Harry, that for the first time in my life I was in the position to dictate to a man. I realized you were the first man who could not walk out on me and there was nothing you could do about it. It was a pretty exciting feeling. You're on the hook, and no matter how hard you wriggle, you can't get off. That's something that has happened to me for the past ten years. Now you're on it, and it gives me a lot of pleasure to sit back and watch you wriggle. You promised to marry me. I would like that. I know it won't be much of a marriage, but it will give me security, which is something I have never had before, and it's something I want very badly. You swindled Ben out of fifty thousand dollars. Well, as I am going to be your partner, I want twenty-five thousand of those dollars. I could ask for more, and you couldn't refuse me, but I don't want to be unfair. I want half and I intend to have it. That's the position. If you had been decent to me this wouldn't have happened. We could have been happy together. We could have gone to London and Paris and Rome as you promised. Now we will work together on this air-taxi business as equal partners. You will tell the Graynor girl you have decided you and your wife have enough money to start in a small way and you don't want her help nor her love nor her father's influence. I think I can still make something of you, Harry. You are selfish, unkind and rather stupid, but I think I can change all that. You're going to be told what to do, and you'll do it. If you don't I’ll turn you over to the police. That's not a threat—it's a promise.”