1955 - You've Got It Coming (3 page)

Harry scowled at her.

“You're not deliberately trying to put me off, are you?”

“But you don't seem to have thought of the difficulties.”

“I haven't stopped thinking of them,” he said angrily. “Of course there are difficulties. A job like this can't be plain sailing, but I'll fix the difficulties. There's bound to be someone in Mexico who'll handle the stuff.”

She began to breathe more easily now. It was such a stupid, badly thought-out plan that she felt sure she could persuade him to give it up if she handled him carefully.

“But will you find anyone?” she asked. “You can't walk around asking anyone if he'll buy three million . . .”

“I know! I know!” he said, his voice shooting up. “It's something I've got to work out.”

“And what about these two men who are going to help you? Who will they be?”

“I don't know yet. I've got to find them. I'm going downtown this morning and I'll have a look around.”

“But Harry! You can't find men to steal diamonds like you find something in a shop. If you approach the wrong one, he'll tell the police. Oh, Harry, darling, can't you see it won’t work? You must see! You're not a crook. Don't you see you can't handle a job as big as this without an organization behind you? You can't do it!”

Harry looked at her, then a slow grin spread over his face.

“Well, don't get so worked up about it, Glorie,” he said. “That's sound sense. An organization would be swell, but at the same time I'd have to share my profits, wouldn't I? And how am I to find an organization?”

She had an unpleasant feeling that he was pulling her leg, and she looked sharply at him.

“But you will have these other two men to pay, and there will be the man in the car,” she said.

“Yeah, that's right. Well, okay, I'll have to think about it again, won’t I? I'll have to put some more work in on it.” He looked over at the kitchen clock. “Hey! Isn't it time you went to work? We don't want to lose our one and only job, do we?”

“Yes, I must go.” Glorie started to her feet. “Listen, Harry, let's talk about this again tonight. Promise me you won’t do anything until tonight. Don't go talking to anyone. Promise me, Harry. Let's work it out tonight when I get back.”

“Okay, baby. I'll wait until you get back.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “But you do think it's a good idea apart from the difficulties?”

She touched his face with her fingertips.

“There are lots of good ideas. It depends so much on whether they work out or not.”

“Yeah, I guess that's right. Well, you've given me something more to think about, baby. You get off or you'll be late.” He turned her, patted her and pushed her to the door. “See you tonight.”

When she had gone, he finished his coffee, poured himself another cup and carried it into the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair while he stared down at his slippered feet. There was a half-sly, half-jeering smile on his face as he thought of what Glorie had said. His plan was working out the way he thought it would. She had absorbed the first shock. Tonight she would be ready to discuss the details and find more faults with the plan. He was pretty sure, now that he had given her the impression that the scheme was half-baked and that he had overlooked the main snags that he could talk her into doing what he wanted her to do.

When he had finished his coffee, he stood up and went over to the chest of drawers. He pulled open the lower drawer and took out a bundle of letters and photographs.

A couple of days ago he had wanted a fresh towel, and not knowing where she kept them, he had made a systematic search of all the drawers in her bedroom. He had come across this bundle of letters tucked away under a neatly folded pile of underwear.

Because he had nothing to do and was bored, he had taken the letters into the sitting room and had read them.

He had had no misgivings about reading Glorie's letters. He saw no wrong in that, and he wouldn't have cared if she had found some of his letters and had read them.

He had found them to be old love letters, dated three years back, and written by a man who signed himself
Ben.
They were fiery letters that slowly cooled as the dates on the letters progressed.

The final letter told Harry that the brush off was near, and he had shaken his head, feeling sorry for her. It wasn't until he had looked at the photographs that he suddenly became interested. Ben Delaney's photographs had appeared so often in the Press that Harry recognized him immediately.

He now took one of these photographs from the bundle and carried it over to the window and looked at it.

Delaney appeared to be a small, dapper man with cold, steady eyes, a closely clipped moustache and nondescript features.

Across the bottom of the photograph he had scrawled:
For Glorie,
my wonderful girl, Ben.

Harry flicked the photograph with his fingernail as he stared at it. Who would have imagined that at one time Glorie had been the girlfriend of one of the most powerful and dangerous racketeers in California? Unbelievable, but what a bit of luck!

Harry smiled as he slid the photograph into his wallet. He returned the bundle to its hiding place. Then, whistling softly, he went into the bathroom to take a shower.

III

T
he first hour or so at the Star hotel was usually slack, and as she sat in her small cubicle waiting for a client. Glorie had time to think about Harry's fantastic plan.

She went over in her mind everything he had said. Even if he didn't go ahead with this particular plan, it was a pointer to the way his mind was working, and an explanation as to why he hadn't got himself a job. She wouldn't have believed that he had a crooked streak in him. She knew he was reckless and that he drank too much, but this was something she hadn't bargained for.

It seemed to be her fate, she thought bitterly, to hook up with men who went off the rails. It had been a horrible shock to her when she had found out that Ben was a gangster. It was only when two hard-faced detectives had called on him one night when they had been together in his apartment that the truth had dawned on her, and from then on she had lived in dread of further police visits.

But as the months went by, and Ben had become more powerful, and was able to buy himself police protection, the visits became increasingly rare. But she had never forgotten the way the police had treated her, nor their insults and their brutal questioning. Even now she couldn't pass a patrolman without an inward shudder.

If Harry was crazy enough to go ahead with this scheme, she thought, he wouldn't be able to buy himself protection as Ben had done. He would be hunted, and sooner or later he would be caught and he would go to prison.

The thought of losing him turned her sick. Whatever happened, she told herself, whatever he decided to do, she would stick with him. Life without him now was unthinkable. Somehow she had to persuade him to give up this dangerous, half-baked scheme, and if she failed, then she would have to make absolutely certain he didn't rush into it without the most careful planning.

She told herself she was a fool. She should have left Ben when she found out he was a gangster, but she couldn't do it. She knew she should leave Harry now he was planning a robbery, and again she knew she couldn't do it.

The day seemed interminable, and when at last she left the hotel, she was in such a state of nerves and worry that she ran most of the way back to the apartment, unaware that people in the street were staring after her, startled by her white, scared face.

She found Harry lounging in an armchair, listening to swing music on the radio, apparently without a care in the world.

“Hello,” he said as she came breathlessly into the room. “You seem to be in a hurry. Where's the fire?”

“There's no fire,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

She kissed him and then turned away as she took off her hat and coat.

“I'll take them,” he said and she gave them to him.

She sat down before the lire while he went into the bedroom.

When he came back, he made two stiff highballs and gave her one.

“Want to eat now or later?” he asked.

“I'm not hungry.” She drank some of the whisky, then she took a cigarette and looked at him.

He smiled at her.

“Been worrying, baby?”

She nodded.

“I guess so.” She forced a smile. “I have every reason to worry, haven't I? This idea of yours is a bit of a shock.”

“I want you to know, Glorie,” he said, “how it is. I don't want to keep anything from you.”

“You do realize, Harry, what this means if you do this job?” she said. “Right now you can pass a policeman without even seeing him, but if you take these diamonds, every policeman will be a threat to you, and that's an awful way to live.”

“Sounds as if that came right from the heart,” Harry said, smiling. “Don't tell me the police have been after you in your dark, murky past because I won’t believe you.”

“I'm not joking!” she said sharply. “Please listen to me, Harry. You won’t get rid of those diamonds, even if you succeed in getting hold of them. You're an outsider. You haven't any connections. You won’t be able to trust any fence, even if you succeed in finding one, and I can't see how you'll do even that. This idea of yours won’t work, Harry.”

Harry grimaced.

“You could be right,” he said. “All the same, the idea is a cinch for a guy who has a big organization and men he can rely on. It can't fail, but without an organization it's tough — probably too tough.”

She began to breathe again.

“That's just it. It's too tough. I'm so glad and relieved, darling, you realize it now. You will drop it, won’t you?”

He lifted his heavy eyebrows.

“Of course I'm not going to drop it. No, the idea now is to find a big enough organization who could handle it and then sell the idea to them. I stand a chance of picking up fifty grand for the idea, and that will give me the start I want.”

She very nearly lost patience with him, but controlled herself in time.

“Darling, that's not a very sensible idea, is it? How can you possibly sell anyone such an idea. They wouldn't pay you until you told them what your idea is, and once they know they wouldn't have to pay you. You're dealing with crooks. You couldn't trust them to pay you.”

Harry grinned.

“You obviously don't think much of my brains,” he said. “I'm not that much of a sucker. This plan of mine relies on two things: the means of identifying the aircraft that will carry the diamonds, and where in the desert it is possible to make a safe landing. I happen to know both these things. Without them, the job can't be done, and unless I get the money, cash on the barrel-head, I don't part with the information.”

Glorie's heart sank.

“I see,” she said, trying to keep calm. “But, Harry, you have no connections. You wouldn't get to anyone big enough to handle the job. They would think it was a police trap. You just wouldn't get them to believe you.”

He drew in a long, deep breath. At last he had got her to the crucial point. She was saying exactly what he had planned and hoped she would say. It depended now on how far he could press her and the extent of her feelings towards him.

“That's right, Glorie,” he said, watching her. “I agree they wouldn't trust me, but they would trust you.”

She stared at him, not believing she had heard him correctly.

“Trust me?” she said blankly.

“Ben Delaney would take your word, Glorie, even if he wouldn't take mine.”

Her reaction to this startled him. She jumped to her feet, her eyes angry, her face a hard, white mask.

“What do you know about Ben Delaney?” she demanded.

“Take it easy. No need to jump down my throat. You and Delaney were friends once, weren't you?”

“How do you know that?”

His face hardened.

“Don't go shrill on me, Glorie. You're not making a secret of it, are you? I happened to pick up an old magazine and this fell out of it.”

He took Delaney's photograph from his wallet and tossed it on the table.

Glorie looked at it, her eyes glittering.

“You're lying!” she said. “You didn't find that in a magazine! You've been reading my letters.”

Harry began to lose patience.

“So what? If you didn't want me to read them why put them where I could find them?” he said. “Stop glaring at me! If you want to make a fight of this, say so, and I'll give you one!”

She was suddenly deflated by fear. A scene like this could be dangerous. He might lose his temper and walk out on her.

“All right, Harry,” she said, and sat down, looking away from him. “Never mind. I think it's pretty rotten of you to read my letters, but I'm not going to fight about it.”

“I'm sorry,” Harry said, not wishing to hurt her. “I just came on them. Let's get away from this, shall we? The point is Delaney could handle this deal. He has the organization and he has the men. You know him. I want you to put me in touch with him.”

Her hands went to her throat.

“Oh no, I won’t do that. That's one thing I won’t do.”

“Now look . . .”

“I'm sorry, Harry.”

He had expected trouble and was pretty sure how to handle it. He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged.

“Okay, if you won’t, you won’t.”

He turned and began to walk towards the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” she asked, fear entering into her like the slow thrust of a knife.

“I'm getting out,” he said, pausing at the bedroom door. “I told you: no one is going to stop me doing this job. I'm not kidding myself that I'll get to Delaney without your help, so I'll try to handle the job on my own. I'll get a couple of guys from somewhere to help me. If I get the diamonds, then I'll go to Delaney and offer them to him. He'll see me all right if I have the diamonds. I'm clearing out because this is something I'll do better on my own. It'll be tricky and dangerous and I don't want my nerve broken down by a lot of objections from you.”

“But, darling, you can't leave here.” Glorie said, cold with panic. “Where will you go? How will you live?”