‘Not a dime,’ I said. ‘Is that plain enough?’
She laughed.
‘Oh, but you are. You are going to compensate me for losing that tape. I reckon it is worth sixty thousand. It’s probably worth more.’
‘You heard what I said, Rima. If you try to blackmail me, I’ll hand you over to the police.’
She finished her drink and sat, nursing her glass, as her stony eyes moved over my face.
‘I’ve kept the gun, Jeff,’ she said. ‘The L.A. cops have a description of you on their files. They know the man they want for murder has a drooping right eyelid and a scar along the side of his jaw. All I have to do is to walk into the nearest Station house and tell them you and I are the ones they are looking for.
When I give them the gun, you’ll find yourself in the death row. It’s as easy and as simple as that.’
‘Not quite,’ I said. ‘You would be an accessory to murder even if they did believe your story against mine. You would also go to jail. Don’t forget that!’
She leaned back and laughed. It was a harsh, horrible sound.
‘You poor sap! Do you imagine I would care if I went to jail? Take a look at me! What have I got to lose? I’m washed-up! I’ve lost what looks I ever had. I can’t sing a note now. I’m a junky, always on the hunt for some money to buy a shot. Why should I care if I went to jail? I’d be better off than I am now!’
She leaned forward, her face suddenly changing to a vicious harshness, ‘But you’d care if you went to jail! You have everything to lose! You want to build that bridge, don’t you? You want a new home, don’t you? You want to go on sleeping with that nice wife of yours, don’t you? You want to hang onto your position in life, don’t you? You have everything. I have nothing. If you don’t toe the line, Jeff, we’ll go to jail together. I mean that. Don’t think I’m bluffing. What’s better than money? I want it and I’m going to have it. You’re going to pay or we go to jail!’
I stared at her. What she had said was true. She had nothing to lose. She was at the bottom of civilised existence. I could even believe she would be better off in jail.
I had to try to frighten her, but I knew it was hopeless.
‘They’d give you at least ten years. How would you like to be locked up in a cell for ten years without any dope?’
She laughed at me.
‘How would you like to be locked up in a cell for twenty years without your nice wife? I couldn’t care. Maybe they would cure me. How do you imagine I’ve been living these past years? How do you imagine I have managed to scrape up the money to buy my shots? I’ve been walking the streets. You think about it. You try to imagine that nice wife of yours coping with men every night. You can’t scare me with the thoughts of jail, but I can scare you! Jail would be like a home to me after what I’ve been through! You either pay up or we go to jail!’
Looking at the desperate, degenerate face I knew I was caught. There was a case against me. Maybe I might beat the murder rap, but I was certain to land in jail. My fear turned to a smouldering rage. I had come so far. I was now right at the top. Until she had telephoned, my future was assured. Now I was in her trap. She had only to crack her whip and I would have to obey. I was sure she planned to bleed me white.
‘Well, all right,’ I said. ‘I’ll give you some money. I’ll give you five thousand dollars. That’s all I can spare. Think yourself damn lucky to get it.’
‘Oh no, Jeff. I have a score to settle with you. I haven’t forgotten how you once treated me.’ She put her hand to her face. ‘No sonofabitch slaps me without paying for it. I’m dictating the terms. That tape you lost is going to cost you sixty thousand dollars. I want ten thousand this week. Ten thousand on the first of the month and thirty thousand on the following month and ten thousand as a final payment.’
I felt a rush of blood to my head, but I kept control of myself.
‘No!’
She laughed.
‘All right: please yourself. You think it over, Jeff. I’m not bluffing. You either pay up or we go to jail.
That’s the proposition. Please yourself.’
I thought about it. I could see no way out. I was caught. I knew it wouldn’t stop there. Once she had run through the sixty thousand, she would come back for more. The only escape from her continual blackmail would be if she died. I suddenly realised that if I were to live the life I wanted to live I would have to kill her.
The thought didn’t shock me. I had no feeling for her. She was a depraved, degenerate animal. It would be like killing some disgusting insect.
I opened my cigarette case, took out a cigarette and lit it. My hands were rock steady.
‘Looks as if you have me over a barrel,’ I said. ‘Well, all right. I’ll get the ten thousand. I’ll have it ready for you by tomorrow. If you will meet me outside here at this time, I’ll give it to you.’
She smiled at me: it was a smile that chilled my heart.
‘I know what you are planning, Jeff. I’ve thought this thing out. I’ve had plenty of time to think while you have been so busy making money. I put myself in your place. How would I react, I asked myself, if I were you and found myself in such a fix?’ She let smoke drift out of her open mouth as she paused, then she went-on, ‘First, I would try to find a way out. It wouldn’t take me very long to realise there is no way out except one way.’ She leaned forward and stared at me. ‘The same idea has occurred to you, hasn’t it? The only way out is for me to be dead, and you’re already planning to kill me, aren’t you?’
I sat motionless, staring at her. The blood drained out of my face and my body felt damp and cold.
‘I’ve taken care of that angle,’ she went on, and opened her shabby handbag. She took out a scrap of paper and flicked it into my lap. ‘You’ll mail the cheques to this address. It’s the address of the Pacific and Union Bank of Los Angeles. It’s not my bank, but they have been told to credit my account somewhere else and you won’t know where it is. I’m taking no chances with you. There’ll be no way for you to find out where my bank is or where I’ll be living. So don’t imagine you are going to murder me, Jeff, because you’ll never find me after tonight.’
I kept control of the urge that made me want to fasten my hands around her throat and choke the life out of her.
‘You seem to have thought of everything, haven’t you?’ I said.
‘I think I have.’ She held out her hand. ‘Give me your wallet. I want some money right now.’
‘You can go to hell,’ I said.
She smiled at me.
‘Remember years ago when you asked me for my purse and you took every dollar I had? Give me your wallet, Jeff, or we’ll take a walk to the Station house.’
We stared at each other for a long moment, then I took out my wallet and dropped it into her lap.
That morning I had been to the bank. I had two hundred dollars in the wallet. She took the lot and then tossed the wallet onto the table.
She got up, putting the money in her bag and she crossed the lobby to the reception desk and rang the bell.
The fat Italian came out of the inner room. She spoke to him. I couldn’t hear what she was saying.
She gave him some money. He grinned at her, nodding, then went back into the inner room.
She came back to me.
‘I’m leaving now. You won’t see me again unless you try something smart. You will send a cheque sometimes this week for the ten thousand dollars to the Los Angeles bank. On the first of the month you will send another cheque for ten thousand. The following month you will send me a cheque for thirty thousand. The month after that, another cheque for ten thousand. Have you got that?’
‘Yes,’ I said, thinking if she was leaving now I must follow her. I was sure if I lost her now, I would never find her again. ‘But don’t imagine it’s going to be all that easy.’
‘Isn’t it?’
The fat Italian, followed by two hard looking characters, came out of the inner room and grouped themselves in front of the entrance to the hotel.
I was on my feet now.
‘I’ve asked these boys to keep you here until I drop out of sight,’ Rima said. ‘I wouldn’t start anything with them. They’re tough.’
The two men with the fat Italian were both young and strong looking. One of them, with a lot of blond limp hair, wore a leather jacket and had leather patches on the knees of his trousers. The other, with a brutal hammered face of an ex-boxer, was in a filthy white shirt, the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans.
