Cade Read online

  ‘Yes. Don’t let us discuss it,’ Cade said. ‘Have you anything important to do for the next three days?’

  Creel blinked, then shrugged.

  ‘I seldom have anything important to do.’

  ‘I want you to remain here. I want you to stay with Juana, and when she is well enough, I want you to put her on a plane to New York. I want you to be her jailer.’

  Creel stared at him, his eyes growing round.

  ‘Jailer? I don’t understand, amigo.’

  ‘We were going together to New York this morning,’ Cade said. ‘Last night, she complained of being ill. She looks ill, but she could be faking. I don’t trust her, Adolfo. This could be an excuse to escape from me again.’

  ‘I still don’t understand,’ Creel said, bewildered.

  ‘Why not let her escape if that is the way she feels?

  ‘What is the use of a woman like her to you?’

  ‘I can’t explain it to you. She wants me. I am sure of that. I even believe she loves me, but now, I think she is in the process of balancing me and money and the scale is tipping in favour of money. If I can get her to New York, I think I will win. It is a battle between us. My life would be empty without her. It’s as simple as that. I must keep her.’

  Creel lifted his fat shoulders.

  ‘Are you so sure about that?’

  ‘Yes, I am sure. You are my friend. I have no one else who I trust more than you. Will you do this for me?’

  ‘Of course. I won’t fail you, amigo. She will be on the New York plane. That I promise you.’

  Later, Cade went upstairs and told Juana.

  ‘Adolfo will stay here,’ he said. ‘When you feel well enough, he will put you on a plane. I don’t want you to be alone in Mexico City.’

  She lay flat in the bed, her black tresses arranged around her in a shroud, her eyes distant.

  ‘You have no trust in me, have you?’

  ‘No,’ Cade said. ‘But I love you and I am going to keep you. This is the only way I can make sure that I will keep you.’

  She suddenly smiled and held out her arms.

  ‘How I love you!’ she exclaimed. ‘It is good for a woman to be loved like this. No man has ever taken so much trouble. When I am better, I will be with you, cariño.’

  Cade kissed her, feeling her passion in the soft movement of her lips.

  ‘We can make a wonderful life together, Juana,’ he said.

  ‘We will make a wonderful life together,’ she said.

  Carrying his bag, Cade came down the stairs to where Creel was waiting. The two men shook hands.

  ‘It is time I did something for you, Adolfo,’ Cade said.

  ‘A time will come,’ Creel said with a smile. ‘It is what friendship is for.’

  ‘I will telephone every evening at eight. Watch her, please. There should be no trouble while you are here.’

  ‘There will be no trouble, amigo, but you can’t continue to live like this. If there is no trust, there can be no happiness.’

  ‘I’m buying time,’ Cade said. ‘So long. I’ll call tonight.’

  Ed Burdick was at the airport when Cade arrived. As they drove along the traffic congested highway, Cade tried to explain about Juana.

  Burdick cut him short.

  ‘This is your business, Val. I thought you were serious about Vicki. Okay, you must know what you are doing. After all, you are an adult.’ He brooded for several moments, then said, ‘I hope to God you do know what you are doing.’

  ‘Juana is my wife,’ Cade said. ‘Marriage is important to me. It is something that has to be permanent,’

  Burdick moved his shoulders impatiently.

  ‘Nothing is permanent to me, but I’m a cynic. I want to tell you about Weston’s decor. In colour …’

  They talked shop and technical details until they reached the offices of the New York Sun. From then on, Cade was too busy to think of Juana. While discussing the sets with Harry Weston, Burdick and the two leads of the show in a down-town bar, Cade glanced at his watch and saw it was 19.55 hours. He excused himself and went to a nearby telephone booth and called Mexico City. He waited in the booth until the call came through.

  Creel said, ‘She is still not very well, amigo. She is in bed. I have a buyer for the car. He will pay a fair price.’

  ‘Can I talk to her, Adolfo?’

  ‘She is sleeping. I went up there five minutes ago to see if she wanted anything to eat, but she was asleep.’

  ‘So she really is ill?’

  ‘That I don’t know. I am here. I sit in the garden. She remains upstairs in bed. I will expect you to call again tomorrow.’

  ‘Get her here as fast as you can.’

  ‘That I have promised to do. There is no need to worry.’

  Cade went back to the discussion, more light-hearted than he had been since he had left Mexico.

  The following day, he and Burdick worked at the theatre. The assignment went well. Cade spent most of the early evening processing the films he had taken, but his mind kept shifting to Juana. At 20.00 hours he left the final processing to the technical staff and going into one of the empty offices, he put a call through to Mexico City.

  While he waited, he began a rough sketch for the layout of the pictures, but his mind was only half on his work.

  When the telephone bell rang, he eagerly scooped up the receiver.

  ‘There is no reply,’ the operator told him. Cade stiffened.

  ‘But I know someone is there. Please try again.’

  He waited. A tense, uneasy feeling making any further concentration on his work impossible.

  Finally, the operator again told him there was no reply.

  ‘Give me the airport,’ Cade said. What was he getting so excited about? he asked himself. Juana and Creel were either at the airport or driving to the airport. She was on her way to New York.

  The clerk at the airport said there was a flight from Mexico City landing at Kennedy Airport in two hours.

  She would be on that, Cade thought, replacing the receiver, but it was odd Adolfo hadn’t warned him.

  An hour later, after he had sent the finished prints to Mathison, Cade again tried to reach Creel, but again the operator told him there was no one answering. He called the airport and the clerk said that Senora Juana Cade was not booked on the last flight from Mexico City.

  Burdick came into the office as Cade hung up. One look at Cade’s anguished expression made him ask sharply, ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I can’t get an answer from Juana,’ Cade said, getting to his feet ‘I shouldn’t have left her! Goddamn it! Let’s go out and have a drink!’

  ‘Cut it out!’ Burdick said. ‘You’re not starting that again. We’ll go home.’

  Cade looked at him, hesitated, then forced a smile.

  ‘Yes. We’ll go home.’

  At 06.00 hours the following morning, while Burdick slept, Cade put another call through to Mexico City. Again he was told there was no answer. He called the airport. They told him there was a flight out at 09.30 hours. He threw whatever he needed into a bag and left the apartment.

  At 13.00 hours, he got out of the taxi that had brought him from the airport to the little house in the park. As he walked up the path, he saw the garage doors were open and the scarlet Thunderbird no longer there.

  He tried the front door and found it unlocked. Moving slowly, he walked into the living-room. The french windows stood open. Beyond, he could see the patio and the lounging-chairs.

  He put down his bag and stood listening. He had a premonition of disaster and he had to force himself to mount the stairs. At the bedroom door, he stood hesitating, his heart thumping, then he pushed open the door and walked in.

  Creel lay on the bed. He had on a pair of pink and white striped pyjama trousers. In his right hand, he clutched a .22 revolver. Dried blood caked on the side of his face, the small black hole by his temple told Cade how he had died.

  The only indication of Juana�
�s presence was the faint but unmistakable smell of her perfume.

  Cade returned to New York late that night. He walked into the apartment where Burdick was anxiously waiting. One glance at Cade’s flushed, sweating face told Burdick he had been drinking.

  ‘Well, that’s it!’ Cade said, tossing his overnight bag on the settee. ‘Short and sour!’

  ‘What happened?’ Burdick asked, careful to conceal his dismay.

  Cade sat down. As he lit a cigarette, Burdick could see his hands were shaking.

  ‘She’s gone. She’s taken all her things and her car. I guess it was my fault. I gave it to her a little too rough. I guess it was the car that finally decided her. If I had let that alone she just might have come to New York. The car obviously meant a lot to her, but I just couldn’t stomach having her around in a car given her by one of her lovers. Anyway, she’s gone.’ He frowned down at his hands. ‘Apart from the car, I must have scared her with my talk about money. Money means an awful lot to her.’

  ‘I thought Creel was looking after her.’

  Cade laughed. The harsh sound made Burdick wince.

  ‘Sure, he was supposed to be looking after her. It’s a damn funny thing, but I really did believe I could trust Creel. The trouble with me is I am a born sucker. She and Creel went to bed together. Messy, isn’t it?’

  Burdick drew in a deep breath.

  ‘Are you sure, Val? That’s a hell of a thing! Creel struck me as a pretty good man.’

  ‘I’m sure. I found him in our bed. The stupid bastard shot himself.’ Cade put his hand over his eyes. ‘That’s what he did. He laid her, then he hadn’t the guts to face me … the fat, stupid son of a whore!’

  ‘Good God!’ Burdick, shocked, got to his feet and went over to the window, pulling aside the curtain to stare out at the night sky.

  ‘He promised to put her on the plane,’ Cade went on, his voice shaking. ‘He said I could trust him. I bet she had him in the goddamn bed before I even left Mexico. Well, I hope he is burning in hell right now!’

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ Burdick said furiously. He turned and faced Cade. ‘You’re drunk! This is your fault, and you damn well know it! Leaving him with a woman like that! She made a fool out of you enough times! What gave you the idea that Adolfo was stronger and less of a man than you? What made you imagine he was a saint?’

  Cade stared at him.

  ‘So you think because he shot himself, the score is even? Well, I don’t. He said he was my friend. Then he does this to me! Friend! The fat greaseball!’

  ‘You make me sick,’ Burdick said quietly. He genuinely liked Adolfo. The shock of the Mexican’s end blunted his caution. ‘You ruined yourself for that woman … and God! what a worthless, vicious, disgusting whore she’s turned out to be! Now, you’re drinking again. You are a weak, spineless mess! It’s time someone told you, and I’m telling you. Okay, you have talent. You can take a photograph, but that doesn’t mean you are anything but a gutless, body loving womaniser! At least Adolfo had guts. She fixed him. She would have fixed me! He knew there was nothing he could do or say that would make you understand it was your fault to have left him with such a woman, so he gave you his life!’

  Cade got to his feet.

  ‘I’m telling Mathison I am not working with you any more,’ he said. ‘If that’s the way you feel about me …’

  ‘Feel about you? I don’t feel anything about you. You are less than nothing. I’m going out,’ Burdick said, his voice unsteady. ‘When I get back, I expect you to be out of here. You’re going to start hitting the bottle and I know there is nothing I can do to stop you, so I don’t want you here, and it is more than all right with me if we don’t work together. Working with you now will be a pain in the neck. So pack up and get out and get drunk and kill yourself if you have to. You’ve had your chance. Vicki would have married you, but no, you still must cling to your rotten whore and now you’re going to pay for it. To hell with her and to hell with you!’

  He went out, slamming the door.

  For the next three days, there was no sign of Cade. Mathison who had been alerted by Burdick waited patiently. He accepted the situation and sent Burdick to London to do a series of articles on the General Election.

  He shrugged when Burdick had said bitterly, ‘Well, you were right. He is a lush, and he probably will always be a lush. I don’t know what you are going to do with him, but I am not going to spoil my reputation having him with me.’

  ‘That’s okay, Ed. I’ll talk to him if he ever shows up. He is still a great photographer. I am square enough to remember he and you shoved up the Sun’s circulation by twenty-seven per cent. That is quite an achievement. You get off to London.’

  On the fourth day, Cade came into Mathison’s office. He was pretty drunk, but he carried it well enough. He said he was ready to go to work.

  ‘I have other ideas for the Supplement now, Val,’ Mathison said. ‘How do you feel about having a shot at straight press work?’

  ‘I don’t give a damn. Sure, why not?’ Cade said. ‘I have a contract with you. You pay me … I work.’

  After three disastrous weeks, came the Eastonville assignment.

  SEVEN

  Cade walked slowly and stiffly down the steps of Eastonville’s State hospital to where Ron Mitchell was lolling against his dusty Chevrolet.

  Apart from a swelling under his left eye, a strip of plaster along his jaw and his paleness, Cade showed no visible signs of the brutal body beating he had received from the three deputies after his escape from the Central Motor Hotel.

  His body ached and he had difficulty in holding himself upright, but a feeling of utter triumph which he was careful to conceal, kept him moving.

  ‘Hello, Cade,’ Mitchell said. ‘Get in. I bet you don’t want to miss your plane. I bet you have had enough of this little ol’ town, huh?’

  ‘Just about,’ Cade said and got into the passenger’s seat.

  By now, he thought, as he carefully straightened his legs, the cartridge of film would be on its way to Mathison. In a day or so, the pictures would be with the F.B.I., and then those thugs who had killed Sonny Small and his girl friend would laugh the other side of their brutal faces.

  Mitchell climbed in beside Cade and sent the car roaring towards the highway.

  ‘Your camera’s on the back seat, Cade,’ he said. ‘Thought I would bring it along.’ He touched his bruised face and grinned. ‘I certainly asked for that. Well, you got beat up: I got beat up, so we’re square.

  Just keep your long nose out of this little ol’ town in the future.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Cade said tonelessly.

  He turned to look at his worn Pan-Am overnight bag. Then he felt a prickle of apprehension. Had this moronic sadist checked the camera and found the film missing? Maybe he hadn’t thought about the film. He was stupid enough for the idea not to occur to him, but Cade now began to sweat a little. Maybe this was a trap and he wasn’t being taken to the airport. Maybe he was going to be taken somewhere and asked for the film: asked with the persuasion these thugs would know how to use.

  ‘Something biting you, Cade?’ Mitchell asked, glancing at him.

  ‘I just don’t feel good. Nor would you if you got kicked in the belly.’

  Mitchell laughed.

  ‘I thought you had something on your mind.’

  But they were heading for the airport. Cade could see a plane coming in to land, and in a few minutes, he saw the distant airport buildings.

  ‘You haven’t asked about the march you were at one time so interested in,’ Mitchell said. ‘Well, we broke it up. It was fun while it lasted. Those niggers are certainly sitting in their shanties with sore heads this morning.’ He laughed. ‘I wouldn’t talk too much about it when you get back to your nigger-loving home. Just relax, and don’t flap with the mouth.’

  Cade didn’t say anything. In another three minutes, they pulled up at the Departure Centre of the airport. Cade slung his heavy bag on his shoulder, wi
ncing a little as he got out of the car.

  ‘Well, so long, Cade,’ Mitchell said. ‘Sorry you didn’t enjoy your visit.’

  Cade walked into the lobby. He checked his ticket. The clerk gave him a sneering little grin as he stamped the ticket.

  ‘Have a good trip,’ he said.

  Cade paid no attention. In another few minutes he would be past the police control and then he would be out of trouble.

  ‘Hello, Cade.’

  He stiffened and slowly turned.

  Deputy Joe Schneider was strolling towards him, a half-grin on his fleshy face. He was immaculate in his khaki drill, his star shining in the neon light.

  Cade waited, aware of fear, but thinking: all right, you sonofabitch, you can start something now, but this time I can finish it. I have this stinking town where I want it. Five of your natives are going to feel a hand on their collars, and it will happen because of me.

  ‘You off?’ Schneider said, pausing before Cade.

  ‘That’s the idea, deputy,’ Cade said.

  ‘Fine. Well, none too soon, but now you’re going no ill feelings.’

  Cade didn’t say anything.

  ‘I guess you must be feeling a little sore. My boys get over-enthusiastic. You know how it is, Cade. We just don’t like nigger-lovers in this town.’

  Still Cade said nothing.

  ‘I brought along a little memento for you,’ Schneider went on, his grin widening. ‘I wouldn’t like you to leave us without something to remember us by.’

  Cade straightened his aching body. Here it comes, he thought. The sonofabitch is going to knock my teeth out. But take it, for you are going to even the score. You have this stinking town by the short hairs.

  Schneider took something from his pocket and held it up between his finger and thumb.

  Cade stared at the Kodak film cartridge, feeling the blood drain out of his face and his body turning cold.

  ‘Yeah. The film you took,’ Schneider said. ‘You know, Cade, you don’t understand what goes on in this little ol’ town. Nigger eats nigger here. When a nigger thinks he can do good for himself, he does good for himself. Old Sam brought this film to me. He said you told him to send it to the Sun. He thought I would appreciate the gift more than the Sun, and he was right. We’ll take care of Sam. A nigger like him deserves to be taken care of.’