1973 - Have a Change of Scene Read online

  I headed back to my hotel.

  Passing another stinking trash bin, I paused to drop the watch into it. I moved some litter to cover the watch and then walked on.

  Now, I really felt ten feet tall.

  I had broken the ice. I was a thief!

  * * *

  I woke the next morning from a restless sleep and I heard a voice speaking clearly in my mind. The voice was saying, ‘You must leave here this morning and go back to Paradise City. You must see Dr. Melish and tell him what is happening to you. You must tell him what you did last night and ask for his help.’

  I became fully awake and looked around the room. The voice had been so loud and clear that I thought someone was in the room.

  Then I realised I had been dreaming and I dropped back on the pillow.

  There was no question of going back. Melish couldn’t help me because I didn’t want to be helped. I thought of Rhea and my desire for her became so bad, I had to get out of bed and stand under the cold shower until the heat of my body diminished. Then I shaved, put on the sweat shirt and jeans and went down to the restaurant to drink two cups of bad coffee.

  There were several elderly salesmen eating breakfast while they consulted their notebooks. None of them paid any attention to me. I lit a cigarette and thought about last night.

  What a gutless performance!

  How Rhea would have sneered had she known!

  How I had fumbled the operation of stealing a car! Then this stupid little pansy. Anyone could have done that! What risk had I taken? I had stolen his watch which was probably his dearest possession. That was nothing to be proud of. I remembered Spooky Jinx had called me Cheapie. On my record of last night that was exactly what I was: Cheapie.

  But tonight, I told myself, would be different. Tonight, I was determined to move into the big league, but this needed planning. I sat there, smoking and thinking, and finally I came up with a plan of operation.

  Leaving the hotel, I got into the Buick and drove out of town. Some hundred miles north on the freeway was a little town called Jason’s Halt. It was an orange-growing town: clean, prosperous and small. Its main street was crowded with trucks and orange brokers doing deals. I found parking space, then walked along the hot sidewalk until I found a self-service store. I shoved my way through the crowd, busy getting in the weekend groceries: a surging mass of people, and to them, I was the invisible man.

  I found my way to the snack bar, ate a steak sandwich and drank a beer, then took the escalator to the toy department. There, I asked the girl for a toy revolver, mentioning a non-existent nephew. She showed me an assortment of revolvers, automatics and even a Colonel Cody Colt. I chose a Beretta, made famous by 007. It was an exact replica and looked menacing when I held it in my hand. I then went down to a lower floor and bought a sling bag with TWA stamped on its sides. From there I went to the men’s shop and after a search, I bought a dark red jacket with black patch pockets: a jacket that would be remembered. From there, I went into the gimmick department and bought a Beade wig and a pair of silvered sunglasses through which you could see, but rendered your face anonymous.

  All these items I put in the sling bag.

  I got back to Luceville around 16.15.

  As I was driving to the hotel I passed the city hospital and I remembered I hadn’t seen Jenny and she would be wondering about me. A car pulled out from a parking bay, so I drove into the space, acting on impulse. I sat for some minutes trying to make up my mind if I wanted to see Jenny again. I was inclined not to see her, but the other part of my mind pulled. I got out of the car and walked over to the bookstall and bought a copy of Forsyth’s Day of the Jackal and Graham Greene’s great classic, The Power and the Glory.

  ‘I was wondering about you,’ Jenny said after thanking me for the books. ‘I wish you would go home.’

  ‘Don’t fuss.’ I smiled at her, thinking how different she was to Rhea. ‘I’m not yet ready for the lush and plush life of Paradise City.’

  ‘But what are you doing?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘I get around. This town fascinates me.’

  ‘You have hurt your hand.’

  My knuckles were still raw from hitting Rhea’s brother.

  ‘I had trouble with my car, the spanner slipped. How are you, Jenny?’

  ‘Mending. The ankle takes time.’

  I told her about Hatchetface and the teenager.

  ‘She doesn’t want me.’

  ‘Miss Mathis is very professional.’ Jenny shook her head. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘I can’t say I do.’ A pause, then I asked her what I wanted to know. ‘Tell me something, Jenny. Rhea Morgan’s brother, he seemed a tough character. What does he do for a living or don’t you know?’

  ‘Fel?’

  ‘Is that his name - Fel Morgan?’

  ‘Feldon, his grandfather was Feldon Morgan. He was named after him. His grandfather was shot while robbing a bank.’

  ‘He was? Do you know how Fel makes a living?’

  ‘Something to do with junk cars selling scrap, that sort of thing. Why are you interested?’

  ‘That bungalow, what a place! I didn’t think anyone making any kind of a living could live there.’

  ‘Oh yes. Some people just don’t care where or how they live.’ She made a grimace. ‘I worry about Rhea. She could so easily get into trouble again. Her brother’s no help. She has this obsession about getting rich. She just won’t accept the fact that if you want money you must work for it, she says she won’t wait that long. I’ve talked to her so often, but I can’t get through. I’m beginning to think she’s a hopeless case. I hate saying this about anyone, but Rhea could be a hopeless case. I feel she will be in trouble again soon and then she will go back to prison for years.’

  ‘Well, it’s her funeral,’ I said. ‘But it does tell me what a tough job you have.’

  She lifted her hand and dropped it on the sheet.

  ‘I’m not complaining. It’s my job.’ A pause, then she went on, ‘People have to live their own lives.

  Every so often, I feel I do influence them and that is rewarding.’ She smiled at me. ‘Can’t I influence you, Larry, just a little? Won’t you go home and forget this town just to please me?’

  Thoughts flashed through my mind. Jenny was a Do-gooder: a woman walking up an escalator going the other way. I had other things on my mind. This was the opportunity to con her. She would be laid up for another two weeks and couldn’t check on me.

  I made out I was hesitating, then I nodded as if I had made up my mind.

  ‘All right, Jenny, you have influenced me,’ I said. ‘I’ll go. You’re right: I am wasting my time here. I hate leaving you. You’ve been a good friend to me, but you’re right. I’ll go first thing tomorrow.’

  Maybe I overdid it. Maybe she was smarter than I gave her credit for. She looked sadly at me.

  ‘I’ve learned people do have to live their own lives. Very few people will take advice. I try, but they don’t listen, so there isn’t much I can do about it, is there?’

  I suddenly wanted to tell her what was happening to me. I knew I would never tell Dr. Melish, but there was something about her as she lay in the bed, looking searchingly at me that gave me the urge to confide in her.

  Then Rhea came into my mind and the moment to confess had gone.

  I touched her fingers, forced a smile, said a few banal things about keeping in touch and then walked out of the hospital, my mind switched to what I had to do this night.

  Back in my hotel bedroom, I unpacked the items I had bought. I put on the jacket, then the wig, then the silver glasses. With the Beretta toy gun in my hand, I went into the shower room where there was a full-length mirror.

  I looked at myself.

  I certainly looked a freak, and I was sure no one could possibly recognise me. I drew my lips off my teeth in a snarl and I looked scarey. I lifted the gun and pointed it at my reflection and I snarled: ‘This is a goddamn holdup!’

>   If this threatening image in the mirror had walked into my office in Paradise City I would have handed over all the diamonds in the safe without hesitation.

  Satisfied, I took off the wig, the glasses and the jacket and packed them carefully, with the gun, in the sling bag. I felt sure that by taking the trouble of buying them in Jason’s Halt there would be no chance of the police, after the raid, tracing them to me.

  I was pleased with myself.

  Now I had to wait until midnight and then I would be in the big league.

  I lay on the bed and rehearsed the operation. I went through the dialogue I would use. Having satisfied myself I was word perfect, I dropped off to sleep. I was pleased I could sleep. This proved to me that there was nothing wrong with my nerves.

  Around 21.00, I woke and went across the street to a snack bar and ate greasy meatballs and spaghetti.

  I took my time. Leaving the snack bar, I returned to the hotel, collected the sling bag and then walked to my car which I had parked at the end of the street.

  I drove out of town and along the freeway. Five miles out of Luceville was a Caltex service station. I had never stopped there, but I had often passed it. It was always doing a brisk trade, and I knew it remained open all night.

  As I drove by it, I slowed the Buick. There was a fat, powerfully built man in white uniform shooting gas into a car. I couldn’t see anyone else around. I felt satisfied this man was on night shift and would be on his own.

  I U-turned when I could and drove back to Luceville. I spent the next two hours in an all-night movie house, watching an old Western. It was good enough to hold my attention.

  When the lights came up, I walked with the rest of the crowd into the hot cement-dusty street and got in my car.

  For some moments, I sat still, before starting the motor.

  Here I go, I thought and was a little dismayed that my heart was thumping and my hands wet with sweat.

  There was a lay-by some three hundred yards from the service station. I pulled into it, killed the motor and the lights. I looked ahead at the bright flashing sign that spelt out: CALTEX. Getting out of the car and keeping in the shadows, I put on the jacket, the wig and the glasses. My hands were so unsteady when I took the toy gun out of the sling bag, I dropped it. I spent some feverish moments groping in the grass before I found it.

  My heart was hammering. For a moment I hesitated whether to go back to the hotel or to go ahead.

  Then Rhea with her red hair and her cynical, sexy green eyes came into my mind and my nerve stiffened.

  I walked fast along the grass verge of the highway towards the lights of the service station.

  Only an occasional car whizzed by me.

  As I neared the service station I slowed my pace.

  Keeping in the shadows, I moved slowly forward. I could now see the small, well-lighted office. The fat attendant was watching a late-night TV show, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

  Tension was making my heart beat so violently I had trouble with my breathing. I stood still for some minutes, watching him. The highway was deserted. If I was going to do it, I had to do it now.

  I heard myself muttering: ‘Are you crazy? You could land in jail!’ But I moved forward, gripping the butt of the toy gun so hard my fingers began to ache.

  The attendant looked up as I pushed open the glass door. At the sight of me, he stiffened, then seeing the gun, he froze.

  ‘This is a hold up,’ I said, but there was no snarl in my voice. I was as scared as he was.

  We stared at each other. He was a man around fifty years of age: a fat, fatherly type, his hair shot with grey and he had steady brown eyes and the firm mouth of a provider.

  He recovered from his fright. His eyes examined the gun in my hand, then he relaxed.

  ‘No money here, son,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re out of luck.’

  ‘Give me the money or this heater goes off.’ The quaver in my voice sickened me. I knew I was as menacing as a mouse.

  ‘We have a system here, son,’ he said, as if talking to a child. ‘A night safe. Every buck I get gets fed into that steel box over there and only the boss can open it.’

  I stared at him, sweat running down my face.

  ‘I gave my son one of those guns for Christmas,’ he went on. ‘He’s crazy about James Bond.’ His eyes shifted to the lighted TV screen. ‘Suppose you shove off? Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I go for Bob Hope.’ He gave a relaxed laugh as Hope said: Even my flab is flabby.

  Defeated, I went away into the darkness, to my car and back to the hotel.

  FIVE

  Back in my hotel bedroom, I lay in the dark and in despair.

  Cheapie!

  Spooky’s taunt rang in my ears.

  Yes Cheapie!

  My head ached and I was shivering with frustration and shame. I was gutless! There must be something wrong with my mechanism! It was only when I was goaded into losing my temper that I seemed to be able to act, but in cold blood, I was as menacing as a mouse!

  I knew for certain that my gutless attempt to compete with Rhea’s record was now stillborn. I knew I hadn’t the guts to make a second attempt, sure that it would lead to my arrest. I was a hopeless, useless, fumbling amateur! I had been lucky with the fat attendant. He had known as soon as he saw the gun that it was a toy, and he had dismissed me with the contempt I deserved.

  My mind switched to Rhea. My body ached for her. I was past telling myself I was crazy, that the evil and the viciousness in her could destroy me. There was her siren’s song hammering in my mind, and it was irresistible.

  I remembered what she had said: When you have me it ‘ll cost you more than a meal. I remembered how she had looked, standing there, her green eyes full of sexual promises, her body slightly arched towards me, her sensual smile.

  And now I didn’t give a damn what it would cost me! Gone was my arrogant confidence that I would have her for nothing. I had to have her! I had to have her even on her own terms! What would she want?

  Jenny had written in her report that this woman had been a prostitute. Suppose I offered her two hundred dollars? That was a hell of a price to pay a whore. She wouldn’t refuse two hundred dollars! Maybe once I had taken her, I would get her out of my system.

  I began to relax, although my head still ached. Impatiently, I got out of bed, threw eight Aspro tablets into my mouth and washed them down. I got back to bed and waited for the pills to work. Money bought anything, I told myself, providing you had enough money. I would buy her! She has this obsession about getting rich, Jenny had said. Rhea, I told myself, would jump at two hundred dollars. I didn’t care now that I was buying her. My overpowering lust that was tormenting me demanded the sight of her naked, on a bed. Then once I had taken her, once this lust was satisfied, I would return to Paradise City and forget her.

  Still thinking, I finally fell asleep.

  * * *

  The following morning, feeling much more confident, I went to the local bank and cashed five one-hundred dollar Traveller’s cheques. Just to be on the safe side, I told myself. I would offer her two hundred and go to five if I had to, but I was sure she would grab the two hundred.

  I returned to where I had parked the Buick, started the motor, then as I was about to engage gear, I remembered her brother. Would he be there? Would he be hanging around that sordid little bungalow?

  My fingers tightened on the driving wheel. I couldn’t make my offer if he were in the bungalow.

  This was a problem and a wave of sick frustration ran through me. I turned off the ignition, got out of the car and started down the street. It was too early. The City Hall clock was striking ten o’clock. I had to contain my impatience. I would have to wait until at least midday and even then, I couldn’t be sure the brother would be away at work. I walked aimlessly, not seeing anyone, Rhea burning a hole in my mind. I wandered around like that until the City Hall clock struck eleven. By then I was fit to climb a tree. I went into a bar and called for a double Scot
ch on the rocks.

  The drink steadied me a little. I lit a cigarette and just as I was going to call for another drink, I saw Fel Morgan across the street, getting out of a dusty 1960 Buick.

  I hurriedly paid for my drink and went quickly to the bar entrance. Fel was already walking away, his hands in his jeans pockets: a tight, dirty white Tee shirt outlining his powerful muscles.

  I went after him, following him to a scrap metal yard. I paused to watch him enter and wave to a fat man in overalls who was struggling with a vast lump of rusty metal.

  With my heart hammering and my breath coming in gasps, I spun round and raced back along the street to where I had parked my car. I sent it shooting towards Highway 3.

  Twenty minutes later I was bumping up the dirt road that led to the Morgan’s bungalow.

  I kept muttering to myself: ‘Please God, let her be in!’

  As I pulled up outside the bungalow, I saw the front door was standing open. I switched off the motor and sat still, my hands gripping the steering wheel, listening to the thump of my heart while I stared at the open door. I sat there for a minute or so, then I got out of the car and, in a sexual fever, walked slowly over the rough grass, picking my way through the litter.

  As I reached the open front door, Rhea appeared in the doorway that led to the sitting room.

  We stood looking at each other.

  She had smartened herself up since last I had seen her. She had on a skimpy cotton dress that reached to just above her knees. Her legs and feet were bare. Around her neck was a cheap blue necklace. Her face was as cold and as expressionless as ever and her green eyes as cynical.

  ‘Hello,’ she said in her husky voice that sent shivers through me. ‘What do you want?’

  Trying to keep my voice steady, I said, ‘You know what I want.’

  She studied me and then stepped back. ‘Better come in and talk about it.’

  I followed her into the sordid little room. A chipped coffee pot and two used cups stood on the table. A tin ashtray, spilling over with butts, made a centrepiece.