1974 - Goldfish Have No Hiding Place by James Hadley Chase Page B
Authors: James Hadley Chase
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in the same mess as I am, suppose we put our cards on the table?”
He regarded me.
“Yeah . . . go ahead. Don't regard me as a cop. Level with me.”
“We might help each other,” I said. “My wife stole a bottle of expensive perfume from the store. She was caught on the scanner. Gordy wanted twenty thousand dollars for the strip of film, showing her stealing. He told me other husbands were involved. I decided to pay, but I couldn't raise all the money. I went to Gordy's house with three thousand. I found him dead. I was about to search the house for the film when a woman arrived. I got away while she was calling the police. I didn't shoot him, but I'm sure the gun that killed him was the one I was given on the pistol permit. I had left the gun right here on that settee. My thinking is someone took it, killed Gordy, then replaced it. I've got rid of the gun.” I stared at him. “That's the story, Brenner. Feel like giving me your story?”
“The same as yours.” He lifted his fists in despair. “Why the hell do women do it? On my pay, I can't give her all that much, but I thought she was happy. The scanner caught her. She was one of the first. The bastard wanted three thousand: that's money I haven't got. So he was selling me a frame from the film at a time for thirty dollars a week.”
Although I didn't like him, I felt sorry for him.
“If the film is found,” he went on, “I'll be finished. Goldstein has no use for me.” He rubbed his hand over his sweating face. “When I got there, I found the shell case. I recognised it and I was sure you had killed him and had got the film and the blow-ups. That was why I gave you the shell case. I knew if Goldstein had found it, he would have traced it to you. My thinking right at that moment was I didn't want anyone nailed for Gordy's murder. That was stupid thinking. Goldstein now knows about the scanners and he has checked the store for film. There's no film. He has checked Gordy's house: no film. So . . . Goldstein is a very smart cookie. He knows Gordy's killing involves blackmail and now he is starting an investigation, checking every customer who has used the store.”
“That doesn't mean he can prove anything unless he has the film,” I said.
“That's right but he is like a goddamn mongoose. Once he gets his teeth into something, he never lets go.”
“Let's look at this, Brenner.” I was glad to have someone to throw ideas at. “The film and the blow-ups could be in a safe deposit or they could be in the care of someone Gordy trusted or they could have been found by the killer. If they are in a safe deposit, sooner or later, Goldstein will find them. If the killer got them, he will have destroyed them.” I paused, then went on, “But if someone Gordy trusted has them, you and I could still be blackmailed.”
“I've thought of all that. That's why I was hoping you had them. There's no safe deposit. Goldstein has already checked. This means either the killer found them or else . . .”
“Who is this woman: Freda Hawes?”
“Gordy's mistress. She's a drunken toughie. When I arrived she was slobbering over Gordy, getting herself smeared with his blood, crying and screaming. It was while she was going through her act, I spotted the shell case. God knows if she had seen it. I took a chance.”
“Do you know anything about her?”
“I've seen her around. She's a drinker and a hustler. She hangs around bars, cadging drinks. I don't know anything else about her.”
“Maybe it would be an idea to investigate her. I can't do it, but you could.” I went on to tell him about Herman Webber and about his story that Gordy's file had been stolen and why I knew he had been lying.
“Webber?” Brenner sneered. “If your boss hadn't set him up as a private eye and financed him, he would be selling matches on the streets. He was going to be booted off the force for corruption, but your boss saved him. That creep would cut his mother's throat for a
He regarded me.
“Yeah . . . go ahead. Don't regard me as a cop. Level with me.”
“We might help each other,” I said. “My wife stole a bottle of expensive perfume from the store. She was caught on the scanner. Gordy wanted twenty thousand dollars for the strip of film, showing her stealing. He told me other husbands were involved. I decided to pay, but I couldn't raise all the money. I went to Gordy's house with three thousand. I found him dead. I was about to search the house for the film when a woman arrived. I got away while she was calling the police. I didn't shoot him, but I'm sure the gun that killed him was the one I was given on the pistol permit. I had left the gun right here on that settee. My thinking is someone took it, killed Gordy, then replaced it. I've got rid of the gun.” I stared at him. “That's the story, Brenner. Feel like giving me your story?”
“The same as yours.” He lifted his fists in despair. “Why the hell do women do it? On my pay, I can't give her all that much, but I thought she was happy. The scanner caught her. She was one of the first. The bastard wanted three thousand: that's money I haven't got. So he was selling me a frame from the film at a time for thirty dollars a week.”
Although I didn't like him, I felt sorry for him.
“If the film is found,” he went on, “I'll be finished. Goldstein has no use for me.” He rubbed his hand over his sweating face. “When I got there, I found the shell case. I recognised it and I was sure you had killed him and had got the film and the blow-ups. That was why I gave you the shell case. I knew if Goldstein had found it, he would have traced it to you. My thinking right at that moment was I didn't want anyone nailed for Gordy's murder. That was stupid thinking. Goldstein now knows about the scanners and he has checked the store for film. There's no film. He has checked Gordy's house: no film. So . . . Goldstein is a very smart cookie. He knows Gordy's killing involves blackmail and now he is starting an investigation, checking every customer who has used the store.”
“That doesn't mean he can prove anything unless he has the film,” I said.
“That's right but he is like a goddamn mongoose. Once he gets his teeth into something, he never lets go.”
“Let's look at this, Brenner.” I was glad to have someone to throw ideas at. “The film and the blow-ups could be in a safe deposit or they could be in the care of someone Gordy trusted or they could have been found by the killer. If they are in a safe deposit, sooner or later, Goldstein will find them. If the killer got them, he will have destroyed them.” I paused, then went on, “But if someone Gordy trusted has them, you and I could still be blackmailed.”
“I've thought of all that. That's why I was hoping you had them. There's no safe deposit. Goldstein has already checked. This means either the killer found them or else . . .”
“Who is this woman: Freda Hawes?”
“Gordy's mistress. She's a drunken toughie. When I arrived she was slobbering over Gordy, getting herself smeared with his blood, crying and screaming. It was while she was going through her act, I spotted the shell case. God knows if she had seen it. I took a chance.”
“Do you know anything about her?”
“I've seen her around. She's a drinker and a hustler. She hangs around bars, cadging drinks. I don't know anything else about her.”
“Maybe it would be an idea to investigate her. I can't do it, but you could.” I went on to tell him about Herman Webber and about his story that Gordy's file had been stolen and why I knew he had been lying.
“Webber?” Brenner sneered. “If your boss hadn't set him up as a private eye and financed him, he would be selling matches on the streets. He was going to be booted off the force for corruption, but your boss saved him. That creep would cut his mother's throat for a
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