1973 - Have a Change of Scene by James Hadley Chase Read Free Book Online

expectantly at me.
    ‘Will I do?’
    I had put on one of my better suits.
    She was the first woman, since I had lost Judy, who I had taken out.
    ‘You look wonderful,’ I said and meant it.
    We walked to where I had parked the Buick.
    All the tyres were flat and the driving seat razor slashed. Across the windshield in big white letters was painted: CHEAPIE GO HOME
    The evening wasn’t a brilliant success. How could it have been? Jenny was upset about the car, although I played it cool, damping down my blazing hatred of Spooky Jinx. I took her back to the hotel, sat her in one of the sagging bamboo chairs while I telephoned Hertz Rent-a-Car. In fifteen minutes a car was delivered. While we waited, I tried to soothe Jenny down.
    ‘Look, this doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘I’ll get the car fixed. that’s no problem. Forget it as I’m forgetting it.’
    ‘But, Larry, don’t you see this dreadful boy won’t leave you alone until you have gone? You must go! He could hurt you! Please. I know him. He’s vicious! He won’t stop at anything. He. . .’
    ‘Jenny!’ The snap in my voice stopped her short. ‘You and I are having dinner together. Let’s skip Spooky. Let’s talk about each other. You look marvellous. Why do you always wear that awful grey dress?’
    She stared at me, then shrugged helplessly.
    ‘Oh, that? Look at the people in this town. It’s my disguise. That’s why I asked you to wear a sweat shirt and jeans. You have to dress the part here.’
    ‘Yes.’ I saw her point, then I went on, ‘I have only been here eight days, but I’m getting the photo. Do you really think you can help these people? No, wait a minute. I tell you I’m getting the photo. These people are scroungers. They try all the time to con. They take. Is it such a hot idea to work at the pressure you work? Aren’t you rushing up a moving staircase that is going the wrong way?’
    She thought about this, then said quietly, ‘Someone has to do it. One out of fifty really needs help. If I can help that one, then I’m doing a job.’
    The Hertz car arrived. I signed the form and we drove out of the town.
    The Plaza restaurant, on the side of a hill with a view of the lights of Luceville, was plush and expensive. The food was good. There was a band that played soft swing. It was crowded with bulky elderly men and fat, bulging women: all who talked at the top of their voices: the kind of scene Paradise City specialises in.
    We ate, made conversation, but it wasn’t a success because we were both thinking of the ruined car, Spooky and the drab, sordid life that was the background of Luceville, but we kept these thoughts to ourselves.
    I drove Jenny back to her apartment. By this time it was 23.00.
    She thanked me for a lovely evening. The expression in her eyes told me how worried she was.
    ‘Larry please be sensible. Please go back to your own home.’
    ‘I’ll think about it. Let’s do this again.’ I touched her hand. ‘Next time we will have real fun,’ and I left her and drove back to the hotel.
    I changed into the sweat shirt and jeans, then I went down to the lobby and asked the sad coloured boy where I could find 10th Street. He looked at me as if I were crazy. Then when I asked him again, he said it was a good half-hour’s walk. He began to give directions, but I told him to skip it.
    I went out into the hot, cement-dusty night and got a taxi. I arrived at the top of 10th Street at 23.35. I paid off the taxi and started down the dimly lit street, which was lined with trash bins that smelt as if each one of them contained a rotting corpse.
    People milled around: most of them were old drunks, old w o m e n . people without a roof. Further down the street, the scene changed. Neon lights made harsh white pools on the filthy sidewalk. I now moved in the shadows. There were the usual Honky Tonk parlours, the striptease clubs, blue movie shows, the bars and the cafes. This part of the street was inhabited by the young.