1984 - Hit Them Where it Hurts by James Hadley Chase Read Free Book Online

going through the mail.
    ‘Hi, Glenda!’ I said. ‘The Thorsen case.’
    She sat back.
    ‘What’s new?’
    I gave her a synopsis of what I had learned, and concluded, ‘Angela Thorsen seems to be paying money to someone in this Black Cassette. Whether it is Hank Smedley or someone else, I haven’t found out. I can’t see a way of finding out without talking to Angela. I’m not crazy about doing that. Terry would be useful if I could find him. This case, if we’re going to get a satisfactory report, could take time.’
    ‘We are charging Mrs. Thorsen three thousand a day. You had better see her, report to her, and ask her if she wants to go on. Maybe she won’t. Get her reaction, Dirk.’
    That made sense to me, so I returned to my office. As the time was 10.20, I phoned the Thorsens’ residence.
    I recognised Smedley’s slurred voice.
    ‘Mrs. Thorsen, please,’ I said. ‘Mr. Wallace.’
    ‘The detective gentleman?’ Smedley asked, after a pause.
    ‘That is correct.’
    ‘Mrs. Thorsen is out. She won’t be returning until late this afternoon.’
    I thanked him, then hung up. After a couple of minutes’ thought, an idea struck me. I immediately acted on it. Scribbling a note for Bill and leaving it on his desk, I went down to my car and drove to the Thorsens’ residence. With Mrs. Thorsen out of the way I would have the opportunity for a talk with Josh Smedley.
    I had a six-minute wait and tugged the bell chain three times, before the front door opened.
    ‘Sorry, Mr. Wallace,’ he muttered. ‘Mrs. Thorsen is out.’
    ‘So you told me.’ Using my beef, I moved forward and entered the lobby. ‘I need to talk to you, Josh.’
    He gave way. He had no alternative. When I was in the lobby, he reluctantly closed the front door.
    ‘Excuse me, Mr. Wallace, I am busy,’ he said in a quavering voice.
    ‘Let’s go to your den,’ I said, taking a firm grip of his arm. ‘I’ve a few questions to ask.’
    He stared at me uneasily for a few moments, then he moved down the long corridor and finally came to a good-sized room with four armchairs, a bed, closets and another door I guessed led to a bathroom. Smedley was certainly living in comparative luxury.
    ‘Let’s have a drink, Josh,’ I said. ‘Scotch for me.’
    He hesitated, then moved to a closet, produced a bottle of Cutty Sark poured two generous drinks into glasses and replaced the bottle. Over his shoulder, I saw a neat row of empty Cutty Sark bottles on the top shelves of the closet.
    With a shaky hand he handed me one glass, then holding tightly to his glass, he lowered himself into a chair near mine.
    ‘What do you want to know, Mr. Wallace?’ he asked, and as if to give himself support, he took a gulp from his glass.
    ‘Mrs. Thorsen has hired me, Josh, to find out if, why and by whom her daughter is being blackmailed. I guess you know this?’
    He nodded.
    ‘You know everything that goes on here, don’t you, Josh?’
    ‘I’ve worked for Mr. and Mrs. Thorsen for over thirty years,’ he said carefully.
    ‘I would like you to tell me what kind of man Mr. Thorsen was. This is confidential, Josh, but it is important.’
    ‘Mr. Thorsen is dead.’
    ‘I know that. What kind of man was he?’
    ‘Mr. Thorsen was a hard man,’ he said, after a long pause. ‘I guess he had to be to get to his position. He drove me hard, but he paid well. Yes, Mr. Thorsen was a hard man.’
    ‘He was hard on his children?’
    ‘Mr. Terry, yes, but not Miss Angela. He wanted Mr. Terry to go into his business. He had no patience with Mr. Terry’s piano playing. Yes. He was very hard on Mr. Terry. Finally, Mr. Terry walk out. I was pleased.’ He gazed into space, his wrinkled face lighting up with a smile. ‘It was a very unhappy place here until Mr. Terry left. After that, the place was all right until Mr. Thorsen died. Then there was an upset. Miss Angela and her mother didn’t get on, so Miss Angela left to live in the cottage, and as my wife didn’t