Lady, Here's Your Wreath by James Hadley Chase Read Free Book Online Page A

back again. “You aren't tight, darlin'?” she asked. She had pulled a pillow from the bed and was holding it against her.
     I said, “Suppose we come down to earth. We might start by leaving out the darlings... they give me a pain.”
     She got to her feet and walked over to the door where a wrap was hanging. She put the wrap on quickly. As she fastened the sash I could see her fingers were trembling.
     “You crazy or something?” she said. “You get out of here.”
     “Don't get tough,” I said, still sitting on the bed. “This morning you came to my apartment and took five grand off me. You hand that back an' we'll call it quits.”
     She put on a good act. Her eyes opened wide and she actually managed a laugh. “You're crazy!” she said. “I've never seen you and I don't know where you live.”
     I got slowly to my feet. “Listen, baby,” I said gently, “you ain't goin' to get anywhere with bluff. I've got you where I want you, an' I'm having that dough if I have to take this joint to pieces to get it. You ain't goin' to get tough, because I could twist your neck for you with one hand. Now come on an' be pice.”
     She stood hesitating, then she shrugged. “If that's the way you feel about it,” she said, “maybe I'd better let you have it.”
     I almost laughed. I let her get to the small chest of drawers and pull open one of the drawers, before I shot over the bed and smothered her. My arms went round her, pinning her arms to her side, and I jerked her away from the chest. I was glad I'd taken the precaution. I had just time to see a gun lying in the top drawer before she came at me.
     I'd been in some nasty corners during my career as a journalist, and I'd been in plenty of rough houses as well, but this was the first time I'd mixed it with a woman, and I should just like to place it on record that I sincerely hope it will be the last.
     I can look after myself when it comes to an all-in scrap with a man. I know most of the dodges they get up to and I know most of the answers, but when a blonde fury comes at you I was up-creek without a paddle.
     I see now that I could have saved myself a hell of a lot of trouble if I'd socked her on the button and finished it there and then, but I was crazy enough to treat her light.
     She came at me with her arms whirring around like the blade of a propeller and her eyes blazing. I tried to grab her arms, but got nowhere. The weight of her body struck me like a small shell, and I went over with her on top of me. The bed was in the way and I got myself wedged between the wall and the bed. A sweet position to be in with a hell-cat on top of you.
     She came down on me, her hands clawing at my throat. She must have weighed around a hundred and forty pounds, and that's no joke to have dropped on you from above.
     I managed to grab her wrists, and, by exerting a lot of beef, held her. Get the picture if you can. There I was, lying flat on my back, wedged between the wall and the bed, with Blondie on top of me, her wrists held, looking as if she'd start murder any minute.
     I said with a gasp, “Relax, sister, this ain't the way for a lady to behave.”
     For an answer the hell-cat butted me in the face with her head. Maybe she did have blonde curls, but her head was as hard as concrete. She must have knocked herself a bit silly, but it was nothing to what she did to my mug. I felt the blood start from my nose and I thought my front teeth were coming through my top lip.
     I got as mad as a coon, and, shifting my grip on one of her wrists, I socked her as hard as I could on the jaw. If you've ever tried to hit anyone, lying on your back, and wedged tight, you will know how difficult it is, but I managed to get a little steam through, sufficiently hard to send her backwards.
     That just gave me time to struggle into a sitting