Free 1972 - Just a Matter of Time by James Hadley Chase Page B

determined to mould him; determined to teach him the power of money. But there were moments like this, as she lay by his side, listening to his snoring as he slept that she wondered uneasily how long she could keep him in her control. Bromhead kept saying: Time is on our side. This is a long-term operation. But it wasn’t for her. Clever as he was, Bromhead didn’t seem to realize her difficulties. There were times when she felt uneasy about Bromhead because he had more confidence in her than she had in herself. She knew she had this magic that attracted men, but to have to endure the lust of a boy like Gerald now made her skin crawl, but Gerald was the focal point of this operation. Without him, it seemed to her now that there would be no future for her and no money.
    Money? Bromhead had said in his quiet unemotional voice there could be a million and a half dollars, split between the three of them.
    In the flashing light of the neon sign, she looked at the blonde wig lying on the dressing table.
    Bromhead was clever, she thought. His idea about the wig and the dustcoat had worked. She had had no trouble meeting Gerald in the parking lot behind the hotel and she was confident she would have no trouble returning to her room in the penthouse. Nor was she worried that Mrs. Morely-Johnson wouldn’t sleep through the night. The pill she had dropped into the glass of hot milk as the old lady settled in bed would keep her asleep until the morning.
    But there was still this problem of Gerald. He had gaped at her through the Volkswagen window, not recognizing her in the blonde wig, then when she spoke, he had suddenly grinned.
    ‘I like you blonde, baby. You give me hot ideas.’
    She was shocked with the room he had found for himself, but she was careful not to tell him so. It was on the top floor of a rooming house in a back street off the waterfront. It was cheap and he explained that with only seventy dollars a week coming in, who cares about a room? This worried her. He had such a low standard of living and he thought small. He seemed content to live like an animal: even some animals would be more fussy than he.
    He had complained as he drove her to the rooming house that he was so goddamn bored.
    ‘This is a hell of a town. It’s okay if you have money. Everything costs! There’s nothing to do! How long is this thing going on?’
    This she didn’t know. If only she had enough money to give him so he could go to Los Angeles where he could amuse himself, find a girl and come back when it was time. But there was no money. He had to make do with seventy dollars a week.
    Lying on the bed, listening to his moaning and snoring as he slept, she wondered if she could control him if this thing went on for weeks, and if she was to believe Bromhead, it could.
    Moving slowly, she edged off the bed and stood up. Gerald muttered something, then began to snort again. She went into the shower room, turned on the cold water and filled the basin. She dipped the towel into the water and then wiped her body. The cold feel of the towel was a relief but the moisture immediately dried in the suffocating heat of the tiny room. She dressed.
    Moving to the window, she looked at her watch in the flashing light of the neon sign. It was 01.15. She had a long walk along the waterfront to the Plaza Beach Hotel. She wouldn’t be back until after 02.00, but she felt it was useless to wake Gerald. He would only complain if she asked him to drive her back. The thought that she would have to face this chore twice a week made her flinch, but the payoff would be worth it, she told herself.
    She put on the blonde wig, then the dustcoat. She had to be sure the wig covered her dark hair so’ she turned on the light to look in the small mirror above the dressing table. She had to make quick adjustments, then she snapped off the light, but the light had woken Gerald.
    He sat up.
    ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he demanded querulously.
    ‘Go to sleep, Gerry.