Free What's Better Than Money by James Hadley Chase Page B

with you. I never want to see you again so long as I live!”
    “You’re yellow! You wanted the money as much as I did! You wanted to make money out of me! Now, when things turn sour. . .”
    “You call killing a man turning sour?”
    “Oh, quiet down!”
    I sat still, my hands gripping the steering wheel. I was panic stricken. I told myself I must have been out of my mind to have got mixed up with her. If I got away I would go home and I would start my studies again. I would never do a bad thing again so long as I lived.
    We heard more sirens. Another police car packed with plain clothes men went past, and a few seconds later, an ambulance.
    “That’s the end of the procession,” Rima said. “Let’s go.”
    She got out of the car and I followed her.
    We walked fast to the bus stop. After two or three minutes the bus arrived.
    We sat at the back. No one paid us any attention. Rima smoked, staring out of the window. As we came down the main road to the waterfront, she began to sneeze.
     
     

CHAPTER FIVE
    I
     
    Soon after seven o’clock the next morning, I woke out of a restless sleep, and staring up at the ceiling, I thought back on the previous night. I felt pretty bad.
    I had had only three or four hours’ sleep. Most of the night I had thought of the guard and how Rima had shot him.
    She had gone to her room when we had got back, and I had heard her snivelling and sneezing for an hour until I thought the sound would drive me crazy. Then I heard her go out and I guessed she was going to hunt for some sucker to buy her a shot.
    I was asleep when she came in. I was aware of her door shutting but I was so tired, I turned over and went off to sleep again.
    Now, lying in bed, with the sun coming around the edges of the blind, I wondered what I had best do. I had to leave town. I didn’t dare stay here any longer. I would see Rusty, borrow the fare from him, and I’d leave this morning.
    There was a train out around eleven o’clock.
    My bedroom door opened abruptly and Rima came in. She was dressed, wearing her red shirt and her skin tight jeans. She looked pale and her eyes were glittering unnaturally. She had had her shot all right.
    She stood at the foot of the bed, looking at me.
    “What do you want?” I said. “Get out of here!”
    “I’m going to the Studios. Aren’t you coming?”
    “Are you crazy? I wouldn’t go back there for all the money in the world.”
    She wrinkled her nose at me, her eyes contemptuous.
    “I’m not going to pass up that job. If I do, it’ll be the last I’ll get. What are you going to do then?”
    “I’m leaving town. Have you forgotten you killed a man last night or is it just one of those things you can brush off?”
    She smiled.
    “They think you did it.”
    That brought me bolt upright in bed.
    “Me? What do you mean?”
    “Relax. No one killed anyone. He’s not dead.”
    I threw off the sheet and swung my feet to the floor.
    “How do you know?”
    “It’s in the paper.”
    “Where is it?”
    “It was outside one of the rooms.”
    “Well, don’t stand there! Get it!”
    “It’s gone now.”
    I felt like strangling her.
    “They really say he isn’t dead?”
    She nodded, her eyes bored.
    “Yes.”
    I reached for a cigarette and lit it with a shaking hand. The surge of relief that ran through me left me breathless.
    “Where do you get that line about me killing him?” I demanded.
    “He’s given the cops a description of you. They’re looking for a man with a scarred face.”
    “Don’t give me that! It was you who shot him!”
    “He didn’t see me! He saw you!”
    “He knows I didn’t shoot him,” I said, trying to keep my voice down. “He knows I was facing the wall when you shot at him! He must know I didn’t do it!”
    She shrugged her shoulders indifferently.
    “All I know is the police are looking for a man with a scar. You’d better watch out.”
    By now I was ready to hit the ceiling.
    “Get me a paper! Do you hear? Get me a