Free 1980 - You Can Say That Again by James Hadley Chase Page A

I didn’t know so much about women. How often had women disillusioned me? If they didn’t get their way one way, they would try another and yet another.
    ‘Mrs. Ferguson,’ I said, ‘if you have any instructions for me, please tell me.’
    Her smile faded, and a wary look came into her eyes.
    ‘You are obviously hostile,’ she said, ‘and that is understandable. My mother-in-law imagines she is some kind of a dictator. I assure you it wasn’t my idea to have you kidnapped.’
    I felt a small triumph. At least, she was on the defensive.
    ‘Kidnapping is a Federal offence, but let that ride,’ I said. ‘I am being well paid. I am not complaining. I have agreed to impersonate your husband. Are you satisfied so far with my make-up?’
    ‘It is excellent, but not your voice. It might be necessary for you to speak to certain people on the telephone. Could you imitate my husband’s voice?’
    ‘I wouldn’t know until I heard it,’ I said. ‘I don’t think it would be a problem. Not so long ago, I had a nightclub engagement imitating the voices of well-known people,’ and I went into the routine of Lee Marvin’s voice, the voice of Richard Nixon and the rich voice of Sir Winston Churchill.
    She sat, staring at me.
    ‘You’re marvelous!’ she said in a voice that told me she really meant what she was saying. ‘I’ll get a tape of my husband’s voice and you can hear it.’ She got to her feet and smiled at me. ‘When you think you can imitate my husband’s voice, we will meet again, Mr. Stevens.’
    ‘This is only a suggestion,’ I said as I stood up. ‘I don’t know what you call your husband, but wouldn’t it be safer for you to call me what you call him?’
    She regarded me, her violet eyes suddenly remote.
    ‘I call him John and he calls me Etta.’
    ‘So I wait, Etta,’ I said.
    From my long and often depressing association with women, I knew when a woman was turned on. I knew from the softening of the face, the faint flush, the invitation in the eyes. The signs were all there and I knew that I had only to cross the division between us, to take her in my arms and she would have given herself. It was a temptation, but not the time.
Instead, I smiled, then walked over to the window.
    I stood looking down at the garden for several minutes, then looked around.
    She had gone.
    I felt in need of a drink. I went to the cocktail cabinet and poured a stiff Scotch. Carrying the drink, I sat down. I felt some confidence that Loretta Merrill Ferguson was not going to be a problem.
    Half an hour later, while I was still sitting and thinking, Mazzo came in.
    ‘You’re doing fine, Mr. Ferguson,’ he said, grinning. ‘It’s my guess Mrs. F.’s taken a fancy to you.’ He crossed to the desk and taking the cover off a tape desk, he threaded on a tape. ‘She says you wanted this: one of the Boss’s business talks. Whatcha want for lunch? The Chef’s doing a clam chowder. Any good to you?’
    ‘Fine with me,’ I said, getting up and crossing to the desk.
    ‘You know how to work this? Just press this playback button.’
    ‘I know.’
    He nodded and went away.
    I sat at the desk, pressed the button and listened to the voice of the man I was impersonating. It was a distinct voice with the snap of authority in it. He was obviously dictating to his broker. I didn’t bother to listen to the words, I concentrated on the intonation, his pauses, and the quality of his voice. I felt confident I could do a good imitation. I played the tape through four times. Then as there was still unrecorded tape on the spool, I switched to record and, using Ferguson’s voice, I dictated bond selling orders and share buying orders as he had done until the tape ran out. I ran the whole tape back and started the playback. I left the desk and wandered to the window and listened. I only knew when I began recording by the bonds and share names I had invented. As I pressed the stop button, Mazzo wheeled in the lunch