You Never Know With Women - James Hadley Chase

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the case,” Parker whispered. “Handle it carefully.”

      I leaned down, fumbled about until my fingers closed around it.

      “I have it,” I said and took it from him. While I was shoving it into my coat pocket, I went on. “It’s as black as a hat down there. It’ll take me some time to locate the way in.”

      “No, it won’t,” Parker said impatiently. “There’s a path a few yards from the wall. It’ll take you to the back door. Keep to your right. You can’t go wrong.”

      “You’ve really made a study of this thing, haven’t you?” I said, pulling up the rope, and sliding down the other side of the wall into the garden.

      I stood in the darkness, my hand against the wall, my feet on the grass verge, and listened. All I could hear was my own breathing and the thump of my heart against my ribs. I had left it late to make up my mind what I was going to do. I had to make a decision now. I could either stay right where I was for a while and then climb back over the wall and tell Parker I couldn’t open the safe or it was too well guarded or something, or I could go ahead and do the job and take a chance of running into the dog and the guards.

      Once I had the compact, and if the guards caught me, nothing could save me from Redfern. But I was curious. I was sure the whole setup was phoney. A guy as smart as Gorman wouldn’t be gambling away fifteen hundred bucks to help a woman out of a mess. He wasn’t the type. The compact or whatever it was he wanted out of Brett’s safe was worth a pile of jack. There could be no other explanation. If it was worth money to him, it might be worth money to me. I was sick of San Luis Beach, sick of being pushed around, sick of having no money. If I used my head I might make a killing with this job. I might collect enough dough to take it easy for years. It was worth the gamble. I decided to go ahead.

      All this took about five seconds to go through my mind; a second later I was on the path and heading toward the house. I had on rubber-soled shoes and I made less noise than a ghost, and I was listening all the time. I didn’t hurry and I crouched as I moved, the flashlight in one hand and the leaded cane ready for business in the other. After a while I came out of the trees. Away to my left I could make out the shape of the house: a vast black bulk of stone against the sky. No lights showed.

      I kept moving, following the path that circled the lawn, and I kept thinking about the wolfhound. It was nervy work walking into that thick darkness—a police dog doesn’t bark. It moves along almost on its belly, very fast and quiet, and the first and last time you know it’s there is when its fangs are tearing your throat out. My shirt stuck to my back, and my nerves were poking out of my skin by the time I reached the end of the path. I was close to the house now. The path led to the terrace steps. I knew from the plan that to reach the back entrance you had to walk along the terrace, up some more steps, along another terrace, pass a row of French windows, around the corner and there you were. Once on the terrace you had as much cover to duck behind as a bubble dancer has when her bubble bursts.

      I stood near the last tree of the path and probed the terrace and the steps until my eyes hurt. At first I couldn’t see a thing, then I began to make out the broad white steps and the balustrade of the terrace. I kept on looking and listening and straining into the darkness because I knew once I moved out into the open there was no turning back. I had to be sure no one was there. I had to be doubly sure the dog wasn’t up there waiting for me.

      Now that I was close to the house, I could see chinks of light from one of the downstairs curtained windows. I could hear the whisper of dance music. The sound of that music made me feel lonely.

      I still couldn’t make up my mind to leave the shelter of the tree. I had a hunch it wasn’t as safe up there as it looked. I kept staring and waiting, and then I saw the guard. By now my eyes had become used to the dark—and besides, the moon was coming up behind the house. He had been standing close to what looked like a big stone bird on a pedestal at the top of the steps. He had been merged into the design of the bird and I hadn’t seen him, although he had been there all the time. Now that he had moved away from the bird I could see the outline of his cap against the white background of the terrace. I sucked in a lungful of air. He stood looking into the garden for a while, and then walked leisurely along the terrace, away from the back entrance.

      I had to take a chance. He might turn and come back, but I didn’t think he would. I sprinted for the steps. I ran on tiptoe and I gained the terrace without him having the slightest idea he wasn’t up there alone anymore. I could still see him as I crouched by the balustrade. He had reached the far end of the terrace and was standing with his back turned to me, looking into the garden like a ship’s captain on his bridge. I didn’t wait; keeping low, I ran up more steps and reached the terrace above him.

      I could hear the radio distinctly now. Ernie Caceres was tearing a hole in “Persian Rug” on an alto sax. But I had other things to do than to listen to Ernie, and I went past the French windows, round the corner of the house the way I had seen it on the blueprint.

      I was a few yards from the back entrance when I heard footsteps. My heart flopped around inside my hat and I stood against the wall. I heard more footsteps—coming toward me.

      “You down there, Harry?” a voice called out of the darkness. I thought I recognized it. It belonged to the guard we had run into outside the gates. He couldn’t have been ten yards from me.

      “Yeah,” a voice called back.

      I could see the guard now. He was leaning over the balustrade, looking down at the other guard on the lower terrace. The other guard had turned on a flashlight.

      “All quiet?”

      “Quiet enough. Dark as pitch down here.”

      “Keep your ears open, Harry. I don’t want trouble tonight.”

      “What’s biting you, Ned?” The other guard’s voice sounded impatient. “Got the shakes or something?”

      “You keep your damned eyes open like I say. Those two guys are on my mind.”

      “Aw, forget them. They lost their way, didn’t they? Every time a guy loses his way and gets up here you have to act nervy. Take it easy, can’t you?”

      “I didn’t like the look of them,” Ned said. “While the blockhead was sounding off, the other guy was using his eyes. He looked tough to me.”

      “Okay, okay. I’m on my way around the grounds now. If I run into your tough guy I’ll fertilize the soil with him.”

      “Take the dog,” Ned said. “Where is he, anyway?”

      “Chained up, but I’ll take him. See you here in half an hour.”

      “Right.”

      I listened to all this as I stood like a statue in the dark. Ned stayed where he was, his back to me, his hands on his hips, looking out across the vast stretch of lawn.

      Slowly I began to edge along the wall, away from him. I kept going, making no sound, until I lost sight of him in the darkness. After a few more steps I came to a door. I fumbled about until I found the iron ring that lifted the latch, turned it and pushed, but the door was locked. I transferred the leaded cane from one hand to the other, felt in my pocket and drew out the key Parker had given me. I daren’t show a light. I began to feel up and down the door for the keyhole, and all the time I kept my ears cocked in case Ned took it into his head to come back. I found the keyhole, slid in the key, turned it gently. The lock eased back with a faint click. To me it sounded like a gun going off. I waited, listened, heard nothing, turned the ring again and pushed. The door opened. I edged my way into more darkness. Then I removed the key, shut the door, locked it from the inside and pocketed the key.

      Now that I was inside the house, I was suddenly as cool and as calm as a tray of ice cubes. I was out of reach of that dog and that took a weight off my mind.

      I knew exactly where to go. I had facing me, although I couldn’t see them, five steps and a long passage. At the end of the passage there were more steps, and then a sharp right would bring me to Brett’s study

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