The Thousand Faces of Night (1961) Read online

  The old man shrugged and looked grave. 'I was right about O'Connor. He's been round to most of the people I deal with, offering to buy direct and at much better prices.'

  'How many have accepted?' Marlowe asked.

  Magellan shrugged. 'Not as many as you would think. They're pretty shrewd, these men. Most of them are intelligent enough to realize that he won't pay them such fancy prices when he's squeezed me out of business. The majority have stuck with me, but I've had to guarantee them a price.'

  'That means you've got to pay them whatever happens?' Maria said.

  The old man nodded and Marlowe frowned. 'In other words, the only person who's risking anything is you?'

  Papa Magellan smiled. 'I have enough ready cash to guarantee the first couple of loads. But if anything goes wrong... ' he shrugged and left the sentence unfinished.

  Mac sighed and got to his feet. 'I guess that means we can't afford any mistakes,' he observed.

  At that moment there was the sound of a vehicle. As the engine was cut, Marlowe moved to the window and looked out. A green Jaguar was standing outside. The door opened and a slim, boyish figure slid gracefully out of the upholstered seat. 'Now I wonder what she wants?' Maria said softly at his shoulder.

  It was Jenny O'Connor.

  6

  As the front door bell rang they looked at each other. After a moment or two, Marlowe said, 'It might be a good idea if someone let the girl in.'

  'Maria!' Papa Magellan said in a tone that admitted no denial. 'Answer the door.'

  Maria went without further argument. They heard the murmur of voices in the hall and then Jenny O'Connor stood hesitating in the doorway. Maria looked over her shoulder, a hostile expression on her face. 'She wants to speak to Hugh,' she said.

  Jenny O'Connor smiled and shook her head quickly. 'No, please don't anyone leave. What I have to say concerns you all.'

  She was wearing a tailored skirt and a brown suede jacket and her slim legs were encased in the sheerest of nylon stockings. Marlowe was conscious of the same crawling sensation in his stomach and the dryness in throat he had experienced during their first meeting. He swallowed hard and said: 'What did you want to see me about, Miss O'Connor?'

  She coloured with embarrassment and dropped her eyes. For a moment she seemed at a loss for words and Papa Magellan with old-fashioned Latin courtliness took her by the arm and led her to a chair. 'Sit down, my dear,' he said. 'You have no enemies here.'

  Maria snorted with anger and folded her arms. Her lips were pressed tightly together as if to bottle up her rage. Jenny O'Connor smiled at her. 'Please, Miss Magellan. Don't condemn me until you've heard what I have to say.'

  There was silence as they waited for her to carry on. She seemed to experience even greater difficulty in speaking, but quite suddenly, the words poured from her like a torrent. 'I know Mr O'Connor is my uncle and my action in coming here must seem very strange, but I can't stand by and see all this trouble and violence going on without a stop.'

  Maria made an impatient sound and Marlowe said gently, 'What do you suggest we do about it, Miss O'Connor?'

  She looked up slowly and there was great trouble in her candid blue eyes. 'Mr Magellan must sell,' she said simply.

  There was a brief moment of astonished silence and then Maria threw back her head and laughed. 'So this is why you have come to see us,' she said. 'What do you think we are, fools?'

  Papa Magellan turned on her angrily. 'Maria, if you cannot keep quiet you must leave the room.' For a second her eyes challenged him and then she turned and rushed out into the corridor, slamming the door behind her. Magellan turned to Jenny and inclined his head. 'I am sorry, Miss O'Connor. You must forgive my daughter. She has worried a great deal about this matter.'

  'Why should Mr Magellan sell out now?' Marlowe asked her, his eyes fixed on her face.

  'Because if he doesn't my uncle will break him,' she replied. 'Kennedy returned an hour ago. When my uncle heard what you had done he was furious. Insane with rage. I've never seen him so angry.'

  'Did he send you here?' Marlowe asked her.

  She smiled sadly and shook her head. 'Mr Marlowe, my uncle has very firm ideas about a woman's place. He never allows me to meddle in his business affairs. I love driving and he's humoured me to the extent of allowing me to take out one of the trucks now and then.'

  Papa Magellan frowned slightly. 'May I inquire then, what has brought you here this morning?'

  She stood up and walked over to the window and stood staring out at the rain. 'I hate to see useless violence,' she said quietly. 'There's been too much already. If this state of affairs goes on there will be more.' She turned quickly and said, 'I know my uncle is in the wrong in this matter, but he has money and power and a large organization. He can put you out of business by using methods which are quite legal.'

  Marlowe smiled softly. 'And what if we don't intend to be put out of business?'

  'But what else can you do?' There was real concern on her face. 'He has stopped you from dealing with the market. This morning he's blocked off your retail shops outlet by undercutting your prices. All quite legal.' She appeared to hesitate and then went on, 'I must sound like a complete traitor telling you this, but I know that he's started to approach the market gardeners you deal with, Mr Magellan. He can offer better prices than you can. How can you possibly stand up to pressure like this?'

  Mac grinned and said impulsively, 'There are more ways of killing a cat than drowning, Miss Jenny. Maybe we've got a trick or two left that might surprise your uncle.'

  Marlowe kicked him sharply on the ankle as Jenny O'Connor's face clouded with puzzlement. 'It was good of you to come here,' he said. 'But I'm afraid there's no prospect of us selling out. Your uncle started this affair. He'll have to stick it out to the bitter end now.'

  Her shoulders drooped again as they had done when they had last met. She looked completely defeated. 'I seem to have wasted my time.' She raised her head and forced a smile. 'I'm glad to have met you, Mr Magellan. Believe me, if I have any influence on my uncle at all, I'll use it to try and bring this sorry business to an end.'

  She nodded to Mac and moved out into the hall. Marlowe went with her. As he opened the door of the Jaguar and handed her in she said, 'I seem to have made rather a fool of myself.'

  He shook his head and replied gently, 'You could never do that.'

  She looked surprised and paused for a moment, her hands resting on the wheel. 'You seem to know a lot about me?'

  He nodded and said calmly, 'I'd know a lot more if you'd let me see you tonight. Perhaps we could have a drink and a bite to eat somewhere?'

  She stared steadily at him and a slow, grave smile appeared on her face. 'You're a strange man,' she said.

  He grinned. 'I get even stranger the longer you know me. Shall I see you tonight?'

  She hastily scribbled in a tiny leather diary and tore out the page. 'There's my address,' she said, handing it to him. 'Pick me up at about seven-thirty.' She pressed the starter button and as the superb engine began to tick over, said, 'You'd better go in now. You're getting rather wet.'

  He stood with the slip of paper between his fingers and watched the car disappear into the distance and then he turned and went back into the house.

  'And what was all that about?' Maria demanded, eyes flashing, when he returned to the living-room.

  He grinned and held up the slip of paper. 'The lady's address,' he said. 'I'm taking her out tonight.'

  For a moment only there was an expression of complete dismay on her face, but it was quickly replaced by one of fury. 'What exactly do you think you're playing at?' she demanded.

  He ignored her and went over to the sideboard and helped himself to brandy. He turned and silently toasted the three of them and tossed it down his throat in one quick gulp. As the warmth moved through him he grinned in satisfaction. 'Yes, I'm going to take the lady out tonight,' he said. 'We'll spend the evening in Barford where I'll be nice and conspicuous.'

/>   Understanding came to Papa Magellan and Mac at the same time. 'You're going to act as a decoy,' the Jamaican said.

  As Marlowe nodded, the old man shook his head vigorously. 'It's insane. Barford at night-time will be pretty unhealthy. Monaghan and his thugs must be waiting for a chance to get you in a dark alley.'

  Marlowe grinned. 'That's the idea. The whole mob will be concentrating on me, wondering what the hell I'm doing in Barford in the first place. They'll probably spend so much time trying to find an answer, they won't get around to any rough stuff.'

  'And is that the only reason you're going?' Maria asked, her eyes fixed on him.

  'What other reason could there be?' he told her. For a moment their eyes were locked together and then he turned and said, 'Come on, Mac. We've got to get that truck checked and loaded for your big trip.' Together they left the room and Marlowe was conscious of the girl's eyes burning into him as he went.

  She was perfectly right, of course. There was another reason for seeing Jenny O'Connor, and with her woman's intuition Maria had guessed it. As Marlowe alighted from the bus in the main square at Barford that evening he saw himself reflected in a mirror and he shook his head and decided that he would never understand women.

  Maria had carefully brushed and pressed the tweed suit he had been given on his release from Wandsworth and his shirt was gleaming white and freshly ironed. The suit didn't look too bad at all, he decided. At least it had been made to measure and fitted in all the right places.

  As he walked along the pavement a church clock struck the hour and he checked his watch. It was seven o'clock and Mac was starting for London at eight. It would be dark enough then, Marlowe decided, looking up at the sky.

  He had no difficulty in finding her address. It was a gay mews flat in a small courtyard not far from the square. The window boxes were painted bright red and one or two flowers still bloomed in-them. He pressed the bell push and glanced about him as he waited. There was no sign of her car and he listened to the silence from within with a slight frown, wondering whether he had made a mistake.

  As he reached in his pocket for the slip of paper he heard a footfall and the door opened. She stood there smiling at him. She was wearing a long red housecoat of heavy silk and her hair gleamed like spun gold. She stood to one side. 'Come in, Mr Marlowe. You're a little early.'

  She led the way across an oak-panelled hall and into a beautiful room. Rose carpeting completely covered the floor and cleverly concealed lights tinted the walls the same colour. A large fire flickered in a superb Adam fireplace and rich velvet curtains were drawn across the windows, somehow cutting the room off from the outside world. She motioned him into a large, wing-backed chair and went across to a cocktail cabinet and poured two drinks from a shaker. 'I had these ready mixed,' she said, as she handed him one of the glasses. 'Martinis. I hope you like them.'

  Marlowe nodded. 'An old favourite of mine.' He sipped his drink and leaned back in the chair and watched her.

  She curled up on a long, high-backed settee that matched his chair, and smiled. 'There isn't any great rush,' she said. 'I've booked dinner at a place I know a few miles out of Barford. Unfortunately, something's gone wrong with the car. The garage have taken it away. It's nothing serious. They promised to have it fixed in an hour.'

  He nodded and offered her a cigarette. 'That's too bad.' As he sat back in his chair he smiled and added: 'However, I'm not complaining. This will do very nicely. It's a beautiful room.'

  She nodded and got up to replenish his drink. 'I like beautiful things,' she said. 'They make me feel good. Life can be so drab.'

  'The trouble is they all cost money,' he said as she came back with his drink.

  She smiled. 'Oh, I don't know. Some things are still pretty inexpensive.' She flicked a switch by the fireplace and plunged the room into half darkness. 'Firelight for instance.' She settled back on the settee. 'It's one of the few things that haven't changed.'

  Marlowe was puzzled. 'Changed?' he said.

  'From the old days.' She pillowed her head on one arm like a little girl and turned towards the fire and her eyes glinted, amber and gold. 'When I was a little girl I can remember having tea with my father in his study at four o'clock on Autumn afternoons. It was a special treat, something to look forward to. It was a wonderful room, lined with books and there was always an immense fire. The maid used to bring in tea and hot muffins on a tray and my father would let me be hostess.' She chuckled. 'I loved handling the silver teapot and the beautiful china cups. There was a special intimacy about it with the dead leaves falling outside the long window and the shadows moving from the corners of the room.' She shivered and there was an utter desolation in her voice. Marlowe didn't speak and for a moment there was silence and then she said briskly, 'But that was a long time ago. Before the flood.'

  Marlowe frowned. There was something he didn't understand here. 'What happened?' he said.

  She shrugged. 'My father lost his money. He got mixed up in some financial swindle.' She hesitated and said briefly, 'He blew his brains out.'

  'I'm sorry,' Marlowe told her. 'That was a rough break.'

  She smiled and shrugged. 'The only trouble about being born into money is that you find it impossible to do without it. It means one has to look for a solution and sometimes it may be rather unpleasant.'

  The picture was becoming a little clearer. 'And you found your solution?'

  She smiled wistfully. 'Solutions are usually hard to come by. How old do you think I am, Mr Marlowe?'

  He shrugged. 'It's hard to say. Eighteen - nineteen.'

  She laughed. 'I'm twenty-eight next month. When I was seventeen I married a wealthy man because I wanted security. He gave me ten years of hell. He was unfaithful, a drunkard and when the mood was on him, he wasn't above knocking me around. I put up with him because I didn't have the courage to go out and face life on my own. When he died in a car crash last year I thought I was free. Unfortunately he left nothing but debts.'

  'And that's when O'Connor stepped in?' Marlowe said.

  She nodded. 'That's right. He was my father's half-brother. I knew very little about him. I believe there was some scandal when he was young and he had to leave home. He got in touch with me six months ago and offered to provide for me.'

  'And you accepted,' Marlowe said.

  She shrugged. 'Why not? I'm weak.' She indicated the room with a gesture of one hand. 'He's good to me. In some queer way of his own he's proud of me. He likes people to know that I'm his niece. I suppose he's looking for a veneer of respectability now that he's rich.'

  'Are you happy?' Marlowe asked her.

  She smiled sadly. 'Isn't it the Bible which tells us we must pay for our weaknesses, Mr Marlowe?' She laughed in a strange way and reached for a cigarette from a silver box on a small table beside her. 'I have everything I want. Everything. It's just that I get so lonely at times. So damned lonely.'

  For a long moment they stared at each other and the terrible dryness clutched at Marlowe's throat again. As the firelight flared up, illuminating her face, he saw tears glisten in her eyes and then the cigarette fell from her fingers and her face crumpled up like a child's. 'So lonely,' she repeated. 'So damned lonely.'

  Marlowe got to his feet, a terrible vital force rushing through him. There was a great roaring in his ears and as he stumbled forward, her arms reached out and pulled him down. Her mouth fastened hungrily on his and she moaned his name once. As his hands moved over her she gave a cry of ecstasy and her fingers clawed at him like a tigress as the fury swelled to envelop the both of them.

  The room was almost in darkness and the few remaining embers glowed fitfully in the grate. She stirred and moved her head against his shoulder. 'We'll have to be going,' he told her. 'It's past eight. That dinner you ordered will be spoilt.'

  She turned her softness into him and slipped an arm round his neck. 'There's no rush,' she said. 'The garage haven't phoned about the car yet.'

  Marlowe reached for a cigare
tte and lit it from the silver table lighter that went with the box. As he blew smoke out in a long streamer to the dark ceiling she picked at his shirt with her fingers and said, 'Are you really going to go on defying my uncle?'

  'I don't see why not,' he said.

  'But you don't stand a chance,' she told him. She slipped an arm around his neck and kissed him. 'I don't want you to get hurt.'

  He grinned, his teeth gleaming in the darkness. She struggled up beside him and said, 'What's so funny?'

  'That last remark of yours,' he told her. 'You see, I think it's your uncle who's going to end up getting hurt.' He glanced at the luminous dial of his watch and said, 'Round about now Mac must be just leaving for London.'

  She switched on a standard lamp and there was incredulity on her face. 'But why is he going to London?'

  Marlowe shrugged. 'To sell a truckload of produce at the greatest market in the world, Covent Garden. Even your uncle doesn't cut much ice there.'

  For a moment she looked dubious and then she smiled and hugged him. 'Oh, I think it's a wonderful idea. I hope it works for you.' She stood up and stretched and looked at herself in the mirror. She gave a little shriek. 'My goodness, what a sight I look. I must go and change.' She smiled and rumpled his hair. 'Straighten your tie like a good boy and have another drink while I'm getting ready.' As she walked to the door she added, 'I'll phone the garage and see what the delay is.'

  Marlowe helped himself to another Martini and listened to the muffled sound of her voice as she used the telephone in the hall. A moment later she opened the door and said, 'They'll deliver it within fifteen minutes. I shan't be long.' She closed the door again and Marlowe picked up a magazine and idly browsed through it.

  After a moment or two he tossed it to one side and considered the events of the evening. He didn't try to pretend to himself that he was in love with Jenny O'Connor. There was no need. It was a peculiar type of relationship he had experienced only once before in his life: a tremendous chemistry which gave rise to a physical craving that had to be satisfied.