Hit and Run

I looked slightly to my left. It came as no surprise to see a man sitting in one of my lounging chairs. He sat in the shadows. My eyes weren't yet in focus and he was just a shadowy figure, but I knew instinctively that this was the man who had telephoned Lucille and me and who had taken my photograph as I was changing the licence plates and who had hit me over the head as I had stumbled on him in the darkness of the shrubs.

Again I shut my eyes, my hands holding my head. I remained motionless for some minutes, then, getting a grip on myself, I looked up and stared at the man seated opposite me.

Slowly he swam into focus.

He was powerfully built, around twenty-three or four, blond, with a heavy suntan. He had a Grecian nose, green eyes and a pencil-lined moustache. His hair was neatly set about his well-shaped head and needed cutting, although maybe a woman might have thought it cute as it was.

He was wearing a bottle-green sports suit with brown buckskin shoes and around his wrist was a solid gold bracelet that supported a solid gold watch. In his right hand, he held a glass three-quarters full of whisky, clinking with ice, and he regarded me with a tolerant little smile that made me want to jump across the room and plant my fist in his face.

'Hey, buster,' he said cheerfully, I was beginning to wonder if I'd hit you too hard.'

My hand cautiously investigated the lump at the back of my head and I winced as the hammer beat started up again.

'I bet it hurts,' he went on and his grin widened. 'Want a drink?'

'Who are you? What are you doing here?' I growled.

'I thought I'd better bring you home,' he said, stretching out his long legs. 'It's time we had a little talk. You and I are going to form a beautiful friendship. My name's Ross. My friends call me Oscar. Do you feel like a cosy little chat, buster?'

'I feel like shoving your nice white teeth through the back of your head,' I said, slowly sitting bolt upright.

He laughed. He seemed genuinely amused.

'I don't blame you, but I wouldn't try it if I were you. Bigger guys than you have thought they could take me, but they found out different. Don't let's get unfriendly. This is a business deal. I've got something to sell that you will want to buy. It's as simple as that.'

So Lucille had been right. We were going to be blackmailed. I stared across at the man who called himself Ross and I tried to make up my mind just how dangerous he could be. My first move was to find out how much he knew and how much he wanted to keep his mouth shut, then I could decide what to do about him.

'And what do you imagine you have to sell?' I asked.

'There's a nice strip of beach not far from here,' he said, 'where boys and girls go for a little fun. I have a hide-out there and when I want a little extra money, I go down there and wait around. I'm not always lucky, of course, but the other night I was. I saw the wife of a well-known advertising magnate and a member of his staff having a work-out on the sands. It struck me this fella might be willing to part with a few bucks rather than have me call up his boss and tell him what had been going on. You'd be surprised at the number of suckers I catch in the course of a year this way. It helps quite a bit to increase my income.'

I reached for a cigarette and lit it.

'Not much of a deal,' I said. 'It's your word against mine.'

He nodded.

'That's right. Usually, they're willing to pan with fifty bucks just to keep the whole thing quiet, and I didn't expect to make more out of you, but then there was this accident. The wife of this advertising magnate resented your advances and she ran away. She took your car and she hit a cop. You've probably read about it in the papers. I arrived on the scene two minutes after she had hit him. She didn't stop and she damaged your car. It was a smart idea of yours to change the number plates, but I have been camping outside your place for more hours than I care to remember with a camera and a flashlight equipment. I now have a picture in the camera that can send you and the girl away for a tenyear stretch. Maybe if you're unlucky and draw a tough judge, you could go away for fifteen years. It seems to me I could make a nice slice of money out of you if you want to avoid going to jail and if 3'ou want to save her from going to jail too.'

I sat there, staring at him, realizing I was really in trouble.

'Don't look so sad, buster,' he said, grinning at me. 'After all, money is only money. There are more important things in life than the dollar. Even if you had a million bucks, you couldn't have any fun if you were in jail. Let's get down to business. I need money. I've got to get out of town. We'll make a one-payment job of it. Cash down and I don't tell your boss you've been fooling around with his wife and I don't send the photo to the cops. How's that?'

'Then you'll come back for more.'

He sipped his whisky, his grin widening.