Just Another Sucker

I wondered who she was. Her clothes were expensive. The yellow and white handbag wasn’t something you picked up in a junk shop.

The yellow and white handbag.

She had taken it into the telephone booth with her, but I couldn’t remember her coming out with it.

I was now so sloshed, thinking became an effort. I screwed up my face, trying to remember. She had gone into the booth with the bag in her right hand. I was certain she had come out of the booth without anything in either hand.

I finished my whisky, then with a shaky hand, I lit a cigarette. So what? I said to myself. I had probably not noticed the bag when she came out.

Suddenly the bag became important to me. It became important because I wanted to prove to myself I wasn’t as plastered as I thought I was.

I got unsteadily to my feet and walked to the telephone booth. I opened the door and there on the shelf was the handbag.

Well, you old sonofabitch, I said to myself, you’re as sober as a judge. You saw at once she had forgotten her bag. You’re carrying your liquor like… like… well, you’re carrying your liquor.

The thing to do, I went on, talking to myself, is to look in the bag and find out who she is. Then you take the bag, telling the barman she has left it in the telephone booth – you must tell him otherwise if you are spotted walking down the street with a lady’s yellow and white handbag, some cop might pinch you – then when you have told the barman, you’ll take the bag to her address and who knows – she might reward you with something more than a kiss – who knows?

That’s how drunk I was.

So I stepped into the booth and closed the door. I picked up the handbag and opened it. As I did so, I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching me. Ex-jailbird Barber: that was me: taking no chances; always on the look out for trouble.

No one was watching me.

I turned my back which was broad enough to fill nearly all the booth, and picked up the telephone receiver; a smart move this – and resting the receiver against my ears, I examined the contents of the bag.

There was a gold cigarette case and a gold lighter. There was a diamond clip which could have been worth fifteen hundred dollars if not more. There was a driving licence. And there was a fat roll of bills and the top one was a fifty. If the others matched it, there could be close on two thousand dollars in that nice looking, juicy roll.

The sight of all that money brought me out in a sweat.

The cigarette case, the lighter and the diamond clip didn’t interest me. All three could be traced, but I found myself being too interested in this fat roll of money.

With this money in my pocket, I wouldn’t have to ask Nina for five bucks tomorrow morning. I wouldn’t have to ask her for money neither tomorrow nor the day after, nor any time. I would be able to find a job by the time I had used up this money. Even if I kept on drinking, day in and night out.

I was plastered. I was not only plastered but I was demoralised. If this rich woman was so dumb as to leave the money right here, then she deserved to lose it.

Then far away, a faint voice that was my own said to me, ‘Have you gone crazy? It’s stealing! If they catch you with your record, you’ll go away for ten years. Put the goddam bag down and get the hell out of here! What’s the matter with you? Do you want ten more years in a cell?’

But the voice was too far away to make an impression. I wanted that money. It was easy. All I had to do was to take it out of the bag, put it in my pocket, close the bag, put it back on the shelf and fade away.

The barman couldn’t see me. There was a continual stream of people going in and out of the booth.

Anyone could have taken it – anyone.

The money was there – probably not two thousand dollars, but getting on that way.

I wanted it.

I needed it.

So I took it.

I dropped the roll into my pocket and shut the bag. My heart was thumping and I felt what I was – a 9

James Hadley Chase. Just Another Sucker. 1961

thief. There was a tiny mirror above the telephone. I saw a movement in it. I still had the bag in my hand. I looked in the mirror.

She was right there behind me, watching me. Her sun goggles reflected the light so they made two little green spots in the mirror.

But she was there.

How long had she been there I didn’t know.

But she was there.

10

James Hadley Chase. Just Another Sucker. 1961

CHAPTER TWO

I

When you get a shock that squeezes your heart, paralyses your brain and turns your body cold, you die a little.

I stood looking into the mirror on the wall of the booth, the handbag gripped in my hand, staring at the two enormous green pieces of glass that formed her sun goggles, and I died a little.

I became suddenly sober. The whisky fumes that had clouded my brain went away: it was like a razor, slitting through gauze.