Just Another Sucker by James Hadley Chase Page A

was watching me, then took the suitcase over to the Packard.
    Through the bar windows I could see Odette. She was speaking to the barman. He shook his head at her and she moved away from the bar and out of my sight.
    I looked at my wrist watch. The plane to Los Angeles left at ten-thirty. We had plenty of time. I had made her reservation by telephone in the name of Ann Harcourt. I had told the clerk she would pick up and pay for her ticket at the airport. I had also telephoned and reserved a room at a small hotel in Los Angeles that I had once stayed at. It was quiet, and away from the centre of the town; I felt sure she would be all right there.
    I saw Odette come out of the bar. My heart skipped a beat when I saw she wasn’t alone: there was a man with her.
    She began to walk towards the Packard. The man caught hold of her arm, pulling her back. I couldn’t see much of him. He was short and fat, and he was wearing a light coloured suit.
    ‘Come on, baby,’ he said in a loud, wheedling voice, ‘let’s have a party. I’m on my own: you’re on your own; let’s be lonely together.’
    ‘Get away from me!’ Odette said. ‘Take your hands off me!’
    She sounded scared.
    ‘Aw, come on, baby. Let’s have some fun together.’
    If she couldn’t handle him, we were in trouble. I didn’t dare show myself. He might not be as drunk as he seemed. If things turned sour, he might remember me.
    ‘Get away from me!’ Odette repeated and she started once more towards the Packard. The drunk hesitated, then came after her.
    I moved around to the off-side of the car. I wanted to yell to her to keep away from the Packard. He might remember the car, but she kept coming.
    The drunk staggered after her, caught hold of her arm and swung her around.
    ‘Hey! Don’t get snooty with me, baby. Come on back. I’ll buy you a drink.’

    She slapped his face. The sound her hand made as it contacted his face was a minor explosion.
    ‘Okay, so you’re tough,’ the drunk snarled and grabbing her, he tried to kiss her.
    I had to do something now. She was struggling, but I could see he was too strong for her. She had enough sense not to cry out.
    In the glove compartment of the Packard I always kept a heavy flashlight. I grabbed hold of it. It was a foot long and made a good club.
    It was pretty dark, and we were away from the single spotlight above the gates. I circled around so I could come up behind him. I was so jittery, my breath was whistling through my clenched teeth.
    As I came up, Odette managed to break free. The drunk became aware of me and spun around.
    I slammed him over the head with the flashlight, driving him to his knees. I heard Odette catch her breath in a strangled scream.
    Cursing, the drunk made a grab at me, but I hit him again: this time much harder, and with a grunt, he spread out, face down at my feet.
    ‘Take my car!’ I said to Odette. ‘Get going! I’ll follow in your car!’
    ‘Have you hurt him?’ She was staring down at the drunk, her hands to her face.
    ‘Get going!’
    I ran over to the T.R.3, got in and started the engine. If anyone came out of the restaurant and found this guy lying in full view, we would be in a hell of a jam.
    As I reversed the little car, I heard the Packard start up. I let her drive out of the parking lot, then I followed her.
    She had enough sense to head for the beach road. After we had driven a mile or so, I overtook her and signalled her to stop.
    The road was deserted. The rain was now streaming down. I got out of her car and ran back to where she had stopped the Packard.
    ‘Get changed!’ I said. ‘Then follow me to Lone Bay car park. Hurry!’
    ‘Did you hurt him badly?’ she asked as she reached into the back of the car for the dress.
    ‘Forget it! Never mind about him! Get changed! Time’s running out.’
    I ran back to the T.R.3 and got in. I sat there, sweating and watching the road, praying no stray car would come along and spot us.
    After about five minutes