I Would Rather Stay Poor (17 page)

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Authors: James Hadley Chase

BOOK: I Would Rather Stay Poor
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Satisfied, he returned to his room. Shutting himself in, he went to the closet and took from it a box of golf balls. Four of these he dropped into an odd sock he took from a drawer. He swung the sock. It made an extremely vicious and efficient cosh.
He sat down to wait. The time was now half past nine. In another hour, Kit would take a bath.
He considered his plan for ridding himself of her. It was safe and simple. She had been drinking. When he heard her in the bath he would wrench off the bolt on the bathroom door, enter, slam her over the head with the improvised cosh, then hold her under the water until she was dead. He would leave her body in the bath for Flo to find. The fact the bolt was so flimsy, it would be assumed that Flo had wrenched it off when opening the door.
It was safe and simple, but he decided he had better have an alibi in case something went wrong. Leaving the cosh on the bed, he went downstairs. The television set was on, and from the sound of
the
gunfire, Calvin guessed the old couple were enjoying yet another gangster movie. He went to the door of the darkened room.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ he said. ‘I’ll be in the garage. I have car trouble. If there is a telephone call for me, could I bother you to let me know?’
Major Hardy dragged his attention from the lighted screen.
‘Certainly, my dear chap,’ he said. ‘Is there any news yet of Alice?’

‘Nothing. I’ll let you know
as soon as there is,’
and Calvin
backed out of the room.

He went to the garage, rolled up his sleeves and quickly removed the sparking plugs from the engine. As he worked, he hummed tunelessly under his breath, his fleshy face set. He scraped a little carbon from the p
lugs, then leaving them on the
work bench, he silently returned to the house. He crept up the stairs and entered his room. The time was now close on half past ten. The gangster movie with all its noise and violence would run to eleven. Even if Kit had time to scream, the old couple wouldn’t hear her. Calvin sat down, holding the cosh in his hand and waited.
Minutes dragged by. At half past ten, he suddenly wondered if Kit were too drunk to take a bath. She might have fallen asleep. He got to his feet and moved to the communicating door. Putting his ear against the panel of the door, he listened. He heard nothing. He was tempted to see if the door was still locked, but he was afraid of alerting her.
He went back to his chair and sat down. There were other nights, he told himself, but as each day went by, the danger increased.
He lit a cigarette. Faintly, he could hear the television set downstairs. He looked at his watch. Then he heard
a
sound from the other room that brought him to his feet, tense and listening. A minute or so passed. He could now hear Kit moving around her room. Then he heard her door open and he heard her walk across the passage and into the bathroom. He heard the bathroom door close.
A vicious little grin lit up his face and he opened his door to peer into the passage. The thick fingers of his right hand gripped the cosh. Above the sound from the television, he could hear the bath water running. He stood waiting. After what seemed an eternity, the water ceased to run. He moved into the passage. With cat-like silence, he reached the bathroom door and paused to listen again. He heard the sound of water as if Kit had stepped into the bath. He was breathing lightly and rapidly and he was aware that his heart was beating unsteadily. His lips came off his teeth in
a
vicious grin as he turned the door handle. When it was as far back as it would go and as yet another burst of gunfire came from the television set, he gave the door a sudden shove forward. He heard the bolt drop onto the tiled floor
as
the door jerked open. He moved quickly into the bathroom.
He paused, his right hand, holding the cosh, half swinging up, his heart suddenly skipping a beat.
Kit stood with her back against the far wall, some twelve feet from Calvin. She held a loofa in her left hand which dripped water. Calvin guessed at once that she had been using the loofa to disturb the bath water, leading him to believe she was in
th
e bath.

In her right hand, she held a .38 automatic, its blunt nose pointing directly at Calvin. She was still wearing her polka-dot nylon wrap and there was a fixed little smile on her white face that sent a sudden chill up Calvin’s spine. He had an
in
stinctive feeling that she was about to shoot him.

‘Don’t be a fool!’ he rapped out. ‘You’ll never touch the money if you shoot!’
They were the right words. The awful little smile slipped from her mouth and her brown, glittering eyes suddenly lost their mad blank stare.
For a long tense moment, they stared at each other. The gun remained pointing at him, but he knew the danger for the moment was over.
Then she said, ‘Yes
…
I was forgetting. You clever devil! You just saved your beastly life by saying the right thing at absolutely the right moment. You follow a pattern, don’t you? You use women and then you get rid of them, but you’re not getting rid of me!’
Calvin was eyeing the gun in her hand. The sight of the g
un s
hocked him. His great strength against her feeble strength was useless in the face of the gun. He measured the distance between them. He might just possibly reach her and smash the gun out of her hand, but he was sure he couldn’t prevent her firing the gun before he did reach her. Even above the racket the television was making, the old couple would hear the shot.
‘It was a mistake,’ he said, keeping the snarl out of his voice with an effort. ‘You scare me, Kit, with your drinking. I acted on impulse.’

‘Don’t act on another impulse,’ she said, staring fixedly at him. ‘I’ll kill you if I have to, so don’t do anything stupid.’

‘I’m not going to do anything. It’s all right.’
‘Didn’t you think I knew what you were planning?’ she went on. ‘Couldn’t you see how obvious it was to me. I help you get the money, then I go the way Alice went and you have all the money, but that’s not how it’s going to work out, Dave. I knew sooner or later you would try to murder me. I set a trap for you and you walked into it. I didn’t drink your whisky. I poured it down the sink. I’m not such a drunk as you imagine. Then when I saw you had loosened the bolt on the door, I knew you would be in here to murder me. Well, you’re not murdering me. You’re not as smart as you think you are. And another thing, Iris isn’t working for you. You’re going to keep your filthy hands off her. Do you understand?’
Calvin switched on his charm.

‘Don’t let’s quarrel. Kit,’ he said. ‘I’ve already explained
…
’

‘You’re in for a surprise,’ Kit broke in. ‘Up to now you have handled this, but from now on, I’m handling it and you’ll do what I tell you.’

‘You can’t handle it,’ Calvin said. ‘You’re in no condition to handle anything. You’re a drunk. You’ve got to face it. You’ve got to leave this to me.’

Slowly, she lowered the gun.
‘You’d be happy if I were dead, wouldn’t you, but I’m not going to die. While you were being so clever arranging to steal all that money, I too have been arranging how to protect myself. If I die, Dave, you’ll go to the gas chamber. I’ve fixed it for you.’ She put the gun down on top of the toilet seat. ‘If you think I am bluffing, go ahead and hit me over the head with your cosh and then drown me. Then see where it gets you.’
Calvin studied her, feeling hot sweat running down his back, aware his heart was thumping and there was a dry, sour taste in his mouth.
They stared at each other for a long moment, then he slowly backed out of the bathroom. Leaving the gun where it was, she followed him. He moved into his bedroom and she came in after him, closing the door.

He had her now. She was defenceless and he could see she was half drunk. He gripped the sock between his thick fingers. A quick move
ment and she would be lying at h
is feet. The bath was already filled. A
ll
he had to do
…

But he knew by the mocking way she was staring at him that she had beaten him and with a sudden vicious movement, he threw the sock of golf balls across the room.

She leaned against the door, folding her arms across her breasts and she suddenly laughed: a hard, dry, mirthless sound.

‘That’s right, Dave. Now you’re showing some sense at last. When you were at the bank this morning, I wrote a letter. It was a long, complicated letter and it took me nearly all the morning. In it I set down everything you and I have done, how you murdered Alice and where you have hidden the money. There isn’t one thing we haven’t done together I haven’t written down. I’ve taken this letter to an attorney
–
never mind who
–
and I have told him to read the letter and act on it when I am dead. So long as I remain alive, Dave, you’ll remain alive, but if you try any of your bright murderous ideas, then you’ll follow me to the grave.’
Calvin ran this thick fingers through his hair. He moved away from her, rage burning inside him.
‘So now we’ll get married,’ Kit went on, ‘and we’ll go away as we planned. Then you’ll give me my share of the money. But from now on, Dave, you’re going to do what I tell you
…
do you understand?’

In the long pause as they looked at each other, they both heard the telephone bell ringing. Calvin went out into the passage. His legs felt unsteady and there was a feeling of fear and rage constricting his heart.

Major Hardy called up to him from the hall.

‘It’s the police, Mr. Calvin,’ he said. ‘They want to speak to you.’

Calvin hurried down and pi
cked up the telephone receiver.

It was Easton to tell him they had found Alice’s body.

CHAPTER THREE

1

Calvin s
at at the wheel of his car, his eyes staring into the lane of light made by the car’s headlights, his mind busy.
Sheriff Thomson had said over the telephone that he would be glad if Calvin would come down to his office right away. There was to be an emergency meeting and they would be glad of his help.

The time was now a few minutes to eleven. There was scarcely any traffic on the road. A few spots of rain showed on the windshield.

Calvin was thinking of Kit. The situation was dangerous unless she had been bluffing, but he had an uneasy feeling she hadn’t been. She had now put herself beyond his reach, but that was not all. She could walk in front of a car, fall ill, meet her death in dozens of accidental ways and this damned attorney would then open her letter and Calvin would be sunk. He must think of some way to persuade her to get the letter back from the attorney. It was intolerable to know that his life depended on her own span of life.
He suddenly became aware of a red light flashing in the middle of the road and he hastily braked, bringing the car to a stop in front of a police car that half blocked the road.
Two police officers approached him. He saw beyond them, two other policemen, guns in hands.
He leaned out of the car window, his mouth turning dry. One police officer turned the beam of a flashlight on him.
‘Identify yourself, please,’ he said curtly.

Calvin took out
his
wallet and handed it over.

‘What’s all t
hi
s in aid of?’ he asked, forcing
his
voice to sound casual.

‘Why, it’s Mr. Calvin,’ the police officer said and suddenly grinned. ‘We’re looking for your bank robber. Every car in and out of Pittsville is being checked.’
Calvin said, startled, ‘But he left town forty-eig
ht
hours ago, didn’t he?’
‘Someone thinks he didn’t,’ the police officer said, returning Calvin’s wallet. He stepped back and saluted. ‘Okay, Mr. Calvin, go right on ahead.’
Calvin drove on. There was a set expression on
his
fleshy face
and his eyes were uneasy. Why did they think the man they were
after hadn’t left town? he wo
ndered. Had he made a slip some
where?
He was in for another little jolt as he pulled up outside the sheriff’s office. He saw a big red and black Cadillac with San Francisco number plates standing in the parking lot. He knew the car well. It belonged to Henry Marthy, the general manager of the Federal & National Banking Corporation and his boss. What was he doing here at this hour? Drawing in a deep breath, Calvin walked up the flight of steps and entered the sheriff’s office.
Marthy was talking to the sheriff. Travers was sitting at a desk, talking on the telephone. As Calvin entered the big room, he heard Travers say, ‘A standard Remington: 1959 model? Yeah, fine. Any special characteristics? The letters r and v? Right. Thanks a lot,’ and he hung up.
Only half listening, Calvin crossed the room and shook hands with Marthy.

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