I Would Rather Stay Poor (24 page)

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Authors: James Hadley Chase

BOOK: I Would Rather Stay Poor
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Calvin stood on the top step leading into the vault and watched her. All he could see of her was her rounded hips as she squatted, her narrow shoulders and her blonde hair. He moved silently down two more steps and shut the door to the vault. As the door closed, the catch of the lock made a sharp click

a sound in the silent vault that was as loud as the snap of a mouse-trap.
Iris jerked around. At the sight of Calvin, her body froze into motionless terror. They looked at each other. Calvin smiled
hi
s charming smile. Her terror excited
hi
m. Looking at her, he thought how much prettier, how much more desirable this girl was compared to Kit.
‘C
o
ngratulations,’ he said. ‘Now, I suppose you’ll begin planning how you will spend the reward?’
Iris could only stare at him. She could scarcely breathe. She knew it would be useless to scream, and she fought down the scream that rose in her t
hr
oat. Down in the vault no cry for help could possibly be heard.
‘For your information,’ Calvin said, ‘the famous typewriter is in the deed box to your right and the famous fawn overcoat that I wore when playing the r
ol
e of Johnny Acres is in the box next to it.’
He moved down
two more steps and then paused.

Before she could stop herself, Iris jerked out, ‘Don’t touch me!’

Calvin’s smile widened. He looked very handsome and sure of himself as he looked towards her.

‘My dear girl, why on earth should I touch you?’ he asked. ‘You mustn’t be frightened of me.’

Iris wasn’t deceived by this chilling charm. She backed away until she pressed against the steel wall of the deed boxes.
‘We’ll have to talk about this, won’t we?’ Calvin said. He stooped to pull a deed box towards him, then he sat on it. ‘You may t
h
ink this is simple, but it isn’t. Nothing is ever simple.’ He took out a pack of cigarettes and shook a cigarette into his large hand. He lit
the cigarette, squinting slightl
y through
th
e smoke as he watched the girl’s white, frightened face. ‘Everyone is under the impression that Alice helped the mysterious Mr. Acres steal the payroll. She didn’t.’ He paused, then went on, ‘Does Trave
r
s think I am Johnny Acres?’
Hypnotised by the quiet, deadly voice, Iris could only nod.
‘I thought he had got onto me,’ Calvin said. ‘He’s a bright boy

he
’ll
go far

with luck. You, of course, are working with him? You both imagine you are going to collect the reward, send me to the gas chamber, then live happily ever after. That’s the idea, isn’t it?’

Iris didn’t say anything. She had a horrible feeling she was very close to a violent death. The sight of this fleshy-faced man as he sat
calmly staring at her, knowing h
e had murdered Alice, knowing she was now trapped in the vault with him turned her sick with terror.

‘I don’t
th
ink it is going to work out that way,’ Calvin said. ‘As a matter of fact, I knew what you were up to. I knew you wanted a carbon of one of the bank letters to give to Travers. I knew you were suspicious about the typewriter. That yarn I told you that I had to go to

Frisco was so much blah. I wanted to catch you red-handed

I have.’
Still Iris couldn’t bring herself to say any
th
ing.
‘Well, now we know the facts: you’re spying for Travers and I am a bank robber, so let’s get down to negotiat
ions,’ Calvin said, flicking ash
from his cigarette. He glanced at his wrist watch. The time was twenty minutes past twelve. He wondered if Travers was expecting Iris. It would be awkward if Travers came over to see what was keeping her. There was still time, but he mustn’t waste it. ‘I think you can help me. I want to get
this money out of Pittsv
ille. You probably know
the police are searching every c
ar, checking all parcels and baggage that leaves here. It occurred to me that being the fianc
é
e of the deputy sheriff, you could get the money out of Pittsvil
l
e for me.’
Iris drew in a long, shuddering breath.


You

you must be mad!’ she gasped
.

Calvin laughed.

‘Oh, come, be intelligent. I’m not mad. I’m an opportunist, and this is an opportunity. You are about the only person in this dreary town, apart from the police, who could take the money out safely. On Monday,
I’ll
fix it for you to go to

Frisco on bank business. You’ll
stay overnight. You will take w
ith you a suitcase and in the suitcase will be the money. You will ask Travers to drive you to Downside Station
.
He’ll do it. With
him
as an escort, you’l
l
have no trouble getting the money out. You will leave the suitcase at the

Frisco
left-l
uggage office. You will give me the check. When I’m ready, I’ll leave here and collect the money. It’s not a bad idea, is it?’
Iris was so asto
ni
shed, she forgot her fear.

‘I wouldn’t help you if it’s the last thing I do! You must be mad to suggest such a thing!’

‘My dear girl,’ Calvin said patiently, ‘you

ll do it. You’ll have to do it. Let me explain: the woman everyone thinks was Alice: the one in the car with me was your mother.’
Iris stiffened, staring at him.
‘Is it so hard to believe?’ Calvin asked. ‘Your mother was the one who started al
l
this. It was her idea that she and I should steal the payroll. It happened this way


Speaking slowly and deliberately,
hi
s eyes never leaving her white, frightened face, Calvin told her the whole story: how it was Ki
t’s
idea that they should steal the payroll and how, together, they had planned to shift the blame onto Alice. ‘Once we had agreed to this idea,’ Calvin went on, ‘We had to decide what to do with Alice. It was Ki
t’
s idea we should murder her. I was against it at first, but she persuaded me

she is very persuasive when she isn’t drunk. So between us, we killed her.’
Iris listened, petrified. At
first, as h
is voice droned on, she refused to believe what he was saying, but as he went on and on, giving details, she suddenly realised that what he was saying was the truth.
‘So you see,’ Calvin concluded, dropping the butt of
his c
igarette on the floor
and putting his foot on it, ‘y
ou
’l
l have to co-operate. I don’t suppose you’d be happy to be the cause of your mother going to the gas cha
mber, w
ould you?’
Iris hid her face in her hands. She felt faint
. The airlessness of the vault cl
osed in on her. The horror of what she had listened to paralysed her.
‘Your mother i
s very unreliable,’ Calvin went on. ‘If I had known she was an alcoholic I wouldn’t have listened to her. When she’s drinking heav
i
ly, I can’t control her. A
l
l she thinks about is getting her hands on the money. I
t’s
driving her crazy knowing it is right here in the vault and she can’t spend it. Tha
t’
s why I’m asking you to help me. If you do
n’t take the money out of Pitts
vil
l
e, your mother is lik
el
y to do something tha
t’ll
land not only me but her in trouble

and I mean trouble.’
‘I w
on’t listen to any of this!’ Iris said wi
l
dly. ‘I don’t believe it! Kit would never do such a thing! Let me out of here!’
She made a sudden dash past him to the vault door. He turned on the deed box and caught her wrist, stopping her. She screamed and struck at him, her fist caught his temple. He grabbed her other wrist and pulled her to him. He was on his feet now, his breathing came through his thick nostrils in short, hard snorts that horrified her. He was grinning at her, his eyes blazing
with a
crazy fire that turned her cold. She ceased to struggle and stood against him, staring at him. He touched her; his hand moving over her body, making her shudder, then his hand dropped away. There was a long pause, then slowly and reluctantly, he released her and moved away.
‘You’re very attractive,’ he said, ‘but I’d better not

I want your help. You’ve got to help me.
If
you don’t, your mother will go to the gas chamber. I promise you that.’
Iris backed away.

‘I’ll do nothi
ng for you,’ she said s
hakily.

‘You will,’ Calvin said. ‘You’ll either do
what
I say or your mother will die. Of course you will.’
He stepped to the vault door and pulled it open.
‘Go ahead
.
I’m not stopping you. We’ll talk again over the week-end.’
Iris
went up the steps and into the bank. She snatc
hed her coat from the hook and w
alked unst
eadily to the bank door. She un
locked the door and went down the path into the deserted main street.
Very sure of himself, Calvin watched her go.

2

Travers got back from Downside
a
little after six o’clock. He found the sheriff still at his desk, pawing through a mass of papers that lay before him.
‘Anything new?’ the sheriff asked, leaning back in
h
is chair and reaching for his pipe.
‘I’ve been checking those Re
mi
ngtons,’ Travers said and dropped into a chair. ‘Nothing so far. Easton’s gone off on
a
wild goose chase checking the roadhouses around the district. He seems to think Acres must have taken Alice some place, and a roadhouse seems as good
a
b
et as any
thing.’
The sheriff chewed his pipe.

‘Suppose they did go to
a
road
house: where does that get us?’

Travers shrugged.

‘He’s clutching at straws. We’ve got to try everything. I guess. I’m pretty certain Acres is still here. I’m pretty certain the money is here too. Sooner or later, he’ll be tempted to make a false move, then we’ll have him. That’s police work.’ He dropped the match into the ash bowl. ‘Iris called you around mid-day,’ the sheriff said. ‘She wanted to k
now if you’d be free this after
noon.’ He grinned sympathetically. ‘I told her you
were trying to earn an honest l
iving.’

‘That’s a fact,’ Travers said, but his mind was immediately alert. He had told Iris they wouldn’t be able to spend the Saturday afternoon together so she couldn’t have telephoned for the reason the sheriff had given. This mu
st mean she had discovered some
thing. She would be home by now. He glanced at the telephone, but decided not to call her with the sheriff listening in. He pushed back his chair. ‘Anything you want
me to do?’

‘Why not?’ the sheriff said and waved to the mass of papers on his desk. ‘A
ll
this wants going through

reports from the highway patrols.’ He took out his heavy gold watch, ‘I guess I’ll go home. You young fellows can stand the pace better than us old

uns. If anything turns up, call me. Those pesky thrip are at my roses again.’
When he had gone, Travers reached for the telephone. He called the rooming-house. Miss Pearson came on the line. When Travers asked for Iris, Miss Pearson said she wasn’t i
n. She was the only one at home.
‘She’ll be back soon,’ she said. ‘
I’ll
tell her you called.’
Travers thanked her and hung up. He wondered where Iris had got to, then shrugging, he settled down to work. It wasn’t until
he
turned on the desk light that he realised the time was now half past seven and he had had no word from Iris. He called the rooming
-
house
again. This time it was Kit who answered.

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