I Would Rather Stay Poor (28 page)

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Authors: James Hadley Chase

BOOK: I Would Rather Stay Poor
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‘In that case,’ Marthy said curtly, ‘you will leave tomorrow. I’ll send someone down right away to relieve you,’ and he hung up.
Calvin dropped the receiver back on the cradle. He lit a cigarette and stared uneasily at the glowing tip. He had now burnt his bridge. He was out of a job. Maybe he shouldn’t have talked that way to Marthy. Then he thought of the three hundred thousand dollars now locked in the boot of the car and he grinned. What was he worrying about? Who wanted to be a bank manager with all that money to spend? He called Easton’s office.
A girl’s voice answered. There was a slight delay, then Easton came on the line.
Calvin saw a customer come in. The man waited impatiently to be served. Let him wait, Calvin thought, and asked Easton how he was. He listened to Easton griping about his stomach pains, then he cut in to tell him he was leaving the bank, getting married and going to Florida. He asked Easton if he would be his best man. Easton seemed to hesitate and Calvin wondered if he had rushed this too fast.
‘This is pretty sudden, isn’t it?’ Easton said. ‘What’s the idea – going to Florida?’
‘A pal of mine runs a restaurant there,’ Calvin said. ‘He wants a partner. It’s an opportunity too good to miss. Kit will come in handy too. Look, I’ve got someone waiting for me. We get married on Saturday. Can I count on you?’

‘Why, sure. Why not? Glad to help out.’ Easton didn’t sound glad. He was thinking enviously some people had all the luck. Here was this guy not only marrying a dish like the Loring woman, but getting himself a partnership as well. Talk about luck!

‘Fine and thanks,’ Calvin said. ‘See you before then,’ and he hung up.
He went out and cashed the customer’s cheque. From then on, he was kept busy. It was nearly eleven o’clock when the telephone bell rang. Calvin had two customers to serve and he let the bell ring. He became irritated when the bell continued to ring. Finally, when the customers had gone, he went into his office and snatched up the receiver.
‘This is Sheriff Thomson,’ the sheriff said. ‘I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to get an answer.’

‘I’m single-handed,’ Calvin snapped. ‘What is it?’

‘Could you get down to Bentley’s store right away, Mr. Calvin?’ the sheriff asked. ‘You know where it is? The big store they’re building on Eisenhower Avenue. When I say right away, I mean right away.’
Calvin thought the sheriff had gone off his head.
‘What do you mean?’ he snarled. ‘I don’t close the bank for another hour yet. What do I want with the store?’

There was a pause, then the sheriff said, ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Calvin, I’m trying to break this gently. There’s trouble down there… Mrs. Loring…’

Calvin felt as if an iron mailed fist had slammed against his heart. He clutched hold of the telephone receiver so tightly his finger nails turned white.

‘Mrs. Loring?’ His voice turned husky. ‘What… what…?’ He made an effort and pulled himself together. He went on, his voice under control, ‘Let’s have it, Sheriff. What’s the trouble?’

‘She’s up there on the scaffolding… the part where they’re building. She’s threatening to jump.’
Cold sweat fell on Calvin’s hand. Threatening to jump! If this rumdum killed herself there was the letter to be opened by her attorney:
in the event of my death
.
‘What are you doing about it?’ he found himself yelling.
‘Take it easy. We’re doing all we can, but there isn’t much we can do. The fire brigade is standing by. We’ve got men talking to her, but she won’t listen. I thought maybe you could talk her into some sense.’
‘Yeah… how long has this been going on? How long has she been up there?’
‘About half an hour. Can you get down here right away, Mr. Calvin?’
‘I’m coming,’ Calvin said and slammed down the receiver. He walked quickly out of his office.
There was a man waiting at the counter: a fat, peevish-looking character who drummed on the counter with well-manicured finger nails,
‘How much longer do I have to wait?’ he demanded, ‘I want to cash a cheque.’

‘The bank’s shut!’ Calvin said violently. ‘Clear out!’

The man gaped at him. His fat face fell to pieces at the sight of Calvin’s expression.

‘Go on… get out!’ Calvin snarled.

The man backed away, turned and hurried out of the bank. Calvin shut the doors and locked them. Then he ran out the back way where his car was parked.
He was thinking: this is it! You were crazy to have hooked up with an alcoholic. Unless I do something, she’ll kill herself, and then I’m finished. I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight! Well, I asked for it and now I’ve got it!
He climbed into his car and drove the half-mile fast. As he swung into Eisenhower Avenue, he saw the crowd and his heart kicked against his side.
A policeman waved him to a halt.
‘I’ve got to get through,’ Calvin said, leaning out of the car window. ‘Sheriff Thomson wants me to talk to the woman. She’s my fiancée. Get me through, will you?’
The policeman stared at him, recognised him and then nodded.

‘Okay, sir. You keep going slowly. They’ll let you through.’

He stood back and blew his whistle, motioning to another policeman some way ahead.

As Calvin edged his way through the crowd, he saw firemen standing by an escape and looking up. He saw men, women and children, with horror on their faces, also looking up. He controlled the impulse to stop the car and look up himself. He edged the car to the second policeman who shoved his way through the crowd towards him, his red face aggressive. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded.
‘She’s my fiancée,’ Calvin said in a hard, curt voice. ‘They think I can talk her down.’

The cop’s aggression went away.

‘Leave the car,’ he said. ‘You won’t get through this lot in a car. Sheriff Thomson is waiting for you.’

Calvin got out of the car. At the back of his mind, he remembered there was three hundred thousand dollars locked in the car’s boot. Out of the car, he looked up, following the gaze of some hundreds of people.
There was a new wing being added to Bentley’s store. The new wing consisted only of scaffolding and steel piping. Out on this skeleton foundation, some two hundred feet above the street was Kit. She was wedged in between the apex of a triangle formed by some of the steel poles. Her feet, one in front of the other, rested on one slim pole. A false move would send her down a long drop to death.
Calvin became rooted as he stared up at the distant figure. Kit was wearing slacks and a leather windcheater. She was smoking and seemed completely indifferent to the people staring up at her.
‘There you are,’ a voice said and a hand gripped Calvin’s arm. With an effort he dragged his eyes from the perilously perched figure and stared blankly at Sheriff Thomson. ‘She’s in a bad way,’ the sheriff went on. ‘We’ve been up there, but when we get within fifty feet of her, she threatens to jump. Think you can do anything?’
Aware now everyone was staring at him, Calvin said, ‘I don’t know. I’ll try. She’s drunk, of course.’
The sheriff pulled at his moustache.

‘How she managed to get out there without falling beats me. Working from where she is, the boys get taken up in a crane bucket. She just walked out there as if it was the sidewalk.’

‘Can you get me up in the bucket?’ Calvin asked.

‘Sure. Maybe if she sees you, she’ll let you get her in, but watch it – she’s jumpy.’

They forced their way through the crowd until they reached the crane bucket. They paused by the bucket to look up. Kit flicked her cigarette butt into the air. They watched the tiny white end come spiralling down to the ground. It seemed to take a long time before the crowd parted slightly to let it fall on the sidewalk. A souvenir hunter pounced on it.
‘You okay for heights?’ the sheriff asked looking at Calvin’s white face. ‘Better not go up there if you’re not. It’s a long way up.’
Calvin climbed into the bucket, ‘I’m all right,’ he said. ‘Just get me up there.’
‘Don’t look down and don’t lean your weight on the sides… it could tip. Good luck,’ and the sheriff signalled to the crane driver who was perched even higher than Kit in his small, glassed cabin.
As the bucket moved slowly upwards, the crowd gave a great sigh of excitement. They looked from Calvin, standing in the bucket and then to Kit who was watching him as he was lifted towards her.

The crane driver took him up gradually. Finally, Calvin swung exactly opposite Kit. They were within twenty feet of each other.

Because of the steel scaffolding, it wasn’t possible for the crane driver to get Calvin closer. Calvin, gripping the edge of the iron bucket, was sickeningly aware of the awful drop below.

‘Hello,’ Kit said. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. I knew you would come.’
‘Well, here I am,’ Calvin said, forcing his voice into steadiness. ‘What the hell’s got into you? Can you get over here? I’ll see you down.’
Kit laughed.
‘Come and fetch me. You’ve only to get out of that ridiculous thing and walk along that rod and then duck under this one and you’re with me. Come on: you and I could take the quick way down.’
Calvin wiped his face with the back of his hand.
‘What’s got into you? What’s the idea – puling a stunt like this?’ He scarcely knew what he was saying. ‘It’s not going to get you anywhere. Come on. Cut this out! I’ll help you if you’ll come.’
‘When I’m ready,’ Kit said, ‘I’m jumping, but I’m not ready yet. You’ve made me suffer, now I’m going to make you suffer. I’m staying here until I’m good and ready, then it’s going to be the quick way down. When I hit the ground, you’ll have about twelve hours – not more – of freedom. It’ll take my attorney about that long to remember the letter I left with him. When he opens it, you’ll be on the run. That’ll be the moment, when you begin feeling as I’ve felt these past weeks.’
Calvin stared at the white, drawn face.
‘I have the money,’ he said. ‘Three hundred thousand dollars. It’s in the boot of my car. We can still get away with this, Kit. Easton has promised to be our best man. He’ll get us out of Pittsville. Tell you what I’ll do: I’ll give you three quarters of the money if you’ll chuck this and come down. How’s that?’
Kit opened her bag and took out a pack of cigarettes. With a nonchalant disregard of her position, she lit a cigarette and then flicked the spent match down to the staring crowd.
‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ Calvin said, raising his voice. ‘Think… by the end of the month, we’ll be out of this – you and I, with money to spend. Come on: what’s the sense of getting so far and then doing a thing like this?’
She blew a long wisp of smoke at him.
‘I’ve told you… but you don’t seem to understand. I have to live with myself, and I find I can’t do it. I didn’t think it would be like this.’ Her pale lips parted in a cynical smile. ‘I have Alice on my mind: day and night. I see the poor thing in my dreams. I can’t get her out of my mind. So… I’m taking the way out that you’ll have to take before long.’
‘Okay, if you’re that gutless,’ Calvin snarled. ‘Go ahead, but why involve me? That letter of yours… do something about it. Look, I’ll…’
Kit’s jeering laugh cut across his frenzied voice.
‘That’s the trick in this,’ she said. ‘You thought you had it all fixed, but you’re not getting away with it… as I’m not getting away with it. When I go… you’ll follow. You shouldn’t have involved Iris in this. That’s something I’ll never forgive you for. We’ll settle this thing together… I’ll go first, but make no mistake about it, you’ll go second.’

Then for no reason that Calvin could see, her foot slipped and she dropped her bag as she snatched at the nearest steel pole. She missed and fell. Calvin involuntarily shut his eyes, feeling a cold wave of blood surge through him. He heard a loud moan come up from the crowd: a woman screamed. He forced himself to look.

Kit had fallen no more than ten feet. She had caught hold of a scaffolding pole and was now hanging in mid-air.
Calvin was now above her, looking down at her. He watched her swing herself from an impossible position into a safe position with the carelessness of a monkey swinging from tree branch to tree branch. In the moment that had chilled his blood, she was once again settling herself into the precarious safety of yet another apex of yet another triangle of steel.
The crane driver, watching all this with morbid fascination, expertly lowered the bucket so Calvin was again on the same level and facing Kit.

‘Did you think I was going to die?’ she asked. He could see she was completely unshaken. ‘Heights mean nothing to me. When I’m good and ready, I’ll let go, but I’m not ready yet.’

From her expression Calvin knew it was hopeless to try to persuade her into any sense. For a long moment, he tried to force himself to get out of the bucket and climb over the perilous rods to her, but he hadn’t the nerve. He was sure that if he did reach her, she would take him with her in a fatal drop to death.

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